Kitabı oku: «At The Ruthless Billionaire's Command»

CHAPTER ONE

Two months later

‘I NEVER REALISED I’d accumulated so much stuff.’

Lia groaned as she carried yet another huge cardboard box into her new apartment and placed it with the other dozen boxes stacked to one side of the tiny sitting room. The other half was full of furniture.

‘I’m sure I don’t need most of it. I definitely have no idea where I’m going to put it all.’ She looked around the London apartment with its pocket-size sitting room/kitchen combined, one bedroom and one bathroom. It was a huge downsize from the three-storey Regency-style townhouse she had shared with her father.

Beggars couldn’t be choosers. Not that Lia was exactly a beggar—she had a little money of her own, left to her by the mother—but the comfortable lifestyle she’d known for all of her twenty-five years no longer existed.

Every one of her father’s assets had been frozen until the extent of his debts had been decided and paid by his executors—which would take months, if not years. Considering the dire financial situation her father had been in before his death, Lia doubted there would be anything left.

Their family home had been one of those assets, and although Lia could have continued to live there until everything was settled she hadn’t wanted to. Not without her father. The business sharks were also circling, ready to snap up the assets of Fairbanks Industries as soon as the executors had decided when and how they were going to be sold off to pay the debts.

Lia had used her own money to pay her father’s funeral expenses and the deposit on this apartment, plus the few bits of furniture she had deemed necessary to fill the tiny space. She hadn’t been allowed to remove anything from the house except personal items.

She had resigned from all the charitable work that had taken up much of her time—with her father dead and his estate in limbo those charities no longer considered the name Fairbanks as being a boon to their cause!—and she’d looked for, and found, a job that paid actual wages. She needed to be able to earn enough at least to feed herself and continue paying the rent on this apartment.

She had taken charge of her own life, and it felt strangely good to have been able do so.

Cathy shrugged. ‘You must have thought you needed it when you did the packing.’

She didn’t add what both of them knew: a lot of the contents of these boxes weren’t Lia’s at all, but personal items of her father’s she had packed and been allowed to bring from their home. Items that had no value but which had meant something to him, and which Lia couldn’t bear to part with.

Lia had put all these boxes in storage for the past two months, while she’d stayed with her best friend Cathy and her husband Rick. That had been balm to her battered emotions, but a situation Lia had known couldn’t continue indefinitely. Hence her move now to this apartment.

She was over the absolute and numbing shock of finding her father in his study, slumped over his desk, dead from a massive heart attack the paramedics had assured her would have killed him almost instantly. Cold comfort when they’d been talking about the man Lia had loved with her whole heart.

In some ways she wished that previous numbness was still there. The loss of her father’s presence in her life never went away, of course, but now a deeper, more crippling agony at the loss would suddenly hit her when she least expected it. Standing in the queue at the local supermarket. Walking in the park. Lying in a scented bubble bath.

The loss would hit her with the force of a truck, totally debilitating her until the worst of the grief had passed.

‘Time for a glass of wine, methinks,’ Cathy announced cheerfully. ‘Any idea which one of these boxes you put the wine glasses in?’ The tall blonde grimaced at the stack of unopened boxes.

‘I’m space-challenged—not stupid!’ Lia grinned as she went straight to the box marked ‘Glassware’, easily ripping off the sealing tape to take out two newspaper-wrapped glasses. ‘Ta-da!’ She held them up triumphantly.

Lia had no idea what she would have done without Cathy and Rick after her father died. The two women had been friends since attending the same boarding school from the age of thirteen, and Cathy was as close to her as the sister she had never had. Closer, if what she’d heard about sisterly rivalry was true.

Luckily Cathy worked as an estate agent, and was responsible for helping Lia find this affordable apartment. But, even so, there was only so much advantage she could take of Cathy’s friendship.

‘You should go home to your husband now,’ she encouraged as the two of them sat on a couple of the boxes drinking their wine. ‘Rick hasn’t seen you all day.’

Rick Morton was one of the nicest men Lia had ever met—as much of a friend to her as Cathy was, especially this past two months. But the poor man must be longing to have his wife and his apartment to himself.

