by Lucy King
The way he just looked at her, like an animal stalking its prey, turned her even colder. ‘I’m talking about the soap, the perfume and the musician.’
Phoebe felt as if he’d pulled the chair out from underneath her. ‘How do you know about them?’
Alex’s eyes glittered. ‘I know an awful lot about you.’
Her stomach fell away and her head went fuzzy. ‘Did you have me investigated?’
Alex nodded.
‘Why would you do that?’
‘Standard due diligence procedures. Why wouldn’t I?’
Phoebe rubbed her temples and sank back down into her chair. Oh, God. He’d had her investigated? What sort of man did something like that? Jo had mentioned that Alex could be a touch on the protective side, but this was madness. Last night he hadn’t even known her name. Now, thanks to investigators who must have toiled throughout the night, he probably knew more about her than she did herself.
‘Unless you want me to fire you right now, you can start with the soap.’ Alex’s eyes glittered, as if he was actually relishing the moment.
Phoebe felt as if she were sitting on knives. ‘What do you know about the soap?’
He gave her a mocking smile. ‘You said that it brought out a rash and made your skin itch. To a journalist.’
‘I didn’t know he was a journalist. He bought me a drink. And another. And another. I thought he was being friendly.’
His mouth twisted. ‘My point precisely.’
Phoebe sighed and rubbed her neck. How lucky she’d had plenty of practice justifying what she did, the decisions she’d taken and the mistakes she’d made. Compared to the grilling her family gave her on a monthly basis, this was a walk in the park.
But then, her family didn’t hold her future in their hands.
Phoebe gathered her wits. She needed every drop of strength because right now she had to fight harder than she had in a long time.
‘Alex, I was twenty-one. It was right at the beginning of my career. In the second week of my first job. I was naïve. I learnt.’ She paused. ‘Besides, it did give me a rash and make my skin itch. As a result they went back and tweaked the formula.’
‘Nevertheless it was hardly a stellar moment.’
‘I’m well aware of that.’
‘And then what about the perfume?’ He paused. ‘Falsifying sales figures? I’d say that was verging on criminal.’
Phoebe stiffened. ‘It was nothing of the kind. It was simply a mistake. I was given the wrong data.’
‘And you didn’t think to check?’
‘I trusted my team.’
Alex grunted. ‘Now that was a mistake,’ he said more sharply than she would have thought the point warranted.
‘Evidently. But you needn’t worry. Now I check and double-check everything.’
Alex didn’t look as if that information alleviated his concerns in the slightest.
So two blips down, only one remained. Phoebe’s heart rate picked up. She’d spent so long in denial over this particular incident that she really didn’t want to have to rake through it all over again. But she doubted Alex would let it rest.
‘And the musician?’
She sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose and forced back the anguish that clenched her heart. ‘Dillon Black was an up and coming musician looking for representation.’ She shrugged as if the whole sorry affair had been a mere inconvenience instead of the heart-wrenching nightmare it had become. ‘I signed him up with the company I was working for at the time.’
‘I thought you specialised in fashion PR.’
Phoebe shifted on the chair and bit her lip. ‘I do. That was the trouble. When someone with more experience offered him a better deal he jumped ship faster than you can say “recording label.”’
‘So why did you sign him up?’
Phoebe closed her eyes briefly. ‘It was a blip. A one-off error of judgement.’
A tiny smile hovered over his mouth. ‘So it had nothing to do with the fact that you were living together at the time?’
Phoebe’s gaze jerked to his and her heart thundered. ‘How do you know that?’
‘My investigators are very thorough.’
‘This is outrageous.’
Alex shrugged. ‘Your lack of judgement seems to have been a recurrent theme in the course of your career.’
Phoebe gasped. How did he do that? He hit her where she was most vulnerable and then stuck the knife in, twisting it and slicing her heart open and releasing all the old aches and hurt.
‘I wanted to help him,’ she said, trying to keep a steady grip on her voice. ‘I trusted him. I never imagined he’d turn around and betray me.’
