Читать книгу The Debt / Cross My Hart - Clare Connelly - Страница 17

Ash

‘WHAT DO YOU MEAN, you’re rethinking the deal?’ I demanded, staring sightlessly at the view of the Eiffel Tower from the hotel suite.

Delaney sighed down the other end of the phone. ‘I told you yesterday that the islands have a certain…sentimental value. And I was very much hoping they would go to someone who has the same family values as I do.’

I scowled at the street outside, trying to get a handle on my already touchy temper. I didn’t much care about other people’s feelings in the normal scheme of things, but alienating Delaney would be stupid. ‘If you’re expecting Dumont to have the values you’re looking for, you’re sadly mistaken.’

‘Actually, Mr Dumont told me that he’s thinking of settling down and is looking for a place to raise a family.’

Like hell he was. My half-brother was a playboy extraordinaire and settling down was the very last thing he’d ever do.

The bastard.

If I wasn’t careful, my little plan to buy his precious islands out from under him was going to go tits up. Not that it was just my petty-yet-satisfying revenge that was at stake. There was also the success of Evans International, my luxury hotel business, to consider.

It was my first foray into the market and I wanted it to work, especially since all profits were to go into the charitable foundation I’d set up especially for the purpose.

A foundation for business scholarships, leadership programmes and mentorships for kids from poor areas who didn’t have access to the kinds of education and contacts that rich kids did.

All the things that I could have had if my own father hadn’t washed his hands of my mother and me, relegating us both to a hand-to-mouth existence on a council estate.

I’d made it my mission to succeed despite him. To be better than him in every way. To help people who needed it and never deny them.

And if I got a bit of private satisfaction out of privileged arseholes paying an arm and a leg to stay on some island so that the money could go to helping the very people those privileged arseholes looked down on, then that was just icing on the cake.

Another one in the eye for the old man.

‘I’ll be settling down too,’ I said. ‘Eventually.’

There was a pause down the other end of the phone. ‘You mentioned a girlfriend…?’

‘Yes.’ My gaze dropped from the famous view to the street below, tracking a long black car moving down it and drawing up outside the hotel. ‘What about her?’

‘You said yesterday that you were serious about her.’

The door of the car opened and someone got out. Small and curvy and female in black trousers and a white shirt, a chauffeur’s cap on her head. She moved to the front of the limo and pulled something out of the back pocket of her trousers: a piece of cloth. Then she leaned down and buffed the shiny black metal with it.

Everything in me drew tight.

Ellie.

My heartbeat began to accelerate, my jeans to feel a little snug, reminding me of why I’d had such a bloody terrible sleep the night before.

I hadn’t been able to stop thinking about her.

How she’d come apart so beautifully in my arms. How she’d screamed as I’d made her come. How soft and silky her skin had felt, and how tight and hot her little pussy had been.

How she’d tried to take control, only to give it up to me in the end without hesitation. Trusting me despite my reputation for being the biggest bastard in England. Even though she’d only just met me.

Even though I’d not done a thing to deserve it.

Which either made her a fool or very calculated and I couldn’t decide which.

What I did know was that I’d wanted to scoop her up in my arms and carry her upstairs to my room. Peel her completely out of her clothes and lay her across the bed, do lots of dirty, dirty things to her just so I could hear her scream my name again.

Except she’d very firmly refused.

I hated being denied anything and I couldn’t pretend I hadn’t been royally pissed off by it. But maybe I wouldn’t have been quite so annoyed if I’d suspected that something had upset her. She’d determinedly avoided my gaze as she’d pulled on her clothing, giving me that incredibly fake smile again.

I should have pushed the issue, but had decided that, since I’d be seeing her the next day, I’d broach the topic then, meanwhile giving her the space she so clearly wanted.

‘Evans?’ Delaney’s voice was sharp. ‘Are you still there?’

‘Yes.’ I followed every one of Ellie’s movements as she inspected the limo, giving the black metal small polishes here and there.

Something had been wrong after we’d had sex. Something had upset her. Had it been me? Something I’d done? I’d been rough, but she’d seemed to enjoy it and I’d given her plenty of opportunities to call a halt to the proceedings if she’d wanted to.

Then again, I was, after all, still me. And plenty of women couldn’t handle my particular brand of rough dirtiness.

‘Well, how about it, then?’

Shit. I’d missed something, hadn’t I? I’d been too busy staring at my chauffeur. ‘Sorry, had a call on another line,’ I lied, still watching Ellie from the window. ‘What did you say?’

‘I said, why don’t you bring your girlfriend to the club event in Dubai in a couple of weeks? I’d like to meet her. Then perhaps we can talk more about the islands.’

Oh, fuck.

I gritted my teeth, annoyed that I’d let myself get so distracted.

‘Of course,’ I said, left with no other option but to agree. ‘That sounds like a great idea. I’ll bring her along.’

‘Excellent. I’ll look forward to it.’

I disconnected the call and shoved the phone into my back pocket, my already foul mood turning even fouler.

Wonderful. What the fuck was I going to do now? I didn’t have a girlfriend, let alone a serious one, and I didn’t want one, either. Wives and kids were for other men. I was too busy and too damn selfish for either, and people had to take me as I came or not at all.

Except Delaney wasn’t taking me as I came. He wanted me to bring my non-existent serious girlfriend to meet him and I’d agreed purely so I could buy his fucking islands.

My plan to sabotage Dumont was getting more and more complicated by the second.

Down in the street outside, Ellie had shoved the cloth into her pocket and was now moving to the driver’s door. She glanced up at the hotel briefly but I couldn’t see her face. She must not have seen me, either, because she looked away, getting into the car once more.

