Required to Wear the Tycoon's Ring

by Maggie Cox

  He couldn’t help but let James Siddons come to mind...

  He knew how it felt to be rejected—and something deep inside him didn’t want this woman to feel the same.

  ‘My lawyer tells me we won’t go down without a fight—but you know what?’

  Imogen’s smile was uncertain. The vulnerability he detected somehow got to him...made his insides ache.

  ‘What?’

  ‘I don’t want to fight. I’d rather keep my energy to rebuild my life. No amount of money is worth getting ill over.’

  ‘If it means the difference between you having the means to make a new start and beginning again with nothing I know which one I’d choose.’

  ‘I’ll find a way. At least the circumstances I grew up in taught me to be resilient.’

  ‘And what were those?’

  ‘They weren’t dissimilar to yours. I was raised by my mum. My dad walked out on her when she fell pregnant with me. He broke her heart, but she never thought for one second that she should give me up. She singlehandedly raised me, working two jobs to keep us together.’

  ‘And where is she now? Does she live close by?’

  ‘No. She eventually remarried and went to live in Spain with her new husband. He’s a good man and I’m glad she’s with him. She waited a long time to be happy.’

  ‘But that can’t have been easy for you?’

  ‘No, it wasn’t. I did miss her when she left. She agonised about going at all, but when she heard that me and Greg were getting married she felt reassured that I’d be all right. Shame he went and ruined things.’

  So not only had Imogen’s slimy fiancé abandoned her, but her once devoted mother had, too—albeit for a good reason. It wasn’t hard to see that she’d had a tough deal where relationships were concerned. She had good cause to be wary...

  ‘Was she there when he left you high and dry at the wedding?’

  Swallowing hard, she looked immediately uneasy. ‘She was, but she and her husband were booked on an early-morning flight the next day, so we didn’t have a lot of time to talk things over. I was glad that she was there to help explain things to the guests and tell them that there wouldn’t be any celebrations. She also helped me cancel the party at the church hall and tidy up. She and my stepfather sat up half the night, offering me consolation, but in the morning he was eager to take her home. I don’t blame him. My mum has had enough disappointment in her life without dealing with any more.’

  ‘What about you, Imogen? It must have been tough to deal with your own hurt and disappointment when she left.’

  She grimaced. ‘I managed. I told you—I’m resilient.’

  The morning light that stole through the blinds was getting brighter, and suddenly Seth realised that she ought to have her space back. It wasn’t easy to open up to someone and explain such a devastating situation—especially someone you’d only met just a few short hours ago. The funny thing was, he didn’t feel as though they were strangers anymore...

  Mentally shaking himself, he quickly brought himself back to the present. ‘I think I should make myself scarce. I’ve already taken up way too much of your time. Can I get my coat?’

  ‘Of course.’ Startled, Imogen stood up and went outside.

  In a matter of seconds she was back with him, the garment he’d asked for still pristine from being hung carefully on the coat stand.

  He slipped it on. ‘Thanks. It’s been good meeting you, Imogen.’

  ‘You, too.’

  Her expression suddenly looked shy as he leaned forward to brush her cheek with his lips and he discovered that her translucent complexion was even softer than it appeared. The thought disturbed him more than it should.

  He was still thinking about her when he got into his car and drove back to the hotel...

  CHAPTER FOUR

  IT HAD BEEN a strange few hours. Seth couldn’t have predicted the uncanny events that had unfolded on his arrival back in England. He had spent a long and fruitful decade away and, whilst he’d known it would take some degree of adjustment to acclimatise, nothing could have prepared him for what had happened.

  To be presented with that heartfelt letter he’d written to Louisa all those years ago at the height of their ill-fated romance had really shaken him up. To have it delivered by a beautiful young stranger who was curious about the writer just because she longed to know how things had worked out had been stranger still.

  That afternoon he rang his PA in New York, needing to anchor himself with the familiar.

  Returning to his country of birth had made him feel a little off-kilter. And the memory of his encounter with Imogen Hayes inexplicably clung to him. Somehow he couldn’t seem to stop thinking about her.

  Trusting that he wasn’t a threat, she’d allowed him to spend the night on her landlord’s couch rather than wake him up when he’d fallen asleep. In his world, kindness like hers was a rarity—if it even existed at all. Nobody did anything without hoping to make some kind of gain. But in his opinion the pretty brunette was far too innocent in the ways of the world—dangerously so—which was probably why she’d fallen prey to a louse like her ex-fiancé.

  What he’d give for just five minutes with the man. He’d soon set him straight.

  Morgan, the dependable PA who’d worked for him for the past five years in New York, answered her phone. When the preliminary enquiries about how he was doing and the usual niceties were over she relayed his messages. There was one that stood out above all the rest. It was from his old friend Ashraf Nassar—commonly called Ash.

  Seth hadn’t spoken to him in a very long time but they had been friends since he had met him at a corporate do one night and they’d hit it off. In some ways he’d been Seth’s guide and mentor when it had come to negotiating the highs and lows of the city’s financial world. Anything a person needed to know about money Ash knew it all, it seemed.

