Blackmailed Down The Aisle
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His lips pressed together. Or rather he did understand; he just didn’t know what to do about it. Dunmore didn’t approve of him, or his reputation for ruthlessness and womanising and so he wouldn’t sell. Rollo breathed out slowly. But he wanted that building—had wanted it for seventeen years—and he wasn’t about to give up now.
If only he could somehow persuade Dunmore that he’d changed...
He felt his pulse quicken. It made him feel tense, thwarted, just thinking about it. And now, as if he didn’t have enough to deal with, this woman, Daisy, was trying to hustle him.
So call Security, he told himself irritably.
There was no reason for him to deal with this.
But, looking up at Daisy, he felt his body twitch.
Except there was.
A beautiful, brown-eyed reason, with a body that made that completely uninspiring uniform look both chic and sexy. His eyes rested on her face. Aside from a faint smudge of pink on her lips, she was make-up-free. But then beauty like hers needed no enhancement. Everything from the soft curves of her mouth to the huge espresso-coloured eyes was designed to seduce.
She had attempted to pull her long blonde hair into some kind of low ponytail, but it was coming loose, and to his annoyance he found himself wanting to loosen it more. Could almost imagine what it would feel like between his fingers, the weight of it in his hands, and how it would fall forward when they kissed, the silken strands brushing his face—
Abruptly he lifted his head, his eyes glinting.
‘As I was saying, I’ve had a long, difficult day—’
‘Then why don’t I just get out of your way?’ Heart lurching like a ship at sea, Daisy edged backwards. ‘I probably should get back to work anyhow.’
She glanced past him, every fibre in her body focused on reaching the door and freedom, and then her stomach lurched too as he shook his head slowly,
‘I don’t think so.’
His hand coiled around her wrist, his touch searing her skin. ‘You’re not going anywhere until you tell me the truth.’
‘Let go of me.’ She tugged her arm, trying not to give in to the cold, slippery panic curling around her heart like an eel. ‘I have told you the truth!’
‘Enough!’
His voice was sharp and final, like a guillotine falling, and she felt his grip tighten.
‘You have done nothing but lie since you opened your mouth. Now, most men might fall for this eyelash-fluttering, little-girl-lost routine, but I’m not most men. So save your pouting and tell me what you’re doing here.’
‘I’m not pouting.’ She jerked her arm free. Stuffing her hands back into her apron, she tightened her fingers involuntarily around the swipe card. ‘And most men—most reasonable, decent men—wouldn’t be interrogating me about an honest mistake.’
He laughed without humour. ‘Honest? I doubt you know the meaning of the word.’
Her hands curled into fists. ‘Just because you’re some big shot property tycoon, it doesn’t give you the right to play judge, jury and executioner. I’m not on trial here.’
‘No. But you will be.’ He stared at her speculatively. ‘At a rough guess facing charges of trespass, unlawful entry, intent to rob—’
‘I didn’t come here to rob anyone,’ Daisy snapped. ‘If you must know, I came here to—’
Breaking off, she stared at him in horror. Around her the tension in the room had soared, so that suddenly she felt as though the walls and the windows might implode.
His gaze was fixed and unblinking. ‘To what?’
She stared at him mutely, frozen, horrified by how close she’d come to betraying David—and then in the beat of her heart she darted past him. But he was too quick, and before her brain had even registered him moving, his arm was curving around her waist and pulling her against the hard muscles of his chest.
It was like an electric shock. For a moment she forgot everything. Everything except the fierce, prickling heat surging through her body, warming her blood and melting her bones, so that in another second she knew her legs would buckle beneath her.
‘Let go of me.’ Angry, outraged—more by her body’s inappropriate response than his restricting grip—she started to punch his arm, but he simply ignored the blows, jerking her closer.
‘Stop it,’ he said coldly. ‘You’re not helping yourself.’
‘You’re hurting me.’
‘Then stop fighting me.’
His arm curled tighter, so that his stomach was pressing against her spine. But despite his anger, and even though she could feel his strength, she was surprised to find she wasn’t afraid of him physically.
Only there was no time to ponder why that should be the case as he said sharply, ‘What’s in your hand?’