I had a day full of meetings before I flew back to London that evening, and no time to talk to a temporary staff member about the sexual encounter we’d had the day before. Certainly no time to obsess about it the way I was doing now.

Christ, it was ridiculous. I’d double-check she was fine when I went downstairs, but then I’d ignore her the way I should have done the day before.

She’d be gone by tomorrow anyway.

I turned away, grabbed my jacket, laptop and the duffel bag that was the only item of luggage I’d brought with me, then went downstairs to check out.

Ten minutes later I strode out of the hotel and, sure enough, Ellie was already out of the car, hurrying around to open my door for me.

I’d planned to simply walk past her and get in, but for some reason I paused, looking down into her pretty face, searching for I didn’t know what.

‘Good morning, Mr Evans,’ she said chirpily, giving me the same jaunty smile as the day before.

And it irritated me just as much.

Because there was no trace of the husk in her voice that I’d heard when I’d touched her. No sign of the blush in her cheeks and the gold flames in her eyes that I’d seen as I’d slid my hands between her thighs, the wet heat of her pussy against my fingers.

‘Good morning, Miss Little.’ I narrowed my gaze, scanning her for any signs of the upset I was sure I’d sensed the day before. For any sign of acknowledgement of what had happened between us at all. ‘How are you feeling?’

‘Box of birds, thanks.’ Her expression was resolutely cheerful.

I tried not to scowl. ‘You slept well?’

‘Fantastically.’

Damn woman.

It was ridiculous to be annoyed at her cheeriness, though. Because it was good she wasn’t upset. I didn’t want her to be, after all.

But you don’t want her to act as if nothing happened between you, either, right?

Bullshit. What did I care? The sex between us had been good, yet nothing more was going to come of it. I was flying back to London tonight and she would be driving for someone else and that would be that.

I’d have Bill back at the wheel by tomorrow.

‘And you?’ A small crease appeared between her brows as she studied me. ‘Did you sleep well?’

I lost the battle against irritation and scowled. ‘I don’t appreciate small talk, Miss Little. Keep it to a minimum, please.’

Her mouth opened, but I’d already turned away, getting into the car before she could speak.

It was churlish of me to take my temper out on her, but too bad. I was churlish, and petty, too. Selfish to boot. I embraced my faults honestly at least, unlike others who pretended they were better, all the while being just as deeply flawed as I was.

Whatever. She’d be glad she only had one more day of putting up with me.

After she’d shut the door, I got out my laptop and fired it up, hoping to distract myself by dealing with the mountain of emails I got every day.

It turned out to be pretty effective and I’d been working a good five minutes before I realised that the car wasn’t moving.

I looked up from the screen and, sure enough, we were still sitting right outside my hotel, while Ellie stared at me in the rear-view mirror.

‘You do know I have a meeting in twenty minutes I have to get to, don’t you?’ I snapped.

Her small, pointed chin lifted, green gleaming in her eyes. ‘You do know that you don’t have to be an arsehole, don’t you?’

People didn’t call me on my behaviour normally; I was too rich, too powerful. Certainly they never called me on it the way Ellie was doing right now.

I didn’t like it.

Perhaps because you know already that you’re acting like a prick?

My temper pulled on the leash I kept it on, growling and snapping like a beast. Of course I was acting like a prick. I always acted like a prick. Did she really expect anything different from me just because we’d had sex?

She probably expects you to act like a human being and not a petty bastard.

I gritted my teeth, glowering at her. ‘What? You don’t like me snapping at you? Too bad. I snap at everyone. Don’t take it personally.’

Her jaunty smile had vanished and I was bastard enough to be happy about it. ‘Would it kill you to be nice? Even for a second?’

‘Yes,’ I growled.

There was a very disapproving silence.

‘What?’ I grumbled bad-temperedly, not sure why I was conceding this to her. ‘You want an apology?’

The expression on her face was uncompromising; of course she wanted a fucking apology.

I let out a breath. I never apologised, not to anyone, not after spending most of my childhood feeling as if I had to apologise for my very existence. And certainly not after I’d discovered how much power anger and not giving a shit gave me.

But for some reason, I gave a shit now.

‘I’m sorry for snapping at you,’ I said, graceless and brusque. ‘There. Happy?’

She frowned at me. ‘Are you angry because I didn’t come up to your room last night?’

The question was unexpected and abrupt, making something hot flash through me. I definitely wasn’t angry about that. Was I?

‘No,’ I lied, very conscious of the tension gathering in my shoulders and the sullen burn of my temper.

She ignored my denial as if I hadn’t spoken. ‘Look, I’m sorry about yesterday, but I—’

‘Couldn’t get away from me fast enough?’ The words came out before I could stop them and as soon as I’d spoken I wished I hadn’t. Christ, I sounded pathetic. Like a hurt child.

But to my surprise, Ellie glanced away, colour creeping into her cheeks. ‘I thought it would be easier if I didn’t.’

‘Easier for whom? Certainly easier for you.’

The long, dark lashes veiling her gaze were streaked with gold in the sunlight coming through the windscreen. ‘I didn’t think you’d care. It was only sex. No big deal, right?’

Good point. It was only sex and very much not a big deal. And yet, here I was, turning it into one. Great sex, sure, but ultimately sex I could get from someone else.

She wasn’t special. I could get hunger and fire and desperation from any woman, it didn’t have to be her.

But the kind of instinctive trust she gave you?

I shoved that thought away before it could take root.

‘No big deal,’ I echoed flatly.

An expression I couldn’t decipher flickered across her face. ‘Well, I guess you’re ready to go, then?’

‘I am.’

She turned the key and we pulled away from the kerb at last.

And I directed my attention back to my laptop, curiously unsatisfied and not sure why.