Bride, Bought and Paid For

by Helen Bianchin

  Heaven knew he’d become bored with his recent female companions and their predictable modus operandi. Practiced sycophants who used every known guise to attract his attention in a game as old as time.

  Romy Picard could prove an interesting diversion. He’d blocked off every avenue of contact available to her…except one. And made it extremely difficult, almost impossible for her to circumvent. Yet she hadn’t disappointed, and there was a part of him that applauded her persistence.

  Xavier made a split-second decision, lifted the interoffice phone, and issued his PA with instructions to accommodate Romy Picard until the meeting’s conclusion.

  During which his eyes never left her own, and she refused to look away. Instead, she merely inclined her head, then turned and exited the room.

  The cool, composed persona was a sham, one she maintained as she crossed to a comfortable leather chair and sank gracefully into its cushioned depths. Romy selected a magazine at random, studied the index, then chose an article and pretended interest in a stock-market graph.

  She should have experienced a mild sense of elation at having succeeded in gaining an audience with Xavier DeVasquez. Except there was only anxiety existent, and a feeling of dread.

  Ridiculous, she rationalized, when she’d dealt with rebellious young teens in a classroom of misfits and miscreants whose command of the English language comprised sassy belligerence in a deliberate attempt to diminish her authority. She’d achieved the unexpected, in a hard-won fight for the kind of mutual respect that promoted a degree of enthusiasm for learning. Because she cared enough to take the knocks in order to gain the end result.

  Whether she could expect to win any form of reprieve for her father was something else…but she had to try.

  Romy replaced the magazine and selected another, pretending interest in current electronic technology, when there was nothing further from her mind.

  How long before Xavier concluded the meeting?

  A hollow laugh rose and died in her throat. Five minutes—an hour…what difference did it make?

  Thirty minutes and counting, she perceived when four men exited the conference room and acknowledged the CEO’s PA before entering the corridor leading out to Reception.

  A phone beeped on the PA’s desk, and Romy quelled the sudden twist of nervous tension gripping her stomach as the PA uttered a few quiet words and stood to her feet.

  ‘Mr DeVasquez will see you now.’

  CHAPTER TWO

  OKAY, she could do this. After all, what was the worst that could happen?

  So why did each consecutive step towards the conference room feel as if she was walking to her doom?

  Get over it, she cautioned silently as the PA lightly rapped the door, then immediately opened it and announced Romy’s presence. Romy entered and heard the faint snick as the door closed behind her, and she unconsciously lifted her chin as she prepared to do battle with the man who’d condescended to allow her a few minutes of his time.

  Xavier DeVasquez stood at the far end of the conference room. His height and breadth of shoulder accentuated by fine tailoring as he appeared engrossed in the scene beyond the floor-to-ceiling plate glass.

  In profile, his facial features bore a chiselled look, the strong line of his jaw, sculptured cheekbones, and she felt a constriction in her throat as he turned towards her.

  Arresting, he emanated a compelling power that was almost primitive, and she held his gaze as eyes dark as sin speared her own.

  ‘You have five minutes.’ The soft drawl held a hint of purpose Romy chose to ignore as she retrieved an envelope from her bag and extended it towards him.

  ‘You’ll find a certified cheque attached to a detailed payment schedule for the balance my father owes.’ The cheque wiped out her life savings and tabled payments that would extend way into the future.

  His expression remained unchanged as he extracted the slim document and skimmed the amount of the cheque before perusing the legally assembled phrases. Each passing second seemed timeless as he read the words with unhurried ease, and the nerves in her stomach tightened into a painful ball when he tossed the document onto his desk.

  ‘The repayment schedule you present includes a proportion of your father’s estimated future earnings.’ His voice held a dangerous softness that lifted the hairs on the back of her neck. ‘No one will employ him in his former capacity given he’s been charged with fraud.’

  ‘They would, if you accept the repayment terms and drop all charges against him.’

  ‘Your loyalty is admirable, but severely misplaced.’

