Propositioned by the Billionaire (5 page)

‘And the musician?’

She sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose and forced back the anguish that clenched her heart. ‘Dillon Black was an up and coming musician looking for representation.’ She shrugged as if the whole sorry affair had been a mere inconvenience instead of the heart-wrenching nightmare it had become. ‘I signed him up with the company I was working for at the time.’

‘I thought you specialised in fashion PR.’

Phoebe shifted on the chair and bit her lip. ‘I do. That was the trouble. When someone with more experience offered him a better deal he jumped ship faster than you can say “recording label.”’

‘So why did you sign him up?’

Phoebe closed her eyes briefly. ‘It was a blip. A one-off error of judgement.’

A tiny smile hovered over his mouth. ‘So it had nothing to do with the fact that you were living together at the time?’

Phoebe’s gaze jerked to his and her heart thundered. ‘How do you know that?’

‘My investigators are very thorough.’

‘This is outrageous.’

Alex shrugged. ‘Your lack of judgement seems to have been a recurrent theme in the course of your career.’

Phoebe gasped. How did he do that? He hit her where she was most vulnerable and then stuck the knife in, twisting it and slicing her heart open and releasing all the old aches and hurt.

‘I wanted to help him,’ she said, trying to keep a steady grip on her voice. ‘I trusted him. I never imagined he’d turn around and betray me.’

Phoebe’s heart hardened. She’d been so besotted by Dillon, had even thought herself in love with him, and he’d just been using her. Infatuation had made her take her eye off the ball, distracted her and screwed up her judgement. She’d very nearly lost her job and she’d vowed then and there that she’d never let herself get in that position again.

‘More fool you,’ he said flatly.

‘Indeed. Anyway,’ she said, pulling herself together and giving Alex a cool stare, ‘you can be sure that my judgement is now well and truly back on track. The experience taught me, one, to stick with what I’m good at, two, not to allow anyone or anything to deflect my focus.’

So she’d made mistakes. Who hadn’t? At least she’d
learned from them. Alex was probably the sort who never admitted to making a mistake. Never admitted to being wrong. Typical, she thought with a little sniff.

‘Easy to say,’ he said sharply.

Phoebe shot him a questioning glance. ‘What’s made you so deeply suspicious of people’s behaviour?’

Alex’s eyelids dropped slightly so she couldn’t see the expression in his eyes. ‘Experience.’

‘Such cynicism in one so young.’

‘Not that young.’

‘Early thirties?’

‘Thirty-two.’

‘And in those thirty-two years, have you never made a mistake?’

‘We’re talking about you.’

Aha. So he had made a mistake. ‘What was it, Alex?’

Alex’s face darkened. ‘For someone who’s supposed to be fighting to keep their job, you’re veering way off course.’

That was something else that she’d been wondering about. ‘Why do you have responsibility over who Jo works with? She’s twenty-two. Why can’t she make her own decisions?’

His lips thinned. ‘She can’t be trusted to make her own decisions.’

Phoebe bristled. His arrogance was simply unbelievable. ‘Why not?’

‘Because she’s made lousy decisions in the past.’

Haven’t we all? thought Phoebe darkly. ‘But surely they’re her lousy decisions?’

Alex raked a hand through his hair and when he looked at her his expression was so desolate that Phoebe’s heart clenched. ‘Not when I have to pick up the pieces.’

‘Why do you have to pick up the pieces?’ Phoebe had always picked up her own pieces. Didn’t everyone?

‘I’m her brother.’

A tiny dart of envy pierced her chest, but she brushed it aside. ‘Does she know you trust her judgement so little?’

‘She knows I have her best interests at heart,’ he said flatly.

‘Her best interests at the moment are me.’

‘Then accept the challenge.’

Phoebe sat back and tried to read his expression. But it gave away nothing other than the fact that his position on the matter was totally immutable.

‘What if I say no? That I, for one, trust her judgement?’

‘I would have no hesitation in replacing you with my own PR team.’

‘Yours? Do they have any experience in fashion?’

‘Not yet.’

Phoebe stared at him, unable to fathom the emotion in his eyes. ‘You’d really do that? Even if it goes against Jo’s wishes?’

‘I would.’

‘And even though I’m the best person for the job?’

She could practically hear his teeth grinding. ‘All I want is what’s best for her.’

No, he didn’t, Phoebe realised with a flash of perception. Well, yes, the chances were he did want what was best for his sister, but that wasn’t all. For some reason Alex wanted, needed, to stay in control.

