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A chilled smile parted his lips. ‘You assume that I do the seducing.’
‘So women not only stage floor shows in your offices, they also seduce you behind closed doors into the bargain. Your poor thing. How on earth do you get any work done?’
‘You have a reckless, smart mouth, Arabella.’
Another zing went through her, but she fought it tooth and nail. ‘Along with a smart brain. So if you think anything’s going to happen here other than me walking out the door in the next minute, think again.’
‘You set too high a premium on yourself, I think.’
‘Ah, so if I were to strip right here right now, you’d turn me down?’
‘You won’t. You like to pretend otherwise, but I’m willing to bet, deep down, you’re less Lady Chatterley and more Miss Prude.’
The droll observation brought heat to her cheeks. Dear God, he was making her blush again?
‘Well, sadly for you, you’ll never find out.’
‘I will. If I wish it, you’ll get your chance to strip for me in the very near future. At a time and place of my choosing when I know we won’t be interrupted in any way.’
‘Wow, you must tell me where you acquired your crystal balls. I’m running out of ideas for Christmas presents.’
Dear Lord. Was she truly standing in front of him, discussing his balls?
He freed one arm. Rebel was about to exhale with relief, but her breathing stuttered as he curled his long fingers over her nape and tilted her chin with his thumb. She’d never imagined the skin along her jaw was sensitive until experiencing Draco Angelis’ branding touch. Now every nerve in her body screeched as her heart raced and her blood heated.
His head lowered a fraction and his gaze dropped to her lips. He was about to kiss her. And she couldn’t move.
Rebel grew frantically aware of every desperate breath that passed between her lips, her own gaze unable to shift from the mouth drawing ever closer to hers.
‘I don’t need crystal balls. My human ones are more than adequate to deal with challenges from the opposite sex. But we’re straying from the subject. Tell me what you know, Arabella.’ Again that smile peeled back a layer of her skin and exposed her to sensations as alien as a distant galaxy.
‘For the last time, take your hands off me. I don’t know where my father—’
The buzz of an intercom from his desk froze her words. Draco tensed, the flex of his jaw exhibiting his displeasure at the interruption.
‘Mr Angelis, I’m so sorry to disturb you, but I have Olivio Nardozzi on the line again. He refuses to leave a message or be put on hold. He says you promised to call him back fifteen minutes ago.’
He raised his head, but he didn’t let her go. Nor did his gaze move from her lips as he answered, ‘Tell Olivio I’ll speak to him in two minutes. Tell him he can either hold or wait for my call.’
‘Yes, Mr Angelis.’
The intercom clicked and silence once more engulfed them. Draco didn’t seem in a hurry to speak, or do anything but hold her prisoner.
Rebel knew she had to move, but for the life of her she couldn’t get her legs to work. So she employed her best defence. ‘Another one of your angelic, perfectly reasonable, high-maintenance clients?’ she mocked.
With a slow, deliberate movement, his thumb rose from her chin to pass lazily over her lower lip. ‘There will come a time when this delectable mouth will get you into trouble you won’t be able to escape from,’ he drawled in a low, dark voice that resonated deep within her.
‘Tick tock, Mr Angelis.’
His grip firmed, the fire branding her deeper. Then he released her with an abrupt move that spoke of barely leashed emotion. Before she could escape, he caged her in by placing his hands on the glass door either side of her.
‘You have until six o’clock tonight to tell me what you know about my money. Trust me, you don’t want me to come after you.’
She wanted to dare him to do his worst, but Rebel bit her tongue. Draco Angelis had already demonstrated that he had the power to strip her sponsors from her with nothing more than a hatred of her vivacity. Sure, she’d taken a few risks on the ski slope that had earned her a name in the sport. But they’d all been carefully calculated and had taken into account the injury she’d sustained when she was twenty-two. Without those risks, she’d have fallen even further down the rankings and lost all her sponsorship long before now.
As much as she wanted to tell Draco to take a running jump, if she wanted to get to the bottom of her father’s actions, or have a last chance at securing the Verbier championship and laying a few ghosts to rest, she needed to retreat and regroup.
A tug on her Lycra training bottoms drew her thoughts away from her mother and her errant father. She gasped as Draco slid a business card into her waistband. The backs of his fingers brushed her skin and her muscles jumped at the contact.
