When Perrini arrived at her side and handed her a glass of white wine, she thanked him with a smile. “Even if you painted the walls lime-green, it wouldn’t matter. This—” she raised her glass to indicate the view “—would always be the focus.”
He opened the doors and Kimberley wandered out to stand at the wrought-iron railing. Low down to her left Sydney’s most famous beach was littered with people despite the late hour. Some swam, some strolled, others sat on the golden slice of sand and scanned the horizon, as Kimberley did now, for a sailboat or a cruiser or a cargo ship chugging out to sea.
It wasn’t quiet, thanks to the traffic on Campbell Parade and the summer tourists cruising the beach promenade—but Kimberley welcomed the sounds and sensations that regaled her body, even the sensual buzz when Perrini came to stand close by her side. The past week sequestered at Miramare and focussed so completely on the plane crash and its deadly consequences had numbed her to the wider world. She’d needed to get out, somewhere like this, a place that breathed life into her senses.
“I love this aspect,” she said with soft reverence. “Not to mention the view.”
“Is that why you bought your town house in One Tree Hill?” he asked after a moment.
Unable to make the connection, Kimberley shook her head. “What do you mean?”
“Its similarity to this place. The high aspect, the view, the architecture.”
“I don’t think they’re even close to alike. My total floor space would fit on one of your levels with room to spare. And as for the view—” she expelled a breath that was part wry laughter, part disbelief “—how can you compare? You have a version of this postcard panorama from every window. I have to stand on tiptoes in my highest heels to get the tiniest glimpse of Manukau Harbour, and that’s only from my deck.”
Perrini didn’t respond although she felt the long, warm drift of his gaze all the way down her body until it reached her leopard-print heels. And for that length of time she wished she had worn the new dress with its matching print and silk-cloud fabric. She wished the evening could continue in this easy harmony, that she could kick off these heels and indulge her sensual self with the wine and the food and the company and yes, even the dangerous tug to desire.
She wished she could forget her past hurts and everything that had happened this week and just live in the moment.
“I don’t come out here enough.” Perrini’s voice, low and reflective, interrupted her reverie. “The view is a waste when I don’t take time to enjoy it.”
“Do you still work those punishing hours then?”
“When I have to.”
“No one ever has to,” she countered with subtle emphasis. “They choose that course, for whatever motivation drives them. Ambition, money, ego, security, insecurity.”
With Perrini she wasn’t certain which applied. For all his charm and extravagant good looks, he possessed an inner toughness and a determination to succeed. She knew he’d been raised by a single mother, that he’d worked his way through school and a business degree, but he’d never really opened up about his childhood. That was just one more regret she’d taken away from their relationship. He’d only ever shared what he’d chosen to, withholding so much of the important stuff.
“Which is it with you, Kim? What motivates you?”
“The work,” she said simply.
“Still?”
“Yes, still.”
He studied her a moment, his blue gaze shadowed in the gathering dusk. “What about that ambition you used to talk about, that craving for a top-floor office at Blackstone Diamonds? You used to see yourself as your father’s successor. What happened to that dream?”
“A dream is all that was ever going to be, Perrini. You know that.”
“No,” he contradicted, “I don’t know that and neither do you. Everything is about to change at Blackstone’s. If you haven’t revisited that dream lately, then it’s about time you did.”
Kimberley’s heart was beating hard. She hadn’t revisited those old dreams, old ambitions, the stuff of her childhood, in more than a decade. Since her return she hadn’t looked beyond the directorship proposition and the chance to end the old feud that had rent the two branches of her family apart.
Did she want to be part of the family company?
Did she harbour that leadership ambition anymore?
The chime of the doorbell broke the intense moment. Perrini straightened, lifting his head. “That will be dinner. Roberto’s food is too good to keep waiting. Let’s continue this discussion after we eat.”
Ric kicked himself savagely for bringing up business prematurely and destroying the relaxed ambience established on the balcony. Dinner provided a temporary distraction. While they enjoyed the simply prepared but stunningly flavoured food, they talked about Roberto’s restaurant, her recent holiday, the frustrating lack of progress with the search, Danielle’s departure—everything but the unfinished business that hovered between them.
Now he watched her put down her spoon and push away the glass dessert bowl. “That’s the best you can do?” he asked, eyebrows raised at her unfinished gelato.
“As hard as it is to believe, yes. Everything was divine but those scallops were my undoing.”
“Would you like coffee?”
She shook her head.
“A liqueur? I have cognac or tokay—”
“Nothing, thank you. Let’s just get on with why I’m here.”
Ric inclined his head at her blunt request. It was time to get down to business, but not here at the dinner table. “Let’s go through to the lounge. You can put your feet up and relax while we talk.”
“Oh, I very much doubt that,” she said softly, bringing a smile to his lips. But she set her serviette aside and pushed back her chair. “Still, let’s do this away from the crockery. Just in case the discussion gets heated.”
With that in mind, Ric suggested she sit at the far end of the sofa. “That lamp is damn ugly but it cost a fortune. Best keep it out of your reach.”
