Angela Bissell – Surrendering To The Vengeful Italian (страница 3)

Yes, she could sense the anger vibrating beneath his cloak of civility, but he would never lose control and lash out at her. He would never hurt her the way her father hurt her mother.

She smoothed her palm down the leg of her black trouser suit and assumed a lofty air. ‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ she said, and strode into the room.

* * *

Leo closed the penthouse doors, strode to the wet bar and splashed a large measure of whisky into a crystal tumbler. He knocked back the potent liquid, snapped the empty glass onto the bar and looked at the woman whose presence was like a blowtorch to his veneer of calm.

‘Drink?’

‘No.’ She reinforced her refusal with a shake of her head that made her auburn curls bounce and sway. ‘But...thank you.’

Shorter, he noted. Her hair was shorter, the dark silky ribbons that had once tumbled to her waist now cropped into a sophisticated cut above her shoulders. Her face, too, had changed—thinner like her body and more striking somehow, her cheekbones strong and elegant, her jaw line firm. Bluish crescents underscored her eyes, but the rest of her skin was toned and smooth and free of imperfections. It was a face no man, unless blind, would pass by without stopping for a second appreciative look.

Helena Shaw, he reluctantly acknowledged, was no longer a pretty girl. Helena Shaw was a stunningly attractive woman.

Scowling, he reminded himself he had no interest in this woman’s attributes, physical or otherwise. He’d been blindsided by her beauty and guise of innocence once before—a grave error that had cost him infinitely more than his injured pride—and he’d vowed his mistake would not be repeated.

Not with any woman.

And especially not this one.

‘So, you want to talk.’ The last thing he wanted to do with this woman. Dio. He should have bodily removed her from the elevator downstairs and to hell with causing a scene. He banked the flare of anger in his gut and gestured towards a duo of deep leather sofas. ‘Sit,’ he instructed, then glanced at his watch. ‘You have ten minutes.’

She frowned—a delicate pinch of that smooth brow—then put her bag on the glass coffee table and perched on the edge of a sofa. She drew an audible breath.

‘The papers say you’ve launched a hostile takeover bid for my father’s company.’

He dropped onto the opposite sofa. ‘An accurate summary.’ He paused. ‘And...?’

She puffed out a sigh. ‘You’re not going to make this easy for me, are you?’

Easy? That simple four-letter word made him grind his molars. This girl’s entire life had been easy. Her family’s excessive wealth, her father’s connections, had ensured she wanted for nothing. Unlike Leo and his sister who, after their mother’s death, had survived childhood in a murky world of poverty and neglect. For them, nothing came easy.

‘You want me to make this easy for you?’

Like hell he would.

She shook her head. ‘I want to understand why you’re doing this.’

So she could talk him out of it? Not a chance. He’d waited too many years to settle this score with her father. He returned her gaze for an extended beat. ‘It’s business.’

She laughed then: a short brittle sound, not the soft, sexy laughter that resided in his memory. ‘Please—this isn’t business. It’s...payback.’

Her voice conveniently wobbled on that last word, but her ploy for sympathy, if that was her angle, failed to move him.

‘And if I said this is payback, what would you say?’

‘I’d say two wrongs don’t make a right.’

He barked out a laugh. ‘A quaint sentiment. Personally, I think “an eye for an eye” has a more appealing ring.’

She dropped her gaze to where her fingers fidgeted in her lap. Her voice was husky when she spoke again. ‘People aren’t perfect, Leo. Sometimes they make mistakes.’

His gut twisted. Was she talking about her father? Or herself? ‘So you’re here to apologise for your mistakes?’

She glanced up. ‘I tried that once. You didn’t want to listen. Would it make any difference now?’

‘No.’

‘I was trying to protect you.’

He bit back another laugh. By driving a blade through his heart? Leaving him no choice but to watch her walk away? A bitter lump rose in his throat and he swallowed back the acrid taste.

Seven years ago he’d come to London to collaborate with a young software whiz on a project that, if successful, would have guaranteed his business unprecedented success.

