‘Well, unless you have a bed upstairs, I’m not moving an inch. Ten days I’ve been without you. Never again.’
‘My penthouse is upstairs. Take me there.’
‘Oh, I’ll take you, Pia. I’ll take you to heaven and back. Then do it all over again. Every day of our lives.’
EPILOGUE
One year later...
‘DON’T TELL ME...’ Narciso smirked as he glanced up at the towering white sails that flapped in the breeze as the super-yacht schooner sliced through the South Pacific. ‘Your wife of twenty-four hours is Ophion shipping.’
Nic grinned. ‘Yep. Nice boat huh?’
‘Boat...yeah. It would be very easy to feel emasculated by her power—good job you’re the most self-assured, arrogant ass on the planet.’
‘Sure is.’ And after the best year of his life he was just as obsessed, just as madly in love, and it was the most awesome feeling in the world.
Narciso caught sight of his huge smile. ‘I couldn’t be happier for you, buddy. It’s about time she made an honest man out of you.’
Nic curled his thumb and stroked over his thick platinum wedding band, glorying in the fact that he finally had his ring on her finger.
At first she’d kept him dangling from a great height, but he’d managed to keep the panic at bay, knowing she needed time to believe she could trust in his love. Then they’d been busy juggling corporate balls and building Q Virtus into the phenomenon it was today. No longer simply a gentlemen’s club since Pia’s unveiling had lured a multitude of highly successful businesswomen into its ranks. No longer steeped in archaic rules and masks of secrecy—at least not inside closed doors. Nic had no doubt the club would go down in history as the most respected of all time. Thanks to Pia and her courageous heart.
So this was the first chance he’d had to insist she became a Santos. Who would have thought the person he’d set out to destroy would become the very reason he lived and breathed?
Which reminded him...
‘I believe I owe you something.’ Nic delved into the pocket of his sharp black suit, lifted his fist and slowly unfurled his fingers.
One look and Narciso burst out laughing. ‘A gold pig. I forgot about that. Well, she certainly brought you to your knees.’
‘Who’s on their knees?’ Pia asked, her arm snaking around his waist as she sneaked up from behind.
Nic nuzzled at the soft skin beneath her ear and inhaled her black velvet scent. ‘I will be. Later, bonita.’ Easing back, before he dragged her below deck to their opulent satin-drenched suite, he took hold of her hand and gave a little tug until she twirled in the air. ‘Or should I say Aphrodite?’ He whistled long and low, glorying in the soft blush that bloomed in her cheeks.
‘If I wasn’t married...’ Narciso muttered, ribbing him as always.
‘I would tie you up below deck,’ Nic tossed back. ‘And—’
‘Hey, that’s my job,’ Ruby said, joining their little cluster and giving Narciso a soft punch in the gut. ‘And you are married, mister.’
‘Blissfully, madly, deeply, devotedly married.’
Nic didn’t miss the way Narciso splayed his hand over the slight swell of Ruby’s stomach with an adoring possessive touch.
‘Something you want to tell us, there, buddy?’
He winked with devilish satisfaction. ‘Twenty-two weeks and counting.’
‘Whoa—the next Warlock of Wall Street!’
Backslapping and congratulations lured Ryzard and Tiffany into the mix and the conversation quickly veered into a guessing game of ‘Who will our children become?’ And since Ryzard’s firstborn had already made his introduction to the world Tiffany kicked off. Election-style.
‘Early signs indicate Max will be equally predisposed to world domination as his father and grandfather.’
‘Ah, yes,’ Nic said. ‘How is your father liking the White House?’
‘More so when he has his grandson in his lap, I think. I’d bet good money that right now Max is crawling over his knee in the Oval Office, or he has the First Lady and her security detail catering to his every whim.’
‘That’s my boy,’ Ryzard quipped, laughing as he tucked Tiffany into his side.
‘As for our newlyweds here,’ Narciso intoned with a wicked smirk. ‘Nic tells me they’re planning a football team.’
‘What?’ Pia spluttered.
Nic did his best to keep a straight face and failed dismally. ‘I said no such thing—although it would be fun making one.’
Truth was they’d decided to wait, both of them needing to spend some time just the two of them, but he wasn’t blind to the longing in those seductive eyes. She had her heart set on a honeymoon baby, so tonight was the night.
Pia’s blush deepened, as if she knew exactly what he was thinking, and he got a smack for his lascivious mind that was basically an excuse for her to feel him up.