Phoebe’s heart hardened. She’d been so besotted by Dillon, had even thought herself in love with him, and he’d just been using her. Infatuation had made her take her eye off the ball, distracted her and screwed up her judgement. She’d very nearly lost her job and she’d vowed then and there that she’d never let herself get in that position again.
‘More fool you,’ he said flatly.
‘Indeed. Anyway,’ she said, pulling herself together and giving Alex a cool stare, ‘you can be sure that my judgement is now well and truly back on track. The experience taught me, one, to stick with what I’m good at, two, not to allow anyone or anything to deflect my focus.’
So she’d made mistakes. Who hadn’t? At least she’d learned from them. Alex was probably the sort who never admitted to making a mistake. Never admitted to being wrong. Typical, she thought with a little sniff.
‘Easy to say,’ he said sharply.
Phoebe shot him a questioning glance. ‘What’s made you so deeply suspicious of people’s behaviour?’
Alex’s eyelids dropped slightly so she couldn’t see the expression in his eyes. ‘Experience.’
‘Such cynicism in one so young.’
‘Not that young.’
‘Early thirties?’
‘Thirty-two.’
‘And in those thirty-two years, have you never made a mistake?’
‘We’re talking about you.’
Aha. So he had made a mistake. ‘What was it, Alex?’
Alex’s face darkened. ‘For someone who’s supposed to be fighting to keep their job, you’re veering way off course.’
That was something else that she’d been wondering about. ‘Why do you have responsibility over who Jo works with? She’s twenty-two. Why can’t she make her own decisions?’
His lips thinned. ‘She can’t be trusted to make her own decisions.’
Phoebe bristled. His arrogance was simply unbelievable. ‘Why not?’
‘Because she’s made lousy decisions in the past.’
Haven’t we all? thought Phoebe darkly. ‘But surely they’re her lousy decisions?’
Alex raked a hand through his hair and when he looked at her his expression was so desolate that Phoebe’s heart clenched. ‘Not when I have to pick up the pieces.’
‘Why do you have to pick up the pieces?’ Phoebe had always picked up her own pieces. Didn’t everyone?
‘I’m her brother.’
A tiny dart of envy pierced her chest, but she brushed it aside. ‘Does she know you trust her judgement so little?’
‘She knows I have her best interests at heart,’ he said flatly.
‘Her best interests at the moment are me.’
‘Then accept the challenge.’
Phoebe sat back and tried to read his expression. But it gave away nothing other than the fact that his position on the matter was totally immutable.
‘What if I say no? That I, for one, trust her judgement?’
‘I would have no hesitation in replacing you with my own PR team.’
‘Yours? Do they have any experience in fashion?’
‘Not yet.’
Phoebe stared at him, unable to fathom the emotion in his eyes. ‘You’d really do that? Even if it goes against Jo’s wishes?’
‘I would.’
&nbs
p; ‘And even though I’m the best person for the job?’
She could practically hear his teeth grinding. ‘All I want is what’s best for her.’
No, he didn’t, Phoebe realised with a flash of perception. Well, yes, the chances were he did want what was best for his sister, but that wasn’t all. For some reason Alex wanted, needed, to stay in control.
In all probability he’d confronted Jo with his intention, and based on the interaction between the two of them she’d witnessed last night she’d bet her brand new pair of designer heels that Jo had retaliated. That must have frustrated the hell out of him.
Good.
Phoebe itched with the urge to tell him to get lost. But she couldn’t. She had no doubt whatsoever that if she chose not to comply he’d have no compunction in batting her to one side and installing his own team. Aside from wrecking Jo’s future, it would batter her professional pride and would have devastating consequences on her career.
She really really needed to hang onto Jo. If she lost her… Phoebe shuddered at the thought and felt a trickle of cold sweat ripple down her back. The bank would call in the loan, her business would collapse and she’d have failed before she’d barely got started.
