Chapter Five
ADAM MOVED CLOSER, drawn by a force far stronger than the need to feed the paparazzi a story.
Drawn by her. The complex woman who made no effort to attract him yet whose every word, every look, made him want more than he’d wanted in years.
Desire was a scratching under his flesh, a flame in his belly, a heavy throb as he watched her eyes flash, her mouth tighten then soften with each mood change.
He couldn’t define her allure but it was there, strong and vital, like the sparks where his hand touched her skin.
Those lips, wide and sculpted, seemingly innocent in nude lipstick, drew him like a magnet drew metal.
Slowly he lowered his head, anticipating the sweetness of her mouth flowering beneath his. Until a glance at her eyes blasted his excitement. Huge, dark pupils dwarfed her irises, making her look, for a second, stricken.
Because of him? Did she detest him so much?
Warning bells jangled and he was about to pull back. Except her expression changed, eyelids drooping in lazy anticipation and lips parting as she lifted her face, that second of distress vanishing.
He’d never had such conflicting messages from a woman.
Gisèle leaned in, her warm fragrance teasing him, his doubts undermined as her palm settled on his chest. Her fingers spread as if to absorb his thundering heartbeat.
He heard a sigh, the merest waft of air, but it tangled his thoughts and muffled his doubts.
Adam captured her free hand, their fingers curling together. He closed the space between them. But instead of lowering his mouth to hers as he’d intended, he pressed his lips to her forehead, his kiss as chaste as a brother’s.
Since when did he do chaste?
Yet his eyes shut as a rush of emotion enveloped him.
Protectiveness?
Curiosity?
Thwarted desire?
All those. Yet, to his surprise, he felt no frustration at denying himself a proper kiss. Even with the promise of her body against his, every bit as seductive as he’d imagined.
He let the moment expand, feeling her soften against him, her breathing slow, and it felt right.
The churning rush of arousal in his lower body eased, the urgent thrum in his blood turning to a heavy but steady beat.
Comfort, he realised. That’s what this was. More powerful than the intense excitement of a moment ago. Though desire was still there, a permanent undercurrent whenever he was around Gisèle.
Comfort for her, because he’d hated that moment of dark emotion he’d seen in her gaze. He’d wanted to obliterate it.
But, he realised, stunned, comfort for himself too.
How and why, he couldn’t say. And that was unacceptable.
He didn’t need or want comfort from a woman. He was perfectly content with his life. Perfectly in control.
Abruptly he pulled back, wondering how a chaste kiss on the forehead could upend everything.
Slumbrous eyes, more lavender than blue, blinked and met his. He wanted, he discovered, to wake up to that warm, hazy gaze on a regular basis. He had the weird notion that even the most taxing day would be easier if it started with Gisèle looking at him that way.
But then she gathered herself, her hand sliding from his, those stunning eyes turning gunmetal grey. As if the savvy businesswoman had returned, determined to fight for the company that, he was beginning to realise, meant so much to her.
Adam was grateful when she stepped away. Though his hand at her nape lingered as if he didn’t want to end the contact. Once she’d moved from his reach, his palm tingled at the sense memory of her delicate skin against his and he shoved his hand into his pocket.
She turned so any watcher on the motorboat couldn’t see her face. Her words were clipped. ‘That really wasn’t necessary.’
‘We’ll have to agree to disagree on that, Gisèle.’ Adam let his voice drop and linger on her name, watching with satisfaction as her breath hitched. Not so calm, then. ‘It was necessary if we’re going to make them believe this is the beginning of a grand romance. I was doing you a favour.’
A frown puckered her brow. ‘You think a kiss on the forehead romantic?’
He shrugged. ‘I didn’t want to overplay my hand. That will show there’s...tenderness between us.’
A wry laugh greeted his words. ‘It’s okay. You don’t need to explain that you don’t actually want to kiss me. I feel the same.’
He was about to correct her then stopped himself. Of course he wanted to kiss her. She knew that. No woman of her age and looks could be so innocent. She was throwing up words as a barrier.
For he knew, with the instinct that came from years of experience, that she wanted his kisses too. Yet for some reason she denied it. Pride? Or because of whatever had made her look lost minutes before?
‘Gisèle. Before this goes further—’
‘Yes.’ She cut across him as no one else dared, except his family. ‘Before this goes further I want to make something clear.’
She folded her arms, the image of determination. Adam forced his gaze up from where her crossed arms emphasised the curve of her breasts.
‘Go on. Clarity, by all means.’
Because the last few minutes had confused the hell out of him. He couldn’t believe he’d pulled back without enjoying the promise of her tempting lips. Because of some fleeting expression he’d probably imagined.
‘No kissing,’ she said firmly. ‘No touching. Even for the cameras.’
