Marrying the Enemy. Nicola Marsh
had been arrested the next day in a Victorian Police Force special operation targeting corporate crime.
And Jax had been shattered.
The father he’d idolised, the father he’d looked up to, the father he’d admired for working his way up from his blue collar roots—and his own deadbeat dad—to become a business dynamo, was a liar and a thief and not the man Jax thought he was.
He’d stood by Denver: through the trial, the adverse publicity, the sentencing.
Initially he’d done it out of loyalty but as the trial progressed and the extent of Denver’s treachery became apparent, he did it so he could imprint every last detail into his memory as a reminder to never be duped again.
By anyone.
Denver’s non-contact after his incarceration had been a bonus. He wouldn’t have responded if the old man had tried to contact him anyway.
The moment the door had slammed on Denver’s jail cell was the moment he’d slammed the door on his relationship with his father.
Every deceptive minute of it.
The music faded and he sank into the couch, a prickle of unease creeping across the back of his neck.
He might not care about the past any longer but he hated the insidious, floundering feeling that swamped him when he remembered how many lives his father’s lies and cunning and deceit had affected, how many families he’d ruined by wiping away their fortunes.
By the crowd’s response tonight, they wouldn’t let Jax forget his connection to a man who’d ripped off millions.
Screw them.
He had a job to do.
A corporation to take to the top.
Tonight had been the first step towards making that happen. Business as usual.
Now who was lying? He might have finagled an invitation to the Seaborn’s event tonight but once he’d arrived and locked wits with Ruby, business had been replaced by the prospect of pleasure.
Wicked, decadent, all-night-long pleasure.
He wanted her.
He pulsed with it.
And what Jax Maroney wanted he usually got.
Another thing he could thank dear old dad for. He’d learned from a young age that if he demanded, he’d receive. Denver had been a soft touch.
A dad to pick him up from school and take him to the footy and play cricket in the park. A dad to coach him from the sidelines and help with science projects and fix his bike. A dad to beat at wrestling and build a tree house and go camping with.
Denver had done it all, always making time for him. Not that he’d been totally spoiled, but both his parents had fondly indulged their only child.
Which made their emotional defection the harder to comprehend.
Denver had been an amazing dad. Kids had been jealous, and Jax had been proud. People flocked to Denver Maroney and he milked his popularity.
Before proceeding to milk people’s hard-earned money, thanks to Jackie’s contacts, culminating in his embezzling millions that landed him in jail.
Jax’s fingers curled into tight fists and he thumped the couch’s armrest.
Damn Denver. Damn him to hell.
With a stack of paperwork waiting and employee performance evaluations to do, the last thing he felt like doing was ruminating on the evening and how thanks to his father’s reputation he’d failed to make inroads in his takeover bid, but the woman at the centre of his plans had succeeded in piquing his interest.
He’d heard of Sapphire Seaborn by reputation, had expected to lock wills with a take-no-prisoners businesswoman.
What he hadn’t expected was to be enthralled and challenged by a smart-mouthed blonde with more bravado than he’d credited her with.
When she’d discovered his identity, and later heard his offer...man, she’d been magnificent, all riled and defiant.
He got hard just thinking about it.
Sadly, he wasn’t at liberty to follow the demands of his libido, not when Ruby Seaborn had what he desperately wanted.
These days, when he wanted something, he went out there and took care of it himself.
Acquiring the Seaborn mine would be no different.
CHAPTER FOUR
RUBY had spent three days with the Seaborn’s accountant poring over ledgers until her eyes stung.
Figures weren’t her strong suit yet she’d listened and learned. And hyperventilated.
No matter how hard they juggled and reassigned, they couldn’t create miracles. Unless Seaborn’s had a sudden influx of cash or cut costs in major areas of the business, they’d shortly be bankrupt.
She knuckled her eyes, hating the futility of tears. She’d never been the type to get emotional but dragging around this burden had her on the verge all the time.
Not a good look during a last-ditch stand.
Last thing she felt like doing with her Saturday was attend the races but a competitor had invited her to their launch and, not wanting to appear churlish, she’d agreed to go with head held high.
If Seaborn’s was on the way out, better to go out with a bang than a whimper.
She swanned through the marquee at Flemington Racecourse, air-kissing acquaintances, greeting industry peeps, fake-smiling and making idle chit-chat like a pro.
How Sapphie did this on a regular basis she’d never know. Little wonder she’d burned out. And this on top of her CEO duties. And the secret she’d lugged around for months—that no matter what she did the company they loved would end up bankrupt.
The thought of her broken sister and how little Sapphie had trusted her to help brought a lump to her throat and she grabbed a Chardonnay from a passing waiter and edged towards the balcony overlooking the lush green course, desperate for fresh air.
She dragged in great lungfuls, grateful when her lungs eased and she could breathe easier. Taking a sip of wine, she glanced back at the crowded room.
And saw the last man she wanted to see.
Jax Maroney. Black suit. Black heart. Black mood too, judging by the glower and permanently etched frown.
Detached from the mingling crowd, he was propped behind a display, watching, his frown not easing as that penetrating glare swept the room.
Interesting. The second function in a few days where he’d deliberately separated from the crowd. He didn’t appear awkward; then again he didn’t exactly fit into this esoteric crowd, six-three of brooding, beautiful male.
She edged behind a pillar and watched him. He didn’t move, didn’t smile, didn’t accept a drink or hors d’oeuvres. The only time he appeared animated was when the Meyers, an elderly rich couple who’d been friends of her mum, approached. He squared his shoulders, managed a sardonic smile and held out his hand. Only to have the couple ignore it, mutter a few words that wiped the smile off his face, and walk away as fast as their arthritic knees could carry them.
The guy wanted to ruin her family’s business and she should hate him, but when he resumed his air of detachment and blanked his expression as if nothing had happened, a small part of her felt sorry for him.
If memory served her correct, the Meyers’ son had lost around eight hundred thousand dollars thanks to Denver Maroney, so it didn’t surprise her they snubbed his son.
This crowd always protected their own and Jax’s dad had done the unthinkable: using longstanding friendships to swindle and deceive and destroy.
What