Mistress to the Tycoon

by Nicola Marsh

  Until now.

  ‘Okay. In that case, I dropped by to invite you over for dinner tomorrow night.’

  Sofia paused, a sly grin spreading across her face. ‘And I thought you might like to bring that delightful young man of yours? He likes lasagna, no?’

  ‘No!’

  Ariel knew her reaction was over the top but the mere thought of Cooper made her want to retch.

  ‘No?’

  Ariel calmed her voice with effort. ‘What I mean is, Cooper isn’t my young man. He’s busy with work and I’m busy here so we won’t be seeing much of each other any more.’

  Try never. Which would be too soon for her.

  Sofia’s mouth drooped. ‘Oh, no, what a shame. Such a nice boy. Such manners, such class, so handsome.’

  Nice boy? Ariel tried not to choke on the lump of disgust suddenly lodged in her throat.

  ‘Ah-h-h…now I understand.’ Sofia pointed at the painting and grimaced. ‘You are very sad about not seeing him any more. You love him and you are pining for him. It all makes sense now.’

  ‘I don’t love him!’

  But the moment the denial left her lips, Ariel knew it wasn’t just the thought of losing the gallery that made her want to weep into the next century but the thought of losing Cooper too that added to her pain.

  For once, Sofia didn’t push or probe or offer a ten-minute matchmaking lecture.

  ‘Don’t worry, bella. It will all work out in the end.’

  However, as Sofia wrapped her in a smothering hug Ariel seriously doubted it.

  Cooper paced outside the entrance to the National Gallery, oblivious to the stunning fountains, the impressive lead light windows and the natural beauty of the Royal Botanic Gardens opposite.

  He had a lot on his mind, namely a stubborn, gorgeous artist and whether she’d give him a chance to explain.

  It had all seemed so clear after he’d sorted things out with his dad and he hadn’t wasted a second in putting his plan into action. He just hoped the wheels in motion wouldn’t be derailed by the fiery blonde harridan who had captured his heart without trying.

  At that moment, he saw Ariel alight from a tram on St Kilda Road and he exhaled in relief.

  She came.

  Then again, she would have considering she thought she was meeting a representative of the Victorian Arts Council rather than the selfish brat she’d accused him of being earlier today.

  His pulse raced and his heart turned over as she waited at the traffic lights, a stunning figure in crazy striped knickerbockers, a flowing purple top and towering cork wedges that tied around her ankles with black satin ribbon. The mix would’ve looked silly on any other woman. On her, it looked amazing.

  She had an inner grace, a special glow that made anything on her or around her take on special significance, and he’d been mad enough to almost let her slip through his fingers.

  Thank God he’d come to his senses. Now, if only she’d give him a chance to prove exactly how much she meant to him.

  Cooper waited in the lengthening shadows as early dusk fell over Melbourne, watching Ariel’s every step with increasing impatience.

  This had to work.

  It had to.

  Ariel glanced at her watch as she reached the entrance to the gallery, relieved to see she’d made it with a minute to spare.

  This could be it, her one and only opportunity to save Colour by Dreams. And a golden opportunity to rip up the document burning a hole in her carryall; the signed document that she hadn’t couriered to Cooper once the Arts Council’s director’s summons had arrived.

  She hadn’t questioned the timely request. Instead, she preferred to see it as a sign that her luck was changing for the better. Besides, the director had been at Chelsea’s showing and maybe he wanted to discuss the future of Victorian art and the part she—and her gallery—could play in it.

  She closed her eyes and made a fervent wish that she was right in her assumptions.

  However, the minute she opened them again and found herself staring into Cooper’s too-blue eyes she knew that wishes didn’t come true. At least not to her.

  ‘What are you doing here?’ she spat out, gripping her bag tightly to prevent herself from swinging it at him, her first crazy impulse when she saw his handsome face.

  ‘There’s something you should see inside,’ he said, his well-modulated voice raising her hackles.

  Why couldn’t he be more ruffled, more scruffy, less polite, less perfect?

