Untamed Billionaires: Marriage: For Business or Pleasure? / Getting Red-Hot with the Rogue / One Night with the Rebel Billionaire. Элли Блейк
His eyes glittered as she inwardly cursed her choice of words and rushed on. ‘I mean, why me in particular? What have I got to offer?’
‘Do you really want me to answer that?’
Her breath hitched at the clear intent in his loaded stare and she took a step back. ‘Yes.’
To her relief, he shrugged, the heat fading from his eyes. ‘You’re a motivated businesswoman. You wouldn’t have flown halfway around the world to make your pitch the best if you weren’t. And I need that. Someone with a clear vision in mind, a business goal.’
He pinned her with a firm glare. ‘Someone who won’t cloud the issue with emotion, which is exactly what would happen if I chose a local wife.’
His hand wavered between them. ‘This marriage between us is a straightforward business proposal, a win-win for us both. What do you think?’
She thought he was mad, but most of all she thought she was a fool for wishing his preposterous proposal held even the slightest hint of emotion she still meant something to him other than as a means to gaining respectability.
Summoning what was left of her dignity, she nodded. ‘I’ll get back to you.’
‘You do that.’
His confident grin grated. He knew she was buying time to contemplate his marital equivalent of a pie chart.
With her mind spinning, she stalked across the room, head held high, his soft, taunting chuckles following her out of the door.
‘SO, THE prodigal daughter returns.’
From the moment Brittany knew she’d be returning home she’d been bracing for this confrontation.
However, no matter that she told herself it was ridiculous, no amount of deep breathing, or steeling her nerves, or trying to remember how far in the past it all was could calm her in any way as she faced her father for the first time in ten years. She could feel her hands shaking.
She paused at the entrance to his apartment, one of the few in the exclusive Jacaranda special accommodation home for the elderly.
Not that Darby Lloyd would ever admit to his seventy-two years. He’d had work done on his face several times, had hair plugs to arrest a threatening bald patch and continued to wear designer clothes better suited to a man half his age.
But pots of money or cosmetic work or fancy clothes couldn’t buy health and that was one thing he didn’t have these days.
Five years ago, he’d tried to guilt her into quitting her job and returning to look after him as he grew older and more bitter. He’d nearly succeeded. However, some deep part of her had resisted his pressure. He had been a cruel tyrant who’d controlled her life until she’d come into a small inheritance from her mum when she’d turned eighteen and fled as far from him as she could get. She simply couldn’t go back to the hell she’d left behind.
In her heart, she desperately wanted to be anywhere but in front of the man who would have ruined her life if she’d let him, but her pride wouldn’t let her pay a visit to her hometown and not see him. She was older and stronger—surely she could stand to face him now? She had come here today to prove to herself she’d finally set the past to rest. Working harder, longer, than everyone else might keep the memory demons at bay, but she knew if she stopped, slowed down her frenetic pace, the old fears could come crowding back to fling her right back to the dim, dark place ten years earlier.
And she’d be damned if she let that happen. In a way, she should thank dear old Dad for shaping her into the woman she was today: strong, capable and successful, everything he’d said she’d never be.
But there was more to this visit and she knew it, no matter all her self talk to the contrary.
She was here because of hope.
Hope that he might have changed. Hope that after all this time they might actually have a shot at some semblance of a normal father-daughter relationship.
And if not? Well, she was different now: a woman on top of her career, a woman who depended on no one, a woman a far cry from the victim she’d once been.
She’d vowed back then never to be helpless again, had instigated huge steps to eradicate the confusion and fear, yet as she stood on the threshold to this room trepidation tripped across her skin as the anxiety she’d fought to conquer over the last decade clawed at her belly.
‘How are you, Dad?’
‘Much the same.’
He limped towards her, waving his cane at a seat for her. ‘No thanks to you.’
Taking several deep breaths, she perched on the edge of the chair, willing the dread to subside, hating the vulnerability being this close to him elicited.
She needed to do this, needed to see if there was the slightest chance for them before she returned to London.
‘You look good.’
He grunted in response, wouldn’t meet her gaze, his surly expression putting a serious dent in her hopes for some kind of reconciliation.
‘This place is lovely.’
Another monosyllabic grunt as his frown deepened and her patience wore a little thinner.
‘Dad, I really think it’s time to—’
‘What the hell are you doing here?’
His snarl caught her off guard despite his churlishness, yet it wasn’t his response that saddened her as much as the contempt in his truculent glare.
She’d been a fool to hope for anything other than what she got: more of the same from a boorish man who didn’t give a hoot about her.
‘I’m here on business.’
He showed no interest, seemed bored more than anything else. Faced with his silence she could not help asking him:
‘Don’t you want to know how I am? What I’ve been doing? What I’ve achieved?’
His withering stare clued her into his response before he spoke.
‘I don’t give a damn any more.’
Pain sliced her heart in two, the old familiar questions reverberating through her head: What did I do wrong? Why did you stop loving me? Could I have done anything differently?
But she wasn’t the same scared teenager any more.
She had her career skyrocketing all the way to the top and she’d be damned if she sat here and took any of his crap.
Resisting the urge to jab her finger at him to ram home her point, she sat back, folded her arms and looked him straight in the eye.
‘Maybe you should give a damn. That way, you’d know I’m a senior executive at a top London ad firm, that I’m good at what I do and I’ve done it all on my own, no thanks to you.’
She’d come here with some semblance of the idealistic girl she’d once been, but that girl vanished beneath his lack of caring and she wanted to rub his nose in her independence, in her success, in the proof she’d survived despite what he’d put her through.
If she’d thought her outburst would gain a reaction, gain recognition for her achievements, she should’ve known better.
He glowered, drew himself up, resembling the towering giant of a man she remembered as he rammed his cane against the floor.
‘You’re a fool if you think I care about any of that.’
Her heart ached as she stared at the man who was her father biologically but didn’t know the meaning of the word.
She