Mistress to the Tycoon

by Nicola Marsh

  He was selfish.

  He did want this deal to go through, whatever the cost.

  But what if it cost him the woman he loved?

  ‘I guess not. A guy like you wouldn’t need anything from a girl like me. Besides sex, of course, and now that you’ve got that it’s back to business as usual.’

  He was surprised it had taken her this long to mention what had happened at her place last night. He’d been grateful for it, preferring to keep this a business discussion and totally separate from the other important issue: them.

  ‘That’s not fair. We talked about what happened last night before I left this morning. It has nothing to do with this.’

  ‘You would say that.’

  Her scathing look of condemnation kicked him in the guts before she twirled on her heel and headed for the door.

  ‘Last night was incredible, Ariel, and you know it. Don’t spoil it by bringing business into it.’

  She hesitated at the door but she didn’t turn around.

  Damn it, the sooner this deal went through, the sooner he could move on to more important things such as showing this stubborn, beautiful woman just how much she meant to him.

  ‘This needs to be finalised, Ariel. Today.’

  She ignored him and strutted out the door, slamming it in her wake, a hollow, empty sound that reverberated through his soul as he realised she’d probably just slammed the door on any chance of a future between them.

  ‘What’s all the ruckus about?’

  Eric barged into Cooper’s office, shirt sleeves rolled up to the elbows, tie-less and with a killer crease in his navy trousers, his usual work garb. His father never conformed, though he expected nothing less than perfection in his employees.

  Cooper sank into his chair and gestured for his dad to take the seat Ariel had just vacated. ‘Ariel Wallace was just in here.’

  Cooper held up his hand to forestall his dad’s usual interrogation. ‘The deal will be done by the close of business today.’

  ‘Good.’

  Cooper struggled not to gape at his dad’s one-word, one-syllable answer without a hint of emotion. He’d expected cartwheels from the man who had been after the last bit of prime land in Fitzroy since for ever.

  However, what shocked him more was the uncomfortable, almost sad look on his dad’s creased face. It resembled the expression he’d worn after his mum’s funeral, the same devastated, lost look that came with realising you would never see that person again, would never talk to that person again or share a hug or a laugh with them again.

  ‘What’s up? You don’t sound so thrilled.’

  Cooper expected his dad to give him the brush-off, the usual ‘back to business’ gruff response he normally got.

  His dad ran a hand through his thick thatch of peppery grey hair, his gaze darting around the room as if he wanted to look anywhere but at him.

  ‘Guess I can’t change your mind about leaving?’

  ‘No, Dad. You can’t,’ Cooper said, deliberately keeping his voice devoid of emotion.

  Close on the heels of his draining confrontation with Ariel—and the stunning realisation he loved her—he didn’t need this.

  He’d waited long enough, hoping his dad would broach the yawning gap between them. He’d given his all to Vance Corporation, playing the dutiful son, trying to prove his worth rather than live off the family name, but it looked as if his best efforts weren’t good enough.

  Nothing he could do or say would ever be good enough and he’d stuck around way too long already. Time to cut his losses and run. And hope to God that his dad would realise what he’d lost when he wasn’t around every day.

  ‘That’s the first time you’ve called me that in a long time,’ Eric said, his gaze finally coming to rest on his face, the wavering uncertainty Cooper glimpsed there surprising him.

  His father was never uncertain about anything.

  Ruthless, domineering and pushy, yes.

  Uncertain and wavering? No way.

  Probably the old man’s last-ditch effort to make him stay on at Vance Corp.

  ‘You haven’t exactly encouraged familial bonds since I joined the company,’ Cooper said, opting for blunt honesty to get this over and done with. No use rehashing the last year now.

  Once again, his dad surprised him. Rather than blustering his way out of an unwelcome topic and changing the subject quick smart, his dad seemed to crumple before his eyes: slumped shoulders, head slouched forward, mouth slack with pain.

  ‘Look, forget I said anything—’

  ‘No.’