Amusement softened the curve of her mouth as she took the proffered seat. “Wise decision. The base looks solid enough to make quite a dint.”
“This doesn’t have to be a confrontation,” Ric said evenly.
“No, although our history suggests there is that possibility. Especially when the subject of Blackstone Diamonds enters the discussion.”
Ric couldn’t argue with that claim; he couldn’t even say it was all bad. When they’d worked together on the business plan for Blackstone Jewellery, their heated debates had been more than intellectual foreplay, they’d sparked new angles and creative solutions. They’d complemented each other in the office, as well as the bedroom, and that’s what he wanted again. That heat, that spark, that connection.
That’s what he wanted and that’s what he would have, but that didn’t stop him wanting to prolong their current harmony.
He didn’t want to wipe that glint of humour from her expressive eyes. But he did, as soon as he settled opposite her on the second of the suede sofas. The smile faded from her face even before he spoke. “Let me at least get my proposal on the table before you arm yourself,” he suggested.
“Would that proposal be the board position or the dream job you dangled in front of me earlier?”
“Let’s start with the directorship.”
She nodded briefly. “I have given that some thought.”
“And?”
“Matt suggests it would be a conflict of interest with my present position at House of Hammond.”
No surprise that she’d discussed his preliminary approach with her boss. Ric had expected as much, but that didn’t stop his jaw tightening in annoyance. “Your boss is right,” he said shortly. “You couldn’t continue to work for him if you took on this directorship.”
“Why would I choose a board position over the job I have—a good job that I love?”
“Because that’s all Hammond will ever offer you. A job. Second in charge,�
�� he stressed, when he saw an objection fire green sparks in her eyes. “But where is the future beyond that? Matt Hammond will never cede power to anyone but another Hammond.”
“Not everyone craves power, Perrini.”
He met the condemnation in her eyes head-on. “You used to. You came back from Europe, your head crammed with ideas and your heart fired with passion. You couldn’t wait to make changes, to put it all into practice, and you couldn’t do that from the sidelines. I recall you saying as much the day you stormed out of your father’s office.”
“I left Blackstone’s for many reasons,” she said tightly. “That was only one of them.”
“You made those reasons crystal clear when you left, but things have changed. You have a personal stake in the company now.”
Her forehead creased with a frown. “What do you mean?”
“When your father’s will is read, you’ll become one of three major stakeholders in Blackstone Diamonds.”
“No.” She shook her head adamantly. “Howard wrote me out of his will. He said—”
“Whatever your father intended when you had that row, a new will was never filed. I checked with Garth, who is executor of his estate. You will inherit a third share of Howard’s stake in the company, and that is significant equity. With it comes the power to implement change. From the forty-third floor you can see dreams through to reality. You can heal rifts. You can right wrongs.”
Ric watched the storm of possibilities flare in her eyes for several long, weighty seconds.
“That’s powerful rhetoric,” she said.
“It’s not just rhetoric,” he responded without hesitation. “This next few months will be a tough time for the company. The share price is already taking a beating on the back of this week’s negative publicity. We can’t sit tight and ride this out. We need to play the game smarter. We want you working with us to generate positive press, Kim. We want you back at Blackstone’s.”
“We?”
“Senior management. Ryan, Garth, myself.”
“‘Generating positive publicity’ sounds more like a PR specialist’s dream job than mine,” she countered after a moment’s consideration. “Why don’t you hire a consultant?”
“We don’t want a slick consultant. We want you and your sharp brain and your industry knowledge and credentials.” He leaned forward, hands linked loosely between his knees, but there was nothing casual about the insistent strength of his gaze. “We want to present a united front, Kim, to show we’re not dwelling on the past but moving forward with the next generation. And we want your name quoted in the papers, your face in front of the cameras.”
Her brows arched with a hint of derision. “I thought you were using Marise’s supermodel sister as the ‘Face of Blackstone’s’.”
“Briana Davenport is the ‘face.’ We’re proposing you as the ‘mouth’, a role for which you’re eminently qualified.”
Unexpected amusement sparkled at the back of her eyes. “Aren’t you concerned that my mouth will create more trouble?”
“Only for me,” he acknowledged dryly, “and I’m big enough to take it.”
It was an innocent remark, designed to show he appreciated that her mouthiest moments had always been reserved for him. But when she didn’t fire back an instant retort, and when the glow in her eyes warmed with a different fire, the harmless jest grew teeth that gnawed through the thickened silence. There were all manner of things he ached to tell her about her mouth, how he’d missed the bite in these exchanges, how he lived for the moment it opened beneath his, how he dreamed of its sweet-spice taste.
This wasn’t the moment. The only task that mattered right now was luring her back to Blackstone’s, and he couldn’t risk ruining his chances.
He shoved to his feet and strolled toward the open doors to breathe the familiar, salty air, to clear the buzz of another seduction from his brain.
“If I took this position—” her gaze, direct and unwavering, met Ric’s as he swung around “—who would I be working under?”
“That would depend on the project,” he replied carefully, ignoring his libido’s grunt of response to her wording.
