Blood rushed up my neck and into my face as I crouched down to pick up the mess. It was awkward kneeling down in my pencil skirt, but I was more concerned about gathering the papers before he saw them. It only took five seconds before I realized the concern was unnecessary, because, even though I’d dropped the pages at his feet, he was not bending down to help me. I was right about his character, it seemed. Arrogant, egocentric. Asshole.
I shoved the papers back in the file and shot a glare up at him, which turned out to be a mistake, because there he was, peering down at me with that perma-smirk, and something about the position I was in and his exuding dominance sent a shiver through my body. My skin felt like it was on fire, and goosebumps paraded down my arms. His presence was overpowering. Overwhelming. Unsettling.
My mouth dropped open in surprise. Men didn’t make me feel this way. I made men feel this way. I overpowered the men around me. I overwhelmed them. I unsettled them.
I didn’t like it. And yet, I also kind of did. It wasn’t only an unusual feeling, but it was a feeling. It had been a long time since I’d felt anything, let alone something so startling.
I swallowed and prepared to rise when he surprised me again, finally stooping down to my level.
“Edward Fasbender,” he said, holding out his hand.
With a scowl, I took it. My hand felt warm in his tight grip, and I let him hold on past the length of a standard handshake, let him help lift me back to a standing position before I withdrew it sharply.
He smirked at this too—that mouth smirked at everything, but I could feel the smirk in his eyes as well. “I’ve been looking forward to meeting you, Celia,” he said in his distinguished British dialect. “Have a seat, will you?”
If there had been any logic to not taking a seat, I would have continued to stand, simply because I hated conceding any more control to him than I already felt I had. But there wasn’t anything practical about standing, so I threw my bag and the file on the table, pulled out a chair and angled it toward the head where, if the laptop and phone sitting there were any indication, I surmised he was going to sit.
“I hadn’t realized I’d only be meeting with you, Mr. Fasbender.” I purposefully didn’t scoot the chair back into the table so he could have a prime view while I crossed one long leg over the other. I had nice legs. They were two of my best weapons.
The bastard didn’t even glance down. With his eyes pinned on mine, he unbuttoned his jacket and sat in the seat I’d assumed he’d take. “Edward, please,” he said sternly. He’d already made it clear he meant to call me Celia, even without my invitation to do so.
“As I was saying, Edward, I would have insisted we met in my office if I’d known you were reserving a meeting room simply for my benefit.”
He tilted his head, his stone expression showing nothing. “It wasn’t simply for your benefit. I’ve been using this room as my office while I’m in the States meeting with potential investors. It’s unconventional, perhaps, but I’m already staying in the hotel, and so the location has proved convenient. Plus, I rather like the setting, don’t you?”
I ignored how much I liked the low timbre of his voice and surveyed my surroundings once more. The Fontainebleau was one of the more lavish meeting rooms in the hotel. With the numerous crystal chandeliers, gold leaf plating, and ornate molding, the decor seemed to have been directly inspired by Versailles. I appreciated the luxurious look, but this was a bit on the abundant side, particularly when being used as an office. The fact that he liked it said more about his character. I added pompous and extravagant to my earlier assessment. He was probably even going to use the room as an example of whatever it was he wanted me to design for him.
No. Just no. Even if I were accepting his job offer, which I wasn’t.
Refraining from commenting on the decor, I turned back to my subtle admonishment. “I’m sure this is convenient for you, but our discussion will be limited because of it. I’ve brought my computer and a portfolio, which will show you some of my work, but this would be much easier if you could see the models in my office. Maybe we can reschedule and meet there at a later time?” It would be even more delightful to reject him after stringing him along.
“That won’t be necessary. I’m not interested in your design work.”
The hairs on the back of my neck pricked up in warning, and I was suddenly glad for the man outside the door. Not that I couldn’t handle myself. I’d been in much more precarious situations than this and survived.
“I’m sorry,” I said, my voice cool and steady from practice. “I don’t believe I understand.” Though, I was beginning to have my suspicions. If I wasn’t here about a design project, this meeting could only have to do with my father.
“Of course you don’t. I didn’t have any intention for you to understand until I was ready to explain.”
He was such an arrogant piece of work. If I wasn’t completely aroused with curiosity, I would have been out the door at this point.
“Since I’m here now, I’d appreciate it if you’d go ahead and fill me in. What is it you want from me?”
He leaned back in his seat, somehow seeming just as upright with his posture even in the reclined position. “What I want, Celia, is quite simple—I want you to marry me.”
Two
I felt my jaw go slack, but I refused to let it gape. Refused to let him see the extent of my shock. “Excuse me, what did you say?”
“You heard me.” His expression remained unreadable except for the slight twitch of his left eye, which I guessed to be amusement.
Oh. It was a joke, then.
“Ha ha,” I said, hating how uncertainty coursed through my body. It was an unfamiliar feeling. It made my breaths come shallow and my ribs feel tight. “Very funny. Do you use this opening a lot with potential new associates?” At least my voice stayed steady. Surprising considering how shaken my nerves were.
