by Gina Kincade
Bankers were like other humans. They wanted what everyone else wanted.
But he’d been unable to even reach Calandre, let alone her so-called banker friend. Raul sighed.
"You should have let me talk with her," Stephano said, dropping a leather folder on the conference table, and pulling out a chair.
"What difference would that make? She knows what I wanted her to do."
"She needs a firm hand." Stephano dropped into his seat.
"Calandre?" Raul hooted. "You might as well step on a tiger’s tail as try to control her. Either way, you’ll be feeling teeth before you’re done."
"You’re a pushover for her. She feels compelled to test you."
"There’s no other way to be with that girl. She’s hell on wheels if you defy her."
"If you try telling her what to do, and back up your wishes with consequences she doesn’t like, you’d be surprised how well she responds."
"That’s hard to do—"
"Because you love her," Stephano said calmly. "But I don’t. So I could handle her, if you’d let me."
Raul didn’t want some man, even his best friend, to ‘handle’ his twin, he realized with surprise. Calandre was difficult, no question, but she was still his twin, and he’d protect her unto death.
The door opened and the ancient butler entered and intoned the dreaded words, "Mr. Carter and Ms. Foster-Keyes, sir."
Raul rose to his feet, and walked around the desk to greet his bankers from England. They held the debt he’d used to buy the land for his resort, and they were more than antsy now about the lack of progress he’d made. Of course, he hadn’t been able to draw up the plans he envisioned when he didn’t have possession of the land that Alessandra was now claiming.
The woman’s eyes swept the room, and Raul had the feeling she was noting all the signs of wear that he didn’t want anyone to notice. She herself was dressed in an up-to-the-minute charcoal gray suit. Calandre would have known the designer name instantly, but he could only guess Armani. Her heels were pointed enough to drive a nail into his coffin which, he suspected, she planned to do.
"Good morning." She held out a beautifully manicured hand, and Raul shook it. "Fiona Foster-Keyes," she said. So, they’d sent in reinforcements, and she must be the senior person, since he’d been working with Daniel Carter previously. Her blonde hair was pulled back into a perfect chignon, not a hair out of place, and her makeup was flawlessly understated. A pair of black Tiffany glasses was perched on top of her perfect hair. Inwardly, Raul sighed. He had enough female sharks in his life with a sister like Calandre.
And, speaking of sharks, he had to keep moving. Or die.
"Please meet my attorney, Stephano diCarlino," he said.
Stephano smiled with all the charm he possessed, and Ms. Foster-Keyes made a point of giving him a quick once-over.
Raul wasn’t fooled. He’d seen the instant gleam of interest light on him when she walked in the room, and he was grateful for it. He needed all the help he could get.
Both men greeted Daniel Carter, with whom they’d worked previously.
Carter opened the negotiation with a direct shot. "You missed your interest payment in January."
Raul stared at his adversary. "We explained what happened. We’ve run into a snag with a portion of the land we need for the ski resort’s infrastructure. We’re working on straightening that out right now."
"We can’t take excuses to the bank’s board," Ms. Foster-Keyes said.
"Excuses, no," Raul said, fighting to maintain an even tone. "But they should listen to reasonable explanations."
"What reasonable explanations?" She raised her perfect light brown eyebrows. "Have you acquired this land yet?"
"The transaction is underway." That was the truth, more or less.
Carter exchanged a quick look with his boss, and then said, "When you don’t make your interest payments on schedule, we are within the terms of the loan agreement to call in your debt and require immediate payment of the entire loan."
Sweat ran down Raul’s back. The threat was unnecessary. He knew the terms of the contract perfectly well. But he schooled his face to remain expressionless. "What would be the point of doing so?"
"Getting our money back, of course," Ms. Foster-Keyes said smoothly. Unlike the others, she hadn’t even bothered to open her laptop. She was playing a game of domination that Raul did not appreciate, but he probably would have done the same if he were in her shoes.
Stephano cleared this throat. "Let’s not be hasty here. The bank wants to make money on this loan, not have to call it in. So it only makes sense to allow us a little leeway. There are some trifling legalities involved in clearing the title to the last piece of land Raul needs. The bulk of the land required for the resort is already under his control.
"Why don’t we add the interest payments for the six months from January to June to the principal of the loan, and let Raul carry on with the development?" He glanced from Carter to Foster-Keyes. "Agreed?"
Foster-Keyes held up a hand. "Stop right there. We can’t agree to any such change in the terms–"
The voice of Meghan Trainor burst into the room with her ‘My Name is No" song. Raul silenced his phone with a silent curse. He hated that song, as all red-blooded men should, but Calandre loved it, and insisted on using it as her personal ring tone on his phone.
Yes, he was a pushover for her.
On the other hand—Calandre!
He grabbed the phone and depressed the ‘Accept’ button. A male voice, speaking in beautifully accented English, said, "Bonjour! C’est Jean-Claude Fournier. Is this Monsieur Winthrop?"
