Chapter Six
THE PHOTOS OF her and Adam on the yacht were just the beginning.
Gisèle had faced a barrage of public scrutiny in her younger years but press attention now reached a new pitch of excitement. Because her name was linked with the uber-successful, famously maverick Adam Wilde. A man who set his own rules, daring to do things his way, defying society’s expectations.
Sometimes it took her breath away, the level of hype surrounding them in the weeks since those first photos broke. But rarely, because she was busy juggling the expectations of her secret fiancé, the company’s employees and Julien.
‘I still don’t understand it,’ her brother said, and Gisèle shifted the phone to her other ear as she selected earrings to wear tonight. ‘What have you got in common with him? He’s not your type.’
‘Since when did I have a type?’
Julien’s words bit close to the bone. Despite the male companions who sometimes accompanied her to formal events, there’d been no man in her life for years.
For good reason.
‘Exactly,’ he replied, making Gisèle grit her teeth at how much her brother knew about her disappointments and disillusionment.
But it was because they were close that she’d go through with this farce of a marriage.
Her big brother had looked after her when their father died and their mother dumped them on their grandpère. She’d do anything for Julien, to save his connection to the company he loved. He’d protected her for years. Now it was her turn.
‘You go from dating no one,’ he persisted, ‘to spending all your time with the enemy.’
‘Hardly the enemy. You’ll be working together, remember? He’s saving the House of Fontaine, keeping us and all the staff on. You admitted yourself that was generous.’
Over the long-distance connection from his home near Paris, she heard her brother’s mumble of discontent. ‘I still don’t understand it. He didn’t need to do that so why did he agree? It doesn’t fit his usual form. In the past he’s been aggressive in any takeover, with no sentiment.’
‘Sentiment? Fontaine’s has terrific staff and excellent products. And you were a highly successful CEO.’
‘I doubt Adam Wilde believes that.’
Gisèle put her hand to her forehead, where a headache built. ‘Why not accept it as a gesture of goodwill? See how things go when you’re back at work.’
There was silence for a moment. ‘How are you coping, Gisèle? I feel guilty about not being there—’
‘Enough of that! You need this time to recover.’
Though his treatment had finished, his body needed to mend from the trauma of fighting a potentially fatal illness.
‘In the meantime he’s got you running after him, at his beck and call.’
‘It’s not like that.’
It was like that. But worse, far worse than Julien imagined. Some days it seemed like she spent almost every waking hour with her nemesis.
Then at night he’d feature in her dreams. Disturbing dreams she didn’t want to think about. Because in them she enjoyed being with the big, bold Australian in ways that made her blood sizzle and her sex soften.
She dragged in a deep breath and tore her brain away from that sensual, night-time torture.
How smug Adam would be if he knew.
He insisted she accompany him to every meeting at Fontaine’s, every inspection of offices and facilities. He’d been adamant and, knowing she had no choice, she’d agreed.
‘Being in the meetings has been useful.’ She’d been surprised at how much. ‘The staff trust me to be honest with them and I understand the work in a way Adam and his minions don’t.’
Often she found herself working as a kind of interpreter between the two.
‘Adam, eh? That’s very chummy.’
Gisèle was about to protest that Adam Wilde would never be her chum. But she couldn’t if she were going to convince her brother she was falling for the man.
‘You’d hardly expect me to keep calling him Mr Wilde.’
Come on, Gisèle. Surely you can do better than that.
‘I find his company...invigorating.’
That’s one way of putting it!
She was more stressed than she dared confess. Her nerves were a constant jangle. Not with fear of what he’d do to her precious company—that had abated as she saw him work—but because of his effect on her.
He took her from fury at his bluntness and outrageous demands, to admiration at his insight, and surprise at his rare moments of sympathy when dealing with anxious staff.
Then there was that other thing. The nameless bond that hung, ever-present, between them. It left her quivering and her knees like jelly when his eyes locked on hers and she swore she saw heat flicker there.
Gisèle wrapped her arm around herself.
There is no bond. You’re imagining it because for some stupid reason you find him physically attractive. He doesn’t feel the same. He has no trouble keeping his distance. The no-kissing, no-touching rule is fine by him.
She hoped he didn’t realise how increasingly hard she found it, sticking to that bargain. The fleeting touch of his hand on hers had her yearning for so much more.
‘Earth to Gisèle! Are you there?’
Julien’s voice jolted her into the present.
Her hand shook and she dropped her earrings. Because she’d just seen herself in the mirror. Her eyes had a dazed, yearning look that terrified her.
Because she’d been thinking, again, about Adam touching her.
No matter what, she couldn’t let him see her like that.
‘Sorry, Julien, I have to go. We’ll talk later. I’m still getting dressed and I’m going to be late.’