‘I adore you,’ he whispered, kissing the flaxen fall of her hair tucked behind her ear. ‘With all my heart.’
‘I love you too—so much. Sometimes I’m afraid I’ll wake up.’
‘No fears, querida. I’ll always be right here by your side.’
She sought his mouth with her lips and it wasn’t until he heard the ladies gasp that he managed to pull away from her addictive taste.
The yacht was manoeuvred into dock and even Nic’s eyes widened at the view of the tropical island at dusk, their path lit by flaming torches, wending its way through lush vegetation towards the colossal mansion rising from the earth in palatial splendour.
Ryzard was the first to find his tongue. ‘I’ve never seen anything like it. Welcome to Atlantis.’
Their new venture was based on the lost city—a luxurious ten-star resort steeped in mythology and the latest technology exclusively for members of Q Virtus. Their wedding party was the first to stay, and the yachts lining the harbour told him their guests had already arrived for the reception. Avô and Lily were among them—as healthy and full of life as ever.
Right on time a man with a golden tray appeared and Nic coerced everyone into taking a crystal flute.
Grasping Pia’s hand, he raised his glass in a toast. ‘To my wife, Mrs Olympia Carvalho Santos, for making me the happiest man alive. And to each and every one of you—thank you for being here to celebrate with us. It’s a new dawn, my friends. And I wouldn’t want to share it with anyone else.’
A chorus of, ‘Hear-hear,’ filled the air, and the champagne flowed well into the night as they all danced in their brave new world.
* * * * *
Read on for an extract from TYCOON’S TEMPTATION by Trish Morey.
CHAPTER ONE
‘BE NICE TO him, Holly.’
Holly Purman smiled and put on her most innocent expression, the one she reserved for when her grandfather was asking something of her that she didn’t want to give. The one that usually worked like a charm. ‘When am I ever not nice to anyone?’
‘I mean it,’ Gus growled, refusing point-blank this time to be swayed. ‘I know what you’re like when you get a bee in your bonnet about something or somebody, and I reckon there’s an entire hive buzzing around up there right now.’
‘Nobody wears bonnets these days, Pop.’ She stooped down to kiss her grandfather’s creased forehead, adding with a grin, ‘They’re old hat.’
‘This is no joking matter, Holly! I want you to take this visit from Franco Chatsfield seriously. It’s a big deal, him coming all this way to talk to us, and the money he’s talking—well, it could set us up for life.’
Holly sighed, abandoning the plans she had to head out to the paddock to let the sheep into the vineyard. The sheep weren’t going to starve in the next thirty minutes and the winter weeds would still be waiting for them in the rows between the vines. Besides, she was hardly going to convince her grandfather that a deal with Chatsfield wasn’t going to be the deal of the century without having the conversation she’d been stewing over ever since Gus had taken the phone call
agreeing to some representative from Chatsfield’s visiting with an offer.
She pulled up a chair opposite her grandfather and sat down, putting her hand over his where it rested on the arm of his wheelchair. ‘Okay, Pop, I’ll be serious. We have interest from the Chatsfield Hotel Group. This isn’t so surprising, surely? After winning gold or silver at nearly every wine show going, suddenly everyone wants a piece of Purman Wines. We’ve had loads of interest from potential buyers from all over Australia and from that big supermarket chain in the UK, and I thought you were happy with those. So why are you so excited about some guy coming from Chatsfield? What can hooking up with them give us that none of the others can?’
‘Exposure, that’s what! You know as well as I do that a deal with Chatsfield will give us a global exposure we won’t get through any of our other offers! Chatsfield can take our wine to the world and give it a five-star tick of approval into the deal. You can’t buy that kind of promotion!’
She rubbed her temple where a pulse beat insistently beneath, wishing she’d been in the office the day the call had come in—the call her grandfather had taken in her absence and been so excited about since. She wouldn’t have been so quick to agree to the visit. In fact, she would most likely have told Franco Chatsfield or whatever his name was not to waste his time and effort.
But by the time she’d found out, he was already on his way. And her grandfather was right, she’d been fuming about it ever since. She patted his hand now, willing herself to calm down before she spoke.