  She felt gauche and unworldly and flawed next to him and she hated it. If his mere presence here hadn’t undermined her, his air of cool unflappability would have. Drat the man.

  She stuck a hand on one hip and tossed him an ‘I don’t give a damn’ look.

  ‘And what would that be? A picture of you in all your smug glory because you’ve won?’

  She paused and tapped her lip with a chewed fingernail, as if deep in thought. ‘Though that can’t be right. As high as the gallery ceilings are, I doubt they could fit a portrait of your big head in there.’

  To her chagrin, he didn’t react apart from a slight twitch at the corners of his mouth.

  That very kissable mouth, the same mouth that had worked its magic on her and coerced her into believing a whole lot of garbage, mainly that she loved him.

  She had to be nuts.

  ‘Look, this will only take a few minutes. What have you got to lose?’

  ‘Everything,’ she muttered, casting longing glances at the departing tram she’d just disembarked from and shuffling uncertainly from foot to foot before shrugging and making a beeline for the gallery, not caring if Cooper fell into step beside her or not.

  She waited till they’d entered the cool interior and moved away from the door before confronting him.

  ‘The director’s not coming, is he? This was yet another of your sick power plays to get me to jump to your tune.’

  It was a statement, not a question, and she wondered why she’d followed him in here knowing that fact.

  Because you love him.

  Because you still harbour some crazy hope this is all a bad dream and you’ll wake up to a perfect day.

  Because you’re creative and are way too good at building ridiculous fantasies of happily ever after in your own head!

  The great dolt had the grace to look sheepish. ‘No, the director isn’t coming. I’m sorry about that. It was the only thing I could think of on the spur of the moment to get you here.’

  ‘What for? To rub my nose in it? To make sure I’d meet your stupid deadline?’

  The silly thing was, he was rubbing her nose in it; rubbing her nose in the fact she loved him. Loved the way his blue eyes shone with intelligence, loved the way his mouth quirked when he was struggling not to laugh, loved the way he filled out a suit, even if guys in fancy rags didn’t usually do it for her.

  Ariel grabbed for a curl and twisted it around her finger, hoping the sharp tug on her scalp might erase her thoughts. Instead, it made her focus on Cooper even more, the way he reached out to still her hand before thinking better of it and letting his arm drop to his side.

  The truth of the matter was that she loved him, loved everything about him, and getting over him would be yet another burden while she tried to recover from the loss of the gallery.

  ‘I asked you here to give you this.’

  He reached into the inside pocket of his silk-lined jacket and pulled out a folded document.

  ‘Don’t tell me. You’ve made another amendment and demanded my soul as well.’

  He didn’t flinch, he didn’t speak, but something about the hurt expression in his eyes made her feel lower than an ant’s belly.

  ‘Why don’t you take a look?’

  Rolling her eyes like an adolescent taking a lousy report from a teacher, she snatched the offending document and opened it, prepared to skim the print before folding it and flinging it back in Mr Big-Shot’s face.

  However, her nasty intentions went up in smoke
the minute her eyes focussed on the new owner of the gallery.

  ‘What the—’

  She blinked, made a frantic grab at the recently released curl and wound it furiously around her finger over and over, seeing the print but not quite believing it.

  ‘It’s yours,’ he said, shrugging his broad shoulders as if he purchased galleries for exorbitant amounts of money and bestowed them on needy artists every day.

  She shook her head, read the final few lines of the document again, before lifting her head and staring at him in open-mouthed shock. ‘This is some kind of joke, right?’

  ‘Of course not. I know how much the gallery means to you. This way, you won’t have to worry about losing it ever again.’

  He spoke so calmly, so rationally, as if the fait accompli of presenting her with sale papers for the gallery bearing her name as owner were nothing out of the ordinary.

  ‘I don’t get it.’

  Ariel took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, hoping the oxygen rush would clear her head.

  It didn’t.

  She propped against a nearby wall, needing some support at her back before she crumpled in an undignified heap.