‘What is it this time? Wilde can’t have meetings now. He has to give you some time off.’
Despite the press’s breathless reporting of a supposed affair between her and the Australian, Julien was still convinced their relationship was purely business.
‘Actually,’ she hesitated, ‘it’s not work. It’s a party. With film people on the coast for the Cannes Festival.’
The silence on the other end of the line seemed to echo with her brother’s shock.
Gisèle was about to say it was an excellent opportunity to raise the company’s profile, then pressed her lips together. He needed to think it was a real date.
‘I see,’ he said eventually and, for the first time she could remember, Gisèle couldn’t read her brother’s tone.
‘We’ll talk later,’ she assured him. ‘I have to go.’
She ended the call and sank onto the bed, boneless. She had no one she could turn to, no one to discuss this with. All she could do was try to hold it all together. The business, the charade, and most importantly never letting Adam Wilde suspect her weakness for him.
Easy!
Gisèle’s laugh had an out-of-control edge. She’d never felt so out of her depth.
‘So it’s true. You and the ice lady are an item.’
Adam turned to find his host beside him.
When they’d met a year ago he’d thought Blake, if not a kindred spirit, at least a man he’d consider doing business with. They’d made their billions in similar fields and though competitors in many markets, there could be benefits in a few cooperative ventures.
Now he knew he’d been mistaken.
‘Ice lady?’ His lethally soft tone had been known to make CEOs quake in their shoes.
Blake made a placating gesture. But his expression showed his delight at Adam’s reaction.
Emotion of any sort was a weakness in the world of high stakes corporate transactions. Maybe that was why Blake’s relationships were even more short-lived than Adam’s. More like a revolving door. The man had come to Cannes in the company of a beautiful Colombian actress, but he’d spent the evening panting after a Norwegian star whose film had received a standing ovation at the festival.
‘Sorry, did I get that wrong? That’s right. It’s Ice Queen, isn’t it?’ His smile widened salaciously. ‘But I’m sure the lovely Gisèle melts for you. I bet she’s really something when she does.’
If he’d been anywhere else than at a party with Gisèle, who’d fortunately left his side to talk to an acquaintance, Adam would have grabbed the guy by the throat and shaken that smarmy smile off his face. Host or no host.
Acid filled his belly as Blake said Gisèle’s name in that snide, knowing voice.
‘If you’re talking about Ms Fontaine, I recommend you keep your thoughts to yourself.’
He wanted to teach the guy a sharp lesson in respect. But he controlled himself. Not because he’d decided to prove to the world that he was no longer the brash, uncouth outsider many thought. But because he’d brought Gisèle to this party and wouldn’t have her name sullied by association with violence.
Blake moved closer, raising his glass in salute. ‘She’s tamed you? I thought when you acquired Fontaine’s you’d beaten us all to a prize. Now I wonder if you’ve met your match. I never thought I’d see the day.’
Adam couldn’t be bothered prolonging this conversation. The evening had turned sour. But he couldn’t see Gisèle. Where was she? The party had already been in full swing when they arrived, guests’ inhibitions disappearing fast.
Blake wouldn’t be the only man attracted to Gisèle. Could she fend off drunken advances if she needed to?
Adam’s fists clenched and his muscles tightened as he scanned the mansion’s grounds. There were shadows everywhere. If she were in trouble...
‘Maybe it’s not really attraction,’ Blake continued. ‘Maybe it’s the novelty of a change from the sexy women you usually date. She dresses so soberly. Like a school mistress.’ His tone was avid. ‘Or a nun.’
Adam saw Gisèle over his host’s shoulder, crossing the terrace towards them.
Her hair was swept up, shining like pale gold. It was true her dress was demure. Dark blue with sleeves to the elbow, a high neck, cinched waist and skirt to just below the knees, at first glance it looked modest. Yet it made him desperate at the thought of her naked skin beneath it. The way it shifted and clung as she walked stole the air from his lungs.
She’d driven him crazy from the moment he’d collected her tonight, his skin too tight for the primal urges he battled.
He swung to face his host with a smile he knew held an edge of masculine threat. If Blake so much as looked at Gisèle with that hungry gleam, Adam would deck him. ‘But such a sophisticated nun,’ he drawled.
Deliberately he turned towards the pool where some women, including Blake’s newest paramour, had stripped to their underwear for a midnight dip. As he watched, one took off her bra to pose in a skimpy thong, ogled by a cluster of men.
‘If you’ll excuse us, it’s time we left.’
He spun on his heel and turned to discover Gisèle had almost reached them. He didn’t wait for Blake’s response but marched across, took her elbow and hurried her towards the exit.