  He’d been born into Arabian royalty—his father was the ruler of a substantial and powerful kingdom and he was his only son and heir—and he’d had to fight for his freedom to go to New York and utilise his financial knowledge to make a fortune working on Wall Street, knowing all the while that if he failed he had a kingdom waiting for him to oversee when his father died.

  Seth called him back immediately.

  ‘Seth! I am so glad you rang. Your secretary tells me you’ve decamped back to the UK? What are you doing there, man?’

  Smiling a little ironically to himself—he had yet to fully come to terms with the move himself—Seth told him, ‘I’m here because I needed a change. And I’ve bought a house. A rather grand house. I’m still not quite sure what to do with it...’

  Ash chuckled. ‘Well, I’m sure that your wife knows what to do with it! I take it you are married after all this time, my friend? If not, I demand to know the reason why.’

  The question was sobering, to say the least. ‘Well, I’m not married, and the reason is I haven’t yet found anyone I care for.’

  ‘That is easily remedied. Have an arranged marriage. A beautiful woman who you can tolerate spending a little time with now and again and who will be proud to bear your name and your children for the privilege of being the consort of an important and wealthy man like yourself.’

  Frowning, Seth commented, ‘Arranged marriages are not really the done thing here.’

  ‘Replace the term with “marriage of convenience”, then—something that suits both parties and bypasses the complications of romance. Talking of which...my father is looking for a new supplier of classic sports cars and I recommended you to him. That’s why I wanted to get in touch with you. He’s very particular when it comes to tradition and marriage—he likes to know that his business partners have settled down and proved themselves when it comes to marriage. If you are to be accepted by the elite classic-car fraternity in his co
untry, you’ll need to have a wife. Even a trophy wife would be better than no wife at all. It could be an incredible opportunity for you, Seth.’

  It wasn’t the suggestion of having a marriage of convenience that stuck with Seth long after his conversation with Ash had ended. It was the phrase ‘if you are to be accepted’ that lingered. It was the one thing he had striven for in his life and never truly achieved, no matter how much money he made or how much success he had.

  But Ash was right. It was an incredible opportunity. And didn’t he pride himself on making even the most tenuous opportunities work in his favour?

  He found himself heading back to the grandiose edifice known as Evergreen to have a proper look round the property. The cheerful name was apt to lead people astray about its presently austere interior, but in the welcome sunlight that streaked through the windows the cavernous rooms seemed far less daunting, less prone to be haunted than they had the day before.

  With its voluminous green acres, as well as the generous-size accommodation, there was no doubt that if renovated it might potentially be a terrific place to raise a family...

  Lulled into what was almost a pleasant daydream, Seth could hardly believe the thoughts that were tumbling through his brain. He didn’t often think about marrying and having a family, even when goaded by his colleagues. The truth was he doubted he had it in him anymore to make such a commitment. Not since Louisa had he seriously entertained the idea—and that had been during a time when he’d had the optimism of youth and dared to believe that anything was possible.

  His belittling encounter with her father had changed all that. As well as injuring his pride, it had opened up the old wounds of his childhood, when he’d been yelled at more times than he cared to remember, told that he was useless by his own drunken father. Thank God the man hadn’t hung around for long. But being told that you were worthless by someone the rest of the world seemed to look up to—like Siddons—was apt to scar even the strongest of men. No matter how determined he was to rise above it.

  Yet standing there alone in that remarkable old house, it came to him that he shouldn’t deny himself the hope that things could change for the better. His friend Ash had planted a seed with his surprising suggestion. He wasn’t searching for love anymore, but what was to stop him from sharing his life with someone and having some kind of helpful connection?

  No one wanted to be alone forever—no matter how much money they had. Expensive acquisitions, the admiration of his peers, any amount of pleasure he could buy himself hardly compensated for a lonely old age. Life had to have more meaning than that empty scenario.

  He turned to leave the stunning library that had once been filled with books but whose wall-to-wall oak shelves now lay bare, and glanced back over his shoulder at the lush green vista outside the stained-glass windows. It was an exceptionally beautiful view. As he contemplated the scene he went still. Unbidden, an image of Imogen Hayes with her curling chestnut hair, pretty mouth and glossy brown eyes stole into his mind...

  * * *

  It was hard for Imogen to set aside the memory of yesterday and her meeting with Seth Broden. The last thing she could have anticipated was that the man would spend the night on her couch!

  The arresting fragrance of his expensive cologne lingered in the flat long after he had left and it taunted her. She even found herself pressing her face against the cushion he had lain against last night to breathe it in.

  Realising what she was doing, she exclaimed, ‘Oh, for goodness’ sake—what on earth is wrong with me?’

  If she was honest, she knew it was the letter he’d sent to his sweetheart that had got to her. It was hard to stop thinking about it. The words had been so tender, so full of love—how could she be anything but entranced by them? Especially when her own experience of falling in love had all but ripped her heart from her chest after her fiancé had waited until their wedding day to demonstrate that he didn’t love her at all...that he actually preferred someone else.