‘Are you sure you’re going to be okay?’ Cathy frowned.

‘Very,’ Lia confirmed warmly.

Rick had been persuaded to go off and enjoy a football match with his friends that afternoon. A welcome break for him, it had also allowed the two women to move Lia into her new home. But there had to be a limit to how much and for how long Lia could intrude on the couple’s marriage.

‘I’m just going to unpack enough to be able to make the bed and cook myself something light to eat before I go to sleep.’ Lia gave a tired yawn: it had been a long day. ‘I don’t just have a new apartment to organise, but a new job on Monday morning to prepare for too!’

Cathy slipped her arms into her jacket. ‘You’re going to do just fine.’

Lia knew that. After the past two months she had no doubt that she was capable of looking after herself. Nevertheless, she still had to fight down the butterflies that attacked her stomach whenever she thought of all the changes in her life since her father had...died. She still choked over that word—probably because she still couldn’t believe he was gone.

And he wouldn’t be if Gregorio de la Cruz hadn’t withdrawn De la Cruz Industries’ offer to buy out Fairbanks Industries. The lawyers might have presented that death knell to her father, but there was no doubt in Lia’s mind that it was Gregorio de la Cruz who was responsible for the withdrawal of that offer.

Her father had watched the decline of his company for months and, knowing he was on the edge of bankruptcy, had decided he had no choice but to sell. Lia firmly believed it was the withdrawal of the De la Cruz offer that had been the final straw that had broken him and caused her father’s heart attack.

Which was why all of Lia’s anger and resentment was now focused on the man she held responsible.

Futile emotions when there was no way she would ever be able to hurt a man as powerful as Gregorio de la Cruz. Not only was he as rich as Croesus, but he was coldly aloof and totally unreachable.

The man had even been accompanied by two bodyguards at her father’s funeral, for goodness’ sake. They hadn’t been able to prevent Lia from slapping him, though. Was that because Gregorio de la Cruz had allowed it? He had certainly indicated that the two men should back off when they would have gone into protection mode.

She was thankful it had been a private funeral, and that there had been no photographs taken of the encounter to appear in the newspapers the following day and stir up the media frenzy once again. There’d been enough speculation after her father’s sudden death without adding to it with her personal attack on Gregorio de la Cruz.

Nevertheless she had found a certain satisfaction in slapping the Spaniard’s austerely handsome face. Even more so at seeing her blood streaked across his tautly clenched cheek.

As the days, weeks and then months had passed, and Gregorio de la Cruz’s chilling promise that they would talk again hadn’t come to fruition, Lia had mostly been able to put the man out of her mind. Just as well, because she only had enough mental energy to concentrate on the things that needed her immediate attention. Such as packing up the house, with Cathy and Rick’s help, and finding herself an apartment and a job.

But she had successfully done all those things now—including securing a job as a receptionist in one of London’s leading hotels.

Having no wish to start answering awkward questions from a prospective employer or, even worse, become the recipient of sympathetic glances that just made her want to sit down and cry, Lia had applied for several jobs under the name Faulkner—her mother’s maiden name.

Nevertheless, she had no doubt it was her years of being the Amelia Fairbanks that had given her the necessary poise to secure her job. The manager of the hotel had obviously liked her appearance and manner enough to give her a one-day trial. He had admitted afterwards to being impressed with her warmth and the unflappable manner with which she’d dealt with some of their more difficult clientele.

The poor man had no idea she was usually on the other side of the reception desk, booking in to similar exclusive hotels all over the world.

So—new apartment, new job.

Cathy was right: she was going to be just fine.

But not if one of her new neighbours was going to ring her doorbell at nine o’clock at night, when she was soaking in a much-needed bath after having pushed herself to empty half a dozen of the boxes once she’d eaten a slice of toast.

It had to be one of her new neighbours, because Lia hadn’t sent out new address cards to any of her friends yet. It was the next job she had to do—once she had unpacked completely and arranged her furniture ready for receiving visitors.

Not that she expected there to be too many of those. Amazing how many people she had thought were friends had turned out not to be so once she was no longer Amelia Fairbanks, daughter of wealthy businessman Jacob Fairbanks. Even David had broken their engagement.