Damn their agreement not to touch.
He wanted to wrap his arm around her and tuck her close, as if his bulk could protect her from the avaricious eyes of that slimeball Blake. And any other predatory male.
He’d only known the woman a couple of weeks but she tested his limits. Every day as they worked together he was distracted by the sight and sound of her. His brain threatened to short circuit as he inhaled her cinnamon and orange blossom scent whenever they got close.
But never close enough to satisfy what had become a permanent, gut-deep yearning.
Just as well she didn’t know what she did to him! She’d use that power to her advantage.
Adam’s jaw clenched so hard pain grabbed his neck and the back of his skull. But he couldn’t dispel the tension crawling through his body. At the thought of Blake judging Gisèle and, despite his mockery, salivating over her like a greedy hyena.
‘But I haven’t said goodnight to Mr Blake!’ She half turned.
‘I did it for you.’
He tightened his grip as they wove through the partygoers. Several tried to stop them. He saw male gazes slide over Gisèle and refused to halt. Even when he realised he’d forgotten to reduce his stride to suit hers, he didn’t slow. Something deep inside demanded he get her away immediately.
He’d like to think it was a protective instinct.
Instead Adam feared it was dog-in-the-manger stubbornness. He couldn’t have her, yet, and the frustration was like scrabbling claws shredding his veneer of sophistication.
Sophistication! It was a wonder he hadn’t punched his leering host on the nose and thrown Gisèle over his shoulder to carry her away to his villa.
He imagined it clearly. Initially she’d be outraged but then she’d melt in his arms, revealing she was as desperate for him as he was for her.
Dream on, mate!
He didn’t pretend to know what went on in a woman’s mind, but he couldn’t miss her stiff posture or darting looks. Needling looks. She didn’t want to leave the party.
Why? Had she met someone? A man?
Had he fooled himself, believing he read attraction in her eyes when she let the guard down?
Adam huffed a breath of pure frustration as he guided her through the foyer. It wasn’t like him to doubt himself. This second guessing was sending him crazy.
But after seeing momentary hints of stark vulnerability in her eyes, and dealing with her and her brother enough to begin amending his assessment of them, he’d revised his plans. It struck him how furious and resentful he’d feel if a stranger tried to force his sister into marriage.
That made him squirm. But if the idea were truly distasteful Gisèle wouldn’t go through with it. She might be fighting in a tight corner but she could walk away from the contest if she didn’t like the conditions.
Which brought him to the desire heavy and unspoken between them.
His aim was to let her grow accustomed to him. Make her acknowledge what she’d gain from their union. He’d charm her. Not overtly but with patience and consideration.
He’d give her time.
Time! The deadline for their wedding was a few weeks away.
Gisèle tugged free and moved towards his sports car that a valet had driven up. She didn’t look at Adam as he opened her door and her thanks were terse.
He got into the driver’s seat and accelerated down the driveway. ‘I’m sorry to cut the evening short.’ He didn’t offer an explanation. He’d rather she didn’t know about Blake’s prurient interest. ‘But if you’d like to go on somewhere... A nightclub—?’
‘No thanks.’ Her head was turned away and she spoke to the passenger side window. ‘I want to go home.’
‘You’re tired? You don’t look it.’
He’d felt the energy coursing through her as they walked through the villa, as if he held a live wire. Besides, though he wanted to escape Blake and his cronies, Adam wasn’t ready for the evening to end.
‘Don’t I?’ Gisèle’s face showed pale in the darkness as she turned. ‘Appearances are deceiving. Our first appointment was at eight this morning and it’s been a long day. Working in the evening too takes a toll.’
‘Working!’ He’d taken her to the most exclusive party on the C?te d’Azur. Despite the distaste lingering on his tongue, or because of it—since he’d made her the subject of speculation—his tone sharpened. Or maybe because she classed an evening with him as work. ‘Millions would give their eye teeth to attend tonight’s event.’
‘Millions, but not me. Though I did get to promote our new product range with some guests.’
Adam’s hands tightened on the wheel but he resisted the urge to floor the accelerator. She was reminding him her focus was the company, not him.
He told himself not to react. To play a waiting game because he knew—surely he was right—her protests hid an attraction that matched his.
The journey passed silently, Gisèle apparently fascinated by the nightscape and Adam driving with tremendous care as he battled an uprush of adrenaline and anger.
She opened her door as he pulled into the kerb, but Adam was on the pavement as she alighted. ‘I’ll walk you to your door.’
‘There’s no need. It’s just there.’
Gisèle had reached her limit. She couldn’t bear another moment in Adam Wilde’s company.
Sophisticated nun, indeed!