  The words held an accent-inflected drawl that did little to diminish their harshness, and her chin lifted fractionally.

  ‘There were extenuating circumstances.’

  He inclined his head in acknowledgement. ‘Submitted in detail by your father’s legal team.’

  She regarded him steadily. ‘Have you no compassion? Does fifteen years of loyal service count for nothing?’

  ‘Had your father approached me and confided his difficulty in coping with crippling medical expenses, I could have made certain allowances. Instead, he chose to defraud, then compound it by racking up extensive gambling debts.’ His expression hardened and his eyes seared her own. ‘The DeVasquez Corporation offers strict but fair contracted terms of employment. The consequences of flouting those terms are clearly defined.’

  For a wild, unbidden moment she had a desperate need to pick up the nearest object and hurl it at him. Perhaps he sensed her intention, for one dark eyebrow slanted and his eyes became watchful. Such an action would be pure folly, and instead she drew in a deep breath in a need for calm.

  ‘Your rise and rise in the financial ranks is well tabled. Your methodology known to be mercilessly ruthless.’ She waited a beat, then offered a deliberately sweet smile. ‘Would your professional ethics bear intense scrutiny?’

  A deadly silence encroached the room…electric, heart-stopping. Except she refused to shift her gaze.

  ‘You choose to insult me?’ The words were deceptively mild, but only a fool would dismiss their lethal intent. There were corners cut, authority skirted, and a few early dealings that had just skimmed beneath the legal line, but he’d made generous recompense and his conscience was clear…on all counts.

  Romy experienced the strangest feeling: the floor tilted slightly beneath her feet. Crazy, when she was on a high floor of a concrete-and-steel building in downtown Melbourne!

  Reaction, she assured herself silently. Tension, and a few other emotions she determined not to explore as she marshalled strength of will.

  Xavier took a cellphone from his pocket, keyed in a few numbers, yet delayed activating the call as he regarded her with chilling intensity. ‘Do you really want to be escorted onto the street?’

  It was all Romy could do to control the sudden thumping of her heart, unaware its heavy beat was clearly visible in the pulse at the base of her throat as she held his gaze and offered quietly, ‘Threatening me isn’t going to work.’

  Silence hung suspended in the confines of the conference room, and she was conscious of every breath she took as she waited for his reaction…certain he would call her bluff.

  For an age he merely subjected her to an all-encompassing appraisal, almost daring her to lower her gaze and back down.

  ‘No?’

  He was a powerful force, one only a fool would disregard…yet she refused to subjugate herself. If this was a battle of wills, then she’d fight him to the bitter end.

  ‘Three years ago you chose to cut and run,’ Xavier reminded her with deceptive mildness. ‘And refused to acknowledge any of my calls.’

  Her eyes deepened to a brilliant sapphire. ‘I’m surprised you remember.’

  Yet he did, more vividly than he was prepared to admit. Her sweet mouth, the taste of her, the way she fit in his arms…her smile, how her eyes lit up with pleasure whenever she was in his presence.

  He’d been her first lover, Xavier reflected
. A fact that had alternately delighted and dismayed him, for he’d always dealt with women who knew the score and that what he offered them was a pleasant interlude for however long the relationship lasted, with no strings attached.

  Romy had been different. Something he’d only begun to realise after she had ended their brief affair. That had been a rare, almost unknown occurrence, for in the past it had been he who had called time, presented a parting gift and moved on.

  ‘What of your father’s gambling debts?’ Xavier pursued. ‘Do you intend presenting his loan shark with a similar deal?’ He was already aware of the facts, except he wanted to hear them directly from her.

  Romy bore his appraisal with equanimity, holding those dark almost black eyes in a determined effort not to be diminished in any way. ‘Yes.’

  ‘You have to know they won’t buy it.’ Quiet, deliberately stark words that accelerated her anxiety factor to new heights.

  She’d already paid over a reasonable sum, but it had been made painfully clear what would happen if the outstanding balance wasn’t paid on time.

