Читать книгу An Heir For The Billionaire - Kat Cantrell - Страница 8

Two

On the way to Reid Chamberlain’s downtown Chicago office, Nora pulled up a few articles about him on her phone. If she was going to beard the man in his den, she should at least know a few things about who he’d become over the years.

Gracie had volunteered to take Declan back to the Winchester estate, where Nora would be staying while in Chicago, and then insisted on calling for a car to take Nora on her mysterious errand. Being secretive wasn’t second nature to Nora, but she didn’t want to bring up Reid, at least not until she knew the purpose behind his kind gesture.

Especially when all of the articles she’d managed to find about Reid pointed to a very different person from what she’d expected. There were almost no pictures of him, save one very grainy shot that showed Reid rushing from a dark car to the covered doorway of one of his hotels. He’d turned his face from the camera, so the angle showed only his profile, but even that little bit clearly conveyed his annoyance at the photographer.

The caption underneath read “Reclusive billionaire Reid Chamberlain.”

Reclusive? Reid? He’d been the life of the party as long as Nora could remember. Heck, that was the reason they’d grown apart—he’d become so popular, his time was in constant demand.

Doubly intrigued, Nora glanced up as the car slowed to a stop and the uniformed driver slid out to open the back door for her to exit. She got out and found herself standing in front of the brand-new Metropol Hotel in the heart of downtown Chicago.

A study in glass and steel, the hotel towered over her, reaching to the heavens. Good grief. This was Reid’s office? She’d read that Nash Chamberlain had designed the Metropol, and it was nothing short of breathtaking, rising several dozen stories high and twisting every so often. The architectural know-how required to design it must have been great, indeed.

Impressed, Nora swept through the door opened by a uniformed attendant and approached the concierge, glad she’d opted for heels and a classic summer-weight pantsuit today. The concierge glanced up with a ready smile. Her mind went blank. Lying to the woman from Iguazu had been one thing, but this man was right in front of her, staring at her expectantly. She should have thought this through.

What if Reid wasn’t here? Or hadn’t really wanted her to seek him out? She’d only assumed he’d meant for her to figure it out. He might actually be mad that she’d tracked him down.

So what if he was mad. This trek had been about something greater than a mere thank-you. Taking control here. Nora squared her shoulders. No apologies.

“I’m here to see Mr. Chamberlain. Tell him Nora O...Winchester is here.” And she didn’t even choke on the name. “Nora Winchester. He’ll see me right away.”

Wow. Brazen should be her middle name. The articles had called Reid reclusive and she’d waltzed right in to demand that he admit her without question? This was a dumb idea.

The concierge nodded. “Of course, Ms. Winchester. He’s expecting you.”

Nora picked her jaw up off the floor for the second time that day. “Thank you.”

The concierge tapped a bell and a young man in a discreet rust-colored uniform that mirrored the hotel’s accents appeared by Nora’s side before she could fully process that Reid was expecting her.

“William will show you to the elevators and ensure that you reach Mr. Chamberlain’s office,” the concierge said.

Meekly, she followed the bellhop to the elevator bank, her heels sinking into the plush carpet that covered the rich dark hardwood floors. When they got on the elevator, the bellhop swiped a badge over the reader above the buttons and pushed one for the forty-seventh floor.

“Forty-seven and forty-eight are secure floors,” William explained with a smile. “Only VIPs get to see Mr. Chamberlain. It’s been quite a while since we’ve had one.”

VIPs only. And Nora Winchester was one. What would have happened if she’d introduced herself as Nora O’Malley? Would the concierge have politely booted her out the door?

Nervous all at once, she discreetly checked her hair and makeup in the mirrored paneling of the elevator. She’d twisted her blond hair up in a chignon this morning before her flight, and several loose strands had corkscrewed around her face. Not a bad look.

Silly. What did it matter how she looked? Reid had thrown her all off-kilter by telling his staff to expect her.

The elevator dinged and within moments William was ushering her into a reception area populated by a stately woman with steel-colored hair, who closed her laptop instantly as Nora entered.

“You must be Ms. Winchester,” she said. “Mr. Chamberlain asked for you to be shown right in.”

Far too quickly, the receptionist steered her through a set of glass doors and to an open entryway at the end of the hall, then discreetly melted away.

The man behind the wide glass desk glanced up the moment Nora walked across the threshold of his office.

Time fell off a cliff as their eyes locked.