In all probability he’d confronted Jo with his intention, and based on the interaction between the two of them she’d witnessed last night she’d bet her brand new pair of designer heels that Jo had retaliated. That must have frustrated the hell out of him.

Good.

Phoebe itched with the urge to tell him to get lost. But she couldn’t. She had no doubt whatsoever that if she chose not to comply he’d have no compunction in batting her to one side and installing his own team. Aside from wrecking Jo’s future, it would batter her professional pride and would have devastating consequences on her career.

She really
really
needed to hang onto Jo. If she lost her… Phoebe shuddered at the thought and felt a trickle of cold sweat ripple down her back. The bank would call in the loan, her business would collapse and she’d have failed before she’d barely got started.

Well, that was
not
going to happen. She wouldn’t fail. She couldn’t fail. Her family didn’t do failure. Ever. And she didn’t intend to be the one to break the mould.

So she’d accept his challenge, and win.

‘I won’t let her down,’ she said with steely determination.

‘Then prove it.’

‘Fine. What’s the charity?’

He told her and Phoebe jotted down the details. ‘What do they do?’

‘They help people beat eating disorders.’

She tried and, she suspected, failed to hide her surprise. ‘Eating disorders?’ What interest could he possibly have in eating disorders?

A muscle twitched in his cheek. ‘It’s just one of the many charities I’m on the board of.’

‘How much do you need to raise?’

Alex named a figure that had Phoebe’s head snapping up and her jaw dropping. ‘With only twenty-four hours to prepare? That’s impossible.’

Alex shrugged. ‘If you’re as good as Jo seems to think you are, you should have no trouble. If you fail, however, you’re fired. Email my secretary for a guest list.’ He reached into the breast pocket of his jacket and tossed a card onto her desk.

‘This can’t be lawful.’

Alex stood up and stared down at her. ‘Are you willing to risk it? When did you say Jo’s launch was?’

Phoebe’s eyes narrowed. How had she ever thought he was gorgeous? The man was ruthless, devious and downright manipulative.

‘And if I don’t fail?’ she said, slowly getting to her feet and clawing back some semblance of control.

‘I’ll go back to being that silent partner and let you two get on with it.’

Phoebe stuck out her hand and threw him a confident smile. ‘In that case, you have a deal.’

U
GH
. W
HAT WAS
that noise? Phoebe burrowed beneath her duvet and dragged a pillow over her ear while throwing an arm out and taking a swipe in the general direction of her alarm clock. The muffled clatter as it hit the floor and the familiar sound of batteries rolling around the floor-boards filtered into her sleep-sodden head. She waited for a second, and then as heavenly silence reigned snuggled down and drifted back into blissful unconsciousness.

Until the shrill ringing started up again.

It hadn’t been the alarm clock. Even in her dopey state she could work that one out. She sat up and clamped her hands over her ears but it was no good. Someone was sitting on her doorbell and clearly had little intention of going away.

With a groan, Phoebe untangled herself from the bedclothes and pushed her eye mask onto the top of her head. She staggered to her feet and stumbled to the window. Lifting the sash, she stuck her head out and yelled, ‘All right, I’m coming.’

To her intense relief, the infernal racket stopped instantly. She dragged on a silk dressing gown and made her way downstairs, grumbling with every step she took.

Just wait, she thought crossly, marching towards the front door. Whoever was calling at this ungodly hour deserved everything that was coming to them.

‘What?’ she said heatedly, flinging open the door and getting ready to give the postman a piece of her mind.

But as she glared at the figure standing on her doorstep Phoebe froze. It wasn’t the postman. Or the plumber. Or any one of the other possibilities that had vaguely crossed her mind.

It was Alex. Looking good enough to eat in faded jeans and a polo shirt, and a darn sight more together than she was.

‘Good morning, Phoebe.’

The bright sunlight burned her retinas and her eyes watered. This really wasn’t fair. She lifted her hand to shade her eyes as she stared up at him. ‘Uh, morning.’

Alex’s leisurely gaze travelled over her and Phoebe bristled at the faint smile that curved his lips. He could laugh all he wanted; he was the one who’d turned up unannounced. If he didn’t approve of the state he found her in, he only had himself to blame. ‘Can I come in?’

