by Sarah Morgan
He watched her for a moment and the atmosphere thickened between them. ‘You’re very determined,’ he said softly. ‘Just how desperate are you?’
Grace stared at him, her mouth dry. What did he mean by that? ‘I care, Mr Cordeiro, if that’s what you mean.’ Refusing to be daunted, she took a deep breath and gave a shaky smile. ‘I still have five minutes left to persuade you.’
She reached for her briefcase and removed the papers that she’d stowed carefully inside. Rafael Cordeiro was a man incapable of emotion so she had to appeal to a different part of him. He was a figures man so she’d give him figures. ‘You won’t continue your investment because, so far, you haven’t seen a profit. But the cafés are doing well. Speculate to accumulate, isn’t that what they say?’
‘Do they?’
She flushed and forced herself to carry on and not be put off by his bored tone or the dangerous glint in his eyes. ‘We’re breaking even now and we’ll soon be making money.’
‘Is that right?’
Something in the way he was looking at her caused her feeling of unease to rocket. ‘Once we start making money you’ll also start making money …’ Her voice tailed off as she saw the grim set of his mouth. What did it take to make the man smile? ‘I’m going to be completely honest here. It’s taken longer than I thought it would and the figures aren’t what they should be. The cafés are all so busy that I can’t understand why we’re not already in profit.’
‘Can you not?’
Faintly encouraged by his smooth tone, she decided to be completely open. ‘I probably made a few mistakes at the beginning. Our operating costs were too high. Much higher than I planned. I paid more for things than I should have done. Now that we’re expanding, it’s easier to negotiate good deals. Give me a bit longer. You won’t regret it.’
‘I already regret it. I don’t like the way you do business, Miss Thacker.’
Shocked, she stared at him. ‘You mean, because the business has been slow to take off? All right, I accept that, but give me a little longer. I have loads of ideas that I want to talk to you about. I know that I can make Café Brazil profitable.’
‘But at whose expense, Miss Thacker?’ His softly spoken question made her frown.
He was a billionaire. Surely the fact that she hadn’t yet given him a financial return on his investment couldn’t be that much of a problem? ‘I realise that you’ve given us an enormous sum of money but we will pay it back with interest as the business grows. I’d really appreciate an opportunity to go through the figures with you and show you our plans. I really hope that when I’ve given you a full picture of where we’re going with Café Brazil, you’ll agree to extend your investment.’
‘Why would I do that?’
‘Because you’ll see that it’s worth it for you.’ She lifted her briefcase onto the table. ‘If you withdraw your investment then the company goes under, it’s as simple as that. And if the company goes under—’
‘You lose your enviable lifestyle.’
She frowned slightly, thinking of the fourteen-hour days she’d been putting into the business. Was that what he meant? ‘I’m certainly lucky to have a business that I love,’ she said, venturing a smile and then withdrawing it instantly as she saw the chill in his eyes.
He held out a hand. ‘Show me the accounts.’
Her heart lifted. There was hope, after all. Why would he want to see the accounts if he wasn’t considering extending the loan? She hastily opened the case, hating the fact that her hands were shaking slightly. She was on the spot and he was trying to catch her out. It was like being back at school again. Back in that hideous torture chamber where everyone was just waiting for her to fail.
You’re stupid, Grace Thacker. Thick. Concentrate, you brainless girl.
Taking a deep breath, she reminded herself that she wasn’t in school now and that she’d come a long way since those awful days.
And she wasn’t going to fail.
Reaching into the case, she pulled out the neat pile of papers that her father had carefully collated and handed them to him.
He flicked through the pages with lean, bronzed fingers. ‘This is still your five minutes, Miss Thacker. Keep talking.’
Didn’t he need a moment to concentrate?
Envying the ease with which his eyes skimmed the figures, taking them all in at a glance, she looked away and tried to forget he was there as she outlined her plans for the future. She told him about the new sites she’d found, about her plans to extend each café.
Revealed her dream.
And received no reaction from him. He picked up a pen, made a few notes, flicked over the page and then finally lifted his gaze. ‘I admire you, Miss Thacker.’
From the ashes of disappointment she felt a warm glow of hope. ‘You do?’
‘Yes. I always admire people with nerve.’ He fingered the papers in front of him and she could see the strength in his hands. ‘In the circumstances I would have expected you to be hiding on the opposite side of the globe.’
Grace pressed her shaking knees together. ‘Hiding?’
‘I’m not a very nice person when I’m crossed.’
She had the distinct feeling that she was missing something. ‘Then I won’t cross you,’ she said lamely, the friendly smile dying on her face under his cold gaze. ‘The accounts should show you that the business has huge potential.’
‘These accounts show me that you’re very busy.’
‘Very.’
‘But not making a profit.’
She pulled a face. ‘Not yet.’
‘Interesting, don’t you think, that you’re busy and yet you’re not making a profit?’
Grace stared at him. ‘I suppose that’s the nature of business. It sometimes takes longer than you think to get off the ground. If you look at the figures you’ll see that we’ll soon be in profit.’
