by Dani Collins
‘No, not at all.’ Not this time, anyway. Emma collected herself. ‘I’ve been watching the people on the dance floor.’
‘Ah, yes.’ He came and stood beside her, strong hands curling around the railing. ‘Quite mesmerising, isn’t it?’
Emma sneaked a look at his profile. All fluid grace and hard masculine lines beneath expensive Italian tailoring, it wasn’t difficult to see why women fell at his feet. There was a dark, edgy energy about him, an inherent sexiness, that was very hard to ignore.
‘Is it true that you won this nightclub in a bet?’ She hadn’t meant to plunge right in, or even ask this question at all, but somehow it had slipped out without warning.
Her companion turned his head, a hint of warning in the dark grey eyes. Had she overstepped the mark already? There was a moment’s pause before he spoke again.
‘I see the interview has started already, Ms Quinn.’
Emma silently rebuked herself. She should have been more subtle. But something about this man was jumbling her carefully planned questions. ‘I just noted that it’s a divergence from your other businesses.’ She hurried to try and make amends. ‘And wondered if hospitality was something you intend to invest more in in the future?’
An infinitesimal raising of one eyebrow told her he knew she was bluffing.
‘No, I have no plans to go into hospitality. And for your information, Hobo was payment for a debt. Nothing more. You shouldn’t believe everything you read in the tabloids.’ His stare was one of rebuke. ‘You of all people should know that.’
‘Yes, of course.’ Emma adjusted the cuffs of her jacket in a serious newspaper reporter kind of way.
‘Shall we sit down?’
She let out a relieved breath, only to have it stolen again when Leonardo slipped a guiding arm around her waist to move her back towards the seats. A bottle of champagne had mysteriously appeared on a low table. Filling two glasses, Leo held one out to Emma, waiting as she sat down.
‘Oh, no, thanks. I think I’ll just stick to water.’
‘That’s very professional of you.’ Leo seated himself opposite her. ‘If a little disappointing.’
‘Disappointing?’
‘Sì. You see, I was hoping you would join me in a small celebration.’
‘What are we celebrating?’
‘A successful day.’ He smiled, his lips tightly closed, accompanied by a self-deprecating shrug that didn’t fool Emma for one moment. She suspected that all his days were successful. That he made quite sure of it. Nevertheless, she accepted the glass and took a sip. It was delicious. Cold bubbles slid down her throat like silk.
Trying hard to ignore his long stare, she reached for her bag to pull out her trusty notepad and pen, and then, after a moment’s hesitation, her cellphone.
‘Is it okay if I record our conversation?’
‘I don’t see why not.’ Leo crossed his legs, leaning back against the seat. Outwardly he seemed relaxed, but Emma had to be on her guard. She must not mess this up. Setting her phone on the table between them, she pressed record.
‘So, Raven Enterprises invests in a number of different renewable energy companies. Would you say that was something you were particularly interested in?’
‘The future of our planet is something we should all be interested in.’ The reply came back slick and fast.
‘Indeed.’ Emma began to scribble down notes. A recording was great, but she liked to have everything down on paper too. Belt and braces. ‘Raven Enterprises is something of a pioneer in the way it invests in start-up companies, rather than more established enterprises. Why is that?’
‘I like to be in on something at the start. It’s easier to control that way.’ His tone was pleasant, easy. But control was clearly something this guy was all about. It was written in his every feature, every movement.
‘And which sources of renewable energy do you think have the most potential for the future?’
‘Biological proteins are interesting.’ He paused and Emma felt the weight of his stare on her bent head. ‘Tell me, Ms Quinn, do you always dress so conservatively?’
Her head shot up; her eyes trapped by his.
It was true that her outfit, navy skirt and fitted jacket, cream blouse, navy court shoes, did look rather out of place here. Briefly she had wondered if she should have chosen some sort of evening wear in view of the location and the time of day. But the fact was she didn’t have any, or even enough time for a quick trawl of the local charity shop in search of a lucky find.
‘This is my work outfit, Signor Ravenino. And, please, call me Emma.’
‘Then you must call me Leo. So, do you never mix business with pleasure, Emma?’
Emma frowned. ‘I take pleasure in my work if that’s what you mean.’
This was certainly true. Working for the Paladin was not so much a pleasure as the realisation of her goal. And vindication, too, that all those awful jobs, living in dank little rooms, eating nothing but beans on toast, studying late into the night until her eyes hurt and her head throbbed had all been worth it. Because each of those things had taken her another step away from the chaos of her family background towards a shiny new future that was just within her grasp.
‘Not exactly what I meant, no.’ Leo leaned forward to top up her glass again. Emma was surprised to see it was almost empty. ‘I just wondered if beneath that stern exterior there is a party girl waiting to get out.’
‘No, there isn’t.’ She returned to her notepad. ‘Could you elaborate on the role of biological proteins?’
‘Do you like to dance, Emma?’
‘No!’ She straightened her notepad. This interview was not going the way it was meant to. ‘I... I don’t know how to dance.’
