Mistress to the Tycoon

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Mistress to the Tycoon Page 7

by Nicola Marsh


  A more dangerous minefield this time, one with the potential to detonate and leave her heart in tiny, shattered fragments if she acknowledged her growing attraction to this guy.

  ‘Come on, you can tell me the truth. I’ve seen how you look at me when you’re painting.’

  ‘What a load of—’

  His laughter drowned out the rest of her response and she reluctantly joined in, recognising she’d been had and how he’d effectively lightened the mood.

  ‘Okay, now I can add enormous ego to the list of your faults, you better quit while you’re behind.’

  ‘Ah…so you’re fixated on my behind too, huh?’

  Sending him a glare that could melt wax, she was unprepared for the swift, scorching glance he fired right back at her.

  Thankfully, they were stopped at traffic lights otherwise the heat they created with that one locked stare would’ve made the engine seize or made him ram a light pole, whichever came first.

  Tilting her nose in the air and sending him a superior smile, she said, ‘The way I observed your body was purely professional. Anything else you imagine you saw is pure speculation on your part. Incorrect speculation I might add.’

  He chuckled and refocussed on the road as the lights changed to green, his deep, rich laughter rolling over her like low-lying clouds on a sultry summer’s day. ‘Come on, Ariel, admit it. You want my body.’

  ‘I want your head on a platter, preferably with an apple stuffed in that big mouth of yours.’

  To her annoyance, heat crawled under her skin, setting her nerve endings alight with longing.

  He was right, darn it.

  She did want his body.

  The whole look-but-don’t-touch thing had driven her slowly but surely mad over the last week or so and the more time they spent together, the more quips they traded, the more they laughed, she knew it wasn’t just his magnificent body she wanted.

  She was attracted to his mind too.

  The same mind that is busily hatching plots to snatch the gallery and your life away from you.

  How gullible could she be?

  ‘On that note, we’re here,’ he said, pulling into a long, tree-lined driveway boasting enough fancy cars to keep thieves rolling in wealth till the next century.

  Men in prim black uniforms rushed about like hyperactive penguins, opening car doors, taking keys and keeping the long line of vehicles moving at a steady pace past the imposing double doors at the front of the house, thrown open to let light from a crystal chandelier spill onto the marble-tiled entry porch.

  Ariel unconsciously reached for a curl to twist around her finger, forgetting she’d piled most of them on top of her head in a poor imitation of a posh up-do.

  This place wasn’t her.

  From the ostentatious cream-rendered, double-storey house that sprawled across the large block, the flood-lit tennis court she glimpsed behind the house to the right and the hand-trimmed topiary trees that looked like a real, live zoo leading up to the entrance, every self-preserving instinct told Ariel to make a run for it now.

  People who lived in places like this, who drove cars like the ones lining the drive, who attended parties like this, meant one thing to her.

  Trouble.

  She’d battled the prejudices of rich people her entire life and, despite how far she’d come, she hated the feelings they evoked as they looked down their aristocratic noses at the scruffy, weird artist as if she hadn’t risen far enough out of the gutter.

  She didn’t think she had a hang-up about her past, but whenever she got within two feet of a patronising snob all her old insecurities rushed back and left her feeling inadequate.

  ‘What’s wrong?’

  Cooper had put the car into park mode and turned to face her, a frown lining his forehead.

  ‘This isn’t my scene.’

  Her hand fluttered to her face again, searching for that elusive curl to twirl in comfort and coming up empty again.

  Great, the one time that lousy curl behaved itself and actually stayed tucked up and off her face she had the urge to rip it down and twist it around and around her finger.

  ‘Consider it part of your job,’ he said, his voice soft and soothing. ‘This is networking at its best, where you get to scope out potential customers, feed them what they want to hear, promote your business. And if all else fails, fall back on the old standard.’

  ‘What’s that?’

  ‘Picture the lot of them naked.’

  She managed a tight smile, suddenly grateful for his presence and the support he was offering. It would’ve been so much harder to walk in there alone. With Cooper, one of their own, she could blend into the background without too much difficulty.