‘I’m well-acquainted with the figures, Miss Thacker.’ He dropped the accounts on the table. ‘And I only have one question.’
One question?
Grace straightened in her chair, feeling a wave of relief. She’d braced herself for hundreds of questions all exploring the company accounts in minute detail. And she’d been dreading it. ‘Please ask your question.’ She gave him a sunny smile and he watched her for a moment, his eyes fixed on her face.
‘Tell me, Miss Thacker, how do you sleep at night?’
CHAPTER TWO
THE sunlight poured through the windows and Rafael Cordeiro watched as the colour fled from her cheeks.
Your game’s up, beauty, he said to himself, wondering how she could have been so naïve as to think that he wouldn’t discover what was going on in her company. Not that she hadn’t been clever, because she had. The numbers added up. Most people wouldn’t have spotted what he had.
Most people didn’t have his lack of faith in human nature.
At first glance her accounts appeared to reveal nothing more than a business that was slow to get off the ground. And her apparent desire to be friendly and chatty was a strategy that might well have succeeded with a man less cynical and experienced with her sex than him. Grace Thacker came across as engaging, enthusiastic and refreshingly open.
A different man could have been impressed by her admission of disappointment that her business should have been in profit by now.
A different man might have allowed himself to believe in her innocence.
It was fortunate for him, and unfortunate for her, that his speciality was greedy, unscrupulous women. Had that not been the case, his suspicions wouldn’t have been roused and he would never have discovered that Café Brazil wasn’t what it claimed to be and that Grace Thacker was a long way from being the caring, magnanimous employer that she pretended to be.
The fact that she had the nerve to turn up here and beg him to keep pouring money into her little scam was yet another testament to her greed and lack of conscience.
In normal circumstances he would have allocated one of
his staff to sort out the problem, but in Grace Thacker’s case he’d decided that he was going to deal with her personally.
Looking at her polished nails and shiny hair, he felt a slow, burning anger build inside him. She looked pampered and secure and it was quite obvious that she didn’t know the meaning of the word hardship. Did she have any idea how it felt to be cold and hungry? Did she know what it felt like to try and sleep without a roof over her pretty little head?
No, of course she didn’t. Why would she?
He was willing to bet that the biggest struggle in her life so far had been deciding which heels to wear with which outfit.
When she’d contacted him, requesting a meeting, his initial reaction had been to refuse. Why waste his time on her? But then he’d decided on a different approach.
Retribution.
Grace Thacker had shattered lives and was about to shatter more.
She should be made to face the consequences of her unscrupulous behaviour. She should be made to suffer. He hadn’t decided how yet, but he was working on it.
And looking at her now, dressed in a suit that had undoubtedly cost an obscene amount of money, wearing shoes that shrieked of sex, expecting him to extend his loan in her business, he knew he’d made the right decision.
Just how far, he wondered idly as he admired her slender ankles and the soft curve of her calf, was she prepared to go in her attempts to persuade him? It was a pity for her that he never allowed his sex life and his business life to overlap because the chemistry between them had been live and electric from the moment she’d caught her heel on the walkway. She’d stooped to release her shoe and that action had allowed him a tempting vision of lacy white bra and creamy cleavage. Her silky sheet of blonde hair had swung forward over her face and her lips had parted in a soft gasp as she’d struggled not to lose her balance.
For a moment the anger simmering to life inside him had been overwhelmed by a surge of masculine lust so intense that it had bordered on the painful.
And then she’d noticed him. And had clutched at her briefcase like a lifebelt. That gesture alone had been sufficient to quench his libido and remind him of the reason she was here.
Money.
Aside from the shiny hair, the tempting cleavage and the long legs, Grace Thacker was no different from any other greedy woman.
Dark memories swirled up from the recesses of his mind but he pushed them away with ruthless determination, instead turning the full force of his anger onto Grace Thacker.
No wonder her father hadn’t come, he thought bitterly. They obviously hadn’t wanted anything to dilute the pure, virginal image she presented in her white shirt and her clean, shiny hair. If she’d been standing in front of a judge and jury, they’d have cleared her of murder.
She stood, frozen to the spot, her expression suitably confused as she considered his question. ‘Why would I have trouble sleeping at night?’ Her expression was innocent, her complexion as pure and English as clotted cream.
He was willing to bet she’d had a traditional English upbringing. She’d probably attended one of those starched girls’ boarding-schools that taught the essential rule for surviving in life—namely how to part a man from his wallet.
The usual technique was to marry a rich guy and then divorce and take him to the cleaners. The three Rs of female money-making—Reel in a wealthy guy, Rip him off and Retire.
He wondered why Grace Thacker hadn’t taken that route. Perhaps she considered it too much bother.
He suppressed his natural inclination to confront her with the information in his possession and conclude the meeting as swiftly as possible.
That approach made it all a bit too easy for her, didn’t it? She’d protest a bit at first, probably bluster and deny everything until she realised just how much he knew, then she’d probably use tears or sex to persuade him not to prosecute. Either way, she’d fly back to London without her loan and that would be the end of that.
And he didn’t want it to be the end.