Before she could form an effective comeback to his audacious action he stepped back. A moment later the frosty glass cleared and a click released the door.
‘I assume I’m free to go now?’
He lifted the phone and punched in a series of numbers. ‘Provided you’re not held by my security, then yes, you may leave. But we both know you’re guilty of something, Arabella. Make the wise choice and use my private number. I guarantee you won’t like the consequences if you don’t.’ He sat down behind his desk. The infinitesimal twitch of his chair away from her was as definitive a dismissal as any as he spoke into the phone, ‘Olivio, my apologies for keeping you waiting. I hope you’re chomping at the bit to speak to me because you’ve given further consideration to my offer?’ His voice rang with charming familiarity, not at all like the ire he’d demonstrated towards her.
Rebel could barely recall stumbling from Draco’s office and summoning the lift that raced her back down to the ground floor. She assumed she was free to leave when the Angel head of security met her on the ground floor with her belongings. Thankful that she wouldn’t be required to answer any more questions, Rebel took her bag and yoga mat and hurried out into the weak February sunshine.
The light breeze that whispered over her skin brought a little clarity, but her senses were too focused on the card burning against her skin, and the grave certainty that the money she’d used to secure her place in the Verbier tournament was indeed money stolen from a man who seemed to have the lowest, blackest opinion of her, to feel the cold.
Plucking the card out of her waistband, she stared at the black and gold inscription and the private number etched into it.
Rebel wanted to rip it into a dozen pieces and scatter them to the four winds. But deep in her heart she recognised the foolhardiness of doing so.
She might not understand why her father had chosen to help himself to money that didn’t belong to him and then pass it on to her. Their last few rows had been awful enough for her to imagine he was done with her as long as she chose to keep competing. For him to have followed her career closely enough to know when she needed help at once lifted her heart and plunged it into despair. Not in a million years would she have wanted him to help in this way.
Jerkily, she searched for her phone and dialled as she hurried away from Draco’s building. The moment the line connected, she rushed to speak. ‘Contessa, have the cheques we paid out to the tournament organisers cleared?’
Her manager snorted. ‘Well, hello to you too. And the answer to your question is yes, the cheques cleared this morning, so did the money we paid for your travel, accommodation and equipment. We only need an extra fifteen thousand for incidentals, but I’m sure your remaining sponsors will front you that. I was going to pop round to your flat tonight with a bottle of champagne to celebrate. I know you don’t like to drink during training, but I thought a sip or two wouldn’t hurt...’ Her voice trailed off for a moment. ‘Rebel? Is something wrong?’
Rebel exhaled shakily, her vision hazing as she fought panic. ‘And there’s no way we can get any of it back?’
‘Get it back? Why would we want to do that?’ her manager demanded, her voice rising.
‘I...I just...it doesn’t matter.’
‘Obviously it does. Tell me what’s happened.’
Unwilling to drag Contessa into her problems until she confirmed the depth of the trouble she was in, she forced lightness into her voice. ‘Ignore me. Just last-minute nerves. You can come over, but can we give the champagne a miss, though?’
‘Of course...are you sure you’re okay?’ the older woman pressed.
‘I’m sure. Talk to you later.’
She hung up and immediately dialled her father’s number, already suspecting it wouldn’t go through. When the mechanical voice urged her to leave a message, Rebel cleared her throat. ‘Dad, it’s me...again.’ She paused, a new fear chilling her heart. Draco Angelis wasn’t above having her father’s phone traced. Until she got answers for herself, Rebel didn’t want to lead the man who made her spine tingle with dread and other unwanted emotions straight to her father. ‘Call me. Please. I need to talk to you.’
Feeling helpless for the first time in a very long time, she hung up. Plugging her earphones in, she ramped up the volume and hurried to the Tube, all the while willing her focus away from the card she’d tucked back into her waistband, hoping against hope she wouldn’t be forced to use it.
CHAPTER FOUR
DRACO READ THE bullet points in the report for the second time and closed the file. He spared a thought as to why his CFO hadn’t bothered to cover his tracks, then dismissed the useless thought. The why didn’t matter.
The inescapable fact was that a crime had been committed. By Daniels and his daughter.