But she refused to think about her ex-fiancé now!

Or ever again after the way David had deserted her when she’d needed him most.

Going to answer the door wrapped only in a bath towel was far from the ideal way to meet any of her new neighbours, but it would look even worse if Lia didn’t bother to answer the door at all. It must be obvious she was in from the amount of noise she’d been making unpacking boxes and moving furniture around.

Impatient neighbours, Lia decided as the doorbell rang again before she’d even had chance to wrap the towel around herself.

She might be new to living in an apartment, but she knew at least to look through the peephole in the door before opening it. Except she couldn’t see anyone in the hallway—which meant they had to be standing out of view. Well, there was always the safety chain to prevent anyone from coming in if she didn’t want them to. And she didn’t want them to. She was nowhere near ready—or dressed!—to receive visitors.

The reason her visitor had been standing out of the view of the peephole became obvious the moment Lia opened the door and saw Gregorio de la Cruz standing in the hallway!

‘I do not think so.’ He placed his handmade Italian black leather shoe in the six-inch gap left by the door chain, effectively preventing Lia from slamming the door in his face.

‘What are you doing here?’ Lia demanded, her hands gripping the door so tightly her knuckles showed white as she stared at the tall Spaniard.

He was once again dressed in one of those dark bespoke tailored suits, with a pristine white shirt and a perfectly knotted dark grey silk tie. Along with that slightly tousled hair, he looked like a catwalk model.

‘You seem to have asked me questions similar to that several times now,’ he answered evenly. ‘Perhaps in future it might be wise of you to anticipate seeing me where and when you least expect to do so.’

Lia didn’t want to ‘anticipate’ seeing this man anywhere. Least of all outside the door to her apartment. An apartment he shouldn’t even know about when she had only moved in today.

Except he was the powerful Gregorio de la Cruz, and he could do just about anything he wanted to do. Including, it seemed, finding out the address of Amelia Fairbanks’s new apartment.

‘Go to hell!’ She attempted to close to door. Something that wasn’t going to happen with that expensive leather shoe preventing her from doing so.

‘What are you wearing? Or rather, not wearing...?’

Gregorio found himself totally distracted by the view he could see of Amelia’s bare shoulders, where tiny droplets of water dampened her ivory skin, and what appeared to be a knee-length towel wrapped around the rest of her body. Her hair was loosely secured at her crown, with several loose tendrils curling against the slenderness of her nape.

‘None of your damned business!’ There was a flush to her cheeks. ‘Go away, Mr de la Cruz, before I call the police and ask them to forcibly remove you.’

He arched a dark brow. ‘For what reason?’

‘Stalking. Harassment. Don’t worry, I’ll think of something suitable by the time they get here,’ she threatened.

‘I am not worried,’ he assured her calmly. ‘I merely wish to speak with you.’

‘You have nothing to say that I want to hear.’ She glared at him, her eyes a deep metallic grey, the black rings wide about the irises.

‘You cannot possibly know that.’

‘Oh, but I do.’

Gregorio was not known for his patience, but he had waited for two long and tedious months before seeking out this woman again. Two months during which he had hoped her emotions would not be quite so volatile. Obviously time had not lessened her resentment towards him. Or the blame she felt he deserved for her father’s death at the age of only fifty-nine.

To say he had been shocked by Jacob Fairbanks’s demise would be an understatement. Although it must have been a strain for the man—and his company—to have been under close scrutiny of the FSA financial regulators. They were still investigating, and all of Jacob Fairbanks’s assets would remain frozen until their investigation was complete.

Gregorio had no doubt that it had been the withdrawal of De la Cruz Industries’ offer to buy Fairbanks’s company that had caused the FSA’s investigation. But he would not be held responsible for the bad business decisions that had brought Jacob Fairbanks to the brink of bankruptcy. Or the man’s fatal heart attack.

Except, it seemed, by Amelia Fairbanks...

‘No bodyguards this evening?’ she taunted. ‘My, aren’t you feeling brave? Facing a five-feet-two-inches-tall woman all on your own!’

