The Billionaire's Disgraced Virgin (Billionaire Knights Book 2) (4 page)

F
rom her window
Chloe watched the shiny limo arrive in front of her housing block with trepidation. She’d half expected Mike to forget about his threat and leave her be, but then that wasn’t the way the Knights operated. A promise, once made, had to be honored. And a threat even more, apparently. It was their code of conduct in business as well as in their personal affairs.

She sighed as she checked her look in the hallway mirror. In spite of Mike’s promise to take her to Harvey Nichols, she’d decided she should forestall him by wearing something that was perfectly appropriate and dignified. The suit, which she’d bought a couple of years ago for a job interview, perhaps wasn’t exactly up to Mike’s exacting standards but it would do. The label indicated she’d bought it at Primark, and it had been quite the bargain. She’d applied some rouge to her cheeks so she wouldn’t look so lethally pale, and had accentuated her naturally long eyelashes by adding quite a bit of mascara. She didn’t want to stick out, and this way she was quite sure she wouldn’t. She now looked exactly like the image she wanted to portray: a plain accountant quite indistinguishable from the next.

When she stepped from the building and pulled the door closed, rolling a small suitcase behind her, she started violently when the door of the limo opened and Mike Knight himself uncoiled lithely from the backseat, his massive frame clad in a perfectly tailored black suit. His face was smoothly shaved, and he was wearing those silver-framed sunglasses again, obscuring his dark eyes. He threw her a sardonic grin.

“I see that you’ve decided to grace us with your presence, Miss Ross? What made you change your mind?”

Anger lanced through her at the presumptuousness and arrogance of his words. “I discovered I simply had no other choice,” she told him coolly.

To her chagrin his grin widened, and as she stepped past him and into the car, she was aware again of his distinctive scent. Momentarily, she faltered, as a thrill of pleasure rippled through her. A thrill of recognition and… anticipation? Of course not. She resolutely told herself it was because she’d never ridden in a limo before, the experience of such an expensive car definitely a first.

As he joined her on the backseat she was acutely aware of him, too close to her in the intimate surroundings of the car. A tinted panel separated the driver’s section from theirs, and the silence that hung in the air was raising her blood pressure several notches. Like before, when they’d ridden the elevator up to her apartment, her nerve endings tingled from his proximity, goosebumps erupting on her flesh, the hairs on her arms bristling. Luckily her response to him went unnoticed, as she was wearing a long-sleeved blouse, covered with the suit vest.

“Dressed to impress, Miss Ross?” he asked, casting her a mocking look.

To her horror, she felt her cheeks flush. “I thought I’d spare you the trouble of going to Harvey Nichols and spending money on my behalf. I’m sure you’ll find this outfit perfectly satisfactory to act as your accountant.”

“Have you forgotten that I require you to wear an evening dress for dinner? And by the looks of things you’ll need more than one outfit, as the negotiations might drag on, and I will require your presence at the table at all times.”

Revolted, she turned to him. “Why that is I still don’t understand. Why pick me and not your CFO or Murray Windsor? I’m simply a—”

“Lowly accountant. I know, you’ve told me before.” He’d turned to face her, and the intense scrutiny of his eyes now that he’d pushed the sunglasses into his jet-black hair was agonizing. Once more, she felt a tremble break out all over. “I told you why I want you,” he told her.

She gasped, fortunately inaudibly so. He wanted her? Of course only for professional reasons, she was quick to chide herself.

“Your report showed that you have a knack for putting your finger on the problem that no other accountant in my employ has mastered. It shows that you have an acute knowledge of the operations of the Press Corp Group that I’m sure won’t be found in the numerous self-congratulatory and gloating press releases they paper the business press with.” He shot his cuff to glance at his Breitling watch. Irrevocably, it seemed, her gaze was drawn to the dark hair covering the tan skin of his forearm. For some reason it added to the maelstrom of tension knotting in her belly. “For instance, the way you pointed out that the entire Press Corp Group is hopelessly underfunded and thus vulnerable for takeover was news to me, and I’m sure to many competitors as well. How did you happen to find out so much about the group?”

She shrugged. She could hardly tell him that she’d kept a close eye on Press Corp over the years, and had followed their ascent. She considered it therapy to watch her enemy like a hawk, and rejoice in their every failing. Unfortunately Roderick Holmes was a very astute and hawkish businessman and he hadn’t made a lot of mistakes, except perhaps the part about the funding. A fact which she’d only discovered after poring over the annual reports the group was obliged to publish. Somewhere in the back of her mind was the simplistic and perhaps childish hope that one day Press Corp would perish, finally taking down that dreadful Men’s Monthly, and along with it the shame of her past. Unfortunately that hadn’t happened yet. “I simply have a knack for numbers, I guess,” she told him as airily as she knew how. She must not allow him to witness her obsession with the group or the man who ran it like a feudal lord ran his fiefdom.

