Daughters of Fortune: A Novel

by Hyland, Tara

  “This just wasn’t a good idea,” she said. “I should go.”

  She could still hear him calling after her as she ran down the stairs and out into the driving rain.

  26

  _________

  A week before the Tokyo store was due to open, Elizabeth called her father with a progress report. It was a short conversation, even by their standards. He sounded distracted, and after a while she gave up.

  “Are you still coming out next week?” she asked.

  “I’m afraid I won’t be able to make it.” He didn’t sound in the least apologetic. “I’m far too tied up here.”

  She was disappointed but not surprised. She’d almost been expecting him to cancel.

  “So who’s taking your place? Uncle Piers?”

  “No. I’m sending Cole.”

  Elizabeth sat up straighter. “Oh, right.” She instinctively pulled a hand through her blonde hair. “So when is he coming out?” she asked as casually as possible.

  Five minutes later, Elizabeth put down the phone. She came out of her office humming. Chihiro, her secretary, looked up in surprise. Elizabeth-san was usually in a dreadful mood after speaking to her father. She wondered what was different this time.

  Cole called her later that day. “Did your dad tell you I’m coming over to check up on you?” he asked.

  “He did,” she replied, adding boldly, “and I’m sure you’ll be impressed.”

  Her confidence made him laugh, as she’d known it would. “You know, it takes a lot to impress me,” he drawled.

  “Well, I’m up for the challenge.”

  “I’m sure you are.”

  The comment hung there for a moment, neither of them quite sure what to do with it.

  “So,” Elizabeth broke the silence before it became uncomfortable, “what else is going on in London?”

  They talked for a while longer, bantering back and forth. When they finally put the phone down forty minutes later, they were both smiling. They were also both looking forward to the following weekend.

  The next seven days were the most frantic and exhilarating of Elizabeth’s life. Seeing something she had created come into being trumped every other event, every other achievement.

  It helped that Melville’s Tokyo store was an instant hit. Elizabeth stuck with her English theme, eschewing the usual champagne-and-canapé reception for the grand opening and opting instead for a traditional afternoon tea—cucumber sandwiches with the crusts cut off, freshly baked scones, clotted cream, and pots of Twinings tea. The Japanese loved it. There were rave reviews in every influential newspaper and magazine and the foot traffic was ten times as high as even her most optimistic estimates. If trade continued at that pace, the cost of opening the store would be recouped in ten months.

  It was good having Cole there to witness her success. After all those months when he’d given her a hard time, payback felt good. And once the initial furor surrounding the store opening died down, they got to spend some time together.

  The night of the opening, they stayed late—just the two of them—overseeing the accounting and going through the first sales figures. By the time they finished, they were both starving. Elizabeth suggested walking down the street to a nearby izakaya, the Japanese equivalent of a tapas bar, where she often went with the store managers.

  “I didn’t think this would be your kind of place,” Cole remarked, casting an eye around the crowded room. It was noisy and cheap—clearly a favorite of the after-work crowd.

  “I do know how to have fun, Cole,” Elizabeth retorted, enjoying surprising him. When the waitress came over, she made sure to order a beer—earning her another raised eyebrow from Cole.

  Over a couple of bottles of Asahi and plate after plate of food, they caught up.

  “So how’s Kathleen?” Elizabeth asked finally.

  “Fine.” Cole paused to wolf down the last yakitori and then looked over at Elizabeth. “You know, we’re not an item. And, for the record, we never were. That night after the presentation, it was just a drink between colleagues.”

  Elizabeth shrugged carelessly. “It’s none of my business.” But secretly she was pleased he’d wanted to set her straight. In fact, she saw that as her green light. After that, she took to wearing as little as possible. If she was being unprofessional, she didn’t care. She wanted Cole to notice her. She was aware that he was only in Tokyo for a limited time. If something was going to happen, it would have to be soon. And she wasn’t the type to hang around waiting.