‘Sure you do.’ The gaze he aimed at her was like a full-on assault. Bold, roving, cocksure. Which no doubt he was. ‘Everybody does. You just relax and let the music move you.’ Suddenly on his feet, his hand stretched out towards her.
Emma stared at it in horror. Surely he wasn’t expecting her to dance here, now? But the impatient little shake of his hand suggested he was.
‘I don’t think—’ But even as she said the words she found herself rising, taking the outstretched hand, feeling it closing around hers.
The music was little more than a dull thud from up here, a pounding, incessant throb, like a heartbeat. Her own heart sounded almost as loud to her as Leo moved her closer, one hand resting on her shoulder, the other lightly pressed into the small of her back. It was a respectful hold, guiding rather than intimate, but that didn’t stop Emma’s panic. He was so close she could hear his every breath, feel the heat from his body. And he smelled divine. Relaxed muscles moved effortlessly, taking her with him, small movements drawing her closer still until she had no choice but to tentatively snake her arms around his waist to sway with him.
‘Now, where were we?’
He was speaking over the top of her head, and it took Emma’s addled brain a moment to work out that he was talking about continuing the interview. This was crazy, he was crazy. Expect the unexpected, wasn’t that what Nathalie had said? And one thing was for sure, she had never expected to conduct the interview like this. If anything, she had worried he might be rather closed, hard to talk to. Instead he was all relaxed charm, answering politely, though admittedly giving little away. She took a moment to breathe. At least focussing on her questions would take her mind off her rioting senses.
Pulling back a little, she prepared herself to address the wall of his chest. ‘Does Raven Enterprises intend to extend its investment to other potential energy sources?’ Somehow she managed to drag the question up from somewhere.
‘I’m always open to new ideas.’ His body rocked gently to one side. ‘You have to look at the scientific evidence and decide which one to back. A bit like horse racing.’
‘Would you say
you were a gambling man?’
‘There is a certain thrill in taking a chance.’ She could hear the confidence in his voice. ‘And satisfaction when it pays off.’
‘And when it doesn’t?’
‘Then you move on, Ms Quinn. Life is too short to agonise over failures.’ His hand fell from her shoulder. ‘More champagne?’
‘No!’ She moderated her voice. ‘No, thank you. But I would like to sit down now.’
‘Of course.’ Leo gave a small accepting shrug.
Suddenly the air seemed terribly hot. Taking off her jacket, Emma laid it neatly on the seat beside her, undoing the top button of her blouse. That was better. Marginally. She reached for her notepad again, determined to ignore the way Leonardo was watching her every move. She crossed her legs, cleared her throat, pen ready.
* * *
Leo surveyed the Paladin’s junior reporter through lowered lashes. She was an interesting subject. Despite losing the jacket, she managed to look more prim than ever, her defences pulled firmly around her. If his suggestion of a dance had been to make her feel less ill at ease, it had clearly failed. But despite her conservative clothes and haughty manner there was something inherently sexy about her—the pout of her lips, her habit of nipping the bottom one with small white teeth when she was thinking. The way she looked up at him through that fringe...
She had a refreshing lack of conceit, as if she paid no heed to her natural beauty. And she was bright too. Leo ran his hand across his chin. No, the dance hadn’t been about settling her nerves. It had been about him. He just couldn’t help himself.
Today had been manic but successful. His favourite sort of day. Deliberately packing everything into the shortest possible time frame was the way he liked to work. He thrived on the pressure and seeing how other people coped with it. It sorted out the weak from the strong. And sometimes, like today, working at speed meant closing a deal before a rival company got a look in. Which was always satisfying.
He’d forgotten all about this interview. If his secretary hadn’t been so busy no doubt she would have cancelled it. If Ms Quinn hadn’t been so persuasive when he had come upon her in the foyer of Raven Enterprises, he would have dismissed her. He had only agreed to do it in the first place to try and silence a few board members who were starting to make noises about the lack of positive publicity. Too many photos of him coming out of nightclubs were not good for the confidence of investors, apparently.
Tempted though he was to tell them his private life was none of their business, Leo knew that where money and leadership was concerned, no one, no matter how powerful, was totally immune. So when an email from the Paladin happened to arrive straight after another tedious board meeting, he had agreed to the interview. An article about Raven Enterprises’ investment in renewable energies. What could be more positive than that?
And Ms Emma Quinn was certainly very thorough. The questions had been coming at him hard and fast for some time now.
‘Clearly you are interested in the future of our planet and yet you own a private jet, you fly all over the world. Does that not bother your conscience?’
She briskly flipped over the page of her notebook, tucked her hair behind one ear, her pen held in position. Like he wasn’t going to notice the barb held in her question.
‘You are assuming I have a conscience, Ms Quinn.’
The pen stopped scratching across the paper, but she didn’t look up. Instead a stillness came over her, as if she was holding herself in check.
Leo did the same. He should fight the desire to play cat and mouse.
‘International travel is a necessary evil in the world of business,’ he continued. ‘A private jet saves time, it’s as simple as that.’
‘And the flashy cars, the luxury yacht?’ Now she came back at him, going for the jugular this time. He couldn’t resist a counterattack.