Instantly all her efforts were concentrated on clenching her fist as tightly as possible. But it was a short, unequal fight, and she watched helplessly as, uncurling her fingers, he prised the security card from her hand.
‘Thank you,’ he said softly, and abruptly he loosened his grip and jerked her round to face him.
She gazed at him dazedly. Her pulse was racing, her blood thundering like an incoming tide. She felt her stomach tighten painfully as his eyes flickered over the card.
‘Where did you get this?’
For a moment she considered telling him the truth. But one look at his face was all it took to convince her that that course of action would not only be foolish but hazardous. He was furious. Beyond furious. He was enraged.
‘It was on the floor.’
‘Of course it was!’
The jeer in his voice sliced through her skin like a knife, so that she had to swallow against the pain. The air was thickening around her and she was finding it hard to breathe. His anger was overwhelming her. She couldn’t fight the way he did—didn’t have that desire to win whatever the consequences. Whatever the cost...
‘I...I... It must... Someone must have dropped it.’
Rollo shook his head dismissively.
He could deal with her lies. He could even understand why she was lying. But he couldn’t deal with all the other lies that were crowding into his head. Lies from the past. Conversations between his parents. His mother darting between stories, swapping truths—
Suddenly he just wanted it over. Wanted her out of his office and out of his life.
Lip curling, he glanced to where she stood, wide-eyed, the pulse in her throat jerking unevenly.
‘I know this looks bad,’ she said haltingly. ‘But I wasn’t doing anything wrong. You have to believe me—’
‘I think we both know it’s a little late for that,’ he said savagely.
He didn’t trust her, and for good reason. Life had taught him at an early age that there was nothing more disingenuous or dangerous than a cornered woman.
But this one wasn’t his problem.
‘I’m tired,’ he said bluntly. ‘And this conversation is over.’
He reached into his jacket and pulled out his phone.
‘What do you mean? Who are you calling? No. Please—’
He felt his stomach soar upwards, snagged by the desperation in her voice even as anger swept over him like lava. Was she really going to keep this up? This pretence that she’d come up here to see the view.
‘I gave you a chance to tell the truth. That you came here to steal from me—’
‘But I didn’t.’ Her voice was husky with emotion. ‘I admit I lied to you. But I swear I’m not a thief.’
He held her gaze. It would be easy to believe her. She sounded so convincing. But then he remembered how she had fought him for the swipe card, with fire—not fear—in her eyes, and glancing at her face he could see tautness—the nervous dread of a skater standing on thin ice, waiting to hear it crack.
But why? What was there left to dread?
His shoulders tensed. And then, as his gaze dropped down to the short black apron, he saw her face freeze. He felt a dizzying anger like vertigo. Slowly he moved in front of her, his powerful body blocking her exit.
‘Prove it. Empty out your pockets,’ he said tersely. ‘Unless you want me to do it for you.’
She shrank away from him, eyes widening with unmistakable guilt, her face pale with shock and uncertainty. ‘Are you threatening me?’
‘I don’t know,’ he said, his voice soft, light, his face sculptured with menace. ‘Do you feel threatened?’
Daisy swallowed. Yes. She did. And not just threatened. Trapped. But how could she do what he asked? If he saw the watch—his watch—there was zero chance of her getting out of the office, let alone the building.
‘I can explain...’ But her words faltered as she realised that she couldn’t.
Rollo stared at her in silence. A sudden vivid memory of his mother saying exactly the same words slid into his head, and he let them echo and fade until he was able to speak.
‘I’m sure you can. But I think I’ve had enough bedtime stories for one evening.’
His words sent a chill through her.
‘Don’t worry though. I’m sure someone else will find them far more entertaining.’ He paused, a cold smile curling his lips. ‘Like my security team. We can go and talk to them right now. They’re downstairs with David—your brother. Waiting to take you both to the police station.’
CHAPTER TWO
DAISY STARED AT him in horror. His words were burning inside her head, so hot and bright she couldn’t think straight. Finally she forced herself to speak.
‘What’s David got to do with any of this?’
But even as the question left her lips, she knew there was no point in pretending any more. There was only one possible explanation for why her brother was with Security.
Rollo knew everything.