  Cole noticed her, all right. It would have been hard not to. He reminded himself that he worked for her father—that one day she’d be running the company—and it really wasn’t a good idea to get involved. The problem was, however sensible he wanted to be about this, when it came down to it, Elizabeth was smart and sexy and she was throwing herself at him. Ignoring her increasingly skimpy outfits was one thing. Ignoring his raging hard-on was another.

  The crux came on his final evening. They were working late in her office, going over the first two weeks’ figures. Elizabeth kicked off her shoes, leaned back in the chair, and put her feet up on the desk, inches away from where Cole was working.

  “God, I’m tired,” she said, stretching theatrically to prove her point, her tiny dress riding up over her firm thighs.

  Cole grunted, keeping focused on his computer. He knew it was a ploy to get his attention, and he didn’t want to rise to the bait. A moment later, she crossed her slim ankles. He glanced over briefly, taking in the beautifully pedicured toenails, his eyes involuntarily moving up her long, tanned legs.

  He forced himself to look back at his screen. It took him a moment to realize he had no idea what he was staring at. Screw it, he thought. He slammed the laptop lid down. Elizabeth looked up, startled.

  “Let’s get out of here,” he said abruptly.

  She raised a questioning eyebrow.

  “You’re right,” he said. “I’m tired, too. We should go back to the hotel, freshen up, and carry on working there.”

  It was a neat little line, to cover his ass. Both of them knew that if they went back to the hotel, the last thing they’d be doing was turning the laptops on. She caught his drift and grinned.

  “Yeah,” she said with mock solemnity. “I’m sure we’ll get a lot more done back at the hotel.”

  They packed up quickly and grabbed a cab outside the office. It was a short journey to the Park Hyatt Tokyo, where they were both staying. Neither of them spoke the whole way there. To an outsider, it would have seemed that they were two business colleagues sharing a ride. But there was a reason the taxi driver kept looking back at them, as though he could feel the tension. It didn’t help that Elizabeth was drumming her fingers impatiently on the leather armrest.

  Finally they reached the hotel. Cole threw some money at the driver, didn’t bother to wait for change. He held out his hand to help Elizabeth out of the car. Their fingers touched, and they both felt the crackle of electricity pass between them.

  “Your place or mine?” Elizabeth joked, as they waited for the lift to arrive. They had identical rooms next to each other.

  “I’d feel safer on my turf.”

  “Then my room it is,” Elizabeth said, smiling sweetly.

  It took no time for them to reach the fifty-second floor. Cole murmured something about going to change. Alone in her suite, Elizabeth slipped into her silk kimono and opened some champagne, pouring herself a glass.

  There was a light knock on the door, and to Elizabeth’s surprise, she felt a fluttering deep in her stomach. God, she hadn’t expected to be this nervous. It wasn’t like her at all. Pulling herself together, she went to let Cole in. He looked good, more his age, in jeans and a sweatshirt. She could tell from his fresh complexion that he’d splashed water on his face.

  Cole had hoped that having a few moments alone would give him a chance to compose himself. But that was shot to hell as soon as he saw Elizabeth. He was used to her in work mode. Even the past f
ew days, when she had been deliberately turning up the heat, couldn’t prepare him for this, Elizabeth at her most predatory. She struck a pose in the doorway. With her golden hair brushed out, and in the short black kimono, she looked like an expensive call girl. A very expensive one.

  “I hope you don’t mind,” she said, enjoying the way he was staring at her, “but I thought I’d slip into something a little more comfortable.”

  He cleared his throat. “No problem.”

  She allowed herself a smile as he followed her back along the hallway. After all those months of him treating her like dirt, she liked being back in the driver’s seat.

  “Can I fix you a drink?” she asked, once they reached the living area. “There’s some half-decent champagne here.”

  She went to make for the bar, but Cole was too fast for her. She gasped as his hand snapped around her wrist, pulling her back around to face him. Impatience fired his black eyes.

  “I don’t want a damn drink,” he growled.

