Daring to Date the Boss / The Tycoon Who Healed Her Heart: Daring to Date the Boss / The Tycoon Who Healed Her Heart. Melissa James
women and he’d recovered. Yes, he liked Rachel—found her adorable, damn it—and he definitely liked the way she felt in his arms. But it wouldn’t be a tragedy if she left tomorrow or the next day. Or in two weeks or three. He was stronger than that, had survived a lot worse disasters than a woman leaving his life after a few weeks. Facile venir, facile aller—easy come, easy go—that was his motto.
‘Good,’ he replied at last, with a cheerfulness that seemed overdone, even to his paranoid ears. ‘Two weeks is definitely doable—or even three or four.’
‘Really? I can stay? It’s not an issue for you?’ she asked, her eyes wide and her smile bouncing off those unseen prisms in the room. Rainbow reflections were everywhere …
He felt his eyes blink in astonishment at having made an offer she hadn’t asked for. What was wrong with him lately? ‘Yes, of course,’ he said smoothly. ‘You are a paying guest, after all.’
Something came and went in her face, a frisson of apprehension. Her smile faded to something weak and half-hearted. ‘Well, then, we both know where we are. The day I run out of funds, I’ll be out of your hair for good, Herr Bollinger.’
Brave words, but her fingers trembled. And he could have kicked himself. No doubt Dr Pete had frozen the accounts, hoping that sooner or later his newly renamed wife would be forced to come into the open and use electronic funds to survive. Then he could find her, and bring her to heel. She might already have run out of money.
It was only when she’d left the room, still clutching at her pyjamas—cute pink things with little cats on the telephone—that he realised she hadn’t called him Armand since he’d brought up the subject of her stay. She knew he was trying to manipulate her, however subtle he’d been in his effort. He’d tried to dig into her life, and again she’d given nothing away.
Two, maybe three weeks was all he had to get her out of danger—that was, if she didn’t run out of funds first. And, given his complete failure in getting a single personal concession from her, three weeks wouldn’t be nearly enough.
Without needing to think it through, he emailed Max again.
Nobody is to mention funds to Ms Chase. She is our honoured guest, for as long as she needs to be here.
He said nothing else, but he knew Max wouldn’t ask. It was Armand’s practise to allow respected clients some space and time to pay their bills. He’d always judged this by instinct alone and he’d never been wrong. They always came through sooner or later, and they’d all become numbered among his most loyal returning guests or even investors.
Now all he needed was to think of a reasonable excuse that would allow her to stay and still satisfy her pride. He just knew that, if he couldn’t come up with something really good, she’d leave with her head high, refusing his charity. He couldn’t let her vanish without trace, not when he was sure that sooner or later, she’d run into more trouble than she could handle alone.
That afternoon
‘It’s a simple contract, Rachel. You stay here until I’ve secured the new resort and I have the architect’s plans. Then I’ll take you there, and you can endorse at least two of my resorts with honesty.’
Rachel frowned at Armand, sensing something deeper than he was showing with this perfect courtesy. ‘Why do you need me to sign a contract? I’ve said I’ll do it.’
His eyes darkened to stormy grey, the hidden lightning beneath the handsome diplomat’s face. He only looked like that when he was hiding something. ‘Because then, if you change your mind and sign on for that show, or pursue other avenues with your career, you’re legally bound to this venture first.’
‘I’ve never broken a contract in my life,’ she replied, aiming for calm, but knowing her voice shook a little. ‘Whatever you’ve heard about me …’
His facial muscles didn’t shift; he looked calm, but she sensed the tempest buried deep inside his emotions, like black clouds on the edge of a summer-blue sky. ‘I’ve heard nothing to your detriment, Rachel. I don’t buy tabloids for entertainment. I’m merely used to conducting my business on more than a handshake or verbal agreement. I’ve found it’s safer that way—for both of us.’
‘I see.’ Now she couldn’t keep the stiffness from her tone. No matter how he couched it, it was obvious that he didn’t trust her. ‘Then I’ll fax a copy to my lawyer and have him read over it before I sign.’
A short pause, then he said, ‘Are you certain it’s wise to contact someone from home?’
No matter how tactfully he’d said it, the unspoken knowledge hovered between them. Silence had become her bulwark and shield, but with a few tactful words he’d given her a timely reminder. Yes, Pete would lean on her lawyer to divulge her whereabouts, should she contact him. She already knew he’d done the same with her parents and her sister, Sara. Until she’d turned off her phone, all their calls had been reproaches about abandoning ‘poor Pete’ in his time of need.
That Armand hadn’t spoken about Pete directly showed she was right. He already knew or suspected far too much.
‘Then I’ll find a lawyer in Zürich. One that speaks English,’ she added defiantly, before he could say it. ‘There must be loads of them.’
‘There are, and that’s your right, certainly. You don’t know me, and I don’t know you. It’s best we keep this entire matter as a business arrangement.’ His tone was as withdrawn as hers. Though she knew it was stupid, she wondered what she’d said or done to put distance between them when just last night, they’d been so close.
Don’t think about it.
Like it or not, separated or not—even though Pete had cheated on her at least twice—she was still a married woman for another few weeks. She had no right to think about how much Armand’s holding her last night had affected her, let alone keep reliving how safe she’d felt How warm and tender his arms and hands had been. And the look in his eyes …
No. She had to remember, this arrangement was all just business: keep Rachel happy, keep her here, let her think you might be interested until the resort’s endorsed. And, if the ads fail, drop her like a hot potato.
That’s why he’s called the Wolf, right? He’ll do whatever it takes to make his ideas work. It’s said he hasn’t failed at anything he’s taken on since he was seventeen.
And yet, impatient with this wary reserve, sick of trusting no one, she picked up the five-page contract and read it through. It was exactly as he’d said: straightforward, no hidden clauses. She was to stay here free of charge until the deal went through for the resort on the Swiss side of the French border. Then she would appear on a series of endorsements for the Bollinger resorts, and that would be that.
‘You’re right, it’s very simple.’ Drawing a fast breath, she grabbed the pen and signed it. ‘There you are, Herr Bollinger, it’s all done. Now you can get back to work.’ Bundling the sheaf of papers in her hands, she shoved it at him as if palming off a grenade. Some instinct was screaming at her, you’ll regret this.
Expecting further withdrawal on his part, or cold satisfaction at his victory however he won it, she was taken aback by the brief flash she saw in his eyes—it almost looked like relief. And that sent a spurt of confusion and worry through her. He did know too much. ‘Thank you, Rachel.’ And, if there was a slight emphasis on her given name, the crispness of his voice and the way he signed the papers, straightened them and put them in a folder was all business. ‘I have a meeting with the staff for the rest of the afternoon. I’ll be back in time for dinner.’
Rachel watched him leave the cabin, torn between indignation and aching wistfulness: a spurt of loneliness that hurt her heart but had little to do with being alone. She tried to shake it off, but it persisted through a two-hour session of reading, writing in her journal and listening to music. It continued even through