  ‘Anyone ever tell you you’ve got a fixation on the naked human form?’

  ‘That’s you, sweetheart, not me.’

  He reached out and squeezed her hand, a brief, impersonal touch but supportive nonetheless and she could’ve kissed him for it.

  Though she wouldn’t go there…not if she knew what was good for her.

  ‘Ready to go in?’

  ‘Ready as I’ll ever be,’ she muttered, tugging on her tight bodice and patting the top of her head tentatively to see if her thick, unmanageable mop was still in place.

  ‘Remember, think naked,’ he said, giving her a heart-stopping smile before releasing her hand and stepping out of the car.

  ‘It’s show-time,’ she murmured, feeling more like a bit actress than the star attraction and hoping she wouldn’t fluff her lines.

  Ironically, it wasn’t only the hoity-toity crowd who had her stomach rolling with nerves but the thought she might make a fool of herself with Cooper, whose opinion she’d come to care way too much about.

  Silly, irrational, absurd, and the sooner tonight was over, he delivered his pitch and he exited her life, the better off she’d be.

  Then why the scary, empty feeling at the thought?

  Cooper stuck to Ariel’s side for several reasons: she looked stunning and he wanted to protect her from every man in the room, she’d seemed scared and vulnerable in the car and, lastly but most importantly, he wanted her next to him for the purely selfish reason that he liked having her there.

  The quirky, sassy woman had him laughing more than he had in ages and he enjoyed firing right back at her. Not to mention the way her unique green eyes sparkled with glee when she scored a direct hit with her teasing barbs.

  However, spending time with Ariel had one major drawback: he had to keep reminding himself of the real reason, the only reason, he was with her.

  Business.

  He’d never lost sight of the ultimate goal in any deal and he wouldn’t start now. Not when leaving Vance Corporation was so important. Correction, when it was vital.

  He’d had it with his dad. Time to get away, start up a little healthy competition and see if that made the old man sit up and take notice.

  ‘Oh-oh, look at all these people.’

  Ariel gripped his arm tighter and all but yanked him behind a marble pillar as they stepped into an elaborate foyer.

  ‘Hey, wasn’t my pep talk in the car worth anything?’ He refrained from patting her hand, knowing she’d probably sock him straight in the nose for it.

  She shook her head vigorously and the pile of curls on top wobbled, enveloping him in a bizarre fruity-floral scent he’d yet to identify and was too embarrassed to ask her about. The same scent that haunted him, enticed him and beckoned him to get closer to her.

  ‘Sorry, the whole naked visualisation thing doesn’t do it for me.’

  ‘Even after seeing me with my clothes off?’

  She rolled her eyes but at least he saw a glimmer of a smile.

  ‘Especially after that!’

  ‘Ouch, you sure know how to wound a guy’s ego.’

  He clutched his heart in mock pain, eliciting more of a smile from her enticing mouth coated in a shiny gloss.

  He’d never seen her wear make up before. Her su
btle use of cosmetics tonight just highlighted her exquisite features.

  ‘With an ego the size of yours, Mr Big-Shot, I seriously doubt that.’

  Shaking his head and exceedingly pleased his distraction technique had worked, he said, ‘I take it the whole Mr Big-Shot isn’t a term of endearment?’

  Her smile faded. ‘It’s a fact. You’re a big shot, I’m an artist. You want something I have, which is the only reason you’re here tonight and being so darn nice to me. So let’s go in, do the obligatory social thing and get out of here before this Cinderella turns into a pumpkin.’

  ‘Fine,’ he muttered, not sure if he was more annoyed by how little she thought of him or by the element of truth behind her brutal honesty.

  ‘Fine,’ she said, tilting her head up like a queen and marching away, leaving him with a tantalising view of a straight, bare back courtesy of her daring dress. The rest of it cascaded from her waist to the floor in shimmery shades of aquamarine, turquoise and emerald, the exact colour of the Great Barrier Reef on a clear day.

  The woman was a burr in his side.

  He tried to be nice and what did he get for his trouble? An earful.

  He tried to be rational about this whole business deal between them and what did he get? Angst.