He grunted his approval. “It’s exactly this kind of information we need if we are to conclude these negotiations in our favor and strike a lucrative deal.”

“Aren’t you taking an awfully big risk?” she suddenly heard herself blurting out. Red-faced, she added, “I mean, it’s quite a gamble to venture into a different field, especially if the company is as big and well-established as Press Corp.”

When her question was met with a stony silence, she was shocked to discover the cold hauteur of Mike’s gaze sweeping over her. Obviously she’d asked the wrong question, and she froze in her seat, the tension adding to her discomfort. She quickly directed a look out the window, pretending to focus on the traffic and not the man who made her so unexpectedly, irrevocably self-conscious.

He eyed her intently. This was exactly the kind of question a spy working for Roderick Holmes would ask. Why, indeed, did he want to take over Press Corp when all his associates told him not to go through with it? Instinct, and the trust his brothers had placed in him when he’d announced he wanted to stretch the scope of the group beyond their core product lines. Expand to survive, as he’d explained to her yesterday. He’d given her astuteness quite a lot of thought. She had a knack of drawing conclusions from financial reports that others sorely lacked, and she could puzzle together a story of the strengths and weaknesses of a company simply by studying their annual reports—crunching the numbers. Was that what she’d done with Knight? Had she reported to Holmes about their weaknesses or was she trying to find out about those now? She had access to information no one else had, and was perfectly placed to be the ultimate corporate spy, giving Holmes an edge in the negotiations.

He studied the way her lip trembled slightly. She was, once again, very ill at ease, and there could only be one reason: she was mortally afraid that the jig was up. That when they entered into negotiations with Holmes she would betray herself. Even the slightest hint that she and Holmes were in bed together would tip him off and she knew it. That’s why she hadn’t wanted to join him on this trip—that’s why she was so anxious now.

He watched the telltale pulse beating at the base of her throat and thought she was possibly the most beautiful woman he’d ever met. A rare flower tucked away in the kitchen garden that was the accounting department, and making every effort to look as plain and unattractive as she could. He let his gaze drop to her blouse. Her breathing had quickened, and her chest was rising and falling rapidly, color flooding her cheeks as he extended his scrutiny into the inappropriate. He didn’t care. He needed to know what made her tick, why she had accepted this assignment to spy for Roderick Holmes. Money, of course, but then why was she still living hand to mouth? Why hadn’t she spent some of that hard-earned Press Corp money on a better apartment, a nicer outfit, a fancy car or some luxury items? She wasn’t wearing any jewelry. No ring on her finger, no bracelet on her wrist. Or was Holmes playing it smart, deferring payment until after the deal was struck?

No matter—he would watch her like a hawk, he vowed. Keep your friends close and your enemies closer, and Chloe Ross was definitely an enemy disguised as a friend.

The car had stopped, and Chloe saw they’d arrived in Knightsbridge and were parked outside the Harvey Nichols store, just like Mike had promised.

She drew in a quick gasp. Stores like these were definitely off-limits for women with as slender a budget as she had to work with. Even though she had managed a small nest egg after all this time of living as frugally as she could, she still would never spend her money on the kind of clothes these stores were justly famous for. The money she’d tucked away had a different purpose, but she’d be damned if she would ever confide in Mike Knight. It was yet another secret she would never share with a living soul. Her own private project that offered her a glimmer of hope that at some point in the future she might be a whole person again, healed from the trauma of her past. She knew exactly where she wanted to buy a house, and kept a keen eye on mortgage rates and housing prices. Once she had enough saved for a down payment, she’d take out a loan and buy her dream house. But only if she survived this weekend with Mike, of course.

The door swung open, and she was surprised to find that Mike stood on the sidewalk. She hadn’t noticed him getting out. Suddenly the image of debonair chivalry, he was extending his hand to help her alight from the car. After a moment’s hesitation she took his hand, placing her own delicate fingers in his lean and strong ones, and as she did so, it was as if an electric current slashed through her, sending a stream of highly charged voltage rushing through her already highly taxed nervous system. She would have retracted her hand, but Mike had closed his fingers around hers, and was applying gentle pressure, effectively trapping her hand in his. Her eyes swept up to his and her breath caught in her lungs as they met his mocking gaze.