The thought made her feel dizzy and she took a quick, shallow breath, trying not to give in to the damp chill sweeping over her skin.
‘You know about...? That David...?’
‘That your brother stole my watch?’
His gaze held hers, the derision in his voice making her cheeks burn.
‘I knew the day he stole it. My office has security cameras. Your brother was caught on film.’
He paused and, looking up, she saw the glittering contempt in his eyes, felt her stomach cramp with fear. He’d known right from the start—before she’d even steeled herself to step into the lift. He’d simply been watching, waiting...
Waiting for her to realise that fact.
All her carefully laid plans had been for nothing. Suddenly she was struggling to hold it together.
‘Please—’
Her voice sounded all wrong, high and breathless, not at all like her voice. But maybe that was because she was no longer Daisy Maddox but some anonymous criminal. The thought made fear crystallise on her skin like ice.
‘Please don’t do this. I know it looks bad. But if you’ll just give me five minutes—’
His eyes narrowed. ‘I think you’ve wasted more than enough of my time already.’
‘But you don’t know the full story,’ she protested.
‘Story? More like fantasy!’ He shook his head. ‘Save it for your lawyers. They’ll be paid to listen to your lies. I’m not.’
His derisive words punched through her panic. The man was a monster! Didn’t he understand what breaking into his office had cost her?
Suddenly her whole body was rigid and vibrating with anger. ‘I might have known someone like you would bring it all back to money,’ she snapped.
‘Someone like me?’ His voice was chillingly cold. ‘You mean a law-abiding citizen?’
She glowered at him. ‘I mean someone without a heart.’
His eyes glinted threateningly beneath the lights. ‘I don’t need a heart to recognise a thief.’
‘David’s not a thief.’ Her head jerked up.
‘So he didn’t steal my watch?’
‘No—I mean yes. But it was a mistake—’
‘I’m sure the prisons are littered with people all saying the same.’
‘No, you don’t understand—’
‘And I don’t want to.’ He frowned at her impatiently. ‘Your brother’s motives are of no interest to me. I’m only concerned with his guilt.’ His gaze didn’t flicker. ‘And yours.’
Daisy stared at him open-mouthed.
‘My guilt!’
His lip curled up impatiently.
‘Look, I may not have a heart, but I do have a brain and I’m not stupid. You didn’t come up here by accident, or to look at the view. You came to see what else you could steal—’
‘No.’ Her voice echoed around the empty office. ‘I did not.’
‘Yes, you did.’ The finality in his voice sent a warning chill through her. ‘As whatever you’ve got stashed in those pockets will no doubt demonstrate when we get downstairs.’
She gazed at him dumbly. Something had just hit her. A way to corroborate her story. Desperately she fumbled inside her apron and pulled out the watch.
‘I didn’t break in here to steal from you,’ she said breathlessly. ‘I came to bring this back.’
If she’d been expecting flags and a parade, she would have been disappointed. Rollo barely glanced at the watch. Instead his eyes were fixed on her face.
‘That proves nothing. Or rather, given that it contradicts everything you’ve just said, it merely confirms that you’re a liar as well as a thief!’
Her hands were trembling. She felt almost giddy with anger. ‘I’m not a thief.’
He shrugged. ‘Unlike some people, I prefer to tell and hear the truth.’
‘In that case you’re a bully.’
‘Is that right?’ His shoulders rose and tensed.
‘Yes, it is. Ever since you walked through that door you’ve done nothing but make threats and try to intimidate me.’
A muscle flickered in his cheek, and then slowly he held out his phone.
‘So call the police,’ he said softly. ‘Go on. Call them.’
Her pulse gave a jerk. She had effectively backed herself into a corner, and he knew it. But watching his green eyes gleam triumphantly, his smug assumption that she would back down, flipped a switch inside her head. Stepping forward, she snatched the phone from his hand.
‘Fine. I will,’ she snarled. ‘At least that way I won’t have to spend any more time with you.’
‘Don’t be so bloody childish.’
There was a tension in his voice she hadn’t heard before.
‘I’m not being childish,’ she snapped. ‘You’re going to call them anyhow, so what does it matter?’
Their eyes locked—hers furiously defiant, his cool, opaque, dispassionate—and then her mouth curved scornfully.