Draco didn’t doubt for a second that she was neck deep in this theft. Her guilt had been written all over her face, despite her trying hard to hide it. Her racing pulse had condemned her just as definitely, no matter how much her smart mouth had tried to distract him.
A muscle ticced in his jaw as he remembered the velvet softness of that mouth...the smoothness of her skin. Arabella Daniels didn’t use just her mouth to distract. She used her whole body. The need to remind his body hours later of that potent tactic irritated Draco as his car raced through the wet, lamplit streets towards the Chelsea address his investigators had supplied him with.
Another bout of irritation welled inside him.
He’d known Arabella wouldn’t honour the deadline he’d given her. Six o’clock had come and gone three hours ago, and, despite the conclusive, almost cynical evidence of theft he held in his hands, the daughter of his CFO had remained silent.
Closing the electronic file, he opened a thick manila envelope that held a completely different set of problems. While Draco was satisfied that months of hard work were poised on the edge of finally reaping rewards, he couldn’t believe the seemingly inescapable strings Olivio Nardozzi had attached to the contract in his hand.
But he hadn’t come this far to lose.
Carla Nardozzi, champion figure skater, number one in the world, was a prize every sports agent wanted. Hard-working, charismatic, almost virginally shy, she would be the jewel in his agency’s crown...if her father weren’t leveraging an unthinkable condition to signing his daughter with the Angel International Group—
‘Sir, we’re here,’ his driver interrupted his thoughts.
Draco alighted from the car and stared at the two-storey Victorian façade. While he hadn’t been surprised Arabella lived in Chelsea, he’d expected her to inhabit a glitzy condominium, not a homey dwelling on a leafy suburban street. Mounting the shallow steps to the door, he pressed her intercom.
The door released half a minute later. Draco told himself he didn’t care if she didn’t bother about her security, but by the time he arrived in front of an open doorway on the first floor irritation had given way to anger.
Loud music pumped from what seemed like a hundred speakers, although he couldn’t immediately see them as he went down a short hallway and arrived in a sizeable living room painted snow-white, and decorated with splashes of purple and pink.
He didn’t have time to be offended by the jarring decor because he was once again confronted by a scantily clad Arabella Daniels, who didn’t bother to look up as he walked into the room.
Draco dragged his gaze from her cross-legged figure enough to take in the fact that she was packing for a long trip. Escaping with the proceeds of her ill-gotten gains, perhaps?
He gritted his jaw and waited.
A moment later her head snapped up. Blue eyes met his, widened, before her mouth dropped open. ‘You’re not Contessa,’ she shouted above the pumping rock music.
‘No, I am not.’
Her eyes darted from him to the darkened hallway and back again. She set aside the sleek, specialist, lightweight skis that Draco knew cost several thousand pounds, and rose lithely to her feet. ‘You...I wasn’t expecting...what are you doing here?’
‘Do you always answer your door without checking to see who you’re letting in?’ he bit out.
She shrugged. ‘I thought you were Contessa, my manager. She’s the only one who knows where—’ She stopped and waved her hand. ‘Let’s get back to my question. What are you doing here?’
‘If you insist on playing this game, I’ll give you one guess, after you turn that racket off.’
Her pointed chin tilted and she folded her bare arms. ‘No. If you don’t like my taste in music, feel free to reuse the front door.’
Stopping his gaze from conducting a full scrutiny of her body, clad in vest top and hot pants, Draco stalked to the entertainment system set on top of an artsy-looking vanity unit and stabbed the off button.
‘Hey, you can’t do that!’
He turned and faced her, willing himself not to react to the mingled scent of peach shampoo and delicate perfume that infused his senses now his eardrums weren’t being shredded.
‘Did you forget the time, Arabella? I’m willing to give you the benefit of the doubt on the off-chance that my deadline escaped your notice because you don’t possess a watch?’
Her frowning gaze slid from the silent music system to his face. Her arms tightened and her stare grew bolder. ‘I have a watch. Several, in fact. I know exactly what the time is.’
The cold blaze of anger chilled his insides. He welcomed it far more than he welcomed the lick of fire that had flamed in his groin at the sight of her bare, shapely legs. ‘I can only conclude, then, that you thought my last words to you were a joke?’
She made a humming, almost accommodating sound under her breath. ‘Not quite. You don’t seem the joking type. I don’t imagine you’d appreciate a joke if it reared up and bit you hard.’