“Don’t tell me that the mere sight of me is making you feel unwell, Miss Ross,” he drawled. “I am a man, you know, not a monster.”

Her heart made a small leap inside her chest as he gave her hand a gentle tug and she was pulled to her feet, ending up standing toe to toe with him on the sidewalk. She had to fight an involuntary urge to place her other hand on his chest, to feel the expanse of muscle stretched taut, to experience his heartbeat beneath her touch, and the soft caress of his body hair, which she imagined covered his skin. She quickly clamped down on these unwanted urges and replied, “I’m just a little nervous about these negotiations, that’s all.”

“Afraid to disappoint me?” he taunted as he escorted her into the store, his hand outrageously lingering on hers, extending the sensation of slight tremors undulating beneath her skin at his touch—the touch of this powerful, imposing, impossible man.

She nodded. “I guess I am,” she confessed. “You seem to have attributed a lot to my powers of analysis, and I’m afraid of letting you down terribly.”

Once again, there was a marked darkening of his eyes as they pierced the protective layers she’d erected around herself, and the realization hit her that he disliked her thoroughly. Or perhaps not disliked her, but was simply dismissive of the kind of person she was: an underling—a mere serf who he had forced to do his bidding or else. His next words confirmed this perception.

“If you disappoint me, Miss Ross,” he growled menacingly, “you’ll be the first to know—and to experience the full scope of my displeasure.”

She suppressed a shiver. It was obvious he was extending a warning to her. Disappoint me and suffer the consequences. He was, after all, one of the most powerful businessmen in the country, and not for the first time she realized she was entering the lion’s den. Not simply because very soon now she’d be face to face with Roderick Holmes, but because she’d be working directly with a man who was as ruthless as Holmes himself. She suddenly felt like a lamb being led to the slaughter, about to be devoured not by one but two bloodthirsty lions.

C
hloe was soon led
to a private dressing room, where an assistant joined her. After Mike had given his instructions he left, directing an inscrutable glance in Chloe’s direction. It told her that she needn’t have a hope to flee from this assignment. She was his captive now, and would have to do his bidding no matter whether she liked it or not. But then he left and the salesgirl brought in clothes for her to try on, and she felt a sudden lifting of her spirits. At least if nothing else she had the once in a lifetime experience of having been given carte blanche to shop at Harvey Nichols. Trying on outfit after outfit, she was starting to feel quite happy. It was the absence of Mike, she knew, the shadow that loomed over her since he’d come into her life finally lifted, to allow her a moment’s respite and the chance to breathe freely before going under once more.

The salesgirl was more forthcoming than she would have expected, but then she was sure that Mike’s unlimited spending capacity had something to do with that. ”You have a great figure,” the girl told her admiringly, “and with the right outfits you will knock your boyfriend’s socks off.”

“Oh, but he isn’t my boyfriend,” she hastened to point out. “He’s my boss.”

The girl’s face morphed into a look of sheer female admiration. “I wish I had a boss like that.”

In spite of her terrible ordeal she had to smile at that. Yes, Mike Knight, in spite of his many faults, most definitely was the kind of man women flocked to. The kind of man who drew admiring looks whenever he walked into a room.

“I think you’ll need another blouse to go with that,” the girl said when Chloe was modeling a powder-blue suit that looked about a thousand times better than the one she’d walked into the store with. She’d never indulged in shopping sprees like this, and only now realized what a joy it could be, especially when you didn’t have to check the price tag before adding an item to your list of purchases. The final item was an evening dress, a black silk strapless pencil dress that hugged her curves. It was delightfully sexy, something she’d never, ever allow herself to wear, except perhaps in the privacy of her own bedroom.

If any man saw her in this, she’d simply die of embarrassment and shame!

She twirled around, admiring the scooping neckline, which left quite a bit of flesh bare. She wasn’t going to take this dress, of course, but it felt nice to wear it just this once. Wearing a dress like this at the weekend went against her entire raison d’être, since she wanted to keep a low profile, and not draw any attention to herself, especially the kind of male attention that had brought her into trouble the last time she’d caught a man’s eye. But the moment she’d slipped into the dress she’d fallen in love with it, and now it felt as if it was simply made for her. It was wonderful to experience the pleasure of feeling like a woman for the first time in years—and a very sexy woman at that, she naughtily allowed.

She gasped when a male voice intruded on her musings.

“If you wear that to dinner Sir Holmes will sign whatever deal I propose.”