As always, he was focused, dedicated, disciplined.

And then he met a girl.

A girl so beautiful, so captivating, she might have been one of the sculptures on display at the art gallery opening they were both attending in the West End.

He tried to resist, of course. She was too young for him, too inexperienced. Too distracting when he should be focused on work.

But he was weak and temptation won out. And he fell—faster than he’d ever thought possible—for a girl who, five weeks later, tossed him aside as if he were a tiresome toy she no longer wanted or needed.

He curled his lip. ‘Remind me not to come looking for you if I ever need protection.’

She had the good grace to squirm. ‘I had no choice. You don’t understand—’

‘Then explain it to me.’ Anger snapped in his gut, making him fight to stay calm. ‘Explain why you walked away from our relationship instead of telling me the truth. Explain why you never bothered to mention that your father disapproved of us. Explain why, if ditching me was your idea of protection, I spent the next forty-eight hours watching every investor I’d painstakingly courted pull their backing from my project.’

He curled his fingers into his palms, tension arcing through his muscles. Douglas Shaw had dealt Leo’s business a significant blow, yet his own losses had barely registered in comparison to the impact on his younger sister. Marietta’s life, his hopes and dreams for her future, had suffered a setback the likes of which Helena could never appreciate.

Sorry didn’t cut it.

‘Perhaps you wanted an easy out all along—’

‘No.’

‘And Daddy simply gave you the perfect excuse.’

‘No!’

There was more vehemence behind that second denial than he’d expected. She threw him a wounded look and he shifted slightly, an unexpected stab of remorse lancing through him. Hell. This was precisely why he’d had no desire to see her. Business demanded a cool head, a razor-sharp mind at all times. Distractions like the beautiful long-legged one sitting opposite him he could do without.

A lightning flash snapped his gaze towards the private terrace overlooking Hyde Park and the exclusive properties of Knightsbridge beyond. His right leg twitched with an urge to rise and test the French doors, check they were secure. He didn’t fear nature’s storms—on occasion could appreciate their power—but he didn’t like them either.

Didn’t like the ghosts they stirred from his childhood.

A burst of heavy rain lashed the glass, drowning out the city sounds far below. Distorting his view of the night. He waited for the rumble of thunder to pass, then turned his attention from the storm. ‘How much has your father told you about the takeover?’

‘Nothing. I only know what I’ve read in the papers.’

Another lie, probably. He let it slide. ‘Then you are missing one important detail.’

Her fidgeting stilled. ‘Which is...?’

‘The word “successful”. In fact...’ He hooked back his shirt-cuff and consulted his watch. ‘As of two hours and forty-five minutes ago my company is the official registered owner of seventy-five percent of ShawCorp.’ He offered her a bland smile. ‘Which means I am now the controlling shareholder of your father’s company.’

He watched dispassionately as the colour receded from her cheeks, leaving her flawless skin as white as the thick-pile rug at her feet. She pressed her palm to her forehead, her upper body swaying slightly, and closed her eyes.

A little theatrical, he thought, the muscles around his mouth twitching. He shifted forward, planted his elbows on his knees. ‘You look a touch pale, Helena. Would you like that drink now? A glass of water, perhaps. Some aspirin?’

Her lids snapped up and a spark of something—anger?—leapt in her eyes, causing them to shimmer at him like a pair of brilliant sapphires.

Leo sucked in his breath. The years might have wrought subtle differences in her face and figure, but those eyes...those eyes had not changed. They were still beautiful. Still captivating.

Still dangerous.

Eyes, he reminded himself, that could strip a man of his senses.

They glittered at him as she raised her chin.

‘Water, please.’ She gave him a tight smile. ‘You can hold the aspirin.’

* * *

Helena reached for the glass Leo had placed on the table in front of her and sipped, focusing on the cold tickle of the carbonated water on her tongue and throat and nothing else. She would not faint. Not in front of this man. Shock on top of an empty stomach had left her woozy, that was all. She simply needed a moment to compose herself.