Propositioned by the Billionaire (12 page)

‘A
RE YOU GOING
to sit behind that paper
all
morning?’ Jo prodded the pages of Alex’s paper and made reading the rest of the article on the new piece of technology launched by the latest company he’d invested in impossible.

‘That was my plan.’

‘I’ve hardly seen you all week.’

‘I’ve been working.’

Her eyes held a mischievous light he didn’t entirely trust. ‘Evenings too?’

No. Alex had spent every evening since her parents’ party with Phoebe. Most lunchtimes too. He couldn’t seem to get enough of her. ‘Some.’

‘But you must have found time to eat? Take the air?’

He frowned. What was Jo talking about? He scoured her face but couldn’t find anything other than mild curiosity in her expression. His sister obviously wanted to chat. Presumably that was why she’d suggested breakfast. And as he’d been keen to find out what spending time with his sister without being racked with guilt might be like, he’d agreed. So it was high time he started doing exactly that.

Suddenly realising he felt lighter than he had in
years, Alex grinned, folded the paper and set it on the table. ‘Sorry. Bad habit. How are things coming along for the launch?’

‘Brilliantly.’ Jo beamed. ‘I’ve finally finished the collection and there’s not a drop of glue in sight.’

‘Thank heavens for that.’

‘I can’t believe it’s only a week away.’

‘I’m very proud of you, you know.’

‘I know. I’m kind of proud of me too. Although I couldn’t have done it without Phoebe.’

‘Probably not.’

‘Hah,’ said Jo triumphantly. ‘You see. I told you she’d be brilliant. It’s odd, though,’ she added after a little pause, spooning sugar into the cup and idly stirring her coffee.

Alex waited for her to continue but Jo appeared to have gone off into her own little world. The relentless clink of her spoon against the side of the cup started to set his teeth on edge. ‘What’s odd?’

Jo blinked and looked up at him. ‘She’s different.’

Alex already knew that. Why else would he have broken the vow he’d made years ago never to see the same woman more than a couple of times? The fact that he’d not only broken it but hadn’t wasted a moment agonising over it should have scared the living daylights out of him.

Instead, while he wasn’t exactly shouting it from the rooftops, the idea of having Phoebe around a bit longer didn’t have him running for the hills. In fact it made him feel warm and remarkably content. Especially when he thought about the delightful manner in which she’d woken him up this morning before telling him she ought to go home before she forgot where it was.

‘Different in what way?’ he said, taking care not to appear too interested in Jo’s answer.

‘She has a sort of spring in her step.’

‘Does she?’

‘I wonder what put it there.’

Alex’s eyes narrowed in suspicion. This was no innocent conversation. ‘What are you implying?’

‘Me?’ she said with breezy nonchalance. ‘Nothing. But now that you mention it, I was wondering if it could have anything to do with this.’

Jo reached into her bag and dropped a magazine onto the table.

Alex raised an eyebrow and wondered where his sister was heading with this. ‘A gossip magazine? I wouldn’t have thought that was your sort of thing.’

‘It wouldn’t be normally. But when I hear that my brother is splashed all over it I suddenly find it essential reading. Pages six, seven, eight and nine.’ Jo took a sip of coffee and grinned. ‘Just for the record, because I know you don’t need it, I approve.’

As he drew the magazine towards him wariness gripped him, and every one of his muscles tensed.

He flicked to the relevant section and as he began to read he felt the blood chill in his veins.

The headlines insinuating that the City’s most eligible bachelor might finally have been snared by the current darling of the PR world swam before his eyes.

His heart pounding, he scanned the text and by the time he’d reached the final word the last flicker of warmth inside him died. Quotes littered the article. Phoebe was well aware of what he thought of journalists yet she’d obviously spoken to this one.

Alex knew his expression hadn’t altered an inch. He’d perfected it to see him win out during the toughest negotiations. He’d never have thought he’d need to use
it to conceal the winding effect of the crushing weight of betrayal.

A cold sweat broke out all over his skin as disillusionment and searing disappointment engulfed him. He pushed his chair back, not caring that all eyes in the cafe swivelled round at the grating sound of metal against stone.

‘Alex?’ Jo stared up at him in surprise, but he barely noticed.