  If the realisation that she loved Cooper had put her in a spin, it was nothing on the mind-numbing revelation that he’d bought the gallery for her. The big question was why?

  ‘Look, I worked a few things out this afternoon and I thought you’d appreciate the gesture. As much as you want to deny it, I think we have a chance at being more than friends in the future and I wanted you to give us a go without worrying about business stuff.’

  More than friends…more than friends…

  Suddenly, the befuddled fog clouding Ariel’s mind lifted and with a flash of blinding clarity she knew exactly why Mr Big-Shot had got so generous. And the resulting knowledge made her want to retch.

  ‘I’m not for sale,’ she said, each word uttered with icy precision as she handed him back the document that burned her fingertips with its treachery. ‘So we had sex? Big deal. It doesn’t mean you can buy me for a few more cheap thrills. Nice to know what you think of me, though.’

  Anger flared in the deep blue depths of Cooper’s eyes, sending sapphire shards of fury outwards. ‘Don’t be ridiculous. I’m not trying to buy you. I just want this damn business sorted out so we can get on with things.’

  ‘What things?’ She kept her tone silky smooth when, in fact, she longed to knee him where it hurt the most.

  He grabbed hold of her upper arms before she could react, his offer fluttering to the floor between them. ‘Don’t pretend there’s been nothing between us. You feel the sparks just as much as I do. Is it so wrong to want to explore that further? To see whether there’s a chance for a couple like us?’

  Ariel tried to wriggle out of his vice-like grip but couldn’t move, trapped in the intensity of his stare, wishing he still didn’t have the power to make her pulse race and her heart turn over.

  ‘There’s no chance.’

  And the knowledge stabbed her anew. They were too different, too conflicted and his actions today spoke for themselves. When the going got tough, he bought his way out of a situation.

  For guys like Cooper Vance, money talked.

  Unfortunately, she wouldn’t listen. She couldn’t.

  She’d learned long ago, that no matter how desperate or hungry or cold, there was always a line you shouldn’t cross. And right now, Cooper had unwittingly drawn that line and she wouldn’t cross it.

  If nothing else, she still had her pride.

  Shrugging out of his grasp, she rummaged through her carryall till she found what she was looking for.

  ‘Here. I think this is what you want.’

  She slapped the signed proposal in his hand and closed his fingers over it.

  Cooper shook his head and tried to give it back to her. ‘This isn’t what I want. What I want is you.’

  Pain, fierce and deep, twisted her gut till she almost cried out with the agony of it. ‘Like I already said, I’m not for sale.’

  Without waiting a second longer, Ariel turned on her heel and walked quickly towards the exit, praying her tears wouldn’t turn to sobs before she made it out the front door.

  ‘Ariel, wait!’

  Ignoring Cooper’s desperate plea, she picked up the pace, wishing she’d worn her ballet flats rather than three-inch wedges today. That was all she needed, to break an ankle to match her broken heart.

  ‘Please, Ariel. I need you.’

  Her steps slowed as she reached the far end of the plush foyer. The front door was in sight and she could’ve made a bolt for it. Instead, the minute Cooper laid a hand on her shoulder, she swivelled to face him, unsure whether to swing it at him or rummage in her bag for a wad of tissues.

  ‘What did you just say?’

  She tilted her head up, ignoring the tears pouring down her face as she eyeballed the jerk responsible for them.

  ‘I need you.’

  He reached up and, with infinite tenderness, wiped the tears from her cheeks with his thumbs.

  ‘I need you. I want you. I can’t imagine my life without you.’

  Once his thumbs stilled, he cupped her face, staring into her eyes as if he meant every word.

  As if.

  Looked as if he would pull out every weapon in his arsenal to win this contest.

  If he couldn’t buy her, he’d schmooze her, just as he had right from the very beginning.

  ‘There’s a word for what you’re experiencing. Insanity.’

  ‘You think I’m crazy? Fine.’

  He dropped his hands to clasp hers, holding on so tight her fingers went numb. ‘Tell me what you see.’