Calandre’s French banker friend! Raul almost kissed the phone.
"Oui," he answered. "C’est Raul Winthrop."
Christ, he was so excited he was speaking in French. That wouldn’t do. He wanted to be sure the English bankers heard this call. Hopefully. "Ah, I mean, yes, this is Raul Winthrop. I presume you’re calling about the loan we discussed?"
He shot a quick glance at the two bankers sitting in front of him. Foster-Keyes had a look that said she’d be frowning if her smooth forehead could accomplish such a feat. Carter had straightened up in his seat.
The Frenchman burst into speech, mixing his French and English in a stream which mostly consisted of telling Raul how delightful and intelligent his sister was.
"Yes, certainly," Raul said, cutting him off. "My lawyer needs to hear what you’re proposing with respect to a loan for our company. May I put you on speaker?"
With the required permission, he depressed the button on his phone.
"Your representative"—his delightful and intelligent sister, Raul said to himself as Jean-Claude spoke—"she has convinced us that it is—how do we say—of a necessity that we should be invested with the Stirling Resort Company. You know that I am an enthusiastic skier myself, with a home in Gstaad, and many of our board members also enjoy skiing in the Alps. We like your plan of building a year-round resort with, ah, équipements?" He paused.
"Amenities." Raul gave him the English word.
"Ah, yes, amenities not found elsewhere."
"Excellent." Raul tried not to let relief color his voice. Carter and Foster-Keyes were exchanging glances, and they were not looks of happiness. "You’ve reached us in the nick of time."
"Pardon, the what?" Jean-Claude asked.
"Juste à temps," Raul translated. "Just in time. We’ve been discussing our current loan with our English bankers. They might be willing to transfer the debt to your consortium."
He raised his brows at Foster-Keyes. She stared him down.
"Can you travel to Paris to discuss terms?" Jean-Claude said. "We are excited to get the process underway. Rapidement!"
"I’ll need to speak with my current bankers," Raul said smoothly. "As soon as I get their okay to move the loan, I’ll make travel plans."
"Excellent!" Jean-Claud said heartily.
Raul figured he’d better get the Frenchman off th
e phone before he began to over-dramatize himself. Neither Carter nor Foster-Keyes were fools.
He disconnected the call, and drew a deep breath silently. "This could be the answer to our dilemma," he said, raising his head to look squarely at Carter and Foster-Keyes.
Carter shot a quick glance at his boss, and then said, "Not so fast. We haven’t said we’re interested in transferring the loan."
"Of course," Foster-Keyes interjected, "if we did, we would require payment for our consideration in doing so."
Raul tamped down the flash of anger that burned through him. "A minute ago, you wanted to call the loan. I’m not paying you anything extra if I’ve found a way to take it off your hands. And you"—he leaned forward to emphasize his point—"can take that to your bank board. You explain to them that you choked on the best deal you had in your portfolio."
"Speaking of great deals," Stephano interjected smoothly, "has Ms. Foster-Keyes seen your plans for the resort?"
Raul managed to dredge up a smile. "Since we just had the pleasure of meeting today, I doubt it. Let me pull up the documents."
"Are you a skier?" Stephano asked politely, while they waited for Raul to bring up the file.
"Since I could walk," she answered.
"Excellent. When you see some of the vertical drops on Raul’s proposed ski runs, you’ll understand the expert challenges he’ll be offering to top-notch skiers."
"Not more challenging than St. Anton," she replied, establishing her bona fides as a truly expert skier.
Raul’s head snapped up. "You’re on."
Foster-Keyes raised her eyebrows. "On?"
"If you enjoy St. Anton, the most difficult terrain in Austria, to date, I’d be pleased to offer you a complimentary annual pass to my planned resort, so you can compare the two."
"I couldn’t accept a bribe." For the first time, she sounded something other than cold. In fact, she sounded downright regretful. Raul flashed a glance at Stephano.
"Not a bribe at all," Stephano said smoothly. "‘Complimentary’ means the pass is given without any payment, either monetary or otherwise, in exchange."
She pressed her lips together, as if afraid she might decline the offer again.
"Naturally, the offer will be extended to Carter as well," Raul said, glancing at him. Carter was sold on the idea, his eyes gleaming with pleasure. "It will benefit us to have expert skiers enjoying our resort," Raul added, "and perhaps spreading the word to others."
He turned his laptop so the bankers could see it. "Here’s a bird’s eye view of the layout of the entire resort."
Foster-Keyes moved the glasses from the top of her head to the bridge of her nose. "You have an extensive array of buildings on the plan."
"We intend this to be a year-round resort." Raul clicked on a close up view of the base of the mountain. "A golf course designed by Martin Ebert, a dozen tennis courts—"
He moved the cursor to show where these sports facilities would be located. "Over here is the health club and spa, which will have the latest holistic health amenities. We’ll have hiking trails, riding trails, and of course, plenty of room for new vacation homes to be built."