‘Oh, I get it. You wanted to do it. So who’s being childish now?’
There was a small, tight silence.
Rollo took a slow, deep breath. His chest felt hot and taut. Her stubbornness was infuriating, and yet part of him couldn’t help admiring her. She was just so determined to keep fighting him—even to the point of making this crazy kamikaze gesture.
Glancing from her face to her tightly curled hands, he sighed. ‘You don’t want to do that, Daisy,’ he said at last.
‘You don’t know what I want. You don’t know anything about me or David.’
He met her gaze. ‘So tell me.’
Daisy stared at him in silence. Why was he offering her a chance to talk now? More than anything she wanted to hurl it back in his face. But already her anger was fading and picturing her brother waiting, wordless with terror downstairs, she took a shallow breath and lowered the phone.
‘Why?’ she said sulkily. ‘So you can use it against him.’
His eyes narrowed. ‘That depends on what you tell me. To date, all I know about your brother—aside from his penchant for expensive watches—is that he works in Acquisition and Development. And he’s tall and twitchy—’
‘He’s not twitchy. He’s just a bit nervous.’ She spoke defensively and instantly wished she hadn’t as he turned his penetrating, unsettling green gaze on her face.
‘Guilty people often are.’
There was no short or easy way to refute that statement, so instead she satisfied herself with giving him an icy glare.
‘He’s not some criminal mastermind. He’s shy, and he finds it difficult to make friends with people.’
‘He might find it easier if he didn’t steal from them,’ he said smoothly.
‘It was a mistake.’ Her voice rose with exasperation.
‘So you keep saying. But a mistake is when you forget to charge your phone. Not when you purposely steal something that doesn’t belong to you. That’s called theft.’
‘Not always.’ She looked him straight in the eye, her shoulders set high and pushed back as though for battle. ‘Sometimes it’s called “charging market rent.”’
Rollo gritted his teeth. Not in response to her confrontational remark but because he knew that this time she was telling the truth. David Maddox was clearly not a criminal mastermind. Which was why he’d requested a background check instead of just firing him.
It had taken less than half a day for a file to land on his desk, and the research had been thorough—health records, academic results and employment history. And one line noting the existence of a twin sister who also happened to work for the Fleming Organisation’s hospitality team.
Glancing across at her face, he felt his breath suddenly light and loose in his chest; he felt weightless, off balance, as though he’d been drinking. That was all she’d been. A line in a report. A name without a face.
But no words could ever have conveyed Daisy’s beauty and spirit. Or the way her eyes softened when she talked about her brother. Or that tiny crease she got on her forehead when she was digging in her heels.
His fingers twitched and suddenly, more than anything, he wanted to reach out and touch the curve of her cheek, then carry on touching, his fingers sliding over the soft skin of her throat, then lower still, to the swelling curves of her breasts and waist—
He felt his body jerk to life—muscles tightening, groin hardening.
Sitting watching the camera footage of her breaking into his office, he’d thought she was beautiful but greedy—a woman who didn’t believe the rules applied to her. And it had angered him so much that for reasons he didn’t want to examine, he’d broken with protocol and convinced his security team to let him deal with her personally.
Only now here she was, clutching his phone like an amulet to ward off evil, and he couldn’t seem to hold on to his anger. At least not the vindictive, punitive kind. Instead—and he really couldn’t explain why—he felt wound up, and almost irritated by her reckless stupidity.
Had she really thought she could get away with it?
Then she was not only foolhardy but utterly deluded; there was no way he would ever have fallen for her lies.
Except that he would have done.
His muscles tensed as the truth hit him square in the chest: if he hadn’t watched her breaking in he would have believed every word, trusted each hesitant glance. She would have had him eating out of her hand.
The thought should have repelled him, but instead he felt his pulse accelerate, the blood humming inside his head, as slowly, miraculously he realised that maybe—just maybe—he had found a way to change James Dunmore’s mind.
Gazing blandly over at her, he shrugged. ‘Obviously I’d love to hear your views on social housing some other time, but right now I think we should talk about you.’
There was a startled pause. She stared at him suspiciously. ‘Why?’
He shrugged. ‘I’m curious. What do you do when you’re not breaking into offices?’ he said softly.