  His soft, husky tone took her back to the exact moment she’d asked him the same thing, his disappointing answer and the realisation at the time of the yawning gap between them.

  The sad thing was, nothing had changed since that day in the gallery when she’d done her best to show him what sort of a person she was, what was important to her.

  Cooper only saw what he wanted to see and that would never change. For him, the world was black and white, a place filled with money and property and fancy cars, a world she could never belong or feel comfortable in no matter how serious his intentions.

  ‘Let me go—’

  ‘Tell me what you see.’

  He squeezed her hands, his steady gaze not leaving hers for a second.

  She rolled her eyes, knowing she had to put an end to this fiasco sooner rather than later. Her heart had already fragmented a few minutes ago when he’d thought he could buy her, no use letting it shatter altogether and do permanent damage to her insides.

  ‘Fine. You want to know what I see? I see a bigheaded, overconfident, pompous jerk who thinks he can buy everything he wants.’

  He didn’t blink.

  He didn’t flinch.

  And Ariel found herself battling tears again at the cruel words she’d just uttered all in the name of severing all ties with the guy she loved once and for all.

  ‘Want to know what I see?’

  ‘Not really.’

  Her defiant act would’ve worked better if her breath hadn’t hitched and come out sounding like a pathetic sob.

  ‘I’ll tell you anyway.’

  To her amazement, he smiled, a soft, gentle smile totally at odds with his usual arrogance and it almost undid her completely.

  ‘I see a beautiful woman filled with fire and passion and conviction. A woman who gives her all to keep a promise. A woman who steals my breath away with how much I love her…’

  He trailed off and for a moment Ariel wondered if her frazzled brain had conjured up the words she’d wanted to hear.

  He tugged on their linked hands and she leaned towards him, powerless to stop the swift, fierce kiss he slanted across her lips as if branding her as his.

  ‘You love me?’ she murmured, pulling back to stare at his face while wishing he’d kiss her again and again till she didn’t have to think any
more.

  He nodded, his blue eyes glowing with an emotion that could only be love, its warmth radiating towards her better than any roaring log fire and infusing her with a bone-melting heat.

  ‘I love you. All of you, from that over-stressed curl you keep winding around your finger to the bottoms of those crazy shoes you wear and every delicious inch in between. I love you, Ariel Wallace. So what do you think about that?’

  He placed a finger under her chin and tipped it up, his gaze drifting to her lips.

  ‘I think you’ve been spending too much time at the studio and those paint fumes have affected you as much as they’ve affected me.’

  The corners of his delightful mouth twitched. ‘Does that mean—’

  ‘Yes. It does. I love you too. Don’t ask me why because we’re as opposite as two people can get but, somehow, I’ve fallen for you.’

  ‘Such sincere words of love,’ he teased, placing her hand on his heart with his hand covering it.

  Ariel smiled right back, enjoying the fact his heart pumped as hard and fast as hers and wondering exactly how much faster their organs could take when they moved past the kissing part onto the good stuff again. The thought alone sent her into meltdown.

  ‘You know I’ll still paint and run the gallery and wear funky fashion?’

  He dropped a slow, lingering kiss on her lips, the type of kiss that had her melding to him and wishing their clothes would disappear and they could find themselves miraculously in a private place.

  ‘You know I’ll still acquire land and develop properties and wear suits and ties?’

  She shrugged, staring up at him from beneath her lashes. ‘I suppose I can learn to live with it.’

  ‘Ah-h-h…but can you learn to live with this?’

  His hot, open-mouthed kiss had her hankering for more, a lifetime more.

  EPILOGUE

  ‘I NOW declare the Barbara Kane Art School officially open.’

  Sofia cut the thick red ribbon stretched across the front of the new building with great aplomb before spoiling her regal act by grabbing a glass of champagne from Chelsea and guzzling it.

  Ariel laughed and leaned back, content in the circle of Cooper’s arms as they watched Sofia and Chelsea take charge of the milling crowd and guide them through the glass doors of the new school.