Chapter Two
HE HAD TO give Gisèle Fontaine credit. She barely blinked at his statement. Only her pupils’ dilation and her sudden, absolute stillness revealed he’d surprised her.
Where and how had she learned such poise?
More than poise. An impenetrable, invisible wall surrounded her. An air, not of snobby superiority as he’d feared when he’d read her Ice Queen epithet, but of control.
As if she’d learned early to hide her thoughts and feelings.
Why was that?
It hadn’t escaped him that when asked to tell him about herself she’d spoken of other family members. Her life seemed an open book, reported on since birth by a press fascinated by her family, but Adam suspected the public Gisèle Fontaine wasn’t nearly as fascinating as the private one.
That made him more determined than ever to proceed. Each moment in her company affirmed that.
So far he’d been unable to read her emotions or thoughts clearly. Only her passion as she spoke on behalf of her employees revealed vulnerability. He’d noted the slight flush across her cheekbones and her quickened breathing. Until, he guessed, she realised she was giving herself away and her breathing evened, leaving only her heightened colour to betray her.
What would it take to ruffle her? Make her forget to be soignée and unflappable? Much as he admired her style, the devil in him longed to see her roused, tousled, desperate. Real. That hint of passion as she advocated for the staff intrigued him.
‘You’ll have to be more specific. In what way do you want me?’
She faced him with no flicker of expression to suggest she noticed the sexual innuendo in the words.
His admiration strengthened. Or was it satisfaction? Because she was perfect for his plan. This woman wasn’t prone to messy emotional demands. She wasn’t clingy. He’d bet the last billion he’d made that she’d never have unrealistic expectations of a man.
He’d known exactly what he’d wanted before coming here, but this meeting had confirmed he’d made the right decision.
‘I’m acquiring the House of Fontaine, but what would the company be without a Fontaine?’ Was that excitement in her blue-grey eyes? No, it was a trick of the light. She revealed nothing but polite attentiveness.
He almost wished they were at loggerheads. She’d make a worthy opponent in a challenging negotiation. In the current circumstances, with him holding all the cards, her agreement was guaranteed.
Almost guaranteed.
Excitement burred under his skin as he sipped his beer and watched her watching him.
He liked that, he realised. Enjoyed being the sole focus of Gisèle Fontaine’s attention.
It would have been a mistake to offer for any of the other companies. Fontaine’s was definitely the one for him.
‘You want me to continue working in the company?’
‘Not as CEO. Your skills don’t lie in that area. We both know that it was the decisions made in the recent past that brought the company to its knees.’
This time there was no blush at the reference to her poor decision-making. She met his gaze tranquilly.
Adam frowned. Was she really so good at hiding her feelings or did she not care? No, she cared. Her plea for the employees proved that.
A tickle skirted his consciousness. A hint of something to be further investigated. But for now his attention was on securing what he wanted.
‘But you represent the company well. You’re very decorative.’
There! A narrowing of the eyes and tightening of the jaw. Adam felt like a poker player about to win a fortune after discovering his opponent’s tell.
She didn’t like being called decorative? She wasn’t cut out to lead the business. The company had foundered under her watch.
‘I mean that in the nicest possible way, Gisèle. Your company stands for luxury, for distinction. It’s a cut above the average. Its name is synonymous with elegance and class. You’ve got that same air of sophisticated style.’
He wasn’t referring to her slim-fitting jacket and skirt of midnight blue, lightened only by the touch of pale grey silk visible between her lapels. Or the gleam of discreet gold earrings. The clothes were part of it but she had such an air, she’d look refined without them.
A sensation low in his belly, like a silent growl, made him blank the distracting image in his head.
‘You want me to stay on as a brand ambassador?’
‘That’s one way of putting it.’
Adam was about to explain then paused, curious about her sudden tension.
She drew a breath then turned her attention to her food, cutting a morsel of chicken and popping it into her mouth, chewing slowly.
Buying time? Obviously. But why?
Adam almost enjoyed the way she drew the moment out. He liked watching Gisèle eat. She wasn’t finicky but her movements were precise and, even chewing, that lush mouth made him supremely aware of her femininity. And that he was a man who hadn’t taken a lover in months.
‘I appreciate the thought and I agree that it would be ideal for the family still to be involved in the company. But I’m not a model. I don’t aspire to that sort of career.’ She smiled but her eyes remained serious. ‘Thank you but I’ll have to say no—’
‘You haven’t heard me out. I don’t want to employ you as a model.’