Numbness started spreading through him, reaching out to wind itself around every cell of his body and gradually he began to feel absolutely nothing. ‘I have to go.’

The last three days had been fabulous, Phoebe thought, taking the stack of papers and a steaming cup of coffee into the garden. A long delicious lazy dream and one she hoped she’d never have to wake up from. She’d signed up three new clients. She’d finalised the arrangements for Jo’s launch. And she’d had more dynamite sex than she’d ever thought possible. She felt as if she were floating, which for a five foot nine generously proportioned woman was an unusual experience.

See, she told herself, aware that she was smiling smugly and not caring one little bit. Combining a fling with her career
was
possible. All it took was discipline and an ability to compartmentalise.

And the right man.

Alex, in fact.

Phoebe stopped suddenly in the middle of the patio and coffee slopped onto the stone. Uh oh. That didn’t sound good. She put the papers and the mug on a table beside the sun lounger and tried to imagine not seeing Alex ever again. Not kissing him, not being able to stroke that magnificent body, not talking and laughing
late into the night. Not having him deep inside her and sending her soaring.

Pain gripped her chest and her brain actually ached.

Oh, God, she had to watch it. She gave herself a quick shake and told herself not to be so stupid. There were bound to be hundreds of ‘right’ men out there. Thousands, even. What was the global population these days? Billions?

Phew. She had nothing to worry about. Alex was simply the right man for this particular stage in her life. That was all.

She’d barely finished the first article when the doorbell rang. With a sigh she dropped the newspaper on the grass and levered herself to her feet. How typical was that? Just when she’d been hoping for a stretch of uninterrupted peace and quiet in which to digest the papers and then gear herself up for meeting Alex later.

She padded through her house to the front door and peered through the spyhole. At the sight of Alex on her doorstep, her heart lurched and then galloped with delight. Had he not been able to wait until tonight?

Phoebe threw the door open and knew she ought to be playing it cool, but the idiotic smile she could feel curving her lips wasn’t cool in the slightest.

However as she took in his dark, tight expression her smile faded and a flicker of alarm sprinted down her spine. Because the man looming on her doorstep with a thunderous look on his face and a fierce glint in his eyes bore little resemblance to the man who’d made love to her so thoroughly this morning.

‘Alex? What’s wrong?’ When she’d left him, he’d been going to have breakfast with Jo. What could
possibly have happened in the couple of hours since she’d last seen him?

Alex didn’t answer, just barged his way into the hall and disappeared into the sitting room. Utterly bewildered, Phoebe raced after him and then slammed to a halt when she saw him standing, feet apart, with his back to the window, his massive frame radiating tension and fury.

‘This is what’s wrong,’ he snarled and tossed a magazine on the table.

Phoebe stared at it as if it were a bomb he’d just dropped. Her heart sank. Oh, no. Please let it not be another story about Jo.

‘It starts on page six.’

With trembling fingers Phoebe picked it up and swallowed back a surge of nausea. She didn’t think Jo’s career would survive another salacious story.

The pages were stuck together. Or maybe she was shaking so much it just seemed that way. But eventually she got to page six.

Her heart thumping with apprehension, Phoebe scanned the headline and her initial reaction was one of relief. Thank goodness. The story had nothing to do with Jo.

But as she read further the apprehension flooded back. The article was a dodgy blend of fact and supposition. About her and Alex. It detailed the times and location of their dates and hinted at the possible professional benefits such a relationship might give her. Indignation spiked through her alarm. As if she’d ever take advantage of their affair like that, even assuming that the supposed ‘benefits’ did exist.

Nevertheless it was awful. No wonder Alex was in such a foul mood. He hated any invasion of his privacy.
And those photos… Phoebe shuddered at the thought that someone had been watching them. As they kissed beneath the pergola at the roof gardens. While they were walking in the park during lunch a couple of days ago. In the middle of dinner at that cosy little Italian round the corner from his flat.

But even so, she thought, Alex must be used to seeing himself in the press, so why was he reacting so strongly about something that was so clearly fabricated and badly patched together?

‘Nothing to say?’

Phoebe blinked and jumped in shock at the icy steel in his voice. ‘Why would I have anything to say?’

