Wilde Heart (Wilde Women Book 2)

by Halliday, Suzanne

  Emotion. Ugh. Feelings . . . not where he did his best work, or any work, come to think of it. He learned early on to be cautious of emotions. Carolyn had taught him that.

  The instinct to keep his reactions and feelings private had been part of the reason for his swift rise and BPG’s global power. Nobody wanted to fuck with the intense, enigmatic man he projected. And to get to the level that he had in so short a time, Liam had mastered the ability to focus. Like a laser. He was a scary guy to some.

  With a dark glance at the windows where his reflection had supported every mental point he’d just made, he wondered if Rhiann was one of those who found him off-putting and intimidating.

  He snorted, banishing the stupid thought as soon as it formed. Humph. Rhiann afraid of him? Hardly. She was the only person, except perhaps Roman, who saw past the public persona. Their recent interactions however made it pretty fucking clear that she wasn’t all that impressed.

  It had been like that with her when they first met, too. By then, he had been deep in his serious phase. While his fellow grad students rode the casual bus to the university each day, Liam had chosen a more buttoned-up approach. He didn’t want to be taken seriously—he expected to be and that was what made him different from the rest. Serious was one thing. Being a force was another.

  But Rhiann had blissfully sailed right past his tight-ass ways and blown into his life like Tinkerbell on a Starbucks high. She was a whirlwind, always kicking up dust and pushing his buttons. From the moment their eyes met, she’d challenged him. To be more human. To maybe feel something. She was his exception—to everything.

  When he decided to buy her magazine, Liam rather arrogantly imagined that he could just sweep back into Rhiann’s life. Was he really that stupid?

  Yeah. Apparently, he was. His inner voice, normally quiet outside of business hours, chimed in.

  You’re an asshole. Even back then, you wanted the girl but never once gave her the truth. About anything. You kept it all locked inside while she opened up and gave you everything. Until you grow a set and let her in, she’s always going to stay out of your reach.

  Boom! That was the sound of his head exploding. He hadn’t let her in, and she’d been too young and innocent to realize it. Oh, he’d availed himself of her body more times than could be counted. But their relationship quickly became more than hormonal teenagers overcome by lust and was on target to becoming a real force in his life when he’d freaked out.

  He had shit to do and stuff to focus on, after all. Failing to meet his goals was not an option. Rhiann made him feel things. Hearing her voice or seeing her pretty smile was enough to make him forget everything else.

  And he couldn’t have that. So, he ended things—in a crude and offensive way. At the time, he told himself that it was easier. Quicker, too. But if the unsettled, itchy unease he’d been experiencing for months had shown him anything, it was that where Rhiann Wilde was concerned, he’d been a complete bastard and a total coward.

  Oh, sure—he had made endless love to her body but had never shared anything meaningful about himself. She only knew the obvious stuff. He had finished college on a scholarship, graduating with high honors. They met while he was completing his master’s degree. And that was pretty much it.

  That she remembered anything at all about his mother had come as a shock. He’d rarely spoke of Carolyn to anyone back then but maybe he shouldn’t be all that surprised that she’d inquired. The Rhiann he knew had always been more concerned with everyone else’s happiness than she was of her own.

  When she’d demanded to know why he bought the magazine, he heard the caution in her words, and it hit him. He’d never been honest with her—not for one day of their relationship.

  She’d reminded him that they hadn’t parted as friends—and now, here he was, out of the fucking blue, trying to insinuate himself back into her life. Of course, she was cautious.

  And that was where his problem lay. Liam wanted Rhiann. Wanted her back. Wanted her special brand of whirlwind to mess up his orderly existence. Wanted her endless belief in the wonder of love to make it all right. All a huge departure from the isolated life he’d created.

  But he’d been out of his fucking mind imagining that he could waltz in one day, and show her how awesome he’d become now that he was rich and powerful, only for her to swoon at his feet and do his bidding. No mess. No fuss.

  Wow. He really was a douche. And his decisions powered a huge global business? Astonishing. He couldn’t keep his shit together for five minutes in her presence and yet he had South American financial officials calling him regularly for advice on their declining economy. Seeking him out because he was the man. Him. Liam Ashforth. What the fucking fuck?

