She bit down on her lip. He had a point.
This wasn’t going to work. He was immovable. She should have known as much. All she’d succeeded in doing today was destroying her pride and possibly weakening Laurence’s bargaining position in a way that may well prove fatal.
‘You’re right.’ She shook her head. ‘I shouldn’t have come here. I really thought you might understand. I don’t know why I should have expected anything of you, really. It was pretty obvious that night exactly what kind of man you are. I was stupid to expect a shred of compassion from you...’
‘Compassion?’ He looked at her as though she were mad. ‘This is business, black and white, commercially sensible business. Nothing else. If I invested half a billion pounds into failing hedge funds just because a woman I’d slept with asked me to, I would have nothing left to invest.’
The sting of his words whipped her to the core of her soul. It wasn’t as though she was under any illusion when it came to his sexual experience but a reminder of the number of women he’d slept with sat like a boulder in her throat. She stared at him for several seconds and then nodded jerkily. ‘Perhaps it would be better if you forgot I came, Mr Durante.’ She used his surname meaningfully, side-stepping him and moving towards the table where her clutch bag sat discarded.
* * *
He watched her stride towards the door with a frown on his face and, though he’d been frustrated by her sudden intrusion, and even more so at the reason for it, he didn’t relish the prospect of her disappearing once more.
His lawyers had quarantined the funds for this investment earlier that same day—as chance would have it, he’d been planning to call Laurence that afternoon to finalise the details.
Instead, Jemima had arrived with her fluffy blonde hair and the fringe that hung across one eye making him itch to reach over and push it away so he could regard her properly. Jemima with her defiant eyes and trembling mouth, her vanilla fragrance and tantalising curves. The four weeks he’d spent telling himself how bitterly he regretted falling for her many charms had evaporated into thin air.
He was glad to see her. He wanted to see more of her. The realisations were instantaneous, brought to life by her imminent departure.
‘Wait.’
Her hand had curved around the door. He stayed exactly where he was, a desire to appear in control innate to him, even as there was a rival instinct to stalk across the room and drag her into his arms.
‘What?’ She barked the word with disbelief. ‘What do you want?’
It was an excellent question and, if he’d been a different man, perhaps he would have obfuscated, sought cover in a lie. But Cesare was not a man to lie. ‘You, uccellina. Just you.’
Her eyes flew wide and her lips parted, colour invaded her cheeks and beneath the fine cotton of her shirt her breasts puckered so he could see the definition of her nipples against the fabric. His groin tightened, desire rushing over him.
All his adult life, he’d been in charge. Not once had he slept with a woman and had it morph into something else, and this wouldn’t, either. This was just sex, desire plain and simple, but one night hadn’t been enough. Perhaps it was the way they’d come together, the surprise of her innocence or the abrupt way he’d put an end to what they were doing. He hadn’t been able to think of her without regret and now, here she was in his office, a second chance with her tantalising and impossible to ignore.
He held up a hand, forestalling anything she might say in response. ‘Hear me out.’ He paced towards his desk, a frown on his face as he thought through what he wanted and how to get it. ‘You are worried about your cousin. Fine. You wish me to alleviate those worries by investing in his business right now, today?’
She bit down on her lower lip and nodded, angst so obvious in her eyes.
He ignored it. This wasn’t about sympathy. It wasn’t about compassion—she’d been wrong to expect either of those qualities in him. This was business, pure and simple. She was an acquisition, just like a company he might wish to buy. True, the terms were vastly different, but if mutually agreeable
the professionalism of the deal would be the same.
He spoke slowly, placing his palms on the edge of his desk as he eyed her across the room. ‘In business it is normal to offer something in exchange. If I were to buy into his hedge fund, which may very well prove to be a complete waste of my money,’ he said, knowing full well the fund was likely to double in value in the next six months, ‘then I would expect something in exchange.’
She was quiet. His eyes ran over her face and a rush of excitement surrounded him. He’d thought of her frustratingly often—how come it hadn’t occurred to him that he could leverage her situation to give them what they both wanted?
‘Have you thought of me since that night?’ he asked, his body still, his eyes trained on her face so that he could catch any hint of response, the slightest reaction. He didn’t have to look too hard. Her hand lifted to her hair, pulling it over one shoulder, and her expression shifted to one of disbelief.
‘Why does it matter?’ And then, a second later, ‘Have you thought of me?’
‘Yes.’ He held her gaze when she might have looked away. ‘You weren’t what I expected.’
Her throat shifted as she swallowed. ‘So I’m some kind of an enigma?’
An enigma? Yes, that was it. How else could he explain the fact his mind had frequently wandered back to that night without his consent? ‘You could say that.’
‘So?’ Her eyelids fluttered as she lifted her gaze to his and an ache to possess her again—properly this time—soared in his chest. Yes, he wanted her, and not like last time. He wanted to savour every kiss, every movement, every feeling and sensation. He wanted to do this properly, at his leisure.
‘I have a proposition for you. A way to help Laurence and give you and me what I think we both want.’
But one more night wouldn’t be enough. Instinctively he knew the fever she’d evoked would be harder to quell in his blood than a single night would allow for.