Knight in Tattooed Armor: International Billionaires XII: The Latinos

by Caro LaFever

  His gaze flickered away, as if he couldn’t see more than her blonde hair and pretty face. “I know you don’t want to talk about the dinner party on Friday.”

  She stiffened on the limo seat. “As I told you Saturday morning, there wasn’t much to talk about.”

  “You did talk to Molina, though, and I was wondering—”

  “De Molina,” she corrected him, wanting to close the conversation. “He didn’t say much.”

  Not anything she wanted to depress her daddy with. Yet, she’d understood the message the caveman had delivered, and for all that she despised the man, she knew in her gut, he was right about the company. But she didn’t have to whack her dad with it, because she had a plan.

  “Your mother and I were hoping…”

  Risa narrowed her eyes. Wait a minute. Did her parents think she’d soften the caveman up with her blonde good looks and her sweet smile? Did they think perhaps she’d melt the guy’s attitude until he’d be willing to invest in Migneault Perfumery?

  She was so not going to do that. Not then and not in the future.

  He might kiss like a dream, but she didn’t trust him one bit. And the Migneaults were better than that. They could find their own way out of whatever mess the company was in.

  “Daddy. We don’t need him.”

  A gust of a sigh drifted from her father. “Actually, we do.”

  “No, we don’t. I have a plan.”

  Another sigh escaped him. “I don’t want you to worry.”

  “I’m not. Well, not much.” Leaning forward, she curled her hand around his. “Listen to me. I did a lot of research last night.”

  “Maurisa.” He flipped his hand over to fist around hers. “You don’t understand.”

  “Then tell me.” She braced herself. “Tell me what’s going on with the perfumery.”

  “We’ve got a bit of trouble. Nothing I can’t fix.”

  He’s not cut out to run a company.

  Grandma Olsen’s astute observation echoed in her head. Risa hated to think badly of her daddy, though he did prefer to sail into the ocean in his fishing boat with a gaggle of friends rather than go to work. Now that she thought about it, it seemed like every Monday, he girded himself before leaving for the office. If he didn’t enjoy his job, he should do something else.

  But then, who would run the company?

  What would you do, Pooh, if you ran the company?

  Her brilliant plan from last night faded in her head, replaced with the fantastical notion of being the boss of Migneault Perfumery. Of choosing the new fragrances, the new advertising, the new direction for the company.

  She sucked in a breath.

  Her daddy’s hand tightened on hers. “Don’t worry. I’ve got this.”

  Except something deep inside told her he didn’t. How was she going to convince him to go with her plan and perhaps let her take up at least some of the reins without hurting his pride?

  Glancing over, she met his gaze and her heart dropped.

  He looked fatigued to the point of collapse. Yet his eyes were filled with a promise he couldn’t keep. Not if the caveman was correct, as well as her grandma.

  Risa knew, with a gut punch, they were both correct.

  And only she could fix it.

  Not having much luck gaining her father’s attention, Risa decided to spend the day nosing into the company financials and asking questions. Granted, her plan was amazing and totally worth following, but it wouldn’t hurt to gain more knowledge and buttress her points. Once she’d done that, she’d tackle her daddy again.

  First, she sidled into the CFO’s office and finally placed his name into her memory permanently.

  “So, Mr. Rogstein.” She gave him her best smile. “Tell me what you do here.”

  He looked dazzled. As he should be. Why hadn’t she made the effort two months ago to know their employees and make connections? She’d learned the value of connections in the sorority. There, with a snap of her fingers, she could create a party with a band and food and drink in minutes. There, she could encourage her sorority sisters to pull an all-night study session right before the finals so their house would win the prize for best grades.

  Why hadn’t she used those talents here?

  Spencer.

  She grimaced.

  Mr. Rogstein’s face fell.

  “Don’t mind me,” she rushed in. “Just something I ate for breakfast.”

  With a little nudge and a couple of more smiles, their CFO confided about the lack of accounts receivable and the mound of accounts payable. She also learned the Migneault bestsellers her Grand-père Marcel had designed—Saveurs de l’Amour for women and César for men—were no longer selling like they once were.

  “We need something new, Ms. Migneault.” Rogstein tapped his finger on the desk as if he wanted to tap a new code into his computer. “I have told your father—”

  “Don’t worry.” She didn’t want to incite the staff into a rebellion against her daddy. She needed to keep everyone together on the same team. “I’ll talk to him.”

  For the first time in their exchange, the CFO’s expression turned skeptical. “What are you going to say?”

  “I have a plan.”

  “Do you?” Doubt colored the question.

  “Yes.” Clearly, she needed to give more to get this man on board. Her mind snapped to attention. “Look at me.”

  Male appreciation dented the doubt.

  “I’m exactly the kind of customer we’re going for, aren’t I?”

  “Yes.” The agreement came slowly, but it came.

  “I know our customers because I am the customer. That’s inside knowledge.”

  Her confidence grew as she watched the man’s expression.

  “So I just have to figure out how to update our products in a variety of ways—” one particular way “—and the customers will flock back to Migneault.”

  She left Mr. Rogstein smiling and, as she skipped through her day, and through their employees, she could tell she was creating buzz.