“I assure you, Celia, I’m quite serious.”
Heat flushed through me. Embarrassment, as the situation became clear. I’d planned to fuck with my father’s rival, and here, he’d beaten me to the punch.
I gathered the file and threw it into my bag. “I hope you enjoyed making a spectacle out of me, Mr. Fasbender.” Like hell was I calling him by his Christian name now. “I’m sure it’s quite the life you lead where playing around with other human beings is merely a means of entertainment.”
The words were out of my mouth before I realized the hypocrisy in them. I knew about such games. I knew about such forms of entertainment.
But he didn’t know that, and I wasn’t about to clue him in. I could be an exceptionally good actress when I wanted to be. “Most of us have to take our jobs seriously. Most of us don’t have ample free time to satisfy such juvenile whims.”
I rose to my feet, slung my bag over my shoulder, and spun toward the door.
“Sit back down, Celia.”
He hadn’t raised his voice, but it was sharp, and the authority in his command was indisputable. It stopped me immediately.
Slowly, I turned back toward him. I didn’t even think of the action consciously. In fact, I could hear myself arguing with my body as I pivoted in his direction. Don’t do it, don’t do it, don’t do it.
But it was as though I were a mechanical doll he was controlling by remote. I couldn’t not turn around. I couldn’t not give him more of my attention.
I was able to find enough restraint to not immediately sit down, at least. With my heart hammering in my chest, I stared at him with bold determination.
He raised his brows, as though it wasn’t often that his demands were questioned. It might have given me a thread of satisfaction if I didn’t sense the current of fury underneath the surprise. It was strong and swift and there, as clear as any word he’d spoken.
It scared me.
Thrilled me, too. How often did I meet someone as dauntless as I was? I’d never encountered someone who was more so.
I swallowed, and when his eyes
flicked from me to the chair, an unspoken order, I sank primly back into the seat.
The edges of his lips curled into a faint smile, and, as enraged as I was at his gloating victory, the small gesture also sparked something warm and strange along my sternum.
“You’ll find I hate to repeat myself,” he said after a beat. “But let me say again, I am quite serious about my proposition.”
In an attempt to get my bearings, I studied him. I had absolutely no read on him whatsoever. His motives, his mood—all incomprehensible, no matter how hard I tried to stare into him. I did notice he was even more attractive than I’d first thought, despite his stony expression. Maybe even because of it. He was completely composed and poised. Still, and that was unbelievably sexy.
But there was something beyond the steadiness of his gaze that said his mind was busy. Calculating. He had the air of a secret agent—cool and collected but constantly scheming. Always five steps ahead. Able to intercept anyone that got in the way of his mission. I could almost imagine a gun holstered on his hip underneath his suit jacket. He felt dangerous. Sinister.
Strangely, that just made him hotter.
Finding no answers in my inspection, I had to ask outright. “Why marriage?”
“You’re a smart woman. Surely you can figure it out.” He lifted one arm and adjusted his cuff, though it seemed entirely unneeding of adjustment. A show of boredom. As though this conversation and what I demanded from it were tedious.
I was rarely so disregarded. Especially in the midst of a proposal.
I’d have to work on that.
Sitting up a little straighter, I ran my tongue along my lower lip. “I don’t suppose it’s an attempt to get me to go to bed with you.”
Edward chuckled, a demeaning chuckle that could only be meant to belittle me. “Come on now—such a juvenile attempt to discover if I find you attractive is beneath you.” He abandoned the pretense of fiddling with his clothing and set his hands in his lap. “If you wanted to know, you could just ask.”
Such a conceited asshole. Arrogant. Haughty.
It didn’t help that he was also right.
Well, he could be right, but I wasn’t letting him win. He thought he was pulling my strings, but there was no fucking way I was asking him what he so obviously wanted me to ask, likely so he could degrade me in some other dickish way.
I turned my head toward the mirrored French doors and considered the question more seriously—why me? It wasn’t unheard of for a man like him to arrange his marriages, and I was the kind of match society found ideal. A typical blonde bombshell with good breeding and lineage, I made a perfect trophy wife, but there had to be hundreds of women that fit the profile. Women he already knew. Women who would be more likely to accept such a ridiculous offer.
So why me?
The answer was obvious.
I shifted my focus back to him. “It’s because of my father.”
“There you go. I knew you were more than just a pretty face.” He rewarded me with his first real smile, revealing two crater-like dimples that were so disarming I barely registered his backhanded compliment.
It was with a great deal of concentration that I was able to return to the conversation. “I’m not sure what you think you could achieve by marrying me. My father would insist on a prenup ensuring my spouse would never touch Werner Media, and if he didn’t have that assurance, he’d change his will. He might change his will anyway. My father is not as stupid as you seem to think he is.”
His expression resumed its natural stoicism. “I don’t think Warren Werner is stupid, not by a long shot. He doesn’t trust me or my company, which is rather smart on his part. But I am what you’d call an ambitious man. I want to enter the U.S. market and there’s no way that your father will allow that to happen, not the way things currently stand between us.