‘You don’t?’
He shook his head. ‘Though I’d expect you to appear in public. You’ve been the face of Fontaine for some time and I want that to continue.’ Because he wasn’t just buying the company or the brand, he was buying the idea, the image, and all that went with it. Satisfaction filled him. ‘I want you as my wife, Gisèle.’
Fortunately Gisèle had already swallowed that mouthful of chicken or she’d have choked.
Her heart hammered as her cutlery slipped through nerveless fingers, clattering onto the plate.
She waited what seemed a lifetime for him to continue, adding some detail to prove she’d misheard.
Instead he remained silent, watching her as he reached for a bread roll with one tanned, capable-looking hand.
Time slowed as he lifted the roll. She noticed a jagged, silver scar along his thumb. She caught a gleam of even, white teeth as he bit into the bread.
A shiver ran through her from neck to breasts, past her abdomen to her sex. Gisèle swallowed as unfamiliar, unwanted arousal drenched her from scalp to sole.
It was impossible! Unthinkable!
She pressed her thighs together, trying to quell her body’s animal response to a man she didn’t even like.
It flummoxed her. It was so un-her. She didn’t respond sexually to strangers.
Yet it was there, real and unavoidable.
Like the words he’d dropped into the quiet of their secluded table with the finesse of a brick shattering plate glass.
His wife! He wanted to marry her!
She didn’t know what to do with herself. She wanted to get up and stride from the room, but that was impossible. She wanted to berate him for playing twisted games. To scratch her skin that felt suddenly too tight to contain all the emotions bursting inside.
It was only as his gaze flickered lower, making her realise the exaggerated rise and fall of her breasts with each constrained breath, that she managed a semblance of control.
He couldn’t know that her breasts felt swollen or that beneath her camisole and bra, her nipples were needy points. It was her shameful secret.
‘I’m sorry to disappoint you again, Adam.’ Her mouth was dry and it took all her willpower not to moisten her lips. ‘But I have no intention of marrying.’
She reached for a roll then put it on her plate, realising she wouldn’t be able to choke it down.
‘I’m sure I can persuade you, Gisèle.’
He lingered on her name and this time his husky voice gentled, turning the syllables into something richly addictive. Like luscious caramel laced with the old brandy her grandpère used to savour.
Gisèle blinked, telling herself it was at this man’s incredible ego. As if she’d marry a stranger. Yet she had an uneasy feeling her shock was as much about her reaction to him.
Not so ridiculous. He’s rich, powerful and intensely attractive, if you like that rough-around-the-edges style. He could probably have most women he wanted.
But not her.
‘I know you can’t persuade me, Adam. But why would you even suggest us marrying? It’s so...’
‘Convenient? Practical? Advantageous?’
She shook her head. ‘It’s not any of those things.’ Surely even in Australia proposing to a stranger wasn’t usual.
Not that he’d proposed. He hadn’t asked, merely expressed a wish. As if expecting her to leap at the notion.
‘I’m buying an old, respected brand. We both know that while the product is first class, the House of Fontaine is synonymous with your family. The generations upon generations who built it. The glamorous, high-profile family the world knows so well.’ He leaned back, eyes holding hers with an intensity she couldn’t break. ‘You’re an intrinsic part of that, Gisèle. Lately you’ve been the face of the company.’
Actually, a highly paid young woman from the back streets of Marseilles was currently the face of the company. Images of her sensual beauty adorned billboards, glossy magazines and every other form of advertising worldwide.
But, yes, Gisèle had been the company representative at significant events.
‘So? You expect me to give up my life as if I’m one more business asset you can buy?’
The gall of him! She’d met plenty of men who considered themselves superior but he was in a class of his own.
‘Give up your life? Hardly. Or are you saying you’re deeply involved with someone?’ He paused as if awaiting a reply. Did he know how unlikely that was? ‘In a committed relationship?’ Another pause as that damnable eyebrow lifted. ‘Or is it just a hot, heavy affair you don’t want to give up yet?’
Trust a man to reduce everything to sex!
But he hadn’t. His first guess was a committed relationship. If she stopped to think about it that might say something positive about Adam Wilde. But she was in no mood to be positive about this arrogant billionaire.
She gritted her teeth, fighting fury at his spuriously reasonable tone.