She’d disliked their host tonight from the moment he’d leered at her when Adam wasn’t watching. His insult about her dressing like a starchy schoolteacher or a nun didn’t surprise her, though his tone had made her skin crawl.
What had gutted her was her companion’s response.
You invited it, wearing the most buttoned-up dress you own. Because you didn’t want Adam to think you were encouraging him.
Perversely, it had hurt when he’d said sneeringly that she made a sophisticated nun, then turned to gawk at the nubile beauties stripping by the pool. He’d made it clear what sort of woman he preferred.
Even while they pretended to be together!
She’d known since puberty she’d never be a classic beauty or stunningly sexy. She’d aimed for sophistication, spent years learning to appear that way, pretending her strong nose and eyebrows were assets. Learning to present herself confidently.
He’d made that achievement feel hollow.
Facing her limitations hurt as it hadn’t in years.
What did you expect? That he secretly pined for you? His preference for staggeringly sexy women is on the public record. Those melting looks he gives you are an act.
Gisèle knew that. Why be upset when he dismissed her so easily? She should celebrate that he didn’t find her desirable.
‘What’s wrong, Gisèle? Did someone say or do something to upset you?’
Adam stepped before her, blocking her way.
The streetlight showed his frown and a twist to his lips that seemed to reflect the broken line of his nose. He looked...concerned.
‘Tell me, Gisèle. I’ll sort them out.’
The offer, in that husky growl, stunned her. Gisèle always stood on her own two feet. This offer to act on her behalf was strangely moving.
Some of her indignation melted.
Until she remembered he was the man who’d hurt her.
That was the scariest thing. After continually being compared unfavourably with her mother in looks, deportment, sex appeal and charm, Gisèle had learned to brush off such comparisons. It had taken years to turn herself into a poised, chic businesswoman. Longer to believe in herself so barbed slurs no longer pained her.
But now she felt pain. Because of this man’s dismissal.
He reached out, long fingers closing around her arm. ‘Gisèle? Talk to me.’
He leaned closer and, as if to make a mockery of her fury, his rich, indefinable yet utterly beguiling scent filled her nostrils, making her body soften. She felt that familiar stirring, her mouth drying and nipples budding.
Because, despite everything, she desired him!
Then, as if the universe hadn’t dealt enough blows, she saw, in the shadows behind him, a figure with a raised camera.
No wonder Adam was solicitous!
He must have seen the cameraman. His concerned frown and caring tone were props, not real.
His acting now was better than at the party when it had been clear to anyone who looked that he’d rather ogle naked starlets than her.
‘You want to know what’s wrong? This. Us. Everything!’
Instead of ripping her arm free, Gisèle thrust her head forward, leaning close.
She waited for Adam to laugh off her words. Remind her she’d agreed to this deal and had to go along with it.
That was all it would take to tip her over the edge and make such a scene even the mighty Adam Wilde wouldn’t be able to smooth it over.
When he remained silent she whispered for his ears alone, ‘What’s the matter, Adam? Don’t tell me you’re going to disappoint the paparazzo? You’re doing a great job, pretending concern for me.’
‘Paparazzo?’ His fingers tightened around her arm. ‘That’s why you’re upset?’
‘Why aren’t you taking advantage of the moment? I thought at least you’d engineer a clinch. Think of those millions of readers who get their titillation gasping over made-up stories about people they don’t know. Maybe we should move into the light. Then they will see us more clearly to comment on what we’re wearing.’
Gisèle imagined it easily. Adam’s warm embrace, his head lowering to kiss her, only this time not on the forehead but the lips.
When he did she’d bite his bottom lip as hard as she could and stab her high-heeled shoe on his instep. No woman should be forced to sell herself as she was being forced.
But what would happen to Julien then? And the company employees?
A shuddering breath filled her lungs as Gisèle came back to reality with a sickening thud.
You have to do this. You know you do.
Her vision smeared as unaccustomed tears filled her eyes. Tears of fury, not hurt.
The shadowed face before her was unreadable.
They stood close, his body blocking hers from the camera, his hand now lax on her arm. Then to her amazement Adam said in a voice she’d never heard, ‘You’re right. Go inside, Gisèle. It’s late and you must be tired.’
He ushered her towards the door. Neither glanced at the figure hiding at the end of the building.
A minute later she stood in the darkened foyer, the main door closing behind her with Adam on the outside. He hadn’t played up the scene for the press. Nor had he berated her.
She didn’t understand it.
But that was the least of her worries.
Hurting and furious because Adam made her feel vulnerable again after all these years, she wasn’t relieved to be alone.
She wished he’d come inside, wrapped his arms around her and seduced her into losing herself in the passion she’d denied herself so long. The passion he alone ignited.
She was in deep, deep trouble! And he was to blame.