“However, there will be a day when Warren retires. Sooner rather than later, if I were to guess seeing how he seems to spend more time on the golf course these days than in the office. I’d like to take his place as the head of the company.”
It was my turn to laugh. “There’s no way he’d appoint you as his successor.”
“Not right now, he wouldn’t. Give the position over to his rival? Of course not. But, in a few years’ time, pass the title on to the husband of his one and only beloved daughter? That’s an entirely different story.”
“You overestimate how much my father thinks of me.”
“I doubt that. I have a daughter myself. I may seem detached and disinterested in her, but I assure you, there’s not much a man like me wouldn’t do for his flesh and blood. And I’m pretty certain your father is a man like me.”
The insane thing was that I could practically hear my father saying something equally as patronizing.
It wouldn’t work. There was a myriad of flaws with the scheme, not the least of which being that my father didn’t actually have the authority to name his successor.
But that was neither here nor there. I wasn’t accepting the offer. It was appalling that Edward thought I’d even consider it.
“Why would I do this for you? You seem to have a lot to gain in this deal, but what would I get out of the arrangement?” I only asked out of curiosity.
He leaned in and braced his elbows on the table. “Let’s not play games, shall we? We can be honest here, you and I. What exactly do you have going for you at the moment? Your flat is owned in your father’s name. You have one degree, in an art field. Your business barely runs in the black, a business that is neither innovative nor necessary. The lack of customers knocking at your door confirms that. You’re almost thirty-two years old, unmarried, childless, living off your trust fund. You’re not involved in any foundations or clubs, not on any boards. Your good looks might have gotten you through most of your life so far, but how much longer is that going to last? Not forever, I’ll tell you that. Surely your parents aren’t ecstatic about your current prospects for the future. Bringing home a husband of my caliber would change everything in their eyes, wouldn’t it? Even though I come with a competing business, I would imagine they would consider me a major coup, especially when they hear how generous my prenup will be. I think when you really look at it, you’re really the one getting the better end of the deal.”
I felt the color drain from my face.
It wasn’t the first time I’d had deprecating words thrown at me. This wasn’t even the worst that I’d heard said, not on the surface, anyway. Heaven knew, I’d deserved most of the insults that had been hurled in my direction. They always slid off my back, never touching any part of me that might care. Call me mean or manipulative or a bitch, I could take it. I knew who I was, and I accepted it.
But there was something about Edward’s delivery, his stark manner. Usually people said hurtful things out of emotion, and there was none of that here. Conniving as his tactic was, his assessment came only from a place of raw truth. These were truths that faced me every day in the mirror, and yet I found them the hardest to look at. They were the truths I worked the hardest to hide. Truths that, once acknowledged so frankly by someone else, stirred things. Shifted the icebergs drifting inside me.
I couldn’t even try to refute it when I still had my mother’s voice echoing with our earlier conversation in my head. Don’t expect to do better. We both know you can’t.
“You’re an asshole.” This time I said it out loud, and with venom.
Edward ticked his head to the side, a barely perceptible nod. “Perhaps.”
I stood up and pulled my bag to my shoulder. “I’m leaving now, Mr. Fasbender.” My glare dared him to argue.
He didn’t even blink. “Without giving me an answer?”
God, he was bold.
“You should be smart enough to figure out my answer is no,” I said, whirling away from him.
“Think about it.”
“I won’t.”
I could feel him following as I stormed out of the room. I was midway across the Fonta
inebleau foyer when he called after me. “Oh, Celia, in case you’re still wondering…”
I kept walking, determined not to give him the satisfaction of turning back.
It didn’t stop him from saying more. “My answer is yes—I do find you attractive.”
“Go to hell,” I muttered under my breath. It was certainly where he belonged.
Eager to be out of the building as fast as possible, I took the stairs. I didn’t stop walking when I’d made it across the foyer. I kept going until I was two blocks away, where I slipped into a coffee shop and sank down at a table. My heart didn’t settle down to a reasonable pace for long minutes, and only when it did was I able to realize how severely I was overreacting.
Edward Fasbender was an arrogant piece of shit. His assessment of me didn’t matter. I was still the woman I was when I’d walked in to his stupid meeting, and I’d been comfortable with myself then. There was no reason to feel any different now.
Really, all in all, it had been a mission accomplished. I’d gone in there expecting a different offer, but I’d rejected the man all the same. It was a victory. Truly.
So why did it feel like I’d walked out with the losing hand?
Three
Of course I called my father.
After I’d bought a nonfat latte and a spinach salad from the counter, I pulled out my phone and called his cell. It was Tuesday, and, as Edward had accurately asserted, my father was more likely to be at the golf club than the office.
“What’s up, Ceeley doll?” he answered in his typical manner. The endearment didn’t have much commitment behind it. It was how he always addressed me, more a habit than anything else.
Not that I doubted his love for me. I was one of the things he’d created, and he loved all his creations. Some more enthusiastically than others, but that was to be expected, wasn’t it? His business—his empire—had produced much more notably than I had, and it naturally deserved the accolades and attention he gave it.
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