  Jesus, had he ever miscalculated! Rhiann wasn’t going to give a flying fart about his money or any of that shit. She really was the one woman who he couldn’t impress that way.

  If he wanted the chance of a future with her, he was going to have to change his approach. When he’d asked for a new start, she wasn’t having any of it. He’d done such a great job of destroying what they had that she couldn’t see where starting over was an option. Until he told her why he’d behaved as he had and made some sort of effort to open up and share his complicated, and sometimes questionable, history—she couldn’t trust him. Plain and simple.

  The closed and off-limits book of Liam Ashforth was about to be opened, page by excruciating page, and he better buck the fuck up and handle it like a man if he had any hope whatsoever of getting her back.

  For a moment, he considered how vulnerable his need for Rhiann made him—and how the knowledge of that could be used against him by any one of his countless enemies or business adversaries. Shaking off the nagging worry, he forced his mind to focus on the problem at hand and not an imagined scenario.

  “I LOVE IT!” SHE EXCLAIMED with glee. “Do you love it?”

  Rhiann was rockin’ and rollin’ and knew it. Looking around at the enthusiastic faces of her team, she was giddy with satisfaction at how their project was working out.

  She’d developed a campaign for the summer issue that was coming together perfectly. They were onto something fantabulous and everyone knew it! The excitement she felt made the last couple of unsettling weeks just a tad less sucktastic.

  Her assistant, Juan, a crazy-talented, albeit obnoxiously flamboyant, queen typed away on his tablet so fast his hands were a blur. Yelling over the chatter as the meeting broke up, he spoke out the side of his mouth without ever taking his eyes from what he was doing.

  “Babycakes, babycakes! Mmm, mmm, mmm. Oh, gurl . . . ,” he cackled with an exaggerated roll on the ‘R’ and the ‘L.’ “This campaign is the shiznit!”

  Rhi laughed. Shiznit, indeed. The summer editions were predictably full of tanned, toned bodies and tons of outdoor images. Passion had given the July cover to a world-famous supermodel along with a photo shoot in some exotic tropical location to hype the woman’s line of bathing suits. All very predictable and by the book with the sun, sand, and blue water.

  Her team had come up with the idea of shooting the suits in an unusual location and then using the images to publicize the upcoming campaign. Brilliant. Even more brilliant? Her contribution—which was to shoot the bikini-clad models in Times Square amidst the chaos of New Year’s Eve. Tons and tons of chatter would result. News coverage. Just what a communications director should be doing. The whole thing was going to be epic.

  “Speaking of the shit,” Juan rambled on after Rhi moved closer so they could talk without hollering. “I heard Cuntzilla shoveled a ton of it recently. She has a wild hair up her twat about you, honey. Better watch out.”

  Ya’ think, Rhi thought. Christ. No matter how hard she tried to fly under the evil blonde’s radar, not a day went by without Kim Walsh and her crew of nasty flying monkeys reminding everyone who she was. And by everyone, she meant herself.

  “This wouldn’t have anything to do with that beautiful man who stops by every day f
or God knows what reason—would it? Hmm?”

  Rhiann didn’t pretend to miss the bold insinuation in the taunt and shot Juan a caustic glare. It wasn’t her damn fault that Liam was everywhere.

  He jerked his head back, laughing, and made a sizzling noise. “Ooooh! Oww! Burn!”

  “Um, Rhiann,” she heard a small voice mutter.

  Spinning on her heels, she found one of their interns, a meek little country girl, smiling shyly.

  “What’s up, Shayne?” she asked, glad for the interruption.

  “Well,” the girl began hesitantly. Pointing over her shoulder, she jerked her finger back and stammered. “There’s a man over there. He wants to speak with you. When you’re . . . er, available.”

  Rhiann didn’t even have to look to know who she was referring to. He wanted to speak to her? When she was available? Her exaggerated eye roll was inevitable.