  In her bare feet, she was suddenly aware of how he physically dwarfed her. She felt unexpectedly vulnerable. In that moment, crushed against his chest, she was reminded of how similar they were. Like her, he didn’t enjoy being dictated to. She’d spent the afternoon playing games. Now he wanted to take back control.

  He still had hold of her wrist, tight enough to hurt a little, but she wasn’t complaining. He was so close now that she could feel his breath on her face, his body warm and hard next to hers. She was about to make her move, but he got there first, reaching down to tug at the belt of her kimono, loosening the knot. She shrugged the robe from her shoulders. The material slid off her, pooling on the floor at her feet. She stood before him then, naked apart from the tiniest scrap of black lace underwear. His eyes swept over her, devouring every inch of her, her strong legs, tight stomach, firm breasts, not a spare ounce of flesh on her.

  “Not bad,” he said. “Not bad at all.”

  Elizabeth took a step back. Anger flared in her. “What the hell’s that supposed to mean—” she bridled.

  The words died as he reached down between her legs, cupping her in his strong hand. Suddenly she forgot what she’d been complaining about. Through the thin material of her underwear, he could feel she was already wet with anticipation. She pressed herself down against his palm, as if to confirm what he already knew. Slowly, insistently, she rubbed against him.

  “Hmmm,” he breathed into her ear, pleased by her reaction. “So you like that?”

  She sighed softly against him in answer. She could see he was turned on too, his erection straining against the heavy denim of his jeans. She started to undo his belt, but he grabbed her wrist, stopping her.

  “Not yet, sweetheart.” He was already too far gone. If she touched him now, it would all be over in seconds. Not exactly the way to impress her. Instead, he knelt down in front of her, slipping his thumbs into either side of her g-string, slowly easing the black lace down over her ass, her thighs. He waited an agonizing moment. Then he lowered his mouth onto her. His tongue licked back and forth, gentle at first and then harder, more insistent, until she started to moan.

  “Oh God, Cole,” Elizabeth murmured. “That feels so good.” She buried her hands in his thick, dark hair, drawing him closer. She could feel her orgasm starting to build, waves of delicious little contractions. He must have sensed it, too, because he pushed her back onto the bed and started to undress himself. She waited, naked and impatient for him to join her. When he finally finished undressing, he stood in front of her for a long moment, allowing her to scrutinize him as he’d scrutinized her. He had a beautiful body, taut and firm; every part of him big, larger than life.

  She couldn’t wait any longer. Pulling him down on top of her, she wrapped her legs around his waist, drawing him into her. He began to move inside her, and she moved with him, meeting him thrust for thrust. Oh God . . . oh God . . . She couldn’t think anymore . . .

  She began to cry out first. Then seconds later he joined her.

  When Elizabeth woke the following morning, she was surprised and a little irritated to find Cole asleep next to her. She had expected him to leave discreetly, return to his own room. Instead, his arm was thrown over her, as though he didn’t want to let her go.

  Slowly, stealthily, she slid out from under him, careful not to disturb him. She showered and dressed as quietly as possible. To her relief, he was still asleep when she slipped from the room. Downstairs, her car was waiting. She was at her desk by eight.

  An hour later, Cole arrived. She glanced up briefly as he walked into the room.

  “Good morning, Cole.”

  Her brisk tone must not have registered, because he walked over to her desk and perched on the side. He smiled down at her.

  “Hey, I didn’t expect you to run out on me this morning. What happened?”

  She looked up at him blankly. “Nothing. I had some work to do.” There was a pause. “In fact, I’m really busy right now. Is there anything in particular you wanted?”

  “I just wondered if you wanted to get some food tonight?” He still hadn’t caught her mood. “My flight’s at ten, but we could go out early . . .”

  “Why? Was there something you wanted to discuss?”

  He frowned. “Nothing specific. I just thought it might be . . . well, nice to hang out.”

  She put down her pen and sighed. “Is this about last night?” she asked bluntly.

  He blinked, taken aback by the question. “I guess. I just thought—”

  “You thought I left early this morning because I couldn’t handle the fact that we slept together?”

  This time, Cole didn’t bother answering.