‘Why do you care?’ she snapped. ‘You’ve clearly made up your mind that David and I are some of kind of Bonnie and Clyde. Nothing I say is going to change that.’
‘Try me,’ he said lazily. ‘I can’t say for sure that it’ll change anything. But what have you got to lose?’
Holding her breath, Daisy watched in mute fascination as he reached up and undid the top button of his shirt, tugging the dark green tie loose to reveal a triangle of sleek golden skin.
Angry, Rollo Fleming was formidable, but she was just starting to realise that anger was not the most effective weapon in his armoury. His charm was far more lethal. And when the chill and distance left his voice he was at his most dangerous.
‘You said earlier you weren’t interested,’ she said stiffly.
‘And you said earlier I didn’t have a heart.’
His gaze rested on her face—cool, unblinking, unreadable—and her own heart skipped a beat.
‘So what are you saying?’
‘I’m giving you an opportunity to redeem yourself. And David, of course.’
Rollo could see she was tempted by his words. He could read the conflict in her eyes, her distrust of him battling with her impulse to protect her brother. He waited, knowing the value of both silence and patience, until finally she sighed.
‘There’s not much to say. I’m twenty-five. I live with my brother, who’s my twin. And I’m a waitress.’ Her eyes flared. ‘Just a waitress. But not through choice. I’m actually an actress, only I’m between jobs at the moment.’
There was a sharp, complicated silence.
‘That’s it.’ She looked up defensively. ‘I told you there wasn’t much.’
Rollo studied her in silence. There was a flush of colour on her cheeks and her eyes were daring him to prove her right.
‘Depends on your definition of “much”,’ he said smoothly. ‘A half-point swing in my commodities portfolio could cost me millions of dollars.’
Daisy stared at him warily. Something was happening around her, silent and unseen.
She narrowed her eyes. ‘What do you want?’
The corners of his mouth curved upwards into a tiny satisfied smile.
‘Let’s just say that I think I’ve found a way for all of us to move on from this unfortunate incident.’
A fresh fear rose up inside her. ‘I’m not going to have sex with you, if that’s what you mean. I’d rather sell my kidneys!’
‘I believe the norm is only one.’ He stared at her impassively, his green gaze colder and harder than any emerald. ‘And don’t flatter yourself, Ms Maddox. I like a woman in handcuffs as much as the next man, but not when the only reason she’s wearing them is because she’s been arrested.’
She bit her tongue. ‘So what do you want, then?’
He scrutinised her for a long moment, almost as though he were trying to see through her or past her. It made her feel taut, trapped—vulnerable, a deer gazing into the headlights of an oncoming car.
Finally he smiled—a smile that tore the breath out of her.
‘I want you to be my wife,’ he said softly.
There was a moment of pure, absolute silence.
She gazed at him in shock, trying to catch up. The last few hours had proved unequivocally that Rollo was a cold-blooded megalomaniac, but now it appeared he was also utterly and irrefutably insane.
‘I’m sorry.’ She shook her head slowly. ‘I think I must have misheard you. I thought you said—’
‘That I want you to be my wife.’ His eyes flickered over her stunned expression. ‘You heard correctly.’
Breathing out unsteadily, she lifted her hand to her forehead, as though to ward off the insanity of his suggestion.
‘What are you talking about?’ she managed.
It must be some kind of trick or trap—another way to make her look stupid and feel small. She stared wildly round the room, hoping to find some explanation. But turning back to meet his gaze she felt a shudder of alarm ripple over her skin.
He was being serious!
She stared at him incredulously.
‘You barely know me. And we hate each other. Why would you want to marry me?’
He paid no attention. ‘Why don’t you sit down and we can talk about it properly?’
He was just like a politician, she thought desperately. Answering a question with a question. Ignoring what he couldn’t answer or didn’t want to discuss.
She opened her mouth to protest but he was already walking past her, and as she watched him take a seat behind the huge glass-topped desk she felt her ribs expand. He looked calm, relaxed, as though he often proposed marriage to young women who broke into his office in the early hours of the morning. But his eyes were alert and predatory, like a wolf watching a lamb stumble around in its lair.
‘Come on. Sit down. I don’t bite.’