‘Besides,’ he added, ‘I’m in the market for a wife. Someone who’ll do me proud in public.’ He continued as if not noticing her death stare. He should be a pile of smouldering ashes, torched by her fury. ‘I want someone poised and perfect. Someone with class who’ll never embarrass me or put a foot wrong. Someone who can stand proud in the spotlight. Someone comfortable with the rich and famous, at home in that world.’
Gisèle couldn’t believe her ears. ‘You think I’m that woman?’
‘I know you’re that woman. I’ve seen you in action. Unfazed by reporters, charming yet contained. Elegant, attractive and unflappable.’
At least he hadn’t lied by saying she was beautiful.
‘You want an excellent PR team if you’re worried about your image. Not a wife.’
His mouth twisted at one corner in amusement. ‘I know exactly what I want. You, Gisèle.’
It was a farce. He didn’t know her. Couldn’t want her.
‘I’m not for sale.’ Still he said nothing, merely surveyed her with that irritating half-smile. ‘I’m not a company asset, included in the contract.’
She reached for her water and took a sip, then another. If it weren’t for the many people relying on this deal, she’d leave now. But she had a duty to them. And her family.
‘It’s nice you think so highly of me.’ Nice! It was paternalistic and infuriating. It made her blood boil. ‘But as a marriage isn’t going to happen, let’s return to business and discuss the contract instead.’
A smile was beyond her. Instead she picked up her cutlery and focused on loading vegetables onto her fork.
‘Sadly, I see no point.’
She looked up to see him drop his napkin onto the table and fold his arms. The gesture emphasised the breadth of his chest. More like a builder’s labourer than a businessman, but according to her research he’d started out working all sorts of jobs, including on building sites.
He wants you to ask why there’s no point discussing it.
For thirty seconds she kept silent, not wanting to give him what he expected.
But this isn’t about you. It’s about the company and everyone employed there.
‘No point? You’re happy to proceed with the contract as it stands?’
‘I’ve changed my mind. I won’t acquire the House of Fontaine. Not without you.’
He couldn’t be serious.
He couldn’t be...
The fine hairs at her nape rose and she shivered, looking into eyes as cold as a frost-bound alpine lake.
‘You actually mean it.’ Her voice sounded brittle, but maybe that was because of the blood rushing in her ears, impairing her hearing.
‘One thing you’ll learn about me, Gisèle, is that I always say what I mean. I’m a straightforward man.’
A deliberately outrageous, devious, egotistical man.
She felt as if the floor of the exclusive restaurant had opened up beneath her and she was in freefall, like Alice in that book her mother had read to her as a little girl.
If only she could wake up to discover this was a bad dream.
She surveyed the luxurious restaurant, almost hoping she was having some strange hallucination. But the murmur of contented voices, the chink of glass and cutlery, the glide of soft-footed wait staff between the tables was all as it should be. The only anomaly was here, where Adam Wilde demanded the impossible.
‘You won’t find me ungenerous,’ he said as if she’d actually agreed. ‘There’s more than enough money to keep you in the style to which you’re accustomed, far more in fact.’
Gisèle was bereft of words. Bad enough he thought her a well-dressed, well-mannered doll he could trot out in public. He added insult to injury by assuming she wanted his money.
The Fontaines had grown wealthy but she’d always worked hard, as much if not more than her colleagues. Besides, lately she and Julien had ploughed most of their personal funds into propping up the company.
‘It’s not a question of money, Mr Wilde.’
‘Ah, now I’ve offended you. It’s Adam, please.’
Gisèle inhaled sharply. Was it possible he hadn’t meant to insult her? That he considered her a pawn to be played as it suited him, yet hadn’t understood how that felt?
She was no sacrificial lamb. She was a woman with a life and plans of her own.
‘I’m afraid you have an unrealistic picture of me.’ She couldn’t bring herself to use his name. She was too furious, too shocked. ‘I’m sure there are plenty of women who present well in public and who’d be eager to take up your offer.’
He shook his head. ‘But they’re not you, Gisèle. You’re the one I want.’
She loathed his arrogance. Almost as much as she hated the part of her, deep inside, that clenched with a dark, inexplicable excitement at the sound of his deep voice saying he wanted her.
Was she so sexually deprived she found that thrilling? It was clear from his bland expression, and his words, that he wasn’t speaking sexually. He wanted her at his side in public, the face of Fontaine’s, an upmarket accessory.
