Tycoon's Valentine Vendetta

by Yvonne Lindsay

  She hoped so.

  Nine

  Jack watched Lily get into her car and drive away. Every nerve on his body stood on full alert. Damn, he hadn’t meant to let their embrace go so far. Desire had caught him in its coil, swift and sharp. He couldn’t let this get out of hand. There was no way on this world that he was going to let the hard work and planning of the past ten years go merely for the sake of another toss in the sheets with Lily Fontaine.

  His blood still pounded in his veins and he fought to rid himself of the feel of her in his arms, against his body, against the painfully hard erection she’d aroused in him. He went through the motions of securing the boat before jumping lightly to the jetty and making his way to his car. Sleep would be a long time coming tonight, he acknowledged. It would take more than a cold shower to soothe the ache in his body.

  She’d felt so perfect in his arms. As if she belonged there. And he had to stop thinking like that right here, right now. They’d trod that road before. One belabouring foot after the other. And they’d fallen from the track in a conflagration that had caused irreparable damage. His father’s life would never be restored. The child Jack and Lily had was lost to him forever. He fed the anger anew, anything to prevent himself from leaping into his car and chasing Lily’s more sedate vehicle at the high speeds it was capable of and forcing her to stop, to accompany him home. To make love with her all night long with the pent-up passion of years of denial.

  He’d had lovers, he was no saint, but he’d never felt that emotional link with another woman that he’d had with Lily. He’d identified early on that having that missing link was integral to his success. Any indication of it rearing its head was enough to send him in the other direction. Nothing and no one would get in his way. Especially not Lily.

  He had to use this near-overwhelming desire for her to his advantage. He’d set out to woo her, and he would continue to do so. Shoring up his defences so he wasn’t wooed in return was the kind of discipline that had brought him thus far in life and in business. It was time he reschooled himself on those skills—before Lily got so far under his skin again that he lost sight of his goal.

  Saturday morning arrived bright and clear, another gorgeous golden day. Lily woke with a start, dawning realisation at how late it was in the morning propelling her out of bed and into the shower before heading down to the kitchen fuelled with an energy and vigour she hadn’t enjoyed for a long time.

  The remnants of her father’s breakfast was in the sink. A coffee cup. Lily shook her head. At this rate, the man would have an ulcer on top of the high blood pressure she already suspected he suffered from. She walked down the hall to his study and knocked firmly on the closed door before opening it.

  “Dad?” She stepped into the room, shocked at the chaotic mess of papers strewn everywhere, but even more shocked at her father’s appearance. His face was an unhealthy grey, his thinning hair sticking in all directions. A glum expression pulled his lips down and made his cheeks more jowly than usual.

  “Finally up, hey?” He got up from his chair and rubbed at his face. “Have a good day yesterday?”

  “I had a great time, thanks, Dad.” Lily avoided mentioning exactly who with and where. No point in upsetting him more than he already looked. “You look swamped here. How about I get you some breakfast? You should probably take a break.”

  Her father gave her a narrow-eyed look, then shook his head slightly. “No, I’ll be fine. What have you got planned for today?”

  Butterflies fluttered in her stomach. Could she tell her father about the idea she’d had on the beach for the quality second-hand clothing store? She wasn’t sure if she wanted to run the idea past him before she had some figures on shop rental rates in town and had sourced more information about demand and the logistics of bringing second-hand clothing down from the United States to New Zealand. She made a mental note to contact the Onemata Drycleaner. If this plan took off the owner would become her new best friend. Lily took a deep breath and decided to keep her fledging idea to herself.

  “I thought I’d go into town for the day, take a look around, maybe do some shopping,” she said as breezily as she could.

  “Women!” Charles snorted. “All the same. Give them some spare time and all they want to do is shop.”

  Lily smiled. She certainly hoped that was the case. She watched as her father settled back down at his desk.

  “Get me a coffee, would you?” he demanded, his attention solidly back on his papers.

