Читать книгу The Italian's Unwilling Wife - Kathryn Ross - Страница 6

REVENGE was an ugly word. Damon Cyrenci preferred to think of his actions in more clinical terms. He had seen a business opportunity and had taken it.

The fact that he’d had his eye on the Newland Company for a while, and that this takeover gave him a greater sense of personal satisfaction than any other, was irrelevant. What was important was that John Newland’s days of trampling his opponents into dust were almost at an end.

As his chauffeured limousine travelled along the Strip, Damon watched the sun setting in a pink glow over the Las Vegas skyline. This was the city where his father had lost everything. It was also the city where Damon had made the mistake of allowing a woman to get under his skin. It seemed fitting that it should be the place where he would put everything right, get back what he wanted.

They passed the MGM Grand, Caesar’s Palace, New York New York and, as the pink of the sky turned to the darkness of night, the desert lit up with fiercely glittering light.

The limousine pulled up outside the impressive façade of the Newland building, and Damon allowed himself to savour the moment. His target was almost achieved. In a few moments he would meet John Newland face to face, and have him exactly where he wanted him.

For a second his thoughts drifted back to the last time they had met. How different that meeting had been.

Two and a half years ago it was John who had held the balance of power. He had faced Damon across a boardroom table and had calmly refused his request for a stay of execution on his father’s business.

One week—that was all Damon had needed in order to release valuable assets that were in his name and save everything. But Newland had been coldly adamant. ‘I am not a charity, Cyrenci; I’m in the business of making money. Your father must honour his commitments immediately and hand over the title deeds to all of his properties. However…’ He’d paused for a moment’s reflection. ‘Your family home in Sicily is listed as one of the company’s assets. I might allow you to keep that—on one condition.’

‘And what’s that?’ Damon had asked coolly.

‘You walk away from my daughter and never see her again.’

Damon could remember his incredulity and the hot fury in his stomach as he had looked across at the man. Somehow he had remained calm and impassive. ‘I am not going to do that.’

And that was when John Newland had laughed at him. ‘Abbie really fooled you, didn’t she? Let me enlighten you, Cyrenci. My daughter has been brought up with a certain standard of living. She enjoys a luxurious lifestyle—a lifestyle you can’t match now the family business has gone. I assure you, she won’t be interested in you now.’

‘That’s a risk I’ll take,’ Damon had told him smoothly.

‘Your choice.’ John Newland had shrugged. ‘But you lose all ways round. Abbie only dated you in the first place as a favour to me. I needed you out of my hair, and she was the perfect distraction. You think your weekend away together in Palm Springs was a wild impulse?’

John had asked the question scornfully and had shaken his head. ‘It was planned—all set up by me. Abbie knew I needed some time to finish my business with your father, and she was happy to help me—but then, just as long as the money is flowing, Abbie will be there. Believe me, she won’t hang around you now the game is over and your money is gone.’

The chauffeur opened up the passenger door for Damon, letting in the intense heat of the desert night, a heat almost as intense as the anger he had felt back then. It hadn’t been hard to discover that for once John Newland was telling the truth. Abbie had known what her father had been up to, and had in fact assisted him.

Just like her father, she was nothing but a cold-blooded, money-grabbing trickster.

Snapping out of his reverie, Damon stepped out of the limousine.

It had been a lesson hard learnt. But Damon had picked himself up and with strong determination he had seen to it that their fortunes had been reversed.

Briskly he walked up the red-carpeted steps into the cool of the air-conditioned foyer. The entrance to the Newland hotel and casino was palatial; gold-leafed ceilings and stained-glass windows gave it the air of a cathedral, and only the rolling sound of nearby slot machines revealed the truth.

With just a cursory nod to the hotel staff, he headed for the lifts. He knew his way to the boardroom and he strode with confidence towards the door he wanted. This was the moment he had been waiting for.