  That was only one of things needed, but it was an excellent first step.

  “Ms. Migneault.”

  The cold tone and layered French accent told her who it was before she turned.

  She turned anyway.

  The Nose stood inside the doorway of his exclusive province. Unlike the other perfumers who inhabited one long hallway on the second floor where they tested new scents, Migneault’s top nose had his own lab on the same floor where her daddy’s office and hers resided. When she’d started here, she remembered hearing something about needing fresh air and access to the roof, which she hadn’t understood, and hadn’t cared about at the time.

  Now? Now she cared.

  If she was going to do this, this plan she’d thought up, she needed this cold man standing before her to be on board.

  “Hi, Mr. Terriblier.” Risa plastered on her biggest smile. “How’s it going?”

  “You’ve been very busy today.” His voice was low and calm, yet she felt as if it thundered toward her, like a roll of a terrible tropical storm.

  “Yes, I have.” She kept the smile. “Is there a problem?”

  “Yes, there’s a problem.” Stepping out of his office, he closed the door behind him.

  The lock clicked shut.

  Was he afraid she was going to creep into his lab and mess with his testing? She made a face at his back and before she could lose the look, he swung around and caught it.

  His expression didn’t change. “I think we should go talk to your father.”

  “Do you?” After arriving at work, her daddy had disappeared into his office, his door shut—which wasn’t like him. So she’d gotten the message and done other things. If this man wanted to penetrate the closed door and get her father’s attention, she’d use that.

  Use it to make her next pitch. “Fine by me.”

  The Nose paced down the hallway in front of her, instead of being a gentleman and ushering her forward. A
t least the lack of manners let her make another face at his back.

  With one brisk knock, Ivan the Terriblier opened the door. “Maurice.”

  Risa peeked around the man and her heart dipped once more. Although she’d been irritated with her daddy this morning, that didn’t mean she’d stopped loving and caring for him.

  His whole attitude and appearance reeked of dismal defeat. He slumped in his chair, his suit coat off, his bow tie hanging loose on his shirt. Gazing with a blank stare through his window, he exuded a weariness that hurt her to look at.

  “Maurice,” the Nose said again.

  Without turning his head, her father responded. “It’s all over, Ivan.”

  Her heart sunk into her heels. Because she knew, straight away, he was talking about their company. Pride and purpose reared inside. “It’s not, Daddy.”

  His head whipped around, horror filling his expression. “Princess, I didn’t want you—”

  “I might be a princess, but I’m a grown one.” She marched into the room and straight to the other side of his desk. “And I have a plan.”

  “A plan? The same one you were talking about this morning?” Bewilderment replaced the horror. “What do you mean?”

  “Your daughter has been busy today.” The Nose inserted himself into the conversation by walking to her father’s side. “She’s been going from department to department, asking questions.”

  Risa bristled. “You’ve been monitoring me? Shouldn’t you be working on creating new perfumes?”

  “Actually, I’m not able to do that anymore.” He folded his arms in front of him, a pained look crossing his face. “I don’t have the materials I need to work with.”

  “I’m sorry, Ivan.” Her father slouched lower in his chair. “I’ll give you a superb reference. I’m sure a Migneault’s word is still worth something in parts of the perfume industry.”

  While she didn’t like Ivan the Terriblier, she knew he was one of the premier noses in the world. If her plan had a chance of working, she needed him in the company. “We’re not giving Mr. Terriblier his notice. He will continue to work here.”

  “Not for long.” Her daddy straightened his shoulders as if he were arming for battle, and stared at her. “I just got off the phone with our last hope.”

  “I’ve got a plan. That’s our hope.”

  The Nose snorted.

  “Molina said no.”

  “De Molina,” she countered under her breath.

  “I can’t get the bank to extend our credit,” he went on, “and the other potential investors all said no after looking at our financials and hearing Molina wasn’t interested. He was the key to getting any other party involved and he’s made it clear to me, and to the finance community, he’s a flat no.”

  “We don’t need investors, Daddy. And we certainly don’t need the caveman.”

  “The caveman?” Confusion crossed his face.

  “Listen to my idea.” Leaning across the desk, she grabbed his limp hand. “We’re going to go back to using all-natural ingredients.”

  During her childhood and teenage years, she’d never been particularly interested in the perfumery. The office and factory were part of her world like the sun and sand outside her home’s door. Immutable and constant and nothing to worry about. But she had picked up some things by osmosis. The tours of the place with her grand-père. The conversations he had with her daddy about the business. The launch parties for a new Migneault perfume she’d attended with her mom. All of these experiences echoed in her memory.

  The Nose snorted again.

  She raced forward, trying to ignore the snort and the disbelief on her father’s face. “We switched twenty years ago to synthetics, right?”

  “Mostly.”

  “Entirely in the last year,” the Nose added. “This is one of the things I’ve been complaining—”

  “Natural ingredients cost more money,” her daddy cut in, his expression souring. “Baby, I appreciate your thoughts—”

  “We can re-launch a whole new line and highlight the natural aspect.” She kept going, sure that if these two men just understood her entire concept, they’d agree. “I know women my age will be into it. They like all-natural.”