  Lily closed the door quietly behind her. He’d already forgotten her existence. Seemed he’d been that way ever since she came home, with the exception of the lunch they’d shared. In some ways it was easier this way, but the child inside her missed the man who’d always been full of loud laughter and bluster. The one who’d dusted her knees when she’d fallen from her bike. Her mother had left them both when Lily was only four; she barely remembered her aside from a soft touch at night when she’d had a nightmare, the drift of a floral perfume. After she’d gone it was as if she’d never existed. Even at four years old Lily had understood that any mention of her mother was forbidden. Lily used to wonder what life would have been like with two parents, had looked at her friends’ families, and especially Jack’s family, with some envy. She’d wanted that for her baby. In the end it hadn’t come down to what she wanted at all.

  Lily swiftly made a fresh carafe of coffee and poured some into a thermos to take through to her father, as well as a steaming mugful. He probably hadn’t noticed that she’d switched his regular brand for decaf. Mrs. Manson had protested that he’d complain but so far there’d been no ructions. Her father gave her a cursory smile of acknowledgement when she took the tray into his office.

  After a light breakfast Lily headed into town. It was difficult to find a park on the main street, in the end she went round a few blocks and parked in a shady residential avenue. The walk was no hardship, the local council kept the footpaths and kerbsides in immaculate condition. Lily almost felt as if she’d been transplanted to a totally different, far more affluent, part of the world than that where she’d grown up. Onemata was definitely on a positive growth swing. She was hoping she’d be able to capitalise on it.

  A short walk around town showed a few prospective stores she could consider. She’d made notes of the agencies handling the leasing arrangements and would call them early next week. For now, though, she decided to stop and enjoy a coffee outside on the pavement and watch the foot traffic in the area.

  By the time Lily was onto her third coffee in her third cafe she was both wired and knew which empty store was her first choice for her new venture. Her heart thrilled at the idea of putting her idea into something tangible. She had so much to do, so many ideas to pull out of her mind and put onto paper. She was on a total high by the time she set down her cup and headed for where she’d parked her car.

  As she walked with swift, clipped steps she almost bowled into another woman coming out of a shop. It only took a second for Lily to recognise her—Jack’s mother.

  “Mrs. Dolan, I’m sorry, I didn’t see you there,” Lily apologised.

  Tania Dolan gave Lily a look that could shrivel fruit in a bowl. “An apology? From a Fontaine? I never thought I’d see the day.”

  The older woman pushed past her, her shoulder giving Lily a deliberate nudge.

  “Hey, there’s no need for that. I didn’t mean to bump into you,” Lily remonstrated.

  “No, your sort never mean anything, do you? Not what you do, or what you say. Just stay away from my family,” Tania spat. “Between you and your father, you’ve done enough damage.”

  Lily stood and watched as Tania Dolan stalked off, her grey-haired head bowed, tension in every line of her body. She’d looked older than the mid-fifties Lily knew her to be. Losing her husband had clearly taken its toll, but the bitterness in their brief exchange had left Lily shaken and had definitely taken the shine off her day.

  It plagued at her during her journey
home. Maybe her dad could shed some light on it. He was still in his office when Lily arrived home. She put together a tray of food, filled a jug with mineral water, and put it all out on the patio with a light gauze throw over the top and went to get him. To her surprise he willingly left the office to join her outside for the meal, and without too many disparaging remarks about the low-fat, high-fibre compilation Lily had put together, he ate through his portion and took seconds.

  When they were finished he sat back in his chair and looked out to the water. For the first time since she’d arrived home he was starting to look more relaxed.

  “Dad? Can I ask you something?” Lily ventured. The incident with Tania Dolan niggling like a grass seed in a sock.

  “What is it? Not more money, I hope?” He laughed jovially at his own joke but his smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. He wasn’t kidding.

  Lily gritted her teeth. “Not more money, not right now anyway, although I do need to talk to you about an idea I have later. It’s Tania Dolan.”