‘Sure, Pop, you’re right. We’ll get international exposure if we hook up with Chatsfield, nothing surer, but is it the sort of exposure Purman Wines really wants? Every week it seems there’s another scandal involving that family. What with Lucca Chatsfield caught in a...well, let’s just say “compromising situation”... Do we as a quality brand want the Purman name linked with theirs? We’ve both worked so hard to ensure its success, and I don’t want to see the Purman name dragged through the mud.’
‘Chatsfield is the most prestigious hotel chain in the world!’
‘It used to be, Pop. Once upon a time it used to stand for something special. It still clings to its heritage every chance it gets, but these days the brand is more synonymous with scandal than style.’
His eyes squeezed shut as he shook his head. Emphatic. ‘No, no, no! That’s all in the past. Things are turning around. That’s what he told me. There’s a new CEO in charge and the entire chain is getting a makeover. Overhauling their menu and wine list is part of the deal. They’re spending big dollars, Holly, to get the very best. They’re offering the big bucks. Why shouldn’t we cash in on it?’
Holly gave her grandfather a wan smile. ‘We’ve met men with fat wallets who promised the world before, Pop, remember? I don’t recall you being quite so excited then.’
Gus snorted and crooked an eyebrow, his eyes still a piercing blue and sharp as a needle, although the skin around them was creased and tanned from a lifetime of working outdoors. ‘Is that what this is all about? Something that happened ten years ago?’ His gaze grew more intent, his expression deadly serious. ‘He was never good enough for you, Holly, and you know it!’
‘I know that,’ she said, sucking in air at that old familiar stab of hurt, dulled now with the passage of time, but still lurking. Still hurting if she let it. And sometimes she did, just to remind herself never to be so naive again. ‘But that’s not what I meant. Because I recall what happened after you’d sent him packing—when he did his best to drag the Purman name through the mud. Don’t you remember all those poisonous articles in the papers he wrote where he called us “Poorman Wines”? And all those calls from clients cancelling orders, worrying we couldn’t deliver? Don’t you remember all those phone calls from reporters believing we wouldn’t be in business twelve months down the line? Do we really want to bring that kind of exposure on us again?’
‘But this will be different. The money alone—’
‘Money isn’t the only consideration. This is about protecting our brand! If Chatsfield is trying to improve its public image, bully for them, but I don’t see why we should lend our name and our success and risk losing everything we’ve worked to build up, just to make them look good.’
Pop shook his head, the leathery skin between his brows more creased than ever. ‘It’s not just about the money, I know. Just talk to him, Holly. He’ll be here soon. Listen to what he has to say. Give the man a chance. Give Chatsfield a chance.’
The thought of doing a deal with them and risking what had happened before gave her the shudders. ‘Why don’t you talk to him if you’re so keen?’
‘I will. But since I’m reduced to this useless device—’ he slammed the palm of one hand against the wheel ‘—it will be you showing him around the vineyard and the winery. It will be you explaining your vintages, that’s as it should be. Because it’s you everyone wants to meet—the wine whisperer. Dionysus’s handmaiden, the woman who turns the humble grape into nectar of the gods.’ His eyes misted over. ‘My Holly.’
She sighed and squeezed his hand. ‘Those wine writers talk such rubbish.’
‘No, it’s true. All true. You have a gift, my girl, a God-given gift for the grapes and the wine. I’m so proud of you.’
She smiled, a soft smile she hoped told him just how much she loved him, before leaning over to add a kiss to his leathery cheek for good measure. ‘If it is true, it’s only because you taught me everything I know.’
He caught her hand within the iron grip of his bony fingers, blinking to clear watery eyes as he turned his impassioned expression up to hers. ‘Don’t you see, Holly? This Chatsfield deal could be the opportunity of a lifetime.’
She could see how he’d think it so. The dollars alone were enough to make anyone’s eyes water. But it could also turn out to be the biggest blunder of all time, given the parlous state of the Chatsfield family and its hotel chain.
But she didn’t say so, not when her grandfather seemed so set on making a deal with them. ‘I’ll talk to him, Pop,’ she said simply and even honestly with a smile for the man who had been the centre of her existence for so long she didn’t remember a time when he hadn’t been there for her. ‘I’ll give him a chance and I’ll listen to what he has to say.’
And then I’ll tell him to go to hell.
Copyright © 2014 by Harlequin Books S.A.
ISBN: 978-1-472-04294-1
THE ULTIMATE REVENGE
© 2014 Victoria Parker
Published in Great Britain 2014
by Mills & Boon, an imprint of Harlequin (UK) Limited
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