Well, that was not going to happen. She wouldn’t fail. She couldn’t fail. Her family didn’t do failure. Ever. And she didn’t intend to be the one to break the mould.
So she’d accept his challenge, and win.
‘I won’t let her down,’ she said with steely determination.
‘Then prove it.’
‘Fine. What’s the charity?’
He told her and Phoebe jotted down the details. ‘What do they do?’
‘They help people beat eating disorders.’
She tried and, she suspected, failed to hide her surprise. ‘Eating disorders?’ What interest could he possibly have in eating disorders?
A muscle twitched in his cheek. ‘It’s just one of the many charities I’m on the board of.’
‘How much do you need to raise?’
Alex named a figure that had Phoebe’s head snapping up and her jaw dropping. ‘With only twenty-four hours to prepare? That’s impossible.’
Alex shrugged. ‘If you’re as good as Jo seems to think you are, you should have no trouble. If you fail, however, you’re fired. Email my secretary for a guest list.’ He reached into the breast pocket of his jacket and tossed a card onto her desk.
‘This can’t be lawful.’
Alex stood up and stared down at her. ‘Are you willing to risk it? When did you say Jo’s launch was?’
Phoebe’s eyes narrowed. How had she ever thought he was gorgeous? The man was ruthless, devious and downright manipulative.
‘And if I don’t fail?’ she said, slowly getting to her feet and clawing back some semblance of control.
‘I’ll go back to being that silent partner and let you two get on with it.’
Phoebe stuck out her hand and threw him a confident smile. ‘In that case, you have a deal.’
CHAPTER FIVE
UGH. WHAT WAS that noise? Phoebe burrowed beneath her duvet and dragged a pillow over her ear while throwing an arm out and taking a swipe in the general direction of her alarm clock. The muffled clatter as it hit the floor and the familiar sound of batteries rolling around the floor-boards filtered into her sleep-sodden head. She waited for a second, and then as heavenly silence reigned snuggled down and drifted back into blissful unconsciousness.
Until the shrill ringing started up again.
It hadn’t been the alarm clock. Even in her dopey state she could work that one out. She sat up and clamped her hands over her ears but it was no good. Someone was sitting on her doorbell and clearly had little intention of going away.
With a groan, Phoebe untangled herself from the bedclothes and pushed her eye mask onto the top of her head. She staggered to her feet and stumbled to the window. Lifting the sash, she stuck her head out and yelled, ‘All right, I’m coming.’
To her intense relief, the infernal racket stopped instantly. She dragged on a silk dressing gown and made her way downstairs, grumbling with every step she took.
Just wait, she thought crossly, marching towards the front door. Whoever was calling at this ungodly hour deserved everything that was coming to them.
‘What?’ she said heatedly, flinging open the door and getting ready to give the postman a piece of her mind.
But as she glared at the figure standing on her doorstep Phoebe froze. It wasn’t the postman. Or the plumber. Or any one of the other possibilities that had vaguely crossed her mind.
It was Alex. Looking good enough to eat in faded jeans and a polo shirt, and a darn sight more together than she was.
‘Good morning, Phoebe.’
The bright sunlight burned her retinas and her eyes watered. This really wasn’t fair. She lifted her hand to shade her eyes as she stared up at him. ‘Uh, morning.’
Alex’s leisurely gaze travelled over her and Phoebe bristled at the faint smile that curved his lips. He could laugh all he wanted; he was the one who’d turned up unannounced. If he didn’t approve of the state he found her in, he only had himself to blame. ‘Can I come in?’
No was the answer on the tip of her tongue. Even though Phoebe suspected she couldn’t sink any lower in Alex’s estimations, she still had her vanity. She wanted to tell him to go away and come back in an hour. Her current outfit didn’t provide much in the way of a defence against a man like him and her hair could probably do with a brush. But as he was already stepping forward there was little she could do to stop him, short of shoving him out and slamming the door behind him, and her head hurt too much for that kind of effort.
‘Please do.’