‘So that’s how you live your life? On the edge of reckless jokes?’
She shrugged. ‘You know what they say...if you’re not living on the edge, you’re taking up too much room.’
The urge to grab her, drag her close, just as he’d done in his office, assailed him. He stabbed his hands deep into his pockets to curb the impulse. Arabella Daniels took pleasure in flaunting her risqué behaviour. Draco wasn’t here to be riled. He was here to do the riling. To let her know she wouldn’t be getting away with stealing from him.
‘But if you insist on a definition,’ she continued, ‘I’d say I considered your words more of a suggestion...perhaps an invitation? As you can see, I opted to reject both.’
Draco drew in a breath, unable to accept that anyone could have so very little self-preservation. Back in his office, he’d considered her careless attitude a front, but now he wasn’t so sure. But then why was he surprised? He knew first-hand the sort of person he was dealing with. Wasn’t such a creature the same one responsible for reducing his sister’s dreams to dust? He’d trusted his precious Maria’s well-being and burgeoning talent to someone he’d thought would treasure and harness them. Instead, his sister’s life had been irrevocably destroyed.
The rock of guilt and bitterness that resided in his gut pressed hard and punishing. He’d taken his eye off the ball, relentlessly pursued his own dreams, and his sister had suffered for it. Continued to suffer for it. Draco absorbed the expanding pain he’d become used to bearing. He was grateful for it, in fact. The reminder of the past was as timely as it was bracing.
He looked past her to the suitcases, clothing and equipment strewn on the living-room floor. ‘Going somewhere?’
‘Yes, as a matter of fact,’ she replied. ‘And you’re interrupting my packing, so...’
Draco sauntered forward, his gaze narrowing on the two skis already wrapped in protective binding and the third one that she’d been wrapping when he walked in. ‘Your equipment looks new. Expensive. Have you come into a windfall perhaps?’ he enquired.
She tensed. ‘It’s none of your—’
He slashed his hand through the air. ‘Enough. I have irrefutable evidence that every single penny your father misappropriated ended up in your bank account. Whatever his motives were for taking the money, he didn’t seem inclined to cover his tracks. I’ve already given you enough time to come clean, but it looks like you prefer to wallow in lies and snarky banter. My time is valuable, Miss Daniels. I refuse to waste any more discussing your guilt. Now, are you prepared to take this seriously or shall I cut my losses and let you explain to the authorities how you came to be in possession of half a million pounds belonging to me?’ He took his phone out of his pocket and gripped it, fingers poised over the buttons.
Her arms dropped from their belligerent position. As he’d spoken she’d grown paler, but there was still more than enough fight in her eyes for Draco not to be under the misconception that she’d seen the light of true contrition. ‘I wasn’t lying. I don’t know where my father is, and I didn’t have anything to do with the taking of the money.’ Her brows clouded. ‘Are you sure this isn’t just some misunderstanding?’
He bared his teeth, cold amusement making him shake his head. ‘I’m not in the habit of misunderstanding the whereabouts of my company’s funds.’
She paled further. ‘I told you, I don’t know where my father is.’
‘Have you tried calling him?’ he fired back.
‘Several times.’ Her fingers spiked into her loose hair, and for the first time Draco witnessed her undiluted distress. Satisfaction lanced through him. He was finally getting through to her. Herding her into a position where she couldn’t fail to see that he wouldn’t be swayed from seeking restitution. ‘He hasn’t answered my calls.’ The tiny note of bewilderment in her voice suggested she wasn’t lying.
‘Be that as it may, the funds ended up in your bank account.’
Her full lips firmed for several moments before she nodded. ‘Yes.’
He exhaled. ‘So, are you willing to answer my questions now?’
She nodded again.
‘The championships don’t start for several weeks. The training grounds in Verbier won’t be open for another month. So where were you going?’
‘I have a friend with a chalet in Chamonix. I was going to stay there while I train.’
‘You mean you were fleeing the country with your ill-gotten gains?’ he sneered. ‘Perhaps meet up with your father and celebrate getting one over on me?’
She flinched. ‘No.’
‘Just...no? You’re not going elaborate?’