Adam shoved his other hand in his trouser pocket and rocked back on his heels. ‘How do you expect to make anyone believe we’ve fallen in love?’
Gisèle opened her mouth then closed it. ‘By being seen together. Sharing meals. That sort of thing.’
‘I share meals with my PA. No one’s ever assumed there’s a budding romance.’
He watched her wrestle with that, surprised at her vehemence. And her na?veté. The only explanation he could think of was that she was frightened. Frightened of him? Not likely when her laser stare threatened to vivisect him.
Frightened of herself?
It was a curious thought, but appealing. If Gisèle worried she was too responsive, seducing her would be so much easier.
‘At the least I need to be able to hold your hand or arm. Even that—’
‘Okay, we’ll go with that.’ She nodded as if he’d agreed. ‘No touching except on the arm or hand.’
She drew herself up, and despite his superior height looked at him down the length of her superb, aristocratic nose.
He’d like to tell her how her Ice Queen act turned him on. How, the cooler she grew, the hotter he felt at the prospect of melting her reserve. Of claiming her beautiful body for himself. But she’d find out soon enough. He sensed she struggled to maintain that admirable poise and for once he didn’t want to smash straight through his opponent’s defences.
Gisèle was far more than an opponent. And it would be so much better when she came to him, instead of fighting every step of the way.
‘You drive a hard bargain, Gisèle. It will be tough, convincing the press based on so little. But I enjoy a challenge.’
Her eyes rounded. ‘It wasn’t meant to be a challenge.’
‘Too late, sweetheart.’ Adam felt his smile unfurl. ‘That’s exactly what it is.’
He paused for her to digest that. ‘I solemnly promise not to touch you except on the hand or arm. And definitely not to kiss you.’ Her high shoulders dropped and her flattened mouth eased. ‘Until you ask me.’
‘Until you ask me...’
Gisèle shook her head. Words failed her.
As if she’d ever ask him to touch her, much less kiss her! She’d never met anyone so supremely confident. It infuriated her.
But you like it too. It attracts you, doesn’t it? The thought of him kissing you, properly, makes you wet between the legs. You were disappointed when he gave you a peck on the forehead.
The truth was shocking. She tried to deny it but she never lied to herself. Better to face facts, no matter how unpalatable, and deal with them.
And it was a fact that, despite the glowing invitation in Adam’s glance, he wasn’t really attracted. Otherwise he’d have kissed her properly.
She knew some men liked to prove their dominance. Others liked a challenge and still more saw women as trophies to be won, or stepping stones to wealth or business opportunities.
Skeletal fingers rippled down her spine but she ignored the sensation. The past couldn’t hurt her any more. She’d turned pain into a learning experience that made her stronger.
Gisèle was silent as she followed Adam to the other end of the yacht. Catching sight of the speedboat, she stifled stupid embarrassment that their chaste kiss was fodder for the public.
Because for a moment she’d felt a rush of emotion at Adam’s caress.
She didn’t understand it. She should have hated it. Yet hate had been the last thing she felt.
She’d wanted him to kiss her!
How could that be? She didn’t like him.
His unshakable confidence reminded her of her father. Except her father had been a warm, caring man, reckless in the chances he took, but never bombastic or egotistical.
Adam Wilde wasn’t like her father.
Yet something about him drew her.
He challenged her. Forced her onto her mettle, not giving any quarter. Perversely she almost enjoyed that. She’d definitely enjoyed seeing his blink of surprise when he discovered she wasn’t the airhead he’d initially thought.
But that couldn’t explain how he consistently managed to get under her skin and make her feel.
‘Let me help you.’
Adam had stopped at the top of a ladder. Below a tender waited to take them ashore.
‘No, thanks. I can manage.’
She was grateful she’d worn trousers. Imagine the paparazzi photographs if she’d worn a short skirt.
You don’t own a short skirt. Your wardrobe is full of tailored business clothes.
Even the casual clothes she wore in private tended to conceal rather than reveal.
Gisèle’s foot slipped on a rung but she caught herself.
‘Easy there. You’re almost down.’ His deep voice came from below.
She took the last rungs slowly, holding on to the ladder as she turned. Adam waited for her. With deliberate slowness he reached out and grasped her elbow as if to steady her, his touch warm and reassuring. As if she weren’t already perfectly balanced on the small boat.
It was a solicitous gesture, or would seem so to an onlooker. Only she could see the amusement lighting his eyes, making them glow like sunlight dappling water. ‘Okay, Gisèle?’
Her immediate thought was that he laughed silently at her expense, because of the boundaries she’d set. Yet now she wasn’t sure. Something passed between them and it felt as if he shared a joke with her. As if it were the two of them against the world.