‘What? No hint of shame? No apology?’

She went very still. Confusion swilled around her head. ‘What do I have to be ashamed of and what do I have to apologise for?’ she said carefully.

Alex shoved his hands through his hair and let out a bitter laugh. ‘You really are unbelievable.’

Phoebe gaped. What the hell was going on? ‘Alex, I know how you feel about your privacy and I can imagine you’re not particularly pleased about this—’

‘Not particularly pleased?’ he echoed, in a dangerously soft voice.

An inexplicable sense of dread seeped into her. ‘Now you’re scaring me.’

His eyes glittered and turned as dark and hard as granite. ‘You tip the press off about our…’ he paused as if searching for the right word ‘…our liaison,’ he said eventually, ‘and you accuse me of scaring you.’

‘Is that what you think?’ she said in horrified disbelief.

‘It does seem a logical conclusion.’

‘Why would I tip off the press about us?’

Alex’s jaw tightened. ‘I have no idea. Publicity? It wouldn’t be the first time someone’s used my name to bring in business.’

Phoebe felt the blood drain from her face. Her legs shook and she stumbled back, not stopping until she hit the bookcase. She gripped the edges and could feel her knuckles turning white with the effort of keeping herself upright. ‘You arrogant bastard,’ she breathed, scarcely unable to believe what was going on. ‘Firstly, I don’t need to use your name to bring in business. I’m doing exceptionally well by myself. And secondly, are you honestly suggesting I’d be capable of stooping that low?’

Alex glowered. ‘You said yourself you’d do anything for your career.’

‘Not this. Never something like this.’

‘Read it again, Phoebe,’ he said, picking up the magazine and thrusting it at her. ‘You’re quoted.’

How could she possibly be quoted? She hadn’t spoken to anyone about her relationship with Alex, let alone a tabloid journalist.

She read it again, the words swimming before her eyes. And suddenly her shock gave way to anger. ‘No, I’m not, you jerk. “A source close to Ms Jackson” does not mean me. It means they’ve made it up.’

‘Right,’ he said, his sarcasm striking her straight in the chest. ‘And they’d do that because they’re not worried about libel.’

Her anger turned into incandescence. ‘This is a scandal sheet. They couldn’t care less about libel. Their fabrications sell so many extra copies that they simply pay the injured parties off.’

‘Do you seriously expect me to believe that?’

What?
‘You should. It’s the truth. But I suppose you think I lined the photographer up too.’

‘It wouldn’t surprise me.’

As Phoebe realised that Alex genuinely believed what he was saying she felt as if he’d thumped her in the stomach. Surely he must know she’d never go to the press with any information about him or their affair. So why was he doing this? And why did it hurt quite so much? The backs of her eyes stung and she swallowed back the lump in her throat. ‘Don’t you trust me at all?’

The look on Alex’s face darkened and Phoebe felt her legs give way.

‘Oh, my God,’ she breathed in horror as she sank into an armchair. ‘You don’t, do you? You don’t trust me an inch.’

A muscle throbbed in his jaw. ‘It’s nothing personal. I don’t trust anyone.’

Nothing personal?
Nothing personal?
So why was her heart splintering? Why did she feel as if she were cracking open? She wanted to pummel him in the chest. Scratch his eyes out and pull him to pieces and hurt him as much as he was hurting her. ‘Why not? What happened? Did an ex-girlfriend run to the press with a kiss and tell?’

‘My ex-business partner ran to Bermuda with the contents of the company’s bank account.’

Oh. Phoebe went very still.

‘You once asked me about why I now work alone,’ he bit out. ‘Well, that’s why.’

She could see that. But still… ‘Alex, I’m not going to run off with your fortune.’

He raked his hands through his hair and his features suddenly twisted with such pain that Phoebe thought he
was ill. And then his anger seemed to drain away and he looked wearier than she’d ever seen him. He slumped into a chair and rubbed a hand over his face.

‘Rob was the boyfriend the article in the paper mentioned,’ he said bleakly. ‘The one who bullied Jo and put her into hospital.’

Oh, God. ‘What happened?’

‘We made a lot of money very quickly. I invested in property and other things. He spent a fortune on drugs and gambling.’