  And she hadn’t even heard his pitch yet.

  Okay, so maybe he was the heartless tycoon she thought he was. He’d never pretended otherwise.

  Business meant everything to him.

  It was all he knew.

  He’d blitzed his degrees, waltzed into a job and proceeded to set the business world alight. He deserved to be confident. Failure wasn’t in his vocabulary. Never had been, never would be.

  And no matter how stubborn the eccentric Miss Wallace wanted to be, he’d make sure he wouldn’t fail this time.

  He couldn’t. There was too much at stake.

  ‘You are enjoying yourself, bella, yes?’

  Ariel took a sip of her sparkling mineral water, not wanting to lie to Sofia and needing a few seconds to compose an honest but graceful answer.

  ‘Everyone seems to be having a wonderful time,’ Ariel said, knowing it sounded lame and the astute Sofia would pick up on it in a second.

  She did.

  ‘I do not care for everyone else, bella. What about you? Is everything all right?’

  Ariel nodded and forced a smile, hoping it didn’t look like a grimace. ‘Guess I’m just tired after rushing the portrait.’

  Sofia’s expertly made up face beamed. ‘Ah…yes, the portrait. It is magnifico! Maria loves it.’

  ‘And seems to be infatuated with the model.’

  Ariel inclined her head towards Sofia’s sister, who for a woman of forty looked fifteen years younger in a siren-red poured-on dress, luscious dark hair that hung in perfect waves to her shoulders and huge, expressive brown eyes that were firmly fixed on Cooper, along with her talon-like hands gripping his arm as she stared up at him.

  ‘So that’s it…’ Sofia waved her hand towards Maria in an abrupt, dismissive gesture. ‘Don’t be jealous, bella; she is no competition to you.’

  Ariel stiffened, not liking Sofia’s implication. She wasn’t jealous. She’d have to care to be jealous and she didn’t. Caring about Cooper would be like skipping into the dentist with a big, goofy grin on her face and clapping her hands with glee: pure and utter madness.

  ‘I’m not interested in Cooper so you can get that maniacal matchmaking gleam out of your eyes,’ Ariel said, sending Sofia a forceful look that meant business.

  Predictably, the Italian woman ignored her. ‘How can you not be interested? The man is beautiful, successful, charming, cultured—’

  ‘And out to ruin me.’

  Ariel glared at Cooper through narrow eyes, wondering why he let himself be pawed. Didn’t the guy have any dignity?

  Considering how fast he’d whipped off his clothes to insinuate his way into her good books, probably not.

  ‘Maybe you should listen to him, see what he has to say about the gallery before jumping to conclusions?’

  Sofia’s tone had softened and Ariel knew that, though she meant well, in this case her friend didn’t have a clue.

  ‘That so-called charming man probably wants to kick me out of the gallery, tear it down and erect some awful monstrosity that won’t fit in with Brunswick Street. I’ve been fobbing off his kind ever since Aunt Barb died. He’s not the first and he won’t be the last. The one thing I’m sure of, I’m not leaving. I promised Aunt Barb.’

  Sofia laid a comforting hand on her arm, patting it gently. ‘Babs would’ve wanted you to be happy. She was one of my closest friends and I know how much she loved you, how much joy you brought to her life. She would want the same for you. Instead, you’re working too hard, battling too hard to keep the place open. You won’t accept help from anyone and you bristle like some feral cat whenever anyone offers. Perhaps it is time to reconsider, bella?’

  ‘No!’

  Sofia jumped, the concern in her dark eyes hardening Ariel’s resolve.

  She didn’t want to reconsider anything.

  She’d made a promise to Aunt Barb and she’d do her best to keep it. She had to.

  All she’d had to offer Aunt Barb in return for years of unswerving love and support was her word and there was no way she would break this promise even if it meant taking on ten extra jobs. Or doing ten more life portraits—as much as she hated them.

  Though if all the models looked like Cooper…

  Mentally slapping herself for going there, she enveloped Sofia in a hug. ‘I’m sorry for biting your head off. I know you mean well, but I have to do this my own way.’