Nora forgot to breathe as Reid Chamberlain’s presence electrified every nerve in her body. And then he stood without a word, crossing to her. The closer he came, the more magnetic the pull became. He was all man now—powerful in his dark gray suit, a bit rakish with his brown hair grown out long enough to curl a bit on top, and sinfully beautiful, with a face that became that much more devastating due to a five o’clock shadow that darkened his jaw.

And then he was so close she could see the gold flecks in his brown eyes. A dark, mysterious scent wafted from him, something citrusy but mixed with an exotic spice that wholly fit him. She had a feeling she’d be smelling it in her sleep that night.

“Hi, Nora.”

Reid extended his hand. For a moment, she thought he was reaching for her, to hug her, or...something. But instead, he closed the door and leaned into it, his arm brushing her shoulder.

The snick of the door nearly made her jump out of her skin, but she kept herself from reacting. Barely. Did he have something in mind that was so intimate and private that it wasn’t fit for prying eyes?

Her pulse jumped into her throat. “Hi, Reid.”

He crossed his arms and contemplated her. “You got the note.”

“Yes.” Impulsively, she put out her palm, intending to touch Reid on the arm to express her thanks.

But at the last minute, something in his expression stopped her. Something dangerous, with an edge she didn’t understand, but wanted to. Touching him suddenly held all kinds of nonverbal implications, maybe even an invitation she wasn’t sure she meant to extend.

Goodness. How had a simple thank-you become so...charged? She let her hand drop to her side and his gaze followed it, marking the action.

“What can I do for you?” he asked simply.

He was not the same boy she remembered. She could see hints of his teenage self in the way he held his body, and small things such as the length of his lashes were the same, but his gaze had grown hard and opaque. It was almost as if he’d grown an extra layer between himself and the rest of the world and no one was allowed to breach it. One of the things she’d always liked about Reid Chamberlain was his smile. And that was noticeably absent.

The man was—according to the news articles—reclusive, and wealthier than King Solomon, Croesus and Bill Gates put together. But it didn’t seem to have made him happy.

What could he do for her, indeed? Probably not much. But maybe she could do something for him. “You can smile for me, Reid. It might actually break this awkward tension.”

* * *

Against all odds, the corners of Reid’s mouth twitched. He fought to suppress the smile because he didn’t want to encourage Nora Winchester into thinking she could command him into doing her will five minutes into their renewed acquaintance.

Besides, Reid didn’t smile. That was for people who had a lightness of spirit that allowed for such a thing. He didn’t. Normally. Nora had barreled into his office and the moment he’d seen her, it was like a throwback to another time and place—before all the shadows had seeped into his soul.

Which sounded overly dramatic, even to himself. That was why he never thought about his own miserable existence and instead worked eighteen hours a day so he could fall into bed exhausted at the end of it. When you slept like the dead, you didn’t dream. You didn’t lie awake questioning all the choices you’d made and cursing the genetics that prevented you from doing a simple thing like becoming a father to your orphaned niece and nephew.

Nora’s presence shouldn’t have changed anything. But it had. She’d breathed life into his office that hadn’t been there a moment ago and he was having a hard time knowing what to do with it.

It was troubling enough that she’d tracked him down in the first place. And more troubling still that he’d been anticipating her arrival in a way that he hadn’t anticipated anything in a long while.

“Smiling is for politicians and people with agendas,” he finally said.

The air remained thick with tension and something else he wasn’t in a hurry to dispel—awareness. On both sides. Nora was just as intrigued by him as he was by her. Reid was nothing if not well versed in reading his opposition. And in his world, everyone was the opposition, even Nora Winchester, a woman he hadn’t spoken to in nearly fifteen years and who’d apparently interpreted his note as an invitation to invade his privacy.

He should be annoyed. He wasn’t. That made Nora dangerous and unpredictable. Unexpectedly, it added to her intrigue. The heavy pull between them tingled along his muscles, heating him to the point of discomfort. He hadn’t been this affected by a woman’s presence since he was a teenager.

“Oh, really. And you don’t have an agenda?” Nora crossed her arms in an exaggerated pose he suspected was designed to mimic his. “What was with the note, then?”

“It’s polite to include a note with a gift,” he replied as he fought a smile for the second time. He hadn’t expected to like the grown-up version of Nora as much as he did. What was he supposed to do with her?

When his admin had called Iguazu to check on the delivery, imagine his surprise to learn that a mystery woman from “his office” had already called. A quick check-in with the hospital told him that Nora had indeed received his note. It hadn’t taken much to guess she’d figured out that he’d sent the catering and would be along to see him in short order. He’d been right.

