Рейчел Бейли – At the Billionaire's Beck and Call? / High-Society Secret Baby: At the Billionaire's Beck and Call? / High-Society Secret Baby (страница 8)
As if they hadn’t been interrupted, Ryder continued, his voice calm … persuasive. “We could have a good marriage. I’d be a faithful husband and an involved father with our children.”
He’d already factored children into the equation? Macy blinked rapidly, trying to recapture her inner balance. This conversation became more bizarre with every passing minute.
With three easy steps he was behind the desk with her. Not within touching distance, but strategically eliminating the desk as a barrier.
“And I’m prepared to give you whatever you want. A house in Tuscany. Your own company. Diamonds, rubies, sapphires. Name your terms.” He tilted his head to the side, the picture of reasonableness. “I think we’d get along well.”
Macy crossed her arms under her breasts, needing some sort of protection. Not from his words, but from his presence. She could smell his scent and it brought back memories she couldn’t afford to indulge right now.
She tilted her chin up. “I’m not sure where you got the idea that I’d be interested in your peculiar offer, but I will not now—nor will I ever—enter into a marriage of convenience. We don’t know each other well enough to even have this conversation.” She let her arms drop to her sides and let out a long breath. “What about love? Don’t you want to wait and find a woman you love?”
Ryder rolled back his broad shoulders. “I have to be honest. Love isn’t something I can offer.”
Macy sucked in a breath at his quick and effortless dismissal of being able to love her. But it wasn’t worth wasting energy over. She shook her head. “If you know anything about my family, you have to know the last man I’d ever marry is the one my father picked out for me.”
His eyelids lowered a fraction as his voice became seductive. “You liked me last night.”
Instinctively, she glanced at the screen on her desk, to the front page of the paper. To the image of Ryder kissing her. The shot had been taken as he cupped her cheeks with his hands, so they floated in the air, framing her face. Her throat went dry and she swallowed, remembering the crushing need she’d felt for him in that moment. Remembering the feel of him, the taste of him, the smell of him….
She ignored the ache that pressed in her chest, then, resolute, she looked up and met his eyes. “I won’t break my contract—I’m a professional. I’ll see out this project for the six weeks left. Then I’m gone. I don’t want your promotion. And in the meantime, no more games. You’ll keep your distance. There will be no meetings alone, or trips together like the one planned to Sydney in two weeks.”
His shoulders squared and his feet moved a little wider apart. “Not acceptable.”
She did a double take. “Pardon?”
“If you’re seeing out the contract, then you still work for me. You will be on that plane to Sydney. I’m not going on an important trip with an accountant or a personal assistant when the team leader is available.”
Macy took an unsteady step back, mind whirling. “You can’t possibly expect—”
“I do.” Any trace of the man who’d kissed her was gone from his expression as he cut her off. The Machine was back. “There are no lame ducks on my payroll. If you’re staying, you’ll carry out your duties properly.”
He turned and strode out the door, leaving her open-mouthed, watching him.
Had she felt cornered before? Seemed she’d just discovered a whole new level of entrapment.
One week later, Macy stood in the foyer of her apartment building watching for Ryder’s car. Right on the dot of 8:00 a.m. it arrived, yet she wasn’t surprised. The Machine probably ran his whole life like clockwork.
The silver luxury car pulled to the curb and the uniformed driver circled to open her door. Macy smiled in greeting to Bernice in the front passenger seat. She’d worked with Ryder’s personal assistant several times over the days the American team had been based in the Melbourne offices, and respected her.
“Thank you.” She slid into the backseat where Ryder’s solid length was settled.
“Good morning, Macy,” he said, voice deep and rough. Dressed in a dark suit with a sky-blue shirt and tie the same shade, he dominated the sedan. His clean, woodsy scent filled the air.
She gave him a polite smile, belying the way the sight of him still made her pulse spike. “Good morning.”
They’d kept the polite facade going since the morning the paparazzi photo had been in the paper. The way she wanted it.
As the driver climbed back behind the wheel and pulled away, Ryder’s voice rumbled again from beside her. “Bernice, did William send those updates?”
Pages rustled in the front and Ryder and his personal assistant were soon in deep conversation. With no desire to hear details of the U.S. operations of companies unrelated to her project, Macy blocked it out and thought about the delicate issue she needed to bring up with Ryder as soon as she got him alone.
From the day the paper ran the story about them, security guards had been stationed not only at the office, but also in front of her apartment building. When she left each night, the guards escorted her next door and shielded her from the small contingent of paparazzi that now staked out their street.
When she’d first quizzed her doorman about the guards at her apartment complex, he’d said the building’s owner had employed them. But last night the doorman had let slip another piece of information that had confirmed her suspicions.
Ryder was behind the new security staff.
Macy bit down on her lip. Despite his cool, professional interactions with her in the past week, he’d acted—and was still acting—to keep her safe.
She’d been shocked, but her heart had melted a little at the revelation. No one had tried to safeguard her since the day her mother died. No one else had cared enough … until Ryder.
She took a deep breath and steadied herself as she reinforced the walls around her heart. Just because it seemed he’d been protecting her, she couldn’t let herself be swayed into forgetting the deal he’d made with her father.
To buy her hand in marriage.
A secret transaction with her as the currency.
Suddenly there wasn’t enough air in the car as her lungs struggled to inhale. She clicked the window control and when the breeze pushed gently against her face, she sucked in a deep breath.
“Are you all right?” Ryder asked, the palpable concern in his voice reaching across to caress her skin.
Macy almost laughed. He was at it again—making sure she was okay, when he was the cause of her problem. Confusing her.
She spared him a quick glance, nodded once to avoid further questions, then turned back to the safety of the window. The hairs at the back of her neck still prickled, and she knew he watched her.
While she focused on the passing scenery, Bernice’s cheery voice caught her attention, asking questions about Melbourne.
Reluctantly, Macy closed the window and answered, keeping her eyes on the back of Bernice’s head, trying in vain to be more focused on Bernice than the man mere inches from her on the backseat.
Realizing her breaths were coming quicker, she dug out a report on the outer-Melbourne chocolate factory they were about to inspect with the view to purchase, and passed it to Ryder.
But he didn’t raise a hand to take it. “I told you I’m not here to read reports. You can fill me in with a commentary during the tour.”
Macy took it in her stride, and filed the report back into her briefcase. “Of course.”
His BlackBerry beeped with a message, and as he thumbed the buttons, he asked, “How was the rest of your meeting with the ingredients supplier yesterday?”
She thought back to the afternoon meeting with a quick smile of satisfaction. “Very good. We nailed down the details on the points we’d discussed with you.”
Ryder had been taking meetings all week with Australian, New Zealand and Southeast Asian managers from subsidiary companies of Bramson Food Holdings. Management from his biscuit company, prepackaged food company and sauce company had all been through the office yesterday for their chance to report in to the CEO.
In between his scheduled appointments, Ryder had made a point of keeping up with what was going on in her Chocolate Diva project.
He paused in his rapid one-handed typing on his BlackBerry and looked up at her. “Do you want to discuss any of it?”
She shook her head. “Thanks, but I’m happy with the progress.”
When Ryder had started sitting in on her meetings, she’d been wary, feeling like Big Brother was watching over her shoulder. But as the days had passed, she’d found they worked well together as a team and had come to value his input.
He nodded approvingly and threw the BlackBerry on the seat beside him. “Good work.”
They traveled in silence, Bernice and the driver chatting in quiet voices, Macy mentally running through the day’s agenda and preparing the commentary she’d be giving Ryder at the factory.