  His dad’s head snapped up and some of the familiar fire blazed in his dark eyes. ‘You’re right. I don’t blame you for not calling me Dad. I’ve pushed you away. I’ve made a mess of everything.’

  Cooper didn’t respond, considering he agreed with everything his dad had just said. Besides, his dad had a look he hadn’t seen in twelve months, a look that he genuinely cared about Cooper enough to want to talk to him about something other than business.

  ‘I thought I’d never recover from losing your mother but having you got me through her death. You were my world. Then you started working here…’ Eric drifted off, pain glazing his eyes and accentuating the multitude of lines fanning out from their corners.

  ‘But that’s what you wanted,’ Cooper said, confusion lending a sharp edge to his words.

  ‘I know.’

  His dad raised pain-stricken eyes to his, his mouth twisted into a grimace.

  ‘Then why?’

  Cooper didn’t have to add, Why ignore me? Why treat me like dirt? Why act like I didn’t exist, like I wasn’t your son any more?

  ‘Because I’m an old fool. A gutless old fool who saw his life flash before his eyes the minute you sealed your first deal. I’m jealous, son. I’ve been so jealous I couldn’t see straight. Throw in the fear that I’ll soon be redundant, and the fact you keep negotiating deals I can’t seem to seal these days, and there you have it.’

  ‘You’re jealous?’ Cooper shook his head, knowing there had to be more to it. ‘That’s it?’

  His dad sagged before his eyes. ‘Age does stupid things to a man. I was bursting with pride when you first signed up then within two months I wanted to boot you straight out the door.’

  ‘Then why the contract? Why not let me go months ago when I wanted to?’

  Eric looked away. ‘Because you’re great for the company. You’ve brought more business in over the last year than I have in the last five years. I pushed you harder, knowing you wouldn’t disappoint.’

  ‘You took advantage of the fact your son wouldn’t tell you to shove it,’ Cooper said, stunned to discover the reason behind his dad’s animosity, feeling as if he was still missing a major piece of the puzzle.

  ‘There’s something else.’

  Cooper leaned forward, not sure if he’d heard Eric’s whispered words.

  ‘What?’

  ‘A guilty conscience,’ his dad said, shaking his head, sorrow ageing him ten years before his eyes. ‘Masterson’s approached me just after you started here. They were head-hunting you. Heard about the whizkid from uni, knew you were my son, wanted to throw a few spanners Vance Corp’s way but wanted to do it right. They were fishing around, wanting to know if you’d signed a binding contract, that sort of thing. All over a friendly beer, of course. They were going to approach you directly after paying me the courtesy visit, but I lied, put them off.’

  A light bulb went off in Cooper’s mind. ‘So that’s why you made me sign a contract like everyone else the month after I started?’

  Eric nodded, his mouth downturned. ‘I told them you were legally bound to Vance Corporation and that was that.’

  ‘Before I signed the contract?’

  ‘Uh-huh.’

  ‘Was their offer any good?’

  ‘Unbelievable.’ Eric hesitated, wringing his hands before continuing. ‘I’m sorry, son. I was selfish, wanting you to carry on the family tradition, then when I ha
d you where I wanted you, I couldn’t handle your success. Stupid, irrational, call it what you like. I’m an idiot.’

  Cooper digested the information, knowing he should feel more angry, more deceived. Instead, a strange feeling of relief seeped through him. He finally knew the truth and it had nothing to do with him.

  ‘I know I’ve treated you like crap, but I want you to know that I’m damn proud of you, Coop.’

  Finally, his dad met his gaze and, thankfully, the spark had returned. If anything, the dark eyes glowed with fervour as if daring him to disagree, to challenge. Instead, Cooper smiled.

  ‘You know, for a smart guy, you’ve made some pretty dumb judgement calls, but I’m willing to forgive and forget if you’ll do one thing.’

  ‘What’s that?’ His dad glared at him with some of his characteristic suspicion and Cooper’s smile widened.

  ‘Go fishing with me this weekend. Have a beer or two, just like old times.’

  ‘You’re on, son.’