Gregorio’s mouth tightened at the jibe. ‘Silvio and Raphael are waiting outside in the car.’

‘Of course they are,’ she scorned. ‘Do you carry a panic button you can press, if necessary, and they’ll come running?’

‘You are being childish, Miss Fairbanks.’

‘No, what I’m being is someone attempting to get rid of an unwanted visitor.’ Her eyes flashed. ‘Now, take your damned foot out of my doorway!’

His jaw tightened. ‘We need to talk, Amelia.’

‘No, we really don’t. And Amelia was my grandmother,’ she dismissed. ‘My name is Lia. Not that I’m giving you permission to use it. Only my friends are allowed that privilege,’ she added with a sneer.

Gregorio knew he was most certainly not one of those. And nor did ‘Lia’ intend for him ever to become one.

It was unfortunate for her that Gregorio felt differently on the subject. He didn’t only want to be Lia’s friend, he had every intention of becoming her lover.

When his parents had died twelve years ago they had left their sons only a rundown vineyard in Spain. As the eldest of the three brothers, Gregorio had made it his priority to rebuild and expand, and now he and his brothers owned a vineyard to be proud of, as well as other businesses worldwide. He had done those things by single-mindedly knowing what he wanted and ensuring that he acquired it.

He had wanted Lia from the moment he’d first set eyes on her. He would not give up until he had her.

He almost smiled—but only almost—at the thought of her reaction if he were to state here and now that that was his intention. No, he knew to keep that to himself. For now.

‘Nevertheless, the two of us need to talk. If you would care to open the door and put some clothes on...?’

‘There are two things wrong with that demand.’

‘It was a request—not a demand.’

She raised auburn brows. ‘Coming from you, it was a demand. I don’t care to open the door, or go and put some clothes on. And nor,’ she continued when he would have spoken, ‘as I’ve already said, do you have anything to say that I want to hear. Because of you my father is dead.’ Tears glistened in those smoky grey eyes. ‘Just leave, Mr de la Cruz, and take your guilty conscience with you.’

Gregorio’s jaw clenched. ‘I do not have a guilty conscience.’

‘Silly me—of course you don’t.’ She eyed him scornfully. ‘Men like you ruin people’s lives every day, so what does it matter if a man had a heart attack and died because of you?’

‘You are being melodramatic.’

‘I’m stating the facts.’

‘Men like me?’ he queried softly.

‘Rich and ruthless tyrants who trample over everyone and everything that gets in your way.’

‘I was not always rich.’

‘But you were always ruthless—still are!’

For the sake of his brothers and his own future, yes, he had become so. Had needed to be in a business world that would have eaten him up and spat him out again if not for that ruthlessness. But ruthless was the last thing he wanted to be where Lia was concerned.

He shook his head. ‘You are not only being overly dramatic, but you are also totally incorrect in your accusations. In regard to your father or anyone else. As you would know if you would allow me to come in and talk to you.’

‘Not going to happen.’ She gave a firm shake of her head.

‘I disagree.’

‘Then be prepared to take the consequences.’

‘Meaning?’ Gregorio’s lids narrowed.

‘Meaning I’m being extremely restrained right now, but if you persist in this harassment I promise you I will take the appropriate legal steps to ensure you are made to stay away from me.’

He raised his brows. ‘What legal steps?’

‘A restraining order.’

Gregorio had never experienced this much frustrated anger with another person’s stubbornness before. He was Gregorio de la Cruz, and for the past twelve years no one had dared to oppose him. Lia not only did so, but seemed to take delight in it.

He had never felt so much like strangling a woman and kissing her at the same time, either. ‘Would you not have to engage the services of another lawyer in order to be able to do that?’ he retaliated.

Colour blazed in her cheeks at his obvious reference to the fact that David Richardson was no longer her family lawyer or her fiancé.

‘Bastard!’

Gregorio had regretted the taunt as soon as it had left his lips. At the same time as he couldn’t take it back when he only spoke the truth. David Richardson had left this woman’s life so fast after her father’s death and Fairbanks Industries being put under investigation, Gregorio wouldn’t be surprised if the other man hadn’t suffered whiplash.