  Sofia pulled back and patted her cheek. ‘In that case, why don’t you go and mingle? Several people have expressed interest in getting portraits done by the fabulous artist who painted Maria’s birthday present. And, of course, the men are all dying to meet the gorgeous creature in the stunning green dress.’

  Ariel glanced down at the fitted bodice, spaghetti straps and pointy-panelled, flowing chiffon of her vintage dress. With all the couture in this room, they thought this dress was stunning? Just proved her point about what a bunch of phoneys this rich crowd was.

  However, obtaining a few more commissions could mean the difference between staying open for another year or not and, though she hated the patronising, condescending atmosphere in the room, she’d swallow her pride and think of Colour by Dreams.

  ‘You’re not pushing them in my direction, I hope?’

  Sofia threw her hands up in theatrical despair. ‘Bella, how could you think such a thing?’

  She winked and gave Ariel a none-too-gentle shove towards the main throng gathered at the floor-to-ceiling French doors opening out onto a sandstone-paved patio. ‘Now go!’

  ‘I’m going, I’m going,’ Ariel muttered, downing the rest of her mineral water and suddenly wishing she liked the taste of champagne. A little false courage wouldn’t have gone astray at this point considering she hated marketing, particularly self-promotion.

  Not surprising, when she’d spent the first eight years of her life trying to fade into the background at the various orphanages, foster homes and during that interminable week-long stint on the streets.

  Falling asleep in an old canvas in Barb’s backyard had been the luckiest break of her life. Now, if only her luck could hold…like for the next twenty years or so.

  ‘Going somewhere?’

  A hand clamped on her arm out of nowhere and she stopped, shrugging off Cooper’s grip before speaking.

  ‘I’m off to do some networking, just as some business guru advised me on the way over here.’

  Cooper smiled and she wished her heart wouldn’t do that weird little tango whenever he did. ‘You mean you’re actually listening to me? And, better yet, taking my advice?’

  ‘Yeah, go figure? I must be drunk.’

  ‘On that clear sparkling stuff you’ve been drinking for the last hour? I doubt it.’

&nb
sp; A small part of Ariel was flattered that he’d managed to tear his gaze away from fawning Maria for more than a second to notice what she’d been drinking while a larger part—the logical part—told her she was crazy for caring.

  ‘Look, why don’t you head back to your friends and let me continue doing what I have to do?’ And the only reason why I came here in the first place. ‘In fact, once I finish chatting to a few people I’ll never see again if I’m lucky, I’m heading home, so thanks for the lift.’

  His smile vanished and his eyes darkened to a stormy midnight. ‘Firstly, these people aren’t my friends. They’re acquaintances and the main reason I’m here is to support you, not party with people I barely know. Secondly, I’m not some immature little boy you can give the brush-off to when it suits you. I brought you, I’ll take you home. And lastly, in case you didn’t know, this whole “woe-is-me” act of yours is wearing a little thin. You’re out of your depth here? Well, listen up, sweetheart. Everyone gets that feeling, from the Prime Minister to garbage collectors. You’re a big girl, deal with it. Now off you go, show these people half the spunk you show me, and when you’re ready I’ll meet you outside.’

  Ariel stared at Cooper in stunned disbelief as he strode through the open French doors without looking back, torn between wanting to run after him and give him a clip around the ears for speaking to her like that and doing exactly as he said: going out there and making this crowd notice her, make some contacts, promoting her business, no matter how much she hated it and how far out of her depth she felt.

  Woe-is-me?

  ‘I’ll show him,’ she muttered, glaring daggers in the general direction of the patio and squaring her shoulders to do what she had to do.

  ‘You do know the only reason I let you drive me home was because I couldn’t get a taxi for over an hour?’

  Ariel flounced ahead of Cooper into the studio, not bothering to turn on more lights than the two corner elephant lamps she’d picked up for a song at a local car-boot sale.

  He wouldn’t be here long enough. Once she’d set a time for him to deliver his almighty proposal, she’d kick him out the door and concentrate on sorting through the business cards that had been discreetly palmed her way this evening.

 

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