“Uh-huh. And is it customary to use a private joke in said note and then pretend you didn’t intend for me to figure out you sent it?”

Her wide, beautiful mouth tipped up at the corners and communicated far more than her words did. She was toying with him. Maybe even flirting. Women didn’t flirt with him as a rule. Usually they were much more direct, wrangling introductions from mutual acquaintances and issuing invitations into their beds before he’d learned their last names.

He’d taken a few of them up on it. He wasn’t a monk. But he’d never held a conversation with one or called one again. Not since the day when his father had killed more than half of his family, including himself.

Nora was a first. In more ways than one. His body’s awareness dialed up a notch. She was close enough to touch but he didn’t reach out. Not yet. Not until he got a much better handle on his reaction to her. And maybe not even then. Nora certainly hadn’t dropped by to be seduced by the CEO of Chamberlain Group. But that didn’t automatically mean she’d be averse to the idea. It just meant he needed a clearer sense of the lay of the land before he made a move on a childhood friend.

“Are you...accusing me of deliberately trying to get your attention with a throwaway signature line on a note?” Reid hadn’t enjoyed interaction with a woman this much in so long, he couldn’t even say how long.

Her gaze narrowed. “Are you denying it?”

Cordially Yours. He hadn’t uttered that phrase in over a decade. How had she remembered that joke? Or maybe a better question was: why had he put it in the note?

Maybe he’d intended for this to go down exactly as it had.

When he’d heard about Sutton Winchester’s terminal diagnosis, Reid’s first thought had been of Nora. They hadn’t spoken in a long time, but she’d played an important role in his youth, namely that of a confidante for a boy trying to navigate a difficult relationship with his parents. He remembered Nora Winchester fondly and had never even said thank you for the years of distraction she’d provided, both at school and at parties.

The gift had been about balancing the scales. Reid didn’t like owing anyone anything.

He certainly hadn’t sent the food for Winchester’s benefit. The old man could—and most definitely would—rot in hell before Reid would lift a finger to help him. The man had more shady business deals and crooked politicians in his back pocket than a shark had teeth. Reid wouldn’t soon forget how Chamberlain Group had been on the receiving end of a personal screw-over, courtesy of Sutton Winchester.

“The food was for old time’s sake. Nothing more.” Nor should he pretend it was anything more. “Let’s just say I wasn’t expecting a personal thank-you for the catering, and leave it at that.”

She laughed and it slid down his spine, unleashing a torrent of memories. Nora was an old friend, and for a man who didn’t have many, it suddenly meant something to him that he had a history with this woman. A positive history. She’d known his sister, Sophia, and that alone made her different from anyone else in his life except Nash.

Yeah, letting her walk away untouched wasn’t happening. Reid had long ago accepted his selfish nature and he wanted more of Nora’s laugh.

“Obviously you were expecting me.” Nora’s gaze raked over his body as she called him on it. “Your staff couldn’t have been clearer that they’d been waiting for me to arrive. How did you guess I’d be coming by?”

“Oddly enough, you tipped me off. My admin called Iguazu and learned that Ms. O’Malley from my office had already inquired after the status of the delivery.”

Guilt clouded Nora’s gaze and she shifted her eyes to the right, staring at a spot near his shoulder. “Well, you didn’t sign the note. How else was I supposed to figure out if you were the one behind the nice gesture?”

“I don’t make nice gestures,” he corrected her. “And you weren’t supposed to figure it out. Is Ms. O’Malley a fake name you use often to perform nefarious deeds?”

He couldn’t resist teasing her when it was so obvious she hadn’t a deceptive bone in her body. Flirting, teasing and smiling—or nearly doing so anyway—were all things he hadn’t indulged in for a very long time, and all things he’d like to continue doing.

But only with Nora. All at once, he was glad she’d tracked him down.

“Yes,” she informed him pertly. “It’s a name I use often for all my deeds. I got married.”

Genuine disappointment lanced through his gut. Where had that come from? Had he really been entertaining a notion of backing Nora up against the door and taking that wide mouth under his seriously enough that learning she was married would affect him so greatly?

Ridiculous. He shouldn’t be thinking of her that way at all. She was an old friend who would soon walk out of his life, never to be heard from again. It was better that way. It hardly mattered whether she’d gotten married. Of course she had. A woman as stunningly beautiful and intrinsically kind as Nora Winchester wouldn’t stay single.

Some of the sensual tension faded a bit. But not all. Nora’s smile did interesting things to him and he didn’t think he could put a halt to it if he tried.

“Belated congratulations,” he offered smoothly. “I hadn’t heard.”