  She gave him a cool smile. “Then let me save you the trouble of worrying. Last night was just about sex. Two people who were attracted to each other just doing what comes naturally. You know, scratching an itch.”

  “Hey, there’s no need to talk like that!”

  “Yes, there is.” She leaned back in the chair, and he could tell she was enjoying this. “You see, I just wanted to have some fun, enjoy the moment. And you engaging me in this excruciating postmortem is really rather ruining that.”

  Cole stared at her for a long moment. She could see he was struggling to control his fury.

  “Fine,” he said. “I get it. Whatever you want, Elizabeth.” With that, he sat down, took out his laptop, and fired it up.

  They worked in silence for the rest of the day. When he left that evening to catch his plane, they said a brief, cool good-bye. Elizabeth stayed at the office for an hour longer and then headed back to the hotel.

  It was only then, in the silence of her suite, with another evening alone looming ahead, that she couldn’t help wondering if she’d made a huge mistake.

  27

  _________

  Rosalind Melville was dying. She knew that with absolute certainty. Death permeated every square foot of her elegantly furnished Mayfair flat, her world reduced to one room now. There were few visitors these days. Most of her friends had already gone. She remembered a time when weekends had been a constant flurry of weddings, followed by the inevitable christenings—and then, before long, the funerals had begun.

  Hers should have been one of them. Most people wouldn’t have left the hospital after the second heart attack, but naturally Rosalind had had the best care money could buy. She’d been allowed to go home, and a team of nurses now monitored her around the clock. They fed her ACE inhibitors and were trained to operate the mobile defibrillator unit that occupied one corner of the bedroom, where the antique dresser had once stood.

  It was only family you could really count on at the end; the dying woman realized that now. Her sons were loyal visitors—Elizabeth, too, when she was in London. Today was Saturday, so William was down at Aldringham, but Piers was here with her. Over the years she had often wished that he would marry. Now she was pleased he hadn’t. It meant he never minded the hours spent sitting by her bed, holding her hand. He was re
ading aloud to her from War and Peace, but she was finding it hard to concentrate and had lost the thread of the plot.

  Feebly, she squeezed his hand. “That’s enough for now, darling.” Even she was surprised by how weak she sounded. It wouldn’t be long now, she was sure.

  Piers did as he was told. Using a bookmark so he wouldn’t lose his place, he put the novel down on her bedside cabinet.

  “Did I tell you what that Cole Greenway’s been up to?” he asked.

  Rosalind smiled faintly. He could never simply sit in amiable silence.

  “No,” she said. “I don’t believe you did.”

  Without prompting, he started to complain about Melville’s head of strategy—some minor slight that Rosalind could hardly fathom. She knew what was really eating him. William could be fickle with his affections. This Cole person was his new closest adviser—and that was a role Piers liked to keep for himself. He hated anyone coming between him and his brother.

  As he launched into a convoluted explanation of the takeover defenses that were being put in place, Rosalind realized she no longer cared. The company she had once loved now seemed so unimportant. All those years spent chasing money and power seemed senseless in the face of death. It was her epiphany; something that had come to her during the long days spent in this bed. All that mattered to her now was dying in peace.

  She had been thinking a lot about the consequences of her actions lately—like the changes to her will. She knew how much they would hurt William, and she didn’t want that to be her legacy to him. Especially as her reasons for changing, which had seemed so crucial five years ago, no longer felt important. She was also beginning to question the wisdom of giving Amber shares in the company, even if they were going to be held in trust until she was twenty-one.

  But resolving her will was only a minor point. There was something else on her mind, too. Something that she should have told William a long time ago. About what had happened all those years ago with Katie O’Dwyer.

  Rosalind had planned on broaching the subject with Piers today. She knew he wouldn’t like what she had to say. Five years ago, she had sworn to him that she would never utter a word of what they had done, because she knew that it would jeopardize his relationship with William. But now she wanted to go back on that promise. She didn’t want to die with a guilty conscience. She needed to make things right with her eldest son.