What The Magnate Wants. Joanne Rock
the reporter more to work with. Except that her nerves had returned in full force.
“And what is your impression of Mr. Fortier so far?” the woman asked, tapping her stylus on the tablet.
Was she waiting for the quotable bit that would torch Sofia’s career for daring to stick to the topic?
“I have the same impression everyone else has. He’s a brilliant talent and our company is extremely fortunate to work with him.” She couldn’t believe she’d invited this woman to her private audition with Fortier.
The last thing she needed was to be nervous on that day, too. She was usually so solid when she danced. She didn’t need Delaney getting in her head.
“Are you aware that his last two featured leads have moved in with him during the creative process?” The woman watched Sofia’s reaction closely. “That he was romantically linked to both of them?”
She hadn’t known about that. Although she had read about the affair with the previous one, she’d assumed that was just a one-time thing. People working together fell in love all the time.
But the same scenario twice?
“No.” With an effort she coaxed her lips into a smile. “I’m sure it’s not a requirement for the job.”
Outside the private room, the chamber group paused in their play and someone took the microphone. Sofia peered over her shoulder, wondering if Idris was about to be introduced.
“I’m sure it’s not.” Delaney gestured toward the open door. “But don’t let me keep you. I plan to speak with several more of your colleagues tonight.”
“Have you got all the material you need?” Sofia had hoped for a feature in the magazine, not a snippet about her engagement to a hedge fund manager.
“Plenty.” Delaney flipped off her tablet and stood. “And I’ll be there to film your audition for Mr. Fortier, which will be something our readers will want to hear all about.”
Sofia knew she’d made a misstep with the woman, but had no idea how to correct it now. She settled for being polite as she rose to her feet.
“Thank you, I look forward to it,” she lied, although not nearly as well as Quinn could have in this situation. Funny how he’d become her biggest ally this week, their unlikely partnership providing her with an outlet at a stressful time in her career.
Maybe she shouldn’t be so quick to write off his ability to put on a façade in public. She would do better to learn the trick from him.
“Enjoy that handsome fiancé of yours,” the reporter called after her. “You’re so lucky to have found someone special. I was thinking of resorting to a matchmaker myself.”
Sofia nearly tripped over her feet, the shock of the words like an icy splash to her nerves. Turning, she saw Delaney tapping her chin thoughtfully with her stylus.
“You don’t happen to know any good ones, do you?” the woman asked.
A gauntlet had been dropped.
Sofia understood the implication. The woman knew something about what had happened at the airport. Had she learned that Sofia’s father had hired a matchmaker? That in itself was certainly not a big deal. But what if she knew more than that? That her engagement was a lie. That Sofia had only done it to quiet the gossip among her peers so she could focus on her dancing.
Maybe she should have straightened it out that night. Stuck with the truth. But since she was in no position to untangle any of it right now, Sofia simply smiled.
“I don’t, but I’ve heard that’s a very popular option these days.” She rushed to melt into the crowd and find Quinn.
In the pressure cooker of her work world, her fake fiancé had become her best source of commiseration.
And he wanted to be even more than that. He wanted to give her pleasure, a heady offer that had teased the edges of her consciousness all evening long. With her heart ready to pound out of her chest, she realized he was the only person she wanted to see right now.
If only she could truly trust him. But even as she raced to find him, she reminded herself to be careful. He might genuinely be attracted to her. But he wouldn’t be helping her right now if it didn’t serve McNeill interests.
* * *
“I need to speak to you.”
Sofia’s whisper in Quinn’s ear was the sexiest thing he’d heard since that small gasp she’d made in the limo when he’d kissed her neck. He’d been ready to get her alone ever since then.
Maybe this was his moment.
He stood on the fringes of the crowd listening to the guest of honor speak at a podium about his eagerness to work in New York and to let the city inspire him. The guy said all the right things, but something about him irritated Quinn from the moment he’d opened his mouth. Perhaps it was just because he held power over Sofia’s career and Quinn didn’t like thinking that the subjective opinions of one man could mean so much to her.
More likely, it was because Idris Fortier laughed at his own jokes and occasionally referred to himself in the third person. The well-heeled crowd in attendance hung on his every word, however.
“Should we listen to this first?” Quinn asked Sofia quietly, surprised her interview had finished so soon.
“The reporter asked me if I could recommend a good matchmaker.” The soft warmth of her breath teased over his ear, but the seductive sensation couldn’t cancel out the anxiety in her words.
And no wonder she was nervous.
“He’s almost done speaking.” Quinn wrapped an arm around her waist, to bring her as close as possible, wanting to give every appearance of being deeply in love and lost in one another. “It will be easier to talk once the dancing begins.” His lips moved against the silk of her hair. “And I don’t want your reporter friend to see us darting off in a corner to whisper.”
Nodding, she relaxed against him ever so slightly. That small show of trust was something he’d been working hard for all week long. He’d put her needs first, letting Cameron fly to Kiev to handle the hotel acquisitions. He’d asked his brother Ian for help running down more information about Mallory West, giving himself more time to gain Sofia Koslov’s trust.
To help her, of course. They’d agreed to as much. But things had gotten more complicated as he admitted the depth of his attraction. He wanted her. And after the heat they’d sparked in the car on the way over here, he thought he knew where things were headed between them.
Would she act on that attraction if she knew this engagement was helping him as much as it helped her? That he’d purposely delayed drawing up that contract he’d discussed with her that first night they’d met because he now wondered if the relationship could help him around his grandfather’s marriage dictate.
Quinn still hoped he could help Malcolm McNeill see that he didn’t need to call the shots in his grandsons’ love lives. That he could trust them to find spouses on their own terms and in their own time. Quinn would at least try to talk him into scrapping the marriage stipulation from the will. But failing that? He was confident he could work out some kind of agreement with Sofia that would help him to fulfill the terms.
As the crowd around him erupted into applause for the choreographer, a violinist struck a dramatic, quavering note. It cracked through the air, stirring the room. The unmistakable trill of a Spanish bandoneon followed in the opening note of a tango, a rare dance Quinn knew well. It transported him back to the small Buenos Aires pub where he’d learned the steps afterhours with his work crew while overseeing renovations on one of the family’s resorts. He recalled the packed dance floor crowded with passionate couples and knew, with fierce certainty, that he wanted to share this with Sofia.
“Dance with me,” he murmured in her ear, his nostrils flaring at the vanilla scent of her skin. It rose around him