“You wouldn’t have. Sean was stationed out of Fort Carson in Colorado. We got married on base, much to my mother’s dismay. It was a small ceremony and it happened nearly seven years ago.” She waved it off. “Ancient history. I’m a widow now, anyway.”

“I’m sorry for your loss.” The phrase came automatically, as he did still have a modicum of manners despite not spending much time in polite company.

But Nora—a widow? Dumbfounded, he zeroed in on Nora’s face, seeking...something, but he had no idea what. She’d said it so matter-of-factly, as if she’d grieved and moved on. How had she done that? If it was so easy, Reid would have done the same.

The specters of Sophia and his mother still haunted him, which didn’t mix well with polite company, and he doubted he’d ever be able to toss off the information that they’d passed as calmly as Nora had just informed him that her husband had died.

Death was a painful piece of his past that shouldn’t be the thing he had in common with Nora. The loss of his mother and sister should be the reason he showed Nora the door. Nonetheless, it instantly bonded them in a way that their shared history hadn’t. He wanted to explore that more. See what this breath of fresh air might do to chase away the dark, oily shadows inside, even for a few moments.

“Thank you,” she said with a nod. “For the condolences and the food. I want to thank you properly, though. Maybe spend some time catching up. I’d like to hear what you’ve been up to. Let me take you to dinner.”

That bordered on the worst idea ever conceived. He cultivated a reputation for being a loner with practiced ease, and didn’t want to expose their new rapport to prying eyes. And there would be plenty if he took a woman to dinner in a small town like Chicago.

“I don’t go out in public. Why don’t you come back for dinner here? I live in the penthouse, one floor up. My private chef is the best in the business.”

No, that was the worst idea ever conceived. Nora, behind closed doors. Laughing, flirting... It didn’t take much to imagine where that would lead. He’d have her in his arms before the main course, hoping to find the secrets deep in Nora’s soul. Especially the one that led to moving past tragedy and pain.

But the invitation was already out and he wasn’t sorry he’d issued it. Though he might be before the evening was out. No one had ever crossed the threshold of his home except very select staff members who were well paid to keep their mouths shut about their boss’s private domain.

That didn’t stop the rampant speculation about what went on in his “lair,” as he’d been told it was called. Some went so far as to guess that all sorts of illicit activity went on behind closed doors, as if he’d built some kind of pleasure den and had lured innocent young girls into his debauchery.

The truth was much darker. Racked with guilt over not being able to save his mother and Sophia, he wasn’t fit for public consumption and the best way to avoid people was to stay home.

The distance he maintained between himself and the rest of the world was what kept him sane. Other people didn’t get that part of his soul was missing, never to be recovered. The hole inside had been filled with a blackness he couldn’t exorcise and sometimes, it bubbled up to the surface like thick, dark oil that coated everything in its path. Other people didn’t understand that. And he didn’t want to explain it to them.

“You don’t go out in public?” Curiosity lit up her gaze. “I read that you were reclusive. I thought they were exaggerating. You being all shut up away from other people doesn’t jibe with the person I once knew.”

“Things change,” he countered roughly. “I have a lot of money and power. People generally want a piece of both. It’s easier to stay away from the masses.”

His standard answer. Everyone bought it.

“Sounds very lonely.” Somehow, she’d moved closer, though he hadn’t thought they were all that far apart in the first place. Her wide smile warmed him in places he’d forgotten existed. Places better left out of this equation.

“Expedient.” He cleared his throat. “I run a billion-dollar empire here. Not much time for socializing.”

“Yet your first instinct was an invitation to dinner. Seems like you’re reaching out to me.”

Their gazes caught. Held. A wealth of unspoken messages zipped between them but hell if he knew what was being said. What he wanted to say.

“It’s just dinner,” he countered and he could tell by her expression that she didn’t believe the lie any more than he did. They both knew it would be more. Maybe just a rekindling of their friendship, which felt necessary all of a sudden. Nora was someone from before his life had turned into the twisted semblance of normal that it had become.

“Oh, come on, Reid.” She laughed again. “We’re both adults now. After the note and the rather obvious way you shut the door half a second after I walked through it, I think it’s permissible to call it a date.”

He glanced at the closed office door and just as he was about to explain that he valued his privacy—nothing more—he discovered his mouth had already curved up in a ghost of a smile, totally against his will. “A date, then.”

Yet another first. Reid Chamberlain didn’t date. At least not since his father had murdered the most important people in Reid’s life—and Reid had been forced to reconcile that he shared a genetic bond with a monster.