  “Do you have any idea what this will cost, Ms. Migneault?” The Nose eyed her with disdain. “As your father has just stated, we don’t have the funds.”

  We. He said we. That meant if she could convince her daddy, they still had a nose to work with.

  “I’m afraid Ivan is right.” Her daddy’s shoulders sagged. “There’s no money to continue running the perfumery, much less start a new line.”

  “We can sell the house.” She grasped at the only straw she could think of.

  “That would kill your mother. I can’t do it.”

  Her father’s words rang in the room like a clang of doom. And he was right. Her mom loved that house on Star Island. But Risa hadn’t grown up a princess of a kingdom only to give up her crown and scepter without a fight.

  “Can we sell part of this property?” She waved at the window, thinking about the big courtyard and the surrounding properties, including the factory and bottling buildings. “We could downsize, couldn’t we?”

  “Believe me, I’ve thought through every avenue.” Her daddy gave her a look of resignation mixed with a mild condescension that hurt her pride. “The only avenue we had was Molina.”

  “De Molina,” she muttered.

  “And he said no to me this morning. A final no.”

  “There’s no such thing as a final no.” She wrapped her arms around her waist, her brain whirring. “There must be some way.”

  “The only way was this particular angel investor, and he isn’t interested.” Her daddy sighed, a gusty blast of air. “He also told me he’s left Miami for the next several weeks. There’s no hope of asking him to dinner again.”

  She didn’t like the caveman. Not at all. But by the way her father talked and the Nose looked, they’d exhausted every other avenue.

  So. The caveman had to be tracked down and convinced. And she was the woman to do it.

  “Don’t worry, Daddy.” She turned and marched toward the office door. “I’ve got this.”

  “Princess, you don’t understand—”

  She slammed the door behind her, a curious fizz of excitement and fear making her blood flow fast and her heart race. Hating to admit it, she was truthful enough with herself to know she looked forward to crossing swords with de Molina once more. For once, she wasn’t going to let him teach her a lesson or take control of her with a kiss. For once, she was going to be the winner and show him she was a woman with intelligence, not a princess unworthy of his respect.

  “Watch out, caveman,” she whispered. “Here I come.”

  Chapter 10

  Riq made a last check of supplies before closing the doors leading into the shelter. If the weather reports were to believed, Hurricane Cindi might turn into a category five, and was likely to make landing in the next few hours. The bullseye was his island.

  He couldn’t wait.

  Jiggs panted, his short tail wagging.

  “Ready for some fun, boy?” He patted the bulldog’s head, and then strolled across the patio to the main house. Yesterday morning, when he’d driven his boat over from the mainland, the sea had been calm. But now, as he gazed down from the mountain he’d built his home on, the waves were roiling, signaling what was to come.

  “Bring it on,” he murmured under his breath.

  He’d brought over enough food and water to last him at least three weeks. Plus, he always had a ready store of MREs, just in case. His boat’s hatches were battened down, and he’d hoisted it high out of the water on the specially-designed lift he’d had installed for just this sort of occasion. With luck, the boat would escape the storm surge. However, if the worst happened, he’d do all right waiting for the Coast Guard to come by. From his experience in the Marines, he knew that might take a while. One lone man on an island, esp
ecially a SEAL, wasn’t going to be top priority.

  Which was fine with him.

  Living rough would remind him of being a SEAL, the one time in his life where he felt like he belonged and was valued.

  He shrugged off the bleak thought, and turned his focus on the beach and the dock he’d had built for his staff. His private dock, on the other side of the island, was for him alone.

  Glancing at the small row of houses lining the shore below, he eyed the preparations his employees had made before leaving. The windows were covered with sheets of wood, and the lounge chairs, benches, and children’s toys were all stored inside. Usually, he had a housekeeper, a gardener, and two other employees around his home. But with the hurricane coming, he didn’t want to worry about them down below, and there wasn’t enough room in the shelter for everyone. Thankfully, none of them had objected to a vacation on the mainland, paid for by him.

  He only had to worry about himself and his dog.

  Which he liked.

  Jiggs sauntered to his side, and jumped onto the circular stone bench looking over the bay. He woofed, and woofed again.

  Riq’s gaze followed the dog’s.

  There was a boat out on the water.

  His eyes narrowed.

  The only boats that should be venturing out on the sea at this point would actually be ships. This one wasn’t a ship. He calculated by the speed and movement of the vessel, it couldn’t have more than three hundred horsepower. That was dangerous in waters like this.

  The boat bobbed nearer.

  Jiggs barked again.

  There were two imbeciles on the vessel, he could see now. One was a female, long blonde hair whipping in the wind. The other appeared to be an ancient male, his grizzled chin flicking back and forth as if the man thought he’d be okay if he just kept his eye out for each wave.

  Fool. Idiot. Cabron.

  Sì, an asshole of the highest order.

  What the hell was the man thinking, taking a young chica out on the sea when a category five was barreling his way? Even great sex with a blonde wasn’t enough reason to put lives in danger.

  The boat zigged, riding another big wave, and headed straight for his employees’ dock.