  The cruel event had happened well over a year ago now, but the pain of it still had the power to wound her afresh whenever it crept up on her unawares. One thing was for certain: she would never make herself so vulnerable to a man again. Her guard would be well and truly up if anyone showed so much as a smidgeon of interest in her.

  But as soon as she had that thought the recollection of Seth Broden’s lips brushing her cheek as he said goodbye made her grow worryingly warm.

  A man like him was way beyond her league, she told herself, and it was pointless to fantasise about him. But there couldn’t be many men in the world capable of loving someone so much that when they died they knew they would never love anyone else as deeply again. He was a real one-off.

  Sighing, and seeking a diversion, she moved into the kitchen to collect the vacuum cleaner. Then she drowned out her restless and ultimately pointless thinking with a frenzied bout of vacuuming. When she was done she sat down with a cup of tea and the local paper to search through the small ads for kittens for sale.

  Imogen might not expect to have another man in her life but there was nothing stopping her from having a pet as a companion, was there? She didn’t know why she hadn’t thought of it before.

  The loud banging on the front door that evening, when she had just settled down to watch the period drama she’d been following, immediately annoyed her. Pressing the pause button on the remote, she made a half-hearted attempt to tidy her newly washed hair, then went to see who had the audacity to interrupt her programme.

  She guessed it might be Rowan, the scatterbrained nurse who lived in the upstairs apartment. She was always forgetting to take her key with her when she left the house.

  She’d guessed wrong. The culprit was none other than an impeccably suited, clean-shaven, delicious-smelling and smiling Seth Broden. Dumbfounded, Imogen stared.

  Bypassing the usual niceties, he said casually, ‘How long has your bell not been working?’

  Wrapping her arms round herself in the black V-neck jumper she wore with jeans, she answered automatically. ‘For about two weeks now. I suppose I should really put a note on the door...’

  ‘If it’s not just a question of a new battery, then I would get your landlord to fix it.’

  She sensed herself blush profusely as he stated the obvious. She blushed even more when she felt one side of her thin jumper slip down over her shoulder. Quickly yanking it back, she said, ‘It’s not the battery. I checked that. I did ring to ask him to come and sort it out, but his wife told me he was in bed with the flu.’

  Seth frowned. ‘And you believed that, did you?’

  ‘Why shouldn’t I?’

  ‘Because I’ve learned that you’re far too trusting for your own good. That’s why. What are you doing this evening? If you’ve got company I’ll turn around and leave. If not, then can I come in?’

  Again Imogen stared. She could hardly believe that a man as handsome and rich as Seth Broden would even entertain asking her such a question. It couldn’t possibly be because he was interested in her as a woman...could it?

  Curling some silken strands of hair round her ear, she shrugged. ‘I haven’t got company. I was just watching some television. You can come in if you like.’

  ‘I would like.’ He followed her into the living room and quirked a smile when he saw what was freeze-framed on the television. ‘You like that kind of thing, do you? I mean, swashbuckling dramas with plenty of sword-fighting and damsels in distress?’

  ‘I do. It’s pure escapism, but that’s no bad thing now and again.’

  ‘I agree.’ The magnetic blue eyes glinted. ‘We all feel like escaping the world from time to time. Although the world does have some very agreeable distractions...’

  ‘Like what, for instance?’

  ‘Most things Italian.’

  Intrigued, Imogen couldn’t resist askin
g, ‘Really? What do you like so much about Italy?’

  ‘For starters, the art, the music—and of course the cars.’

  ‘When you say music, do you mean the opera?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘I love it, too. Even though I don’t understand the words, the music speaks to me. How could it not? It’s so passionate.’

  She hadn’t meant to tell her visitor something as personal as that. She hadn’t even shared that particular passion with her friends. They were all big fans of current music and would probably tease the life out of her if she told them she enjoyed listening to opera.

  Seth had gone very quiet. He studied her with all the intensity of a scientist on the potential discovery of a vital new specimen. His expression was indisputably fascinated.

  To break a silence that had suddenly become uncomfortable, Imogen nervously interjected, ‘I didn’t expect to see you again so soon—if at all. Is there any particular reason you’ve called round?’

  Breathing out an audible sigh, he replied, ‘Yes, there is. Something came to my mind that I want to talk to you about. Oh, and I’d like to invite you out to dinner tomorrow night.’

  He might just as well have invited her to NASA in order to fly to the moon with him. Imogen could hardly think straight over her racing heartbeat. And what did he want to talk to her about?

  The natural caution that had grown ever stronger after the debacle with her ex was never far away. ‘Why do you want to talk to me? You hardly know me. I wouldn’t have thought that someone like you would—’

  ‘What do you mean “someone like me”?’ His husky bass voice was both amused and vaguely mocking. ‘Do you mean someone that lives and works in a very different world from the one you do, Imogen?’

  Grimacing, she once again rearranged the slipping neckline of her sweater more securely over her shoulder. ‘Yes, that’s exactly what I mean. I’m sure you could talk to any woman you wanted to, with your credentials. It hardly makes sense that you’d want to spend any time with me. I’m just an ordinary secretary, Seth. I don’t understand your world. I’d be hard pushed to even describe what a Lamborghini looks like, let alone have the opportunity to ride in one!’