She was going to suffer. He wanted her to feel some of the worry and uncertainty that she’d inflicted on others. And she was worried, he could see it in her eyes. Despite the act, Grace Thacker was nervous.
‘Why would you think I might not be able to sleep at night?’ Her blue eyes were wide. ‘You mean, because I’m worrying about how we’ll pay off our debts if you call in your loan?’
No, he hadn’t meant that, but he decided to go along with her. ‘Are you worried?’
‘Of course.’ She gave him a shy smile that faltered under his grim stare. ‘So many people are depending on me but you just have to push that out of your head, don’t you, or you’d go nuts?’
He leaned back in his chair and watched her, searching for cracks, flaws. Any sign that she had a human streak. Any sign of remorse. But there was nothing. Just a flicker of wariness that suggested that he was the one who was being unreasonable. ‘So you don’t think about other people?’
She frowned slightly. ‘Well, it’s hard not to, when you’re responsible for their income, but it’s important that you don’t let emotion affect what needs to be done or everyone suffers.’
Memories, vile and deadly, slid into his brain and this time there was no holding them back.
Suddenly he was eight years old again. Eight years old and totally alone. Starving hungry. Frightened. Lost in the dark. Surrounded by menacing and unfamiliar sounds that all meant danger. Freezing sweat bathed his body and he rose to his feet and paced across to the window, struggling to free himself from the dark tentacles of his past.
For a moment he stood still, steadying his breathing, and then he turned to face her, nothing of his feelings showing on his face. ‘So would you describe yourself as ruthless?’
‘Honestly?’ The corners of her soft mouth lifted. ‘No, I’m not. But I don’t think you necessarily have to be ruthless to succeed in business.’
‘What about deceitful and manipulative?’ Rafael kept his tone neutral. ‘Are those qualities that you consider necessary for corporate advancement?’
She stared at him. ‘I don’t understand where this conversation is going.’
‘No?’ But she was wondering, she had to be.
And suddenly he decided on a course of action.
He was going to show her the consequences of her actions. Personally. And, in doing so, he was going to make sure that she suffered. Really suffered. His eyes rested on the neat little suit and the sexy shoes with the thin, tall heel. Oh, yes, she was going to suffer.
Generally speaking his interest in women’s clothing was only sparked by the removal process, but he did know that four-inch heels and the jungle were a less than promising combination. ‘Did you pack a bag, Miss Thacker?’
‘For what?’
‘I want you to stay for a few days, as my guest.’ He pushed away a disturbingly clear image of her naked body reclining in his sumptuous guest bedroom and instead imagined her picking her way along a rough jungle path in a pair of heels designed for a short stroll round a glittery shopping mall. ‘You’ve come all this way. There are a few things I’d like to show you, while you’re here.’
Like snakes, spiders and more jungle than you’ve ever dreamed of.
The wariness in her eyes grew. ‘A moment ago you were telling me that I only had ten minutes. Why would you suddenly invite me to stay?’
Because he was going to drive her tension levels into outer space. And then he was going to make her sorry. Really, really sorry.
‘I’m always impressed by determination, Miss Thacker,’ he drawled, suppressing the irony in his tone. ‘You’ve earned yourself extra time.’
There was a flicker of hope in her eyes. ‘You’re prepared to give me more time?’
‘Providing you agree to let me show you the magic of our rainforest.’ His silky tone didn’t appear to ring any alarm bells because she gave him a warm, trusting smile.
‘Thank you so much.’ She clasped her hands in front of her.
‘You won’t regret it. We can chat on the journey.’
Chat? Wondering whether to point out that the word didn’t actually exist in his vocabulary, Rafael shot her an incredulous glance and then realised that she truly had absolutely no concept of what lay in store for her.
By the time he’d finished with her she was more likely to be screaming than chatting.
‘I look forward to showing you some of the rare and beautiful sights of my country,’ he purred. ‘I would relish the opportunity to take you to certain parts which I think would be of interest.’
One of which might well be his bedroom, he thought idly, watching the colour that touched her cheeks. It was true that he preferred to keep his business life and his sex life separate, but Grace Thacker couldn’t really be counted as business because he was going to see to it personally that her business was finished. Which meant that he could legitimately turn his attention to pleasure.
‘I hadn’t planned on sightseeing.’
‘I’m talking about visiting the fazenda. The coffee farm that supplies your chain. It’s right that you should know more about the product you sell.’ He watched her carefully but she simply smiled and the smile put dimples in her cheeks and made her seem even younger.
‘I couldn’t agree more. I’d love to visit the coffee growers. My father insisted on doing that bit when we originally set up the deal. What a great idea.’
Ignoring the dimples and the sudden heat in his loins, Rafael suddenly wanted to laugh.
For sheer bald front, you couldn’t fault her. By now she had to be wondering just how much he knew about her and yet there wasn’t even a flicker of guilt in her eyes. Or concern about his proposal to take her deep into the jungle. She just stood there in her perfectly cut Armani suit, balancing on four-inch heels, as if tramping through the Brazilian rainforest was something she’d packed for and which she frequently did in her spare time.
