'Sit down,' he commanded. 'Because believe me, Jemma, you're going to need to.' he murmured very close to her ear—so close she could feel the warmth of his breath against her skin.
'Dad?' She appealed to her father. 'What is—?
'Do as Luke says and sit down; I have something to tell you.' With a close look at her father's haggard face she complied, sinking down on the sofa with an icy feeling of dread permeating her body. And it didn't help that Luke lowered his long length down beside her.
'You know I love you, Jemma,' her father said softly. 'And I would never do anything to harm you. But unfortunately over the past few years I have made one or two bad business choices. The company is no longer profitable and…'
She listened in mounting horror as her father spoke, and when he had finished she stared
at him, ashen faced. Apparently not only had he made a few bad decisions, he had been borrowing money from the firm for years. And since floating the company on AIM and acquiring shareholders outside of the family, the firm's accountancy methods had been called into question by those same shareholders. An independent accountancy firm had been hired. Her father had hoped he could pay back the loans over time, but time had run out. He admitted the last stock flotation had not really been to expand in America but to plug the hole in the accounts.
'I can't believe it. How could, you, Dad?' she asked, glancing wildly around the room. And she knew the answer. Leanne had very expensive tastes—this house, for one, as well as the villa in Majorca. She also knew her father had financed the setting up of Jan's modelling agency last year. Jemma hadn't minded—but she hadn't known it was with money that had been swindled out of the firm. A hollow laugh escaped her.
'There's no need to get upset, Jemma. Luke, here, has something to say to you—and it may be the perfect solution,' her father said placatingly.
'Just a minute.' Jemma snapped, shooting Luke a poisonous glance. 'This has nothing to do with you. You shouldn't even be here.'
'It's lucky for you I am,' he drawled sardonically, an unholy gleam of what looked to Jemma suspiciously like triumph lurking in the depths of his grey eyes. 'Unless, of course, you want your father to end up in jail for fraud.'
'Jail!' She turned stunned eyes on her father, fully expecting him to deny Luke's outrageous comment. Tell me that's not possible,' she pleaded.
'I'm sorry,' her father murmured, and got to his feet. His shoulders were slumped, his eyes dim, his face pale and worn; he was no longer the blue-eyed dynamic man she loved, but a weary old man who looked every one of his sixty years plus a decade more. She knew Luke was telling the truth. Her father reached down and put his hand on her shoulder, and she covered it compassionately with her own.
'I never meant this to happen, Jemma,' he said tiredly.
'If you don't mind I won't go to lunch with you. Take Luke instead; he will explain much better than I can what has happened. There might be a way out for us all if you and Luke can agree. God, I hope so. Because I dread telling Leanne what's happened if you can't.' Patting her on the head, he added, 'I'll see you tonight at the party.'
Suddenly the enormity of the situation finally sank into her brain. Her father being jailed for fraud was a real possibility, and he wanted her agreement to stop it happening. It didn't make sense. And why it was all right to involve her, when he dared not tell his wife, rankled more than a little. She needed answers from her father, who was heading for the door with some haste.
She got to her feet to follow him, but a strong hand snaked around her wrist and brought her to a stop with a jolt. Amazingly, for a few minutes she had forgotten Luke was present, but with his fingers warm against her skin, sending a tingling sensation up the length of her arm, she was forcibly reminded.
'Your father is some piece of work,' he stated cynically, and rose to his feet, dropping her wrist and slipping a restraining arm around her waist instead.
'No one asked for your opinion,' Jemma snapped, and tried to pull free. 'Let me go!' She glanced angrily up at him as he tightened his grip on her.
'So you can run after your father and interrogate him with questions he is in no fit state to answer?' he drawled, with a sardonic arch of one dark brow. 'I don't think so.'
'What the hell has it got to do with you?' Jemma cried. She had had enough; she was angry and confused, and the quicker she could get away from Luke's domineering presence the better.
'As a shareholder in Vanity Flair—everything, Jemma.' he mockingly informed her, a wolfish smile that was no smile at all curving his firm lips.
Jemma had been so busy thinking of her father's dire situation she had given no thought to the shareholders involved, but now she did and exclaimed, 'Oh, my God! Your grandfather must have lost a fortune!'
'Don't worry about Theo, he's lost nothing. I bought his shares from him two months ago, so it's me you have to worry about. You heard your father: take me to lunch and all will be revealed.'
Jemma eyes widened as the full import of his words sank into her shocked mind. 'You… Then this is all your fault!' she burst out.
'No. It was your father's contemptible choice to steal in the first place,' Luke pointed out. But he saw the strained expression on her lovely face, the fear she could not quite hide in her extraordinary eyes, and he had the instinctive urge to protect her. Her father sure as hell hadn't. Jemma had no idea of the depth of her father's betrayal, of that he was sure, and for an instant he doubted the course of action he intended to pursue.
'My father is not a thief—the only contemptible person around here is you,' Jemma lashed back. 'It would make much more sense if it was you being accused of thieving.' Shackled by the curve of his arm, with the muscular length of his thigh hard against her and the warmth of his big body enveloping her, she discovered the light silk suit she wore suddenly seemed to take on the consistency of wool as heat surged through her and she panicked. She twisted to try and escape him, but surprisingly she didn't need to try very hard as Luke let her go and took a step back.
Any doubts Luke had had vanished at her insults. He had taken more than enough from this woman. Implacable determination glittered in his eyes as they raked over her. Her glorious hair was knotted loosely on the top of her head, a few stray tendrils framing her face. Lower down, the lapels of the fitted jacket she was wearing revealed the creamy curves of her breasts, defined her narrow-waist, and the straight skirt clung to the gentle curve of her hips to end a few inches above her knees. Damn it! He wanted her, and he was going to have her.
'I've never stolen in my life. But I'll forget you said that, Jemma, because I know this has been something of a shock for you.' She was looking at him as if he was something the cat had dragged in, but beneath it he could sense her confusion. 'If you want to save your father and his company from ruin, I suggest we go to lunch. I'm hungry, and I'm much more generous when my appetite has been appeased. But it is your choice…'
Choice… The word echoed hollowly in Jemma's mind. Luke's parting comment the last time she had seen him came back to haunt her. She had sensed the threat in his words at the time, and dismissed it as her overactive imagination, but, looking at him now, she knew she had been right to be apprehensive. Luke was watching her with a hard, challenging gleam in his eyes and her heart sank like a stone. What choice did she have? Her own father had told her to listen to Luke…
'I'm not hungry.' She wiped damp palms down her thighs. 'And I have no wish to sit in a public restaurant with you and discuss my family business where anyone can overhear the conversation. But I am prepared to listen to what you have to say, and here is as good as anywhere.' She moved to sit down, not sure how long her shaking legs would hold her.