  ‘They might if I can negotiate reasonable terms with you.’

  His eyes narrowed. ‘You don’t have the means to negotiate.’ Didn’t she know what she was up against? Or fully realize the consequences her father faced at the hands of a loan shark, who, after subjecting Andre Picard to a brutal lesson, would have no scruples in enforcing the lesson on Andre’s daughter?

  ‘That’s your final answer?’ Each word uttered caused her immeasurable pain, evidenced in the paleness of her features, the pulse jumping at the base of her throat.

  Xavier bit back a pithy oath…more in anger at the situation she found herself in, than sympathy for the man who’d inadvertently put her there.

  ‘Your expectation of my generosity is too high.’

  ‘How much too high?’

  She had courage, a quality he admired. Except she was way off base if she imagined any help he might be predisposed to offer came without a price.

  Every risk Xavier took, and he admitted to many along the way, involved deliberate calculation. It was the basis of his success, the code by which he ran his business interests.

  He knew all the angles, every devious aspect of human nature. Hadn’t he worked them to his advantage in his early days on the streets of New York? It was also the reason no woman had managed to capture his heart as he climbed high among the social echelon.

  Yet recently he’d experienced an unaccustomed restlessness. He owned a luxury mansion in one of Melbourne’s prime waterfront suburbs, houses and apartments in various cities around the world, his own jet, expensive cars, an art collection worth millions. All he had to do was indicate he needed a woman in his bed, and several lined up to please him, aware the gift of jewellery and an all-expenses-paid sojourn in a spa resort were the only price he was prepared to pay.

  While his business interests continued to challenge him, his personal life had become predictable, even boring. Was he sliding towards a mid-life crisis in his late thirties? Evaluating what he really wanted when, if appearances meant anything, he had it all?

  In spite of the acquired sophistication, his generosity to select charitable causes, and the numerous acquaintances who sought his attention, his favour, he retained a degree of cynicism. Aware there were few women who would see past the size of his bank balance.

  He owned a multi-national business enterprise, yet there was no child of his blood to take the reins in future and forge a dynasty.

  His eyes narrowed thoughtfully as he regarded the young woman facing him. Affection, sexual compatibility…weren’t those qualities realistically attainable in a relationship? And honesty…a quality Romy Picard possessed in spades.

  ‘What if I were to put forward a proposal?’

  For a moment she was prepared to swear her heart stopped beating. ‘Proposing what, precisely?’ The query held caution and an elevated degree of suspicion.

  ‘Involving you.’

  No. The word echoed through her mind as a silent scream. He was toying with her, like a butterfly in captivity as he waited for the moment he would pin her to the wall.

  ‘I don’t enter the equation.’

  He continued to study her in silence, until she felt close to hitting him. Had he any idea how impossibly angry she was at having to confront him? In normal circumstances, she’d take extreme pleasure in telling him to go to hell.

  ‘No?’ Xavier posed with deceptive mildness. ‘You represent the only tangible entity your father possesses of any worth to me.’

  Something deep inside curled into a tight, painful ball, and she wanted nothing more than to turn and walk from the room, the building…anything to escape the compelling man who held her father’s fate in his hands.

  ‘You’re suggesting I become a form of payment in human kind?’ Each word took immense effort to enunciate and emerged in faintly strangled tones.

  ‘Your words, not mine.’

  His drawled voice held an indolence that caused the pulse at the base of her throat to quicken to a hammered beat.

  ‘Prostitute myself by becoming your current mistress?’

  ‘And bear me a child,’ Xavier continued silkily.

  It took enormous effort to resist the urge to slap his face, and for a heart-stopping moment time stood still, becoming a suspended entity when electric awareness pulsed heavily in the air.

  Restrained anger emanated from her slender frame, and her eyes darkened to a vivid blue sapphire. ‘Are you insane?’

  ‘You beg leniency and attempt to bargain by offering nothing in return?’

