The CEO Takes a Wife / The Throw-Away Bride: The CEO Takes a Wife / The Throw-Away Bride. Ann Major
Olivia remembered seeing the elegant woman sitting next to him. “I see. Did she stay for the party? Is she here now?” Perhaps he’d go find her and not come back. She silently sighed. That was about as likely as the moon turning to cheese.
“No, my father wasn’t feeling well tonight so she decided to go home.”
“I hope he’s okay.”
Alex’s mouth tightened. “He is.”
She considered his words. “You sound certain about that.”
“My father’s very good at getting his own way,” he said brusquely.
“I have a mother who’s the same,” she joked in a moment of empathy, then regretted allowing any correlation between her and Alex.
He didn’t smile.
There was a tiny pause. Then, “God, you’re beautiful.”
She blinked, hardening her heart as it bounced inside her chest. “Oh, puh-lease.”
His jaw clenched. “Don’t prejudge me, Olivia. I don’t need to flatter to get my way. If I like something, I say so. If I want something, I ask.”
“Or take,” she said, her lip curling, instinctively knowing what sort of man he was. Yes, he was a taker. One who’d take a woman to the heights, then down to the very depths of her being.
“See,” he mocked. “You know me already.”
She drew her shoulders back. “Mr. Valente—”
“Alex.”
“Alex, look. I don’t mean to be rude, but—”
“I have a proposition for you.”
Shocked, she still managed to shoot him a withering look. “That figures.”
An icy glint appeared in his eyes. “That’s quite an attitude you’ve got there.”
She suddenly felt defensive. “It’s justified.”
A moment crept by. “So every person you meet is judged by one criterion, are they?”
His question made her angry. He must be intelligent enough to know that all her life people had used her to get to her mother. And now they used her in her own right. Not that it got them very far these days.
Not after Eric.
What a fool she’d been for marrying such a liar and a cheat. Five years ago she’d been twenty-two and unprepared for his lesson in deception. Little had she known he’d wanted her for her money, until he’d found another woman with even more money and had run off with her.
Her chin lifted. “Mr. Valente, if all this is leading somewhere, please tell me where.”
“Dinner.”
Her heart thudded once. “What about it?”
“Have dinner with me tomorrow night.”
Her heart thudded twice. “I can’t.”
He met her gaze for long seconds. “You have another engagement?”
“No.”
There was a slight lifting of his brow. “Then why not have dinner with me?”
She hated this interrogation. “How do you know I’m not involved with someone?”
“If you are, I feel sorry for him. I wouldn’t like it if my woman was attracted to another man the way you are to me.”
She sucked in a lungful of air. “Don’t be ridiculous. I’m not attracted to you.”
He raised his brows.
“Look, I’m sure any other woman would be only too glad to go out with you.” She drew herself up taller. “Please excuse me, now.” With that, she walked away with her back straight and her head held high and let herself be swallowed up in the crowd.
She half expected him to follow her, but after that he seemed to have disappeared. She was glad, she told herself. She already had a headache from the music that was getting progressively louder.
Going out for dinner with a man like Alex Valente would not be prudent, she knew. She already had enough disasters to deal with—she wouldn’t add possible heartache to the list.
Chapter Two
The next day Olivia was in her office when a courier delivered a letter for her marked Personal.
There was just something about that strong handwriting that put her on alert. She gazed down at the white envelope in her hand, noting the way her name had been written in bold strokes. Her heart skipped a beat. Was she being silly to think this was from Alex Valente?
It was.
It read, Dinner tonight. Seven-thirty. Sylvester’s Restaurant.
She stared at the note, her blood pressure beginning to rise. The sheer arrogance of the man! He sure didn’t take no for an answer.
Heavens, just the thought of spending an evening with Alex Valente was enough to give her a serious case of goose bumps. She couldn’t deny she was deeply attracted to him. There was a strength about him that appealed to her.
Of course that was probably because the men in her life had always been weak in some way or other. Her parents had divorced when she was two, and her father had ignored her for most of her life. Her successive two stepfathers had both been kind but self-centered. And her ex-husband had only been interested in himself. They hadn’t been good examples of the male species.
So why did she think Alex Valente was?
By six that evening she knew she would meet him. She had too much to worry about these days and wondering what Alex wanted from her did not need to be added to her list.
At least the restaurant was neutral ground, she told herself, showering then dressing in one of her own classic designs. The cream-colored pantsuit flattered her tall slim figure. Matching leather pumps completed a sophisticated but businesslike effect.
She might as well have worn nothing, she mused an hour later. Alex had watched her entrance into the restaurant with a masculine appreciation that sent a tingle of anticipation along her spine.
“Glad you could make it,” he said, his voice low and throaty as she reached the corner table.
“I’m not,” she said, then quickly cleared the huskiness from her throat.
A knowing look entered his eyes. “So why did you come?”
She angled her chin at him. “To tell you that I found your note arrogant and to make it clear I want nothing to do with you.”
“You could have just phoned and said the same thing.”
“But would you have given up?”
He arched a brow. “Do I look like a man who gives up?”
“No.”
“Then you have your answer.” He held out her chair for her. “Let’s eat first.”
She swallowed. First? She didn’t much feel like eating, but the waiter was hovering, so she went through the motions and ordered a glass of mineral water, then glanced at the menu and ordered veal.
“You’ve obviously done some checking to find me,” she said, once they were alone.
“I needed to get the note to you,” he dismissed, as if checking up on people was what he did every day.
Well, she’d done some checking herself this afternoon, but she wasn’t about to tell him that. She’d heard of the House of Valente—who hadn’t? But until now she’d never been interested in reading the odd gossip column about the