If you believe that you’ve got rocks in your head!
‘Fine, thanks.’ Gisèle slipped free and moved away to take a seat.
She refused to fall for his charm. She’d met plenty of corporate sharks, focused on winning at all costs. From what she’d seen, Adam Wilde would beat all of them.
Relaxing in his presence wasn’t an option. This was business.
A fact borne out when they reached his villa. As soon as she’d taken a seat in a luxurious sitting room, one of his staff arrived with papers. Contracts.
Gisèle forced herself not to flinch as she took them, though everything inside froze at what she held. An agreement to sell her family heritage to a stranger.
So much for the illusion of a tentative bond growing between them.
She fixed her gaze on Adam as his assistant left. ‘I’ll need to discuss the details with my brother before we sign.’
If she’d expected to discomfort him, she was disappointed. He didn’t look in the least perturbed.
‘Naturally. But the second document isn’t for your brother. It’s a private contract between us. I want it signed before you leave. It covers the matters we discussed this morning.’
‘This morning? You’ve had no time—’
He shrugged and, looking up from her seat, Gisèle saw the leashed energy in his tall frame. Though it wasn’t his physical power that daunted her, it was his non-stop drive to achieve what he wanted in the quickest possible time. He was like a force of nature, unstoppable.
The idea would unnerve her if she let it.
‘My legal team was on standby. We already had a contract ready for signature. It was easy to insert text to cover your requirements.’
That was what he’d been doing in the back of the limo. She hadn’t known whether to be annoyed at the way he’d ignored her while he was busy on the phone or grateful for the respite.
She’d thought she’d have more time to devise an escape plan before signing anything. But he had her where he wanted her. His reputation for ruthless efficiency was well earned.
Gisèle swallowed, tasting hot metal on her tongue. There would be no escape.
Her breath hitched as if someone wrapped a tightening band around her chest. Not someone. Adam Wilde.
‘Would you like tea or coffee while you read it?’
‘Water, thanks.’
Her throat was desert-arid. Besides, it would give him something to do other than tower over her while she read.
As he crossed the room to a drinks cabinet she gave her attention to the documents but her head swam and the words blurred.
Stress.
Lack of sleep.
The knowledge that she was utterly trapped.
But feeling sorry for herself wouldn’t help. She drew a deep breath and tried again.
A glass of iced water appeared in her peripheral vision as he put it on the side table.
‘Thank you.’ She took a sip and felt her momentary wobble dissipate. She would do whatever was necessary for her family and the company.
Adam sank onto a chair opposite her, picking up his copy of the documents. ‘Before we go through our private agreement, you might want to check the sales contract.’ He flicked through the pages. ‘Page fifteen, subsection C covers your request to keep on current staff.’
Gisèle’s brow knitted as she read. The new text gave current employees two months’ guaranteed employment and specified that performance assessment would occur in that time.
Her slight unsteadiness disappeared instantly. ‘Two months isn’t enough. And there’s nothing to say what sort of assessment process you’ll use. Your team could sack everyone after two months.’
She looked up and found him watching her. But she felt no skitter of nerves as before. This wasn’t about him and her. This was about her people. She lifted her eyebrows a fraction. ‘Twelve months is more appropriate.’
‘Impossible. Three.’
‘Three is no certainty at all. Eleven months.’
‘And if I find dead wood in the workforce? I don’t carry underperforming people.’
‘You gave your word.’
Didn’t that matter? Gisèle waited, sensing his attitude now would give the measure of the man.
‘Six months. And my team will work with yours to review the performance assessment processes and improve them.’
‘I want that in writing. And that I’ll be part of the team reviewing it.’
After a second he nodded. ‘Six months, then.’
Is that what he’d intended all along? He’d agreed more easily than she’d anticipated. Gisèle had the unnerving suspicion he was appearing to negotiate but the outcome was already set. She was surprised he’d budged at all. He was reputedly completely without softness. Success was all that mattered.
‘And Julien’s role in the company?’
Adam found the relevant clause where Julien was given a senior management role. Her position as head of the ethical sustainability unit was also included. Her tension eased a little.
‘I’ll have an updated version made and circulated. Meanwhile let’s finalise our private business.’
The way he said private business made her skin prickle. Gisèle told herself she was too sensitive. This was another addendum to his business agenda, nothing personal.
Which begged the question she’d wondered since he’d blasted into their lives like a flaming comet. ‘Why the House of Fontaine?’
‘Sorry?’
For a moment, Gisèle fancied she saw something other than confidence in those strong features. ‘What drew you to our business? Your holdings are in engineering, construction and logistics. Why acquire a cosmetics company?’