  Her eyes speared his, their blue depths intensely fiery with incredible fury. ‘What you’re suggesting amounts to blackmail.’

  ‘I prefer to call it a negotiated deal between two consenting adults.’

  ‘Bastard.’

  His eyebrows rose. ‘Erroneous,’ he relayed in a musing drawl. ‘Given my parents were married at the time of my birth.’ The fact his father had abandoned mother and child within weeks no longer seemed relevant, or that his mother had been forced to do menial work for long hours in order to survive a trailer-park existence, and had died young.

  Romy took a deep, calming breath, aware it didn’t come close to enough. Did he have any idea how much she wanted to rail against him? Even in her most trying moments in the classroom with students from hell, she hadn’t come this close to physically lashing out. And that was saying something!

  ‘You demand too much.’

  He rose and indicated the door. ‘Then we have nothing more to discuss.’

  Words temporarily failed her, and she could only look at him with stark disbelief. ‘You’re asking me to become pregnant with your child,’ she demanded with incredulity. ‘Give it up after birth…then be cast out of its life?’

  ‘Why would I cast a wife aside?’

  The colour leeched from her face. ‘What do you mean—wife?’

  ‘Marriage,’ Xavier clarified succinctly. ‘Adequate recompense for me dropping all charges against your father,’ he added in dry mocking tones. ‘And clearing his gambling debts.’

  For a moment she lost the power to think as erotic images filled her mind…images she’d never been able to erase, and words tumbled from her lips without thought. ‘I don’t want to marry you.’

  ‘Consider the advantages.’

  ‘At the moment, I can’t think of one.’

  Was that a quick gleam of amusement she glimpsed on his face or merely a trick of the light?

  ‘No?’

  Romy swept his impressive form a deliberate appraisal, and successfully tamped down the unbidden emotion threatening to consume her body. ‘What we shared wasn’t anything special.’

  Liar, she silently castigated. Once, just once she’d attempted to erase his lovemaking from her mind by superimposing it by having sex with someone else…and the memory still gave her cause to regret the experience.

  Xavier tamped down the urge to pull her
in close and take possession of her mouth, to tame her fine anger and turn it into purring pleasure. Instead, he reached out a hand and trailed light fingers down her cheek, then he cupped her chin and eased his thumb-pad gently over the soft fullness of her lower lip. He watched her eyes darken and sensed the faint hitch in her breath.

  So much for thinking she was immune to his touch! Strength of spirit ensured she stood perfectly still, her eyes steady as she held his gaze, and she wondered if he had any inkling just how much it cost her to do so.

  ‘You want a deal for your father,’ Xavier reiterated quietly. ‘I’ve offered a solution. Take it or leave it.’

  The thought of her father having to appear in court again, be escorted under police guard to prison, suffer indignities, fear, not to mention several years incarceration, possibly die there, was more than Romy could bear.

  ‘Do you need me to spell out what form of reminder the loan shark will serve Andre, and ultimately you, if payment isn’t forthcoming on time?’ Xavier queried and saw her features pale.

  She had until midnight tomorrow to produce a large sum of money neither she nor Andre could scrape together.

  Face it, she reminded herself grimly. Every possible resource had been explored. Xavier DeVasquez was their last hope for any form of rescue package that would help her father.

  A hollow sensation settled in her stomach as desperate reality hit home. She had a choice, which was really no choice at all. The question had to be—did she have sufficient courage to take what Xavier offered? Yet how could she not?

  The faint burr of his phone intruded, and he picked it up, listened, offered a curt instruction, then he ended the call.

  There was little to be gained from his expression, and she didn’t even attempt to hazard a guess as she bore his measured scrutiny.

  ‘I have an important meeting scheduled.’ He paused fractionally. ‘Your answer, Romy?’

  This was it, she recognized with a sense of fatalism. She’d come this far and would gain much—at considerable personal cost—if she agreed to the deal. A deal which didn’t need to be a life sentence, for marriage carried an escape clause. There was always the option of divorce.