‘It’s true, fast cars are a weakness of mine.’ He gave her a small but deadly smile. ‘I never said I was perfect.’
He watched with satisfaction as those full lips pursed, the effort of not saying what she wanted to say pinched there, written right across her face. He was enjoying this.
‘I have disappointed you, Ms Quinn?’
‘No.’ The reply was too quick, too vehement. ‘Why would I be disappointed when I never thought you were perfect in the first place?’
Ha—good reply! The more this woman refused to be lured by him, the more interested he became. He leaned back in his seat, crossing one leg over the other at the knee. ‘I can see I need to be careful not to underestimate you, Ms Quinn.’
‘Are you in the habit of underestimating women?’ Quick as a flash she struck back. Clever.
‘No, I do not underestimate women. I very much admire them.’
‘And they you, it seems.’
Leo gave a self-deprecating shrug.
‘Would you say you were an honourable man, Signor Ravenino?’ Her eyebrows disappeared under her fringe.
‘I would.’
‘Only I happened to be waiting in the reception of Raven Enterprises this afternoon when Vogue Monroe showed up.’
Ah, so this was where she was going. Leo sat forward again. He had been right to caution himself for underestimating her. Despite her innocent looks, she was a journalist after all, and a sharp one.
‘That was...unfortunate.’ The goading look in Emma’s eyes made him elaborate, even though he knew he shouldn’t. ‘But women I date know the rules. If they choose to ignore them, that’s up to them.’
‘So you make all the rules?’
‘Yes.’ He sat back. ‘Do you have a problem with that?’
‘It’s not my job to have an opinion of you. Merely to ascertain the facts.’
But her opinion was there all right, held in the wide, accusatory gaze. Well, so be it. It didn’t matter what she thought of him. But it did matter what she put in this article she was writing.
‘Your job, as I understood it, was to find out about Raven Enterprises’ investment in renewable energy. I wasn’t aware it extended to an examination of my morals.’
‘It doesn’t.’ Flustered, she hurried to put him straight. To emphasise the point, she laid her notepad and pen down on the table.
‘As long as we are both clear on this matter. I should hate there to be any misunderstanding about what I agreed to in terms of the content of the interview.’
‘No, there’s no misunderstanding.’
‘Bene.’ He gave her a polite smile. ‘Then perhaps our interview is concluded?’
‘Yes, of course. And thank you.’
He rose with her, watching as she put on her jacket, fastening the one button across her waist.
‘How will you get home?’
‘Oh, I’ll get the night tube.’
‘It’s too late to be using public transport. My driver will take you home. In fact...’ he warmed to his theme ‘...why don’t I drive you myself? In one of my flashy cars.’
His pointed use of her phrase was acknowledged with an upward glance.
‘No, really, that won’t be necessary.’
‘I insist. I like driving round big cities at night. It would be my pleasure.’
His arm went loosely around her waist to guide her forward before she could argue any more. For some reason he wasn’t quite ready to bid farewell to this woman yet.
CHAPTER THREE
AS THE CAR cruised along the banks of the Thames, Leo stole a glance at his passenger. The postcode he’d entered into the satnav indicated an area way out to the north, somewhere he had never ventured.
His knowledge of London was pretty much limited to the City, the West End and the affluent areas where the privileged few lived in beautiful Georgian terraces or penthouse apartments. He owned neither, preferring to stay in a hotel when he visited the city. It made life less complicated
. He had quite enough complications as it was.
His new life, the one he had carved out for himself when the old one had so spectacularly imploded, was crazy busy. His focus had been all consuming, his determination to create a multi-billion-dollar business empire in the shortest time possible driving him ruthlessly on. And he had succeeded. In three short years Raven Enterprises had become hugely successful, and Leo Ravenino one of the most highly respected businessmen in the world.
Described as the man with the Midas touch, his uncanny ability to seek out start-up companies and then have the courage to back them when more experienced traders considered them far too speculative had earned him the reputation of a reckless trailblazer. Leo himself put his success down to hard graft and meticulous research. Though even he had to admit luck had played its part, particularly when his frequent trips to the casinos failed to put a dent in his fortune.
But quite frankly he was due some luck.
‘So, are you a Londoner, Emma?’ He rested his hands on the wheel, enjoying the smooth feel of the leather, the soft purr of the engine.
‘No.’ She had a low voice, smooth, sexy. ‘But I’ve been living here for eight years.’
‘Where are you from originally?’
‘Um...the West Country.’ Deliberately vague. Something about her reticence made him want to dig deeper.
‘So you came to London to find fame and fortune?’
‘Not exactly.’ She gave a short laugh. ‘More to start a new life.’
Interesting. Leo kept his eyes on the road ahead, waiting for her to elaborate, but she remained stubbornly silent.
‘Did you always want a career in journalism?’
‘I like writing, particularly research-based information. I thought about doing a history degree to start with, then decided I’d stand a better chance of getting a good job if I went in for journalism.’
‘Even so, I imagine it’s a competitive world, isn’t it?’ Tough too. She looked too innocent to be competing with the hardnosed hacks he’d come across. But he’d already caught a glimpse of steel behind the wide blue eyes. He already knew she was clever.