  Charles stiffened in his chair and his face lost all signs of humour.

  “What’s the problem?” His voice grew hard and cold. “Is she causing you any trouble?”

  “Not trouble exactly.” Lily rubbed her forehead, starting to feel the onset of a headache. Probably the result of the overload of caffeine this morning. “She said something odd to me in town, acted as if she really hated me.”

  “What did she do?” Everything about her father’s posture went on the defence, as if he was bristling for a fight.

  “I wasn’t looking where I was going and I bumped into her as she came out of a shop. I apologised and she all but rammed the apology straight back down my throat—said something about it being out of character for a Fontaine to apologise for anything. And that we never mean anything we do or say.” Lily poured herself a glass of mineral water and took a sip, surprised to see her hand shake slightly. Mrs. Dolan’s anger was still taking its toll. “What’s she talking about, Dad? You and Mr. Dolan used to work together. He was your right-hand man. Why is she so bitter?”

  “Some people can’t take criticism. That’s all. His work had been slipping. I had to let him go. About the time you went away, actually. She didn’t like it, nor did her eldest boy. I told you to stay away from her son then and I told you again the other day. I know you’ve been spending more time with him. They’re all trouble, Lily. I thought you’d learned your lesson the last time. They don’t stand by their mistakes.”

  Lily flinched at his words; that he clearly thought she was one of those mistakes couldn’t have been more clear. Charles pushed back his chair and went to go back inside.

  “Thanks for lunch, but next time do something with a bit of meat in it. I need to get back to my papers, I’m just about sorted, then maybe you can tell me about this new idea of yours. Something to keep you occupied would be good. Keep you out of trouble and away from Jack Dolan.”

  Well, that firmly put her back in her place in his eyes, hadn’t it, Lily thought in frustration. In his mind, she was, and always would be, his little girl. She sighed inwardly. Arguing it with him now would be futile. She opted for the illusion of compliance.

  “Sure, Dad, whatever. Tell me, before you go, are things going well at FonCom?”

  “Soon will be. Yes, soon will be. Things have been tight lately—a lot of competition in the industry at present. We’ve had to sharpen our pencils and watch things for a while. I’m expecting a big contract, end of next week. Everything will be fine then. Just fine.”

  Lily sensed an undercurrent of desperation in his voice that she hadn’t noticed before, as if by saying things would be all right, affirming it out loud, would make it so. Did everything now hinge on just one contract? FonCom had always been an industry leader. Her father’s considerable wealth had been built on its success. She’d been buoyed on the cushion of that wealth all her life. Her father had provided a very generous allowance for her since he’d sent her away and she’d taken vast satisfaction in spending every penny and asking for more. It had been her only control in a life that had spun off its axis when he’d confronted her about her pregnancy.

  From the outset he’d been determined to break her and Jack up. And he had. Their relationship hadn’t been strong enough to weather the wrath of Charles Fontaine in his prime. How he’d found out about their plan to run away together she never knew. Obviously his spy network was still very much in force.

  When he’d arranged for her to be boarded with a family in Auckland, one of his close friends on whom he could rely for complete secrecy, she’d been watched all the time. Virtually a prisoner in a gilded cage. Just like now. She’d been foolish to give her father back control over her life again. Somehow she’d break free.

  The strain of the week was beginning to take its toll on Lily by the time Thursday dawned. Her father had made an effort to spend more time at home with her, probably to ensure she didn’t do anything he disapproved of, she thought cynically. He hadn’t been encouraging about her second-hand clothing store idea, but had told her to put a proposal together for him to look at and he’d consider financing her if it looked good on paper. For the past several days that was what she’d done, only taking a break for her run along the beach each day.