‘What more is there to say? You say you have evidence that the money ended up in my account. Will you believe me if I say I didn’t know it was coming in the first place? That when it arrived I tried to return it?’
He lifted a brow before staring at the expensive items on the floor. ‘Really?’
‘Look, I know what you’re thinking—’
‘I seriously doubt that. Picking up the phone and instructing your bank to return the funds was too much effort, but spending it wasn’t?’
‘I didn’t spend it. Not immediately.’
He placed the phone back in his pocket and stared at her until her gaze dropped. ‘I’m sure you’re going to explain that.’
‘The money arrived after Rex Glow and the rest of my sponsors started dropping like flies, thanks to you, I’m guessing.’ Her white-hot glare threatened to thaw the edges of his icy anger. ‘My father must have realised what you were doing...’ she paused...but it was already too late.
‘So you’re saying your father not only took my money, he also breached my company’s confidential secrets?’ He couldn’t stop the growl that accompanied the question.
‘No! I don’t know.’
‘You keep saying that, and yet all signs point to you hiding something.’
Her mouth worked for several seconds, before she blew out a breath. ‘Fine, if you must know, I hadn’t spoken to my father in years before I heard from him two weeks ago.’
He tensed. ‘Why not?’
‘That is definitely none of your business,’ she snapped, her fingers spearing into her hair again and tossing the heavy tresses over her shoulder. ‘But I did try to find out about the money the few times we spoke afterwards. He assured me there were no strings attached. That it was mine to use. And when a few more sponsors dropped me...’
‘You went ahead and used it, without a single thought as to its true source?’
‘You might automatically suspect everyone you meet to have nefarious motives, but the father I knew before we...lost touch was hard-working and honest. I don’t know what you did for him to—’
‘Excuse me?’ Her audacity stunned him. ‘Are you trying to wheedle your way into somehow blaming me for this?’
‘My father isn’t here to account for what’s happened, is he?’
‘No,’ Draco muttered, a daring solution to the conundrum he’d been toying with taking root and firming in his mind. ‘He’s not. But you are.’
Her eyes widened. ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’
He stared into the clear depths, unable to pull his gaze away. ‘It means the sins of the father will have to be paid for by the daughter. Especially when she’s turned out to be a direct beneficiary.’
‘Right. Hold that thought for a second.’ She turned and walked to the sound system. She toyed with a few buttons before pressing one. About to warn her against restarting the ear-bleeding music when they weren’t finished talking, Draco stopped when low, sultry, Middle Eastern fusion music flowed into the room. He stared, his gaze compelled by the sinuous movement of her body as she returned to where he stood. ‘I’m afraid I’m not interested in whatever plans you’ve concocted, Mr Angelis.’
His fists balled harder in his pockets. ‘By all means refuse if you feel you’re in a position to. I’ll bring myself to wait.’
Her mouth curved in a ghost of a smile. ‘No need to wait. I have a plan in mind for how you can get your money back.’
Not what he’d been expecting. Or what his new plan entailed. But... ‘I’m listening.’
‘My manager has received a request for me to star in a reality TV show after the championships are over. I wasn’t going to accept, but, since I now have no choice, I’ll hand over the proceeds from the gig to you—’
‘No.’ The word shot out of him with a brevity that rocked him.
She blinked. ‘Umm...what?’
‘I said no.’
‘I heard you. I just don’t understand why you’d refuse, seeing as it’s my life and I can do what I want with it. Also, I thought all this posturing and threatening was so you’d get your money back?’
‘Not in three months’ time. And not after you’d whored yourself in front of a camera to repay me.’
She inhaled sharply. ‘You did not just say what I think you said.’
‘Isn’t that what it amounts to? You opening your life to intense scrutiny until every dirty scumbag out there knows what brand of toothpaste you use and what you wear to bed at night?’
‘It isn’t that type of show—’
‘They are all that type of show. If you think otherwise, you’re naive as well as stupid.’
‘And you’re an arrogant ass, who’s under the illusion he can dictate to me. I don’t doubt that you wield a lot of power in the sports world.’ She laughed self-mockingly. ‘You’ve already shown you can strip me of my sponsors, although I’m still not completely sure why, but I’m damned if I’m going to give you power over my personal life. You don’t agree to my proposal, then fine, have me thrown in jail. Although how that gets you back your money is beyond me.’