No was the answer on the tip of her tongue. Even though Phoebe suspected she couldn’t sink any lower in Alex’s estimations, she still had her vanity. She wanted to tell him to go away and come back in an hour. Her current outfit didn’t provide much in the way of a defence against a man like him and her hair could probably do with a brush. But as he was already stepping forward there was little she could do to stop him, short of shoving him out and slamming the door behind him, and her head hurt too much for that kind of effort.

‘Please do.’

Alex crossed the threshold into the hallway and
Phoebe plastered herself against the wall in an attempt to prevent any kind of contact. Her hall wasn’t small but he managed to fill it, and even though he hadn’t brushed against her her treacherous body responded as if he had. A rush of heat shot through her and pooled at the juncture of her thighs. Beneath the flimsy layers she could feel her nipples stiffening and with a scowl she wrapped her dressing gown tightly around her and crossed her arms over her chest. ‘The kitchen’s straight on.’

Phoebe followed him into her kitchen, told herself to ignore the way his T-shirt highlighted the breadth of his shoulders and the muscles beneath, and set about making coffee.

‘What are you doing here?’ she said, sticking her head in a cupboard and rummaging around for a bag of beans. ‘I didn’t expect to see you until this evening.’

‘I called, but you didn’t answer.’

Phoebe pulled out the beans and a cafetiere and shot him an accusatory glare. ‘I was asleep.’

He leaned against the counter and looked her up and down again so thoroughly that Phoebe felt as if he’d stripped her naked. ‘So I can see. Out partying?’

She wished. Phoebe’s hackles shot up. ‘I was up until five researching your guests,’ she said with as much indignation as she could muster. The last couple of hours of research she’d dedicated to checking him out, but he didn’t need to know that.

‘Have you come up with a plan?’

‘I have.’

‘What is it?’

‘Oh, no, I’m not telling you that.’

‘Why not?’

‘You might sabotage it.’

‘I’m not that ruthless.’

‘Says the man who’d practically blackmailed me into this weekend.’

‘You can back out any time.’

Like that was going to happen. Phoebe’s head hurt. It was too early for this. She stifled a yawn.

‘What time is it?’

‘Ten.’

Hmm. Maybe not that early. But still, five hours of sleep on top of the broken night before was not going to have her firing on all cylinders.

A smile flashed across his face. ‘Are you always this irascible?’

‘Before coffee and short of sleep, always.’ Not to mention being caught by him probably looking like something that had been attacked by a pair of pinking shears.

She didn’t need a cup of coffee; she needed a tankerful. Flicking the kettle on she lifted her hand to run it through her hair. Oh, heavens. She still sported the eye mask. How attractive. She yanked it off and dropped it on the table.

‘Interesting nightwear.’

Phoebe glanced down at the two scarlet hearts. ‘A friend gave it to me on a hen night.’

‘It suits you. As does the rest of your outfit.’

His gaze slowly slid down her body and Phoebe felt herself growing as scarlet as the eye mask. She poured the beans into the grinder and switched it on. The noise rattled her brain and Phoebe winced. But at least it might stop her from wondering what he wore in bed. Anything at all would be rather a shame. He’d look amazing sprawled out over her sheets, tanned skin against soft white linen, his eyes darkening with desire…

Phoebe swallowed and gave herself a mental slap. She
really
needed to wake up.

Coffee finally made, Phoebe leaned against the opposite counter and regarded him cautiously. ‘So?’

Alex set his cup down and folded his arms over his chest. ‘It occurred to me that we hadn’t talked about the venue of my party.’

What was he? A mind reader?
‘Find out party location’
was the only item left on her ‘to do’ list. ‘I assumed it’s somewhere in London. I was going to call you later.’

Alex shook his head in mock despair and gave her a smile that made her stomach lurch. ‘Didn’t I warn you about the dangers of making assumptions?’

‘You did. So enlighten me.’ She blew on her coffee and took a fortifying sip. ‘Where is it?’

‘Ilha das Palmeiras.’

Hmm. Phoebe riffled through all the bars, restaurants and clubs that she knew of, but it didn’t ring any bells. ‘I might need a bit more to go on than that. Where’s Ilha das Palmeiras?’

‘It’s an island in the mid-Atlantic.’

An island in the mid-Atlantic? Phoebe blinked in confusion. He wanted her to go to an island in the mid-Atlantic? Today? For a party? She needed way more caffeine.

‘The current temperature is in the mid twenties,’ Alex was saying, ‘but it gets chilly at night, so you might want to pack something warm.’ He glanced at his watch. ‘We need to leave in the next half an hour so I suggest you go and get ready.’