  “Thanks, Shayne,” she muttered, reaching out to pat the girl’s arm. “I’ll take care of it.”

  Over her shoulder, she heard Juan snicker loudly and murmur, “Mmmhmm.”

  Crap.

  Rather than get into it with her assistant, she just walked away—self-consciously smoothing down the sides of her outfit. A tad shorter than what she normally preferred, the black mini-skirt she’d teamed with dark hosiery and a pair of killer heels went a long way to bolstering her confidence.

  Pushing her hair behind her ears, Rhi fussed with the soft ruffle that fell from the collar of her blouse. Employing the avoidance technique that hadn’t worked particularly well last time, Rhiann strode forward as confidently as she could but made sure not to meet his eyes. She wasn’t sure if she was avoiding his gaze or guarding hers. Still bursting with anger and bewildered by what she’d discovered about the man yanking her chain, she was sure she could light his arrogant, uptight ass on fire with one look.

  “I hope this isn’t an interruption,” he murmured politely as she approached.

  Giving her antagonizer a wide berth, Rhiann scooted behind him and made for the coffee service. Pouring the first hot beverage she could find into a cup, she glanced sideways at him with a hostile smirk. “Would it matter if it was?”

  He didn’t say anything as she finished getting her drink and could have sworn she heard him counting under his breath. She was surprised when he let her surly response go without mention.

  “Is there someplace we could speak, Rhiann?”

  There was a reason guys like him were the ones with all the control. He opened with a challenge and effortlessly but quite specifically tossed the ball into her court. Like a grenade. The next move was up to her. She could tell him to eat shit and die a horrible death or she could give in and let him have his way. He wanted to speak with her. Ugh. Prick. She was trapped, and he knew it.

  “I’m just heading back upstairs,” she told him rather snippily without looking his way. Shrugging nonchalantly she said, “My office, I suppose.”

  “Lead the way,” he replied with a gallant nod of his head as he swept his hand outward indicating she should proceed.

  Doing everything she could to pretend he wasn’t right there at her shoulder, Rhi’s heels tapped out a distinctive cadence as they marched side by side from the reception area of the big meeting room toward a bank of elevators.

  “Your team seemed in high spirits as they left. A good meeting, I take it?”

  She was tempted to throw a Yes, sir at him but decided against it. Fuck that. She wasn’t playing any more games with him. From now on, he gets silence or one-word answers.

  “Yep.”

  At the elevator, he leaned in and beat her hand to the call button. Stabbing at it, he told her, “Watch your coffee.”

  Oh, right. She had coffee that was seconds away from spilling down her front. Lifting the large covered cup to her lips, she took a hearty gulp and instantly regretted it when nuclear heat hit her throat. Choking on a sputter, Rhi’s eyes watered and she tried to cool the burn with a quick inhale that earned a concerned look from the man at her side.

  “Give me that,” he scolded as he took the coffee from her hand and patted her on the back as she gasped like a fish out of water.

  The doors to the elevator slid open and he guided her in, quickly punching the CLOSE DOOR button and giving everyone nearby a fierce glare. Yeah, right. Like that was necessary? No one in his or her right mind would voluntarily get into a small, enclosed space with Chief Scowling Face.

  Oh crap. What did that make her? Either out of her mind or . . .

  Just as the doors began the slow slide shut, Rhiann caught a glimpse of Kim Walsh storming down the hallway and if the caustic, angry glare she directed at Rhi was any indication—the lady was none too happy about finding her alone in an elevator with Liam. Fuck my life.

  “You know,” her elevator companion muttered with what might have been an attempt at humor as he held up the coffee cup and gestured, “it says right here . . . Caution. Hot.”

  Don’t bite the bait, her mind screamed. Say nothing. A couple of heartbeats thumped out and then her mouth took off and started running. Aaarrgghh.

  “You’re, uh . . . Mrs. Walsh was trying to get your attention just now.”

  “I know. I saw.”

  Was he kidding? She got that he didn’t owe her or anyone else an explanation, but he wasn’t even trying. Suddenly, she didn’t give rat’s ass that he wanted to speak to her. Really. They had nothing to say. She wasn’t sure she even liked him at this point.