Mike was leaning against the door, casually glancing at her. With a rush of heat she wondered how long he’d been standing there watching her! Instantly the usual guarded expression returned to her features, the joyous woman reveling in her womanhood safely tucked away behind a wall of indifference.

“You told me to buy an evening dress. I’m simply following your orders,” she told him guardedly. She wanted to cover herself up—to hide the skin she knew she was showing in this dress—but knew she couldn’t. She’d be making a total fool of herself if she did, even if she was hoping he would simply leave!

But instead his eyes lingered, sliding ever so slowly over her curvaceous body, now so provocatively on display, taking in every peak and valley, every swell and dip, and sensations she’d long held at bay suddenly swarmed her, provoking an unwanted but unstoppable tightening in her breasts, her nipples responding by hardening visibly. The effect, she knew, was clearly noticeable, and mortification held her in its iron grip, the temptation to cover her breasts with her hands gripping her. Instead, she merely glared at Mike, hoping he’d get the message. But of course he didn’t, instead his eyes darkened as he took visual possession of her body, and drank his fill until she thought she couldn’t stand the intrusion—but then if she thought his presence so abhorrent why did she feel that strangely delightful flutter in the pit of her stomach? That sudden desire flooding her core, racing through her blood like liquid fire as her eyes met his, and she could see the desires of her flesh reflected in his heated gaze?

Mike had been watching her for about a minute before he’d felt compelled to make his presence known. She’d looked so radiant and joyful all of a sudden that he’d hardly recognized her. Obviously she’d thought she was alone, and for the first time since making her acquaintance she’d dropped her guard and had allowed her inner beauty to shine through. Too briefly, alas, for now she was back to her customary self. But in that brief moment he’d felt an emotion tug at his inner self he’d rarely felt before, if ever.

And then there was that dress, of course. As his gaze dropped from the joyous expression on her face to the delightful swell of her full breasts and down to her narrow waist and round hips, the sudden hardening of his arousal was fierce and swift and took him completely by surprise.

She was a spy, he reminded himself, which was a fatal flaw in his book. She was plotting to destroy Knight Enterprises from within, feeding vital information to the competition, which made her his mortal enemy, as the family business was the subject of his unwavering loyalty and commitment. And yet, as he watched the woman come alive before his very eyes, her beauty flowering in that gorgeous dress, it was all he could do not to cross the few feet separating them and fill his hands with the flesh she flaunted, cup her face while he drank his fill from the nectar of her lips and branded her his own right here, right now.

The tension between them was palpable and crackled back and forth as their eyes locked, her breathing quickening, the valley between her breasts undulating as the dress erotically wedged the soft roundness of her bosom.

He ground his teeth against the onslaught of his arousal, more powerful and unexpected than he cared to admit, and willed his body to assume its customary posture of cold hauteur toward her. But even as he turned away, he couldn’t deny that for the first time in his life a woman had managed to get under his skin with a single look. How she’d managed that feat was beyond him, and he recognized that the sensations she elicited in him were unwanted, coming on the eve of the most important business negotiations in his company’s recent history.

The salesgirl had returned, and Mike had melted away into the store, but the effect he’d had on her was still coursing through her veins, melting her bones and ripping the resentment she felt toward him to ribbons. How could it be that a man who should have meant nothing to her—and to whom she was nothing—could affect her so powerfully with a single glance? What was it about Mike Knight that managed to turn her entire world upside down in a single day?

She didn’t know and she didn’t care. This unwanted attraction she was experiencing—and she had no qualms calling a spade a spade: she was attracted to this very male man, no doubt about it—had no place in her life.

She was happy by herself. And she most definitely didn’t have room in her life for an arrogant, demanding, overbearing, autocratic, lordly alpha male who liked to boss people around and coerce them into doing his bidding.

She’d vowed five years ago never to fall for any man ever again. She’d painstakingly built herself a new life from scratch after the ordeal she’d faced and after the death of her parents, and no man was going to take that away from her. Love only destroyed, she knew that now. Not that any love was involved where Mike Knight was concerned. Far from it. This was simply an unwanted physical attraction, and it wasn’t hard to see why: even the salesgirl had blushed when she’d brushed up against Mike on his way out of the dressing room.

He was a very attractive man, and any woman would be tempted to fall for him. But not her. Never her. Not now, not ever. And when the girl asked her if she should wrap up the black dress, she shook her head. She didn’t want to be caught in Mike’s gaze again like she’d been just now, like a deer in the headlights, waiting for him to destroy her. She’d never wear that black dress again. And most definitely not when it might catch the eye of a man like Mike.