“The projects being…?”
“The big one is the launch of the latest jewellery collections. I’m guessing Danielle would have told you about the gala show?”
“A little.” She tried for cool, but failed to hide the sparkle of interest that lit her expression. “It’s next month, right?”
“February twenty-ninth. Even without recent events, this year’s show has special significance.”
“The ten-year anniversary of Blackstone Jewellery,” she guessed without hesitation. “So, the usual birthday celebrations, continuing promotions, ad campaigns?”
“All that.”
“I’m guessing this would be well covered by the marketing department. What, exactly, would I be doing?”
Looking into her eyes, Ric felt an adrenaline punch of response. This is what he’d missed—her quick pickups, her sharp comebacks, the verbal duels that were never predictable but always stirred something vital inside him. “If I knew, then I wouldn’t need you.”
“I?” she countered. “Not the royal we?”
“Interchangeable.” He figured she knew that anyway. It’s why she’d asked who she’d be working under. “In this case, you’ll be working with Ryan and his staff, supplementing the marketing plan to generate positive press for the Blackstone brand in general and the launch show in particular. As for how you do that—” he spread his hands expansively “—that’s your job. To explore the possibilities.”
“And answerable to Ryan?” she murmured after a moment’s consideration. “He would be my boss?”
“On this project.”
“And overall?”
“The new CEO, as appointed by the board.”
“Meaning there’s a fair chance it will be you.”
“An even chance. Ryan is a Blackstone, a significant point in his favour. But if I am appointed—” Ric narrowed his gaze on hers as he closed the space between them “—is the prospect of working beneath me a deal breaker?”
She came to her feet and faced him with cool pride in her stance and etched in her expression. “I wouldn’t return to work for my father, why on earth would I consider working for you?”
“Because we need you, Kim. Blackstone’s, your brother, the company, each and every member of our workforce—we need you working with us. I sincerely hope you understand what I’m offering is on behalf of the management team, and that you won’t let our past stand in the way of the Blackstone future.”
Seven
K imberley’s heart drummed like a jackhammer against her rib cage. Poor, foolish, easily swayed thing wanted to believe in his sincerity even while her brain chirped a warning to beware his motives.
“I’m not a naive twenty-one-year-old now,” she began, her voice surprisingly even given the rough cadence of her pulse. “I won’t be taken in by your sweet rhetoric and I won’t be used just because I’m Kimberley Blackstone.”
“Used?” Perrini’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “I’ve never used you, Kim. Not in any sense.”
“You still don’t see that pursuing and marrying your boss’s daughter in order to secure a plum promotion—”
“Let’s get one thing straight. I always wanted you, the woman, enough that it didn’t matter that you were Kimberley Blackstone. From where I stood that was a big, fat strike against you, not just because you were the boss’s daughter but because you inherited so many of Howard’s pain-in-the-ass qualities.”
She must have looked as outraged as she felt, because he expelled a harsh-sounding laugh and shook his head.
“You said you didn’t want any of my rhetoric, so let’s try some home truths. You’re stubborn, cynical, opinionated, but on the flip side there’s your quick brain and your passion for this business, your honesty and humour and the way you lift your chin whenever you take a stance on something you believ
e in. Yeah, just like that,” he said in a low, rough-edged voice that resonated through her blood. “Whether it’s right or wrong, it doesn’t matter. You stand by your word and that’s one of the many reasons I pursued you. Not with any ambition other than to have you. In any and every way that I could.”
The silence following his speech crackled with the undistilled passion of his delivery. This wasn’t the smooth charmer, the slick orator, the silver-tongued lover. This was a side Perrini showed so rarely that it stunned Kimberley into silence.
“That day in the Hammond workroom,” he continued, “you said you should never have married me.”
“And you agreed.” Finally she found her voice, although it rasped with raw emotion. “You said our marriage was a mistake.”
That coldly conveyed summation had pierced her heart like a spear of ice, before shattering into a hundred frosty shards. The final, chilling end of that argument and of their union.
“It was a mistake,” he said bluntly, stunning her all over again. “I married you for the wrong reason. I thought I was calling your father’s bluff.”
“What do you mean?”
“That Christmas, before we left for our holiday in San Francisco, he had a word with me over a quiet whisky. He knew we were lovers—maybe he had all along—and he played the outraged father. Said he didn’t appreciate us creeping around behind his back and suggested, forcefully, that if I wanted to bed you, I could damn well marry you.”
That was so like Howard, Kimberley couldn’t summon a quarter-carat of shock. She’d known her father had orchestrated their marriage; she just hadn’t known the details. At the time she’d been too outraged, too shattered, too betrayed to believe any explanations.
And now…at least now she knew what had prompted Perrini’s out-of-the-blue proposal. “So you thought, why the hell not?”
“I wanted you here, in my home, every night, every day. So, yeah, I thought why not marry you? I sure as hell didn’t expect we’d be welcomed home with open arms. I’d married his only daughter—the Blackstone heiress—in a Vegas chapel. I expected your father would be livid.”
Vows & a Vengeful Groom Page 8