John Newland was sitting alone at the far end of the long polished table. The lighting in the room was dimmed, his face in shadow. Behind him the picture windows gave a panoramic view of Vegas, glittering like a mirror-ball in the night. But Damon wasn’t interested in the view.

‘I believe you are expecting me.’ He closed the door quietly behind him.

There was silence.

Damon advanced until he could see his nemesis clearly: grey-haired, thickset with glittering hooded eyes. The last time they had met, the man’s features had been alight with triumphant disdain. Today, however, his expression was carefully schooled, but Damon could see the signs of strain in the pallor of his skin and the tight way he held his mouth.

It was hard to believe that this was Abigail’s father. For a second a picture of her drifted into Damon’s mind.

He remembered the day he had met her. She had been swimming here in the hotel pool, and he had watched as she’d pulled herself out. Water had dripped in silver beads over her toned skin. He remembered the sensational curves of her body in the scanty bikini, the perfection of her features, the wide blue eyes, the softness of her lips.

How he had wanted her.

The sudden memory of how badly he had wanted her made heat rise inside him.

‘You’re early, Cyrenci. The board isn’t due to meet for another half an hour.’

John Newland’s terse words focussed Damon’s thoughts back to where they should be. He would have time to concentrate on Abbie later.

‘We both know that the board meeting is just a formality, Newland.’ Damon put his briefcase down on the table and opened it. ‘You are on your way out.’

John Newland blanched. ‘Look—Damon—we’ve had our differences in the past. But I hope we can put all that behind us and perhaps come to some mutually acceptable deal.’ The brusque tone was gone now, replaced by pure desperation. ‘I’ve spoken to a few members of the board—’

‘It’s over,’ Damon said coolly. ‘I think you would be advised to just accept that.’

‘But you could help me if you wanted to.’

Was the man serious? Damon looked at him with incredulity. ‘Why would I do that? To quote something you said to me years ago, John: I’m a businessman, not a charity.’

‘I have a few bargaining chips left.’ The man shrugged.

‘Such as?’ Damon was barely listening. He was taking papers out of his case and his eyes were running down a list of the company’s assets—assets that now belonged to him. He knew John Newland held no aces, because they were all right here in his hand.

‘Well—I recall you once wanted my daughter…’

The words trailed away as Damon fixed him with a cool, penetrating stare. He could hardly believe what he was hearing.

‘In fact, you wanted her so badly you were willing to give up your family home for her,’ John reminded him tentatively.

‘We all make mistakes.’ Damon’s voice was icy.

‘She had her twenty-first birthday last week, and I assure you she is even more beautiful now than she was,’ John Newland continued swiftly. ‘And her mother was Lady Annabel Redford, you know. Abbie has some influential connections in England that could open doors to a businessman like you.’

‘I’m not interested.’

‘I think you should be. And if I were to have a word with her…’

‘Still at Daddy’s bidding, is she?’ Damon remarked scathingly.

‘I have influence.’

‘You have nothing.’ Damon put his list of the company assets down on the table in front of the man.

‘That’s her, isn’t it—the property that’s marked a few lines underneath my old family home in Sicily?’ Damon pointed to a line almost at the bottom of the page. ‘Redford Stables, St Lucia.’

John Newland made no reply, just stared down at the list.

‘Do you think Abbie will be happy to assist you, John, when she finds out her luxurious lifestyle and her home are lost as part of the company’s assets?’

Still the man made no reply, but he started to drum his fingers with agitation against the table.

‘No, I didn’t think so. As we both know, Abbie’s loyalty is to the highest bidder. So I don’t believe you or indeed your daughter are in any position to negotiate,’ Damon continued smoothly. ‘But rest assured I will be looking over my new property with close attention to detail. In fact, I’m heading out to St Lucia tomorrow. Have you any message you would like me to pass on to your daughter?’

There was a moment’s considered silence before John looked up. ‘No, but I have one for your son—tell him his granddad says hello.’

John Newland watched the shock hit Damon Cyrenci and felt a gleam of satisfaction.