  Liar! screamed the voice in her heart.

  Letting her smart ass off its tether, Rhi doubled down and went for the gold just before the elevator floated to a stop at her floor.

  “What’s that called?” she asked frostily. “Tycoon with benefits?”

  This time when he looked at her, she didn’t glance away. He seemed clueless. How the hell, exactly, did he do that?

  “I don’t understand. What’s what called?”

  Shaking her head in disbelief, she fled the elevator when the doors opened and walked rapidly down the long hallway to her office.

  He was hot on her heels, entering immediately after and quietly shutting the door. Oh, no. Maybe coming in here wasn’t a bright idea.

  “Do you want any more of this?” he asked, hoisting the coffee. “Or was it just a prop to keep from smacking me?”

  With a black glare, she took the cup and dropped it in a trashcan with a bratty grunt.

  Moving behind her desk, hoping the barrier would keep him at bay, she churlishly asked, “What do you want to speak with me about.”

  Crossing her arms defensively in front of her chest, Rhi tried for a stern, no-nonsense expression.

  “Yes, yes—I do have something to discuss but first tell me what you meant.”

  She arched an eyebrow at him and gave him a blank look that read, Huh? What?

  He came around the desk at her with the speed and agility of a jungle cat. No surprise there. Where his birthday fell made him a Leo. Didn’t that make him king of the jungle? Might also explain why she had such a hard time hanging on to her confidence when he got close. In addition to the lion-sized ego, he exuded a captivating masculinity that fucked with her head.

  “Don’t even, Rhiann. You know perfectly well what I’m referring to. Tycoon benefits? Explain, please.”

  The grumble she heard in his voice let her know she’d ticked him off. Yeah. Whatever. He can be as ticked off as he wants. She got there first, which meant he could pretty much go shit in his hat.

  Thinking she was putting his arrogant ass in its place, she sneered, “You and Mrs. Walsh. I believe in this scenario—you are the tycoon and she would be the benefit.”

  “What?” he barked. “Who told you that?”

  Hmmph. Just as she suspected. Not an outright denial. More interested in who spilled the beans. Tycoon problems. She sighed. Now Rhi wanted to smack him ‘cause dammit, she’d wanted him to say it wasn’t so. Defeated and tired of this game—whatever it was—she slumped ever so s
lightly and asked again, “What do you want, Liam? Just spit it out. I’m a little busy here earning a paycheck.”

  He was standing so close that backing her into a corner took no effort at all. When he searched her face, she desperately tried to show no emotion.

  “There’s nothing between me and Kim Walsh. She’s a business associate. Nothing more. If someone has implied otherwise . . . well, they’d be incorrect.”

  When she didn’t respond or meet his gaze, he touched her arm lightly. “Rhiann?”

  “It’s none of my business,” she choked out.

  Putting his big hands on her arms, he ran them up and down a few times, from shoulder to elbow. Aw, goddammit. Not fair. His touch scattered her emotions.

  “Oh, hell yeah, it’s your business, milaya,” he husked.

  It was too much. Him calling her by that name. His closeness. The way her arms tingled where he stroked her. Why wouldn’t he stay away?

  They stared at each other until her bottom lip started to tremble. She hated him. She wanted him. She was afraid of him. She was drawn to him. Why? Why?

  He must have known that she was close to breaking when he stepped back and put his arm around her waist, guiding her bottom until she was perched on the edge of the desk with him quite literally wedged between her knees.

  Putting his fingers beneath her chin, he forced her to look at him.

  “Rhiann,” he drawled. “It’s more your business than you could possibly imagine.”

  She didn’t understand his cryptic answers.

  “I can’t do this,” she whispered.

  He put his hands on either side of her face and offered a quirky half grin. “I know you can’t, and I’m sorry you think there’s anything for you to do. I came at this all wrong, but I’m going to change that, okay?”

  She didn’t have a damn clue what he was talking about, but she was enjoying the way his strong, masculine fingers were touching her face. She nodded so he wouldn’t stop.