He had no interest in her personally, despite the deliciously rough edge to his voice when he talked about wanting her. It was a paper marriage he contemplated. A union that looked good in public, but in private she guessed he’d satisfy his other needs with a string of sexy women.
For all the images of him looking severe and businesslike, her research had produced as many of him emerging from famous restaurants and clubs with a range of sultry women snuggled close.
And once in a grainy, long-distance shot, he’d been captured in the shallows of a tropical beach. His companion wore a string bikini and he’d been magnificently bare to the waterline at his hips. The image of his honed, muscled frame, his head bent towards the lithe redhead in his arms, was branded in Gisèle’s memory.
No doubt he’d continue pursuing sexual intimacy wherever and whenever took his fancy. He wouldn’t turn to a convenient wife for that.
Gisèle couldn’t be attracted to a man like him. She was stressed, worried about Julien and the company. Her reactions were all out of place.
‘Tell me what you’re thinking.’
She looked up to find his eyes on her. ‘Sorry?’
‘You’re flushed and your eyes are shining. You look different.’
‘Perhaps I’m searching for a polite way to convince you I mean what I say.’
‘No need to be polite with me. Feel free to let rip. I want to know what you’re thinking.’ His gaze was steady, expression unchanged, but his deep voice again held that husky edge that burred along her nerves.
Gisèle folded her hands, resisting the temptation to tell him exactly what she thought of him. It would be momentarily satisfying but too many lives depended on this deal.
‘I’m happy to negotiate an arrangement to represent the company for a time. I can accompany you to launches and so forth.’ She ignored the shiver of warning rippling down her backbone at the idea of spending time with this man. ‘We can amend the contract—’
‘That’s not enough.’ He leaned closer and a drift of subtle scent reached her. Something rich, dark and wholly male. Yet despite her training she couldn’t place it. ‘It’s marriage or nothing, Gisèle.’
‘If you take time to think—’
‘I have thought. That’s why I’m meeting you alone. I assumed you’d prefer we settled this between ourselves.’
This was his attempt at consideration? Suggesting, no, demanding marriage in a public restaurant, within half an hour of meeting her? Maybe even he baulked at the thought of inserting that particular clause in a commercial contract.
Gisèle struggled to squash a rising tide of laughter, fearing that if she let rip, as he put it, she wouldn’t be able to stop.
‘That’s the deal.’ His tone was uncompromising. ‘Take it or leave it.’
Her amusement died instantly. There was nothing to laugh at. Only herself for thinking today’s meeting would be straightforward. She’d even assumed she might persuade him to guarantee employment for the staff. How na?ve she’d been.
Marrying a stranger was impossible. She couldn’t do it. But the alternative, sending him packing then watching everything her family had built crumble, was equally impossible.
Her mind blanked. She couldn’t think, couldn’t plan.
‘How long before you need an answer?’
She couldn’t believe the words emerging from her mouth but a delaying tactic was good. She needed time to think.
‘Before the end of the meal.’
He didn’t even have the decency to look smug that he’d put her in this degrading position. They both knew the House of Fontaine urgently needed a saviour.
That more than anything stung.
Fury pierced her brain fog. Her spine stiffened, her chin lifted as she met that moss green stare. Not moss but pond scum, she amended. Slime.
‘You spoke as if you intend to represent the company publicly, since you want me at your side.’ She didn’t wait for him to speak. ‘So I need to tell you that while you might be accustomed to making unreasonable demands elsewhere, in my world courtesy and common decency are considered indispensable. It’s totally unreasonable to throw out such a demand to satisfy a whim. And to reinforce the fact that you think you have me over a barrel.’
Surprisingly Adam Wilde didn’t look annoyed at her outburst. The glint in his eyes looked almost appreciative and this time his smile lifted both corners of his mouth, turning him from saturnine to smack-in-the-chest sexy.
‘I knew you were the woman I needed, Gisèle. You’ve just proved it.’
She goggled. ‘Were you...testing me?’ Her voice was hoarse.
He shrugged. ‘Only a little.’
She sank back in her seat, her bunched shoulders easing down as her heart gradually stopped thundering and slowed to something like its normal rhythm. Relief stirred.
It had been a test.
He hadn’t meant it!
‘I’ll give you until tomorrow to agree.’