Go and get ready? Phoebe could barely get her head around the implications of what he’d told her. It
appeared that not only had he set her a challenge way outside her remit, he also intended her to complete it miles out of her comfort zone.

Devious didn’t even begin to describe the workings of his mind, she decided darkly. Machiavelli himself would bow down in awe.

She should have guessed he’d pull a trick like this. It wouldn’t have surprised her if he’d deliberately kept the location of the party from her just so he could spring it on her when she was least expecting it. Because in her line of work surprises were never welcome and he must know that.

‘Chop chop,’ he said mildly, looking at her as if surprised to see her still standing there.

Phoebe huffed, shot him a filthy look and stormed out.

Alex took his coffee into the sitting room and, not for the first time since he’d laid eyes on her scantily clad form, wondered if taking Phoebe with him to the island was really such a wise idea.

The challenge that he’d set her would prove her determination and her commitment and would satisfy his promise to Jo without compromising the vow he’d made to himself in the aftermath of losing everything he’d worked so hard to acquire.

However, the glimpses of long tanned leg that he’d got whenever Phoebe’s robe slithered open had tested his control to the limit. That ridiculous eye mask perched on top of her mussed-up hair had got him thinking about blindfolds and silk scarves and hours of lazy sensory exploration and he’d nearly stalked over and pinned her against the counter just to see if she felt as warm and soft as she looked.

There was a thump as something hit the floor above, then a yelp of pain and a string of expletives. Alex snapped back to reality and grinned. Phoebe first thing reminded him of a very grumpy, very put out sprite.

He took a look around. Fat cushions sat at random on the two deep sofas that faced each other either side of a coffee table laden with books. Bright splashes of artwork lined the walls. Piles of magazines were stacked high either side of the fireplace. A book lay open face down on the floor beside the sofa.

The room wasn’t messy, but compared to her office it was a tip. If he didn’t know otherwise he’d have thought that two very different people occupied each space.

But then nothing about Phoebe was quite as it seemed, he realised, making his way over to the bookcase. Was she the cool, efficient PR executive? The whimpering goddess he’d held in his arms, who’d stared up at him with stars in her eyes and passion infused in her face? Or was she a combination of all of them and more?

‘I can’t imagine you’ll find anything there to interest you.’

Alex swung round and his pulse spiked. Phoebe stood in the doorway, dressed in jeans that hugged her legs and a little cardigan that clung to her curves and pulled tight across her breasts. Dark sunglasses held her hair back from her face.

For a moment Alex couldn’t decide which version he preferred. The sleepy, tousled Phoebe who smelled of bed or this sleek, fresh-faced Phoebe who smelled of flowers. And then he realised he was expected to say something. ‘That was quick.’

‘Yup.’ She grinned. ‘It’s amazing what caffeine can do. And I still have five minutes to spare.’

‘I’m impressed. Is that it?’ he said, glancing at her suitcase.

‘Yes.’

‘You travel light.’

‘You sound surprised.’

‘I am.’

‘Not all women carry their entire worldly goods whenever they go anywhere, you know.
My
wardrobe is particularly capsular.’

‘Unlike your house. This is very different from your office,’ he said, indicating the room with a sweep of his arm.

Phoebe frowned. Generally people didn’t see both. She shrugged. ‘I don’t think clients would be too impressed to see this, do you?’

‘Do you care that much what people think?’

She smiled. ‘I’m in PR. It kind of goes with the territory.’

‘Got your passport?’

‘Hmm. Good point.’ The phone started ringing and Phoebe walked over to answer it. ‘Would you mind? It’s in the desk. Top drawer.’

Which reminded her, she needed to get it renewed. And not before time. That photo… The hair. Phoebe shuddered. No one apart from herself and a handful of international immigration officers had ever seen it.

And any second now Alex would be sliding open the drawer, taking it out and flicking through the pages…

‘No, wait,’ she practically shouted. ‘On second thoughts, I’ll get it.’

Phoebe dropped the phone and hurled herself at him. Her body slammed into his and Alex let out a gruff oomf at the impact. Her hand covered his, their fingers
tangled in the chaos and for a moment she thought the room had started to spin. Showers of sparks shot up her arm. His scent engulfed her and she nearly swooned.

Fighting back a blush, Phoebe tugged her passport out of his grip. ‘Sorry about that. Terrible photo.’ She peeled herself off him and walked to the door on very wobbly legs. ‘We—er—should probably get going.’