‘An elite cosmetics company. A world-recognised brand renowned for quality and exclusivity.’ Adam shrugged but she sensed his nonchalance masked something else. ‘Diversification is useful. Especially when I see a chance to turn a dwindling business into a highly profitable one.’
‘Hardly dwindling!’
‘Poorly managed then.’
His stare challenged her to disagree. But what was the point? Some major errors at exactly the wrong time had undone them.
‘You’re just in it for the profit?’
‘I wouldn’t take on a business unless I knew I could make a profit from it.’
Which didn’t answer her question. Gisèle sensed his prevarication was significant. Elite, he’d said. Is that what drew him? Did he want the company as proof of success on another level?
Surely not. Everyone knew Adam Wilde had made it. He had success, wealth and all the power he could want.
Yet the unanswered question niggled.
‘If you turn to the shorter contract...’
Gisèle forgot her curiosity when she started reading their private contract. The one in which she promised to marry him within five weeks.
Five weeks! Panic grabbed her throat and made her heart stutter.
There was also a penalty clause that would cost her more than she got from the sale of Fontaine’s, more than she could hope to raise from any other sources, if she reneged.
Pain grabbed her chest as her lungs tightened. The terms were Draconian but clear. If she signed this she’d have to marry him.
The fact that he’d provide her with an outrageously generous stipend on top of her salary, while they were married, couldn’t negate their power imbalance.
She seethed at being put in this position.
He’d realised she’d do whatever it took to preserve her family legacy and used that to his advantage. The contract even specified a minimum number of public events they’d attend each month or host together, at his discretion! The man left nothing to chance.
He’s buying your time. Your presence.
At least there’d be no misunderstandings about sharing her body!
He’d even included a promise of strict confidentiality about the nature of their relationship—her condition that no one know the marriage wasn’t real. It was the one saving grace in the whole appalling document.
Rapidly she flicked through the clauses listing all the assets she wouldn’t have a claim to, should they divorce. When they divorced, she silently amended. But why quibble over that when there was so much else to concern her?
‘This doesn’t set an end date. Just that we’ll live together,’ she cleared her throat, ‘for a minimum of eighteen months.’
Adam shrugged. ‘That gives us time to review the situation.’ When she didn’t respond his eyes narrowed as if with displeasure. ‘If you don’t like our arrangement then, you can file for divorce.’
Eighteen months. It seemed a lifetime.
‘This lists penalties if I renege on the deal. What about you? If we’re seen...courting publicly, but don’t marry, the press will have a field day.’
She shuddered, imagining the stories, again, about her supposed inadequacies.
‘I won’t renege. I’m the one who wants this!’
‘Nevertheless. I demand a significant penalty if you withdraw.’
It seemed crazy to say it, when she abhorred the idea of marrying him. But she couldn’t sign this as it was. He needed to treat her as an equal party.
‘Very well.’ He scrawled something on his copy and passed it to her. ‘Will this do?’
It stated that if he reneged on the wedding he’d pay multiple millions of euros within seven days.
Reluctantly she nodded. He did that so easily. As if nothing would deter him from his purpose.
Seconds later he’d added the same text to her copy and had them both initial each version. It felt like he’d closed a prison door on her.
Gisèle opened her mouth to say she needed time for her lawyer to check the details. Except could she trust Laurent, the old family lawyer, not to hint to Julien that the wedding wasn’t all it seemed? She couldn’t risk that. ‘Five weeks is too soon. It’s...’ Outrageous. Impossible. Terrifying. ‘Not feasible.’
Silence greeted her announcement. Her heart sank as she read his expression. This, unlike job security for the employees, wasn’t negotiable.
‘That’s the offer. My original plan was to marry in a week.’
‘A week!’
‘Take it or leave it. It’s your choice. But remember the amendments to the sale, about your brother and the employees, hinge on you signing this, now. Then I’ll have a clean version typed up.’
Now the words came, a fluent rush of colourful curses totally at odds with her composed public persona. Not that she voiced them. Her pride and her poise seemed all that were left to her. She clung to them tenaciously, bottling up the scathing indictment of his character in her head.
As if determined to test her limits he reiterated, ‘Five weeks.’
Gisèle took out her fountain pen and spared him a glance down the nose she’d spent a lifetime growing into. ‘You really think you can convince the world we fell for each other in under two months?’
Adam’s gaze dropped to her poised pen.
That fleeting glance told her again that he was more invested in this deal than he let on. He needed this for reasons she didn’t know. If she understood maybe she could twist that to her advantage and escape.
But she didn’t know. So she uncapped her pen and signed on the dotted line, her hand as heavy as lead.
‘Don’t worry, Gisèle.’ His deep voice held that husky note that warmed her chilled body. ‘Together, I’m sure we can convince everybody.’
Was that a promise or a threat?