Alex crossed the threshold into the hallway and Phoebe plastered herself against the wall in an attempt to prevent any kind of contact. Her hall wasn’t small but he managed to fill it, and even though he hadn’t brushed against her her treacherous body responded as if he had. A rush of heat shot through her and pooled at the juncture of her thighs. Beneath the flimsy layers she could feel her nipples stiffening and with a scowl she wrapped her dressing gown tightly around her and crossed her arms over her chest. ‘The kitchen’s straight on.’
Phoebe followed him into her kitchen, told herself to ignore the way his T-shirt highlighted the breadth of his shoulders and the muscles beneath, and set about making coffee.
‘What are you doing here?’ she said, sticking her head in a cupboard and rummaging around for a bag of beans. ‘I didn’t expect to see you until this evening.’
‘I called, but you didn’t answer.’
Phoebe pulled out the beans and a cafetiere and shot him an accusatory glare. ‘I was asleep.’
He leaned against the counter and looked her up and down again so thoroughly that Phoebe felt as if he’d stripped her naked. ‘So I can see. Out partying?’
She wished. Phoebe’s hackles shot up. ‘I was up until five researching your guests,’ she said with as much indignation as she could muster. The last couple of hours of research she’d dedicated to checking him out, but he didn’t need to know that.
‘Have you come up with a plan?’
‘I have.’
‘What is it?’
‘Oh, no, I’m not telling you that.’
‘Why not?’
‘You might sabotage it.’
‘I’m not that ruthless.’
‘Says the man who’d practically blackmailed me into this weekend.’
‘You can back out any time.’
Like that was going to happen. Phoebe’s head hurt. It was too early for this. She stifled a yawn.
‘What time is it?’
‘Ten.’
Hmm. Maybe not that early. But still, five hours of sleep on top of the broken night before was not going to have her firing on all cylinders.
A smile flashed across his face. ‘Are you always this irascible?’
‘Before coffee and short of sleep, always.’ Not to m
ention being caught by him probably looking like something that had been attacked by a pair of pinking shears.
She didn’t need a cup of coffee; she needed a tankerful. Flicking the kettle on she lifted her hand to run it through her hair. Oh, heavens. She still sported the eye mask. How attractive. She yanked it off and dropped it on the table.
‘Interesting nightwear.’
Phoebe glanced down at the two scarlet hearts. ‘A friend gave it to me on a hen night.’
‘It suits you. As does the rest of your outfit.’
His gaze slowly slid down her body and Phoebe felt herself growing as scarlet as the eye mask. She poured the beans into the grinder and switched it on. The noise rattled her brain and Phoebe winced. But at least it might stop her from wondering what he wore in bed. Anything at all would be rather a shame. He’d look amazing sprawled out over her sheets, tanned skin against soft white linen, his eyes darkening with desire…
Phoebe swallowed and gave herself a mental slap. She really needed to wake up.
Coffee finally made, Phoebe leaned against the opposite counter and regarded him cautiously. ‘So?’
Alex set his cup down and folded his arms over his chest. ‘It occurred to me that we hadn’t talked about the venue of my party.’
What was he? A mind reader? ‘Find out party location’ was the only item left on her ‘to do’ list. ‘I assumed it’s somewhere in London. I was going to call you later.’
Alex shook his head in mock despair and gave her a smile that made her stomach lurch. ‘Didn’t I warn you about the dangers of making assumptions?’
‘You did. So enlighten me.’ She blew on her coffee and took a fortifying sip. ‘Where is it?’
‘Ilha das Palmeiras.’
Hmm. Phoebe riffled through all the bars, restaurants and clubs that she knew of, but it didn’t ring any bells. ‘I might need a bit more to go on than that. Where’s Ilha das Palmeiras?’
‘It’s an island in the mid-Atlantic.’
An island in the mid-Atlantic? Phoebe blinked in confusion. He wanted her to go to an island in the mid-Atlantic? Today? For a party? She needed way more caffeine.