  She looked forward to seeing Jack tonight with an eagerness that almost frightened her. He’d been in her thoughts almost every minute of every day and some aspects of her proposal were taking longer than they ought to due to her inattention and propensity to drift off in a daydream every time she saw a large white power launch drifting past on the ocean. Did he have the same thoughts about the day they’d spent together? she wondered. Was he looking forward to tonight as much as she? Several times she’d lifted the telephone to call him, just to hear his voice, but had chickened out at the last minute. What if he’d changed his mind? What if he told her their date was off?

  Darn, she was daydreaming again. Lily tried to force herself to concentrate on the spreadsheet she’d painstakingly filled in on the computer. Keyboard skills had never been her forte—hadn’t really been necessary in her world. But she’d have to take a course or something if she was going to make a success of this idea. To minimise costs she’d have to prepare as much of the books as she could for an accountant. She entered data into a few more cells on the computer, a smile of delight breaking across her face when the calculations worked perfectly.

  An hour later she was roused from her budgets and estimates by the chime of the doorbell. Mrs. Manson’s ponderous steps echoed down the hall as she trudged along the tiles to the front door and her exclamation of surprise made Lily rise from her seat to see who was at the door.

  “Flowers for you, Lily,” the housekeeper said, with a puzzled look on her face. “An admirer?”

  “I have no idea,” Lily answered as she stepped forward to take the perfectly formed posy of yellow rosebuds from her.

  “There’s a card,” the other woman pointed out.

  Lily had no doubt that if Mrs. Manson saw who’d sent her the flowers she’d be on the phone to Charles Fontaine with the news. Seeing no reason to give her grist for her father’s mill, Lily merely smiled at the housekeeper and turned away. She’d read the card in her room, in private.

  “Well,” Mrs. Manson huffed, clearly annoyed at being thwarted in her attempt to discover who’d sent the flowers, “someone’s popular for Valentine’s Day.”

  The sour note in the woman’s voice didn’t deter Lily from her need for privacy. Upstairs she closed her door firmly behind her. She put the flowers on her dressing table, her fingers lingering a moment on the perfectly formed petals before she lifted the card from its clip and slid the envelope open.

  See you tonight, dress formal.—J

  A thrill of excitement scorched through her veins and she felt a flush of heat on her cheeks.

  Valentine’s Day. Lily hadn’t even made the connection. It had hardly been celebrated here in New Zealand before she’d gone away, but Jack had m
ade an effort, that first year they’d gone out, to give her something special. She remembered it now. A posy of yellow rosebuds he’d stolen from the municipal gardens in the centre of town. She could still see the cheeky smile on his face when he’d presented them to her after school. It had been the weekend after that they’d made love the first time.

  Liquid heat pooled low in her belly. What would it be like to make love with him again? They’d always set one another on fire and if their past two liaisons were anything to go by, the next time would be no different. That they would make love tonight, she was in no doubt. Not after last Friday. She paused for a moment, a flicker of unease in the pit of her belly. The trouble with fire is that someone usually got burned.

  She tucked the card deep to the back of her underwear drawer. May as well make Mrs. Manson work for her information, she thought as she skipped lightly back down the stairs to her proposal.

  Lily was in a flutter of nerves by the time she started to get ready for the evening. She’d chosen and discarded several outfits before finally settling on a red halter-neck dress. The halter was made of ribbons of silk and beads that hung down her back, swaying with her every movement as she walked. The soft fabric skimmed over her unfettered breasts and clung to her waist before flaring out over her hips and thighs, and falling to just above her knees. Silver sandals on her feet, silver and garnet drop earrings at her lobes, a jangle of silver bracelets on her wrist, a slick of sheer lip gloss, and she was done. She turned in front of the mirror slowly.

  A knock at her bedroom door halted her in her perusal. Charles Fontaine stepped inside without waiting for her to answer. His eyes riveted straight onto the posy of rosebuds.

  “You’re seeing him again.” He issued the statement with a flat, cold expression in his eyes.

  “Yes, I am.”

  “I expressly told you not to. I protected you from Jack Dolan once, Lily. I won’t do it again.”