"Indeed." Her tone was frosty. "A junior Kitzbuhel, in order words?"
"Nothing junior about it," Raul snapped. "Let the Germans flock to Kitzbuhel. We’ll draw all the rest of the Europeans to our resort. Americans, as well."
"Quite ambitious," she commented, in a tone that said she wasn’t impressed yet.
"What Raul is trying to show you," Stephano interjected smoothly, "is that he is building a five-star resort that will attract top tier investors. Those who get in on the ground floor will obviously earn an impressive return on their investment. Perhaps you would like to see some of the lots that we’ll be selling at a deep discount to reward our initial home investors?"
Her gaze flicked from Stephano to Raul, back and forth like she was a mini pinball machine. Raul watched as she wavered, tried to withstand the temptation, and finally succumbed. "If I were to make a personal investment," she finally said, "it would be entirely separate from the bank’s loan."
"Of course." Raul was pleased that only a trace of relief colored his tone. He wouldn’t let a prime house lot go at a discount, but now that he’d hooked her, he was sure they could work out a successful deal for her personally that would ensure she wouldn’t want to call the bank’s loan. And that was just for insurance. She’d already decided she didn’t want to lose the loan to Jean-Claude.
The only thing left to do was to invite her and Carter to spend the night in the castle, warn the housekeeper to freshen up the two guest rooms they kept for visiting dignitaries, and convince his mother that these guests were worthy of her personal attention.
When he and Stephano finally concluded the lengthy negotiations for the sale of two house lots, one added on for Carter, he handed the two bankers over to the butler, and turned to his friend, miming an enormous sigh of relief.
"Thank God Calandre came through." Stephano slotted his folders into his executive backpack.
Raul grimaced. "It’ll cost me plenty. But yeah, it’s a frigging miracle she pulled this rabbit out of her hat."
"Doesn’t solve your underlying problem," Stephano commented.
"Damn straight. Still need that land to get the development project underway." Raul plowed a hand through his hair. "All the debt in the world doesn’t a successful project make."
"So what’s next?"
"Next we unmask the so-called Alessandra Ranieri."
Chapter Nine
The day of the skiing expedition dawned with clear, cold weather. Raul had warned Alessandra by text to be ready early, saying he'd arrive to pick her up at 6:30 a.m. sharp. She wore leggings, a turtleneck and sweater, and the warmest socks she owned. When Raul rang the doorbell, Tem was waiting to be introduced.
Alessandra made the introductions, amused at the way the two men sized each other up. Tem had already informed her that Raul was a known playboy whose character would be improved if he had to engage in a little hard work. But they shook hands civilly, although Tem couldn't resist pointing out that in his day one didn't need a limo to go for a day of skiing.
"But I want to concentrate on getting to know Alessandra," Raul said with a smile. "Surely you can't object to that?"
Tem muttered something under his breath, but as Alessandra couldn't hear him, she decided to ignore him. She followed Raul down the three front steps, taking deep breaths of the cold air. Despite the fact that Raul was bound to quiz her about her identity, she couldn't help being exhilarated at the prospect of spending a day with him. Limo and all.
A red duffel bag rested on the floor of the limo, next to a similar navy blue bag. "My sister's duds," Raul explained with a wave of his hand.
"The sister who's in Paris? Does she even know I'm borrowing her gear?"
"Yes. And no." He gave her a grin as he settled himself beside her in the car. "Don't worry. She has so much stuff, she wouldn't notice if I took the bag out of the house right in front of her."
Alessandra enjoyed watching the scenery roll by. Tall, snow-covered mountains. Dark evergreen trees. Charming blue-trimmed chalets. After a half hour, they smoothly pulled onto a four-lane highway. "Are we getting close?" she asked. "I thought there would be ski areas everywhere, given all the mountains."
"We're going into Switzerland," Raul said, giving her one of his blinding grins. "I thought you might enjoy seeing another country, as long as you're over here in Europe."
"Switzerland!" For a shocked moment, she couldn't say anything else. "I don't even have my passport."
Raul grinned again. "Such an American attitude. We Europeans travel easily to different countries, and we don't need passports. Speaking of which, where is yours?"
"Why would I have it on me?" She sounded too defensive. "You didn't tell me we were leaving Austria."
"Just curious." He shrugged. But his eyes were cold suddenly. She knew he was thinking of the identity
he didn't believe she owned. What she didn't know was why he cared. Had he brought her on this ski outing just to interrogate her some more? Or to get a look at her passport? The thought caused her spirits to plummet.
"Are you going to spend the day trying to trip me up?" she asked stiffly. "If so, we might as well turn around right now."
"Can you be tripped up?" He turned his head to look at her. "What are you worried about?"
"I'm not worried," she snapped. "I just don't want to be subjected to an ongoing inquisition. I don't even know why my identity matters to you."