  Eric’s grin matched his and Cooper shook his head, wishing they’d had this conversation months ago.

  ‘Does this mean you’re staying?’

  ‘Don’t push your luck, old man.’

  Though his dad had posed a valid question.

  Today was the first time he’d really looked at his dad in a long time and he didn’t like the changes. His dad looked older, more fragile than he had in ages and maybe now wasn’t a great time to spread his wings and leave the Vance nest, particularly as it looked as if re-establishing bonds would be high on both their priority lists for a while.

  Eric held up both hands as if warding him off. ‘Fine, fine, no harm in trying. By the way, is there something going on between you and the Wallace woman?’

  Cooper hesitated a second before answering. ‘No, why do you ask?’

  It wasn’t a completely untruthful answer, considering Ariel would probably never speak to him again after today.

  His dad shrugged. ‘Just a hunch, by the doomsday look on your face when I first came in here and by the tears streaming down her face as she raced out of here after slamming your door.’

  ‘A difference of opinion,’ Cooper said, his heart stuttering at the thought of Ariel crying over what he’d done.

  ‘Looked more like a lovers’ tiff than a difference of opinion over a business deal to me.’

  His dad paused, giving him ample opportunity to deny it. Cooper merely clamped his lips together.

  ‘Then again, what do I know? I’m a stupid old fool and now we both know it.’

  His dad rose to his feet, pushed his shirt sleeves higher and stuck out his hand, looking like the confident Eric of old. ‘You know I’m proud of you, Son.’

  ‘Thanks, Dad.’

  Cooper shook hands with his dad and shared a smile, a smile filled with hope for their future, before his dad sent him a half-salute and strode out of the office, leaving Cooper to decide how big a mistake he’d made with Ariel and how he could rectify it.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  ARIEL dabbed her paintbrush in the crimson daub on her palette and made great slashing movements across the canvas propped on the easel in front of her.

  Red, the colour of anger and fury.

  She followed up with a dab and slash of ebony.

  Black, the colour of darkness and gloom.

  Another slash, this time with sunshine yellow.

  Yellow, the colour of that lily-livered, no-good Cooper Vance’s belly, the coward.

  She slashed away, combining the colours in a frightening free-for-all in a painting that would never see the light of day but was soothing to her battered soul nonetheless.

  The colours summed up her mood perfectly. She’d never felt as angry, gloomy or scared as she did right now, the afternoon she would lose her dream. Not to mention renege on a promise that she’d vowed to keep till her dying day.

  Cooper Vance was evil.

  Pure, unadulterated evil.

  He’d used her, schmoozing up to her, acting like a friend, playing on her emotions, initiating her into the best sex she’d ever had in her life, making her love him and all for what? To whip the gallery right out from under her nose anyway.

  What Cooper wanted, Cooper got and she’d been justified in calling him a selfish, spoiled brat earlier. She just wished she’d had the guts to say more.

  Slumping forward, she rested her forehead against the canvas, not caring about the instant oil-paint tattoo imprinted there.

  She’d never felt so alone, so defeated…and in the midst of her absolute misery a thought so profound, so awful, pierced her gloom.

  What had she thought a few seconds ago? Something about making her love him?

  She loved him? Was she out of her mind?

  Uh-uh.

  No way.

  No how.

  Must be the stress sending her insane. She’d heard about people going crazy with post-traumatic stress disorder. Maybe her bout had set in early?

  She couldn’t love him.

  He was obnoxious, self-centred and a know-it-all Mr Big-Shot.

  He had insinuated his way into her life and got under her skin before flaying it off her with cold, calculated precision, all in the name of sealing his precious deal.

  The very idea she could love a guy like that was preposterous.

  But what if you do?

  ‘Oh, heck,’ she muttered, sitting bolt upright and staring blankly at the vivid canvas, wishing she could turn the clock back a few minutes and wipe out her thoughts.

  For, once the question had been raised by her stupid inner self, she knew without a doubt what the answer was and it made her want to head-bang the canvas repeatedly in the hope it would knock some sense into her.

  ‘Bella, you here?’

  Ariel hadn’t heard the chimes signalling Sofia’s entrance to the gallery—probably all those insane inner voices whispering silly nothings in her head about loving Cooper Vance—and knew she wasn’t in the mood for a chat.

  Maybe if she pleaded a headache she could get rid of her friend, close up for the day and harass some poor courier to deliver a bomb along with the signed papers to Cooper?

  The stupid proposal she had no option now but to sign thanks to the traitorous louse’s deadline.

  ‘Out the back, Sofia,’ she called out, cleaning her brushes and palette out of habit rather than a driving necessity to do so.

  Besides, she needed something to do with her hands other than put the finishing flourish on the document signalling her ultimate demise.

  ‘Bella! How are you?’

  Sofia bustled into the studio, dressed in head-to-toe fuchsia and sporting a hat that could take out a person’s eye at twenty paces.

  Ariel turned from the sink and rubbed her hands down the front of her smock. ‘Actually, I have a headache.’

  To her surprise, Sofia laughed rather than cooed in concern. ‘Must be all that paint seeping into your brain,’ she said, pointing to her forehead and beaming, her perfectly capped teeth in stark contrast to the bright pink of her dress.

  Ariel managed a rueful smile as she picked up a nearby rag and swiped at her forehead. ‘I forgot in all the excitement.’

  ‘Excitement?’

  Sofia’s nose twitched at the faintest hint of gossip and right now, her nostrils fairly quivered.

  ‘Yes, the excitement of trying out a new technique. I read about this tribe in Africa who only paint with their heads so thought I’d try it out. Want to see the results?’

  Ariel’s smile broadened at the confused expression on Sofia’s exquisitely made-up face. In a way, Sofia’s impromptu visit had achieved a miracle already. She’d smiled when a few minutes earlier it had felt as if she’d never smile again.

  ‘Mamma mia!’

  Sofia’s hands flew to her mouth as she stared at the canvas, her shocked gaze darting between the painting and Ariel’s face and back again.

  ‘You don’t like?’

  ‘It’s horrible, bella! Nasty. A
ngry. Ugly. No, no, no, this is not you at all.’

  Ariel stood alongside Sofia and stared at the canvas, the vivid streaks of red, black and yellow telling an emotional story she couldn’t hide.

  ‘I take it you don’t want to buy this one for your collection?’

  Ariel stepped away from the painting, finding it suddenly depressing. Usually, painting was a way to express herself, a way to feel good about the world, a cathartic experience, but somehow seeing the angry slashes of vibrant paint saddened her and reminded her exactly why she’d picked up the brush on the return from Cooper’s office.

  She’d needed to debrief, to offload, to express one iota of the devastation wreaking havoc on her psyche, and painting had been her only option.

  Sadly, it hadn’t helped and now she had to allay Sofia’s qualms before she blabbed the whole sorry tale to her friend.

  ‘What is it, bella? What is the problem?’ Sofia grabbed both her hands and squeezed, her coal-black eyes beseeching, a frown creasing her brow.

  ‘No problem,’ Ariel said, using every ounce of self-control not to fall into Sofia’s arms a babbling mess.

  ‘Is it money? You need more than what the commission brought you? I can give it to you right now!’ Sofia dropped her hands long enough to scramble in her handbag for the cheque book Ariel knew she always kept on her ‘in case of a bargain’.

  Ariel laid a hand on Sofia’s arm, stilling the scrambling woman. ‘I don’t need money—’ I need a miracle ‘—but thanks for offering.’

  ‘You sure?’ Sofia didn’t seem reassured, her penetrating stare sweeping Ariel’s face with the vigour of a bloodhound getting a sniff of a trail.

  ‘I’m sure.’

  Ariel could never ask Sofia for the money to buy out the lease on the gallery. She would never risk their precious friendship over a loan she had no way of repaying. Aunt Barb had taught her many things, one of them being never borrow more than you can repay, and she’d adhered to that policy her entire life, which explained why she didn’t own a car, had no mortgage and paid her rent on time.