Bought By A Billionaire

The shock that sprang in his face would have been laughable if she’d felt at all like laughing. The possibility of rejection had obviously never occurred to him. Not so surprising, she supposed, considering his status as one of Europe’s most eligible bachelors, but that in no way excused his sheer arrogance.

The anger sweeping her was as much a defence against any lingering doubts as an expression of repulsion. She drew herself up to her full height, fists clenched at her sides, eyes scornful. ‘If you want the truth, I’d as soon consort with a worm than a womanising, baby-abandoning low-life like you! I must have been mad to let you anywhere near me to start with. Talk about scraping the barrel!’

She stopped there, apprehension taking over at the look in his eyes. Danger shimmered in the air between them.

He turned abruptly and made for the drinks cabinet, pulling down the shelf with control to reach for glass and bottle. The whisky he poured was at least a double measure. He tossed it back in a single gulp, standing there with his back to her, tension in every line of his body.

‘I think you’d better leave,’ he said.

For a moment she hesitated, ashamed of the sheer viciousness of her attack. It took the memory of the newspaper item to drive all regret from her mind. Somewhere out there was a woman caring for his child. Maybe not the only one, for all she knew. He merited no apology.

He was still standing there when she closed the door on him.

It hadn’t been true, Leonie reflected painfully, coming back to the present. Not that part, at any rate. The woman had just been trying it on, losing her case when a blood test proved that the baby couldn’t be his. Not that it made him any less of a rake.

The ultimatum he’d just presented her with was still hard to take in. No marriage contracted under such circumstances could ever become meaningful. He would be condemning them both to a loveless union simply to salve his pride. He had to see how utterly useless a gesture it would be.

He was seated on one of the sofas, a drink to hand, when she finally nerved herself to go through. He watched her expressionlessly as she moved towards him.

‘There has to be some other way of handling this,’ she said. ‘Why would you want a wife who hates you?’

‘You don’t hate me,’ he declared without undue emphasis. ‘You feel the way you’ve always felt about me. The same way I feel about you. We’re meant to be together. If this is the only way of achieving that, then so be it.’

‘Forsaking all others?’ she asked. ‘Or are Dos Santos wives expected to turn a blind eye?’

The shrug was brief. ‘A matter of learning to trust.’

‘Trust you!’ She put every ounce of derision she could muster into the words. ‘That will be the day!’

Vidal shrugged again. ‘Time will tell.’ He paused, lifting a questioning eyebrow. ‘Do I take it we have an agreement?’

‘Do I have any choice?’ she asked bitterly.

‘Not if you want your father to keep his job.’

Leonie sat down heavily in the nearby chair, mind grappling with the implications. ‘What am I supposed to tell him?’

‘That’s entirely up to you,’ he responded. ‘The truth, if you like. I’d doubt it would make any difference.’

Her head lifted, eyes blazing green fire. ‘Yes, it would! He’d never go along with it!’

‘Then you’ll simply have to convince him that it’s what you want. You could say, for instance, that I asked you to marry me two years ago but you weren’t ready then to take the step. You’ve spent the last two years regretting your decision, and are happy to be given a second chance.’

‘He’d never believe it!’

‘Why not? He was aware of the attraction that flared between us the moment we met.’

Leonie gave a short laugh. ‘He’d hardly consider that enough to precipitate an offer of marriage from you!’

‘How could he know what my reaction would be? We come from different cultures.’

There was never a truer word, Leonie reflected, searching his face for some sign, however slight, of vulnerability. A hopeless task, of course. Vidal had no weak spots. Many women would be over the moon to have the opportunity she was being offered. If she were totally honest about it, the physical attraction he still held for her made the decision a little less fraught. It was doubtful if the marriage would be long term, anyway.

‘You win,’ she said thickly.

There was no reaction that she could perceive in the dark eyes. ‘I’ll begin arrangements tomorrow. I’m due in Munich the day after, but I’ll curtail the visit as much as is possible. We can be married three weeks from now, and travel to Lisbon immediately after.’

Leonie felt her heart jerk. Her expression drew an ironic smile.

‘You didn’t imagine I’d be content to set up a permanent home here?’

She hadn’t got that far, she acknowledged helplessly. ‘It can’t possibly be as quick as that,’ she declared, looking for any delaying tactic. ‘There’s my job, for one thing.’

‘Tell them you’re leaving,’ came the uncompromising reply. ‘If there’s any financial penalty it will be taken care of. I won’t wait longer than three weeks for you. The strain is already telling on me.’

‘I doubt if you’ll have any difficulty easing it,’ she said with purpose.

He made no perceptible movement, yet his posture somehow hardened. ‘There will be no others.’

And pigs might fly! she reflected. One woman was never going to be enough for him, even over a limited period. Especially one whose sexual experience was nil!

Not that she’d stay that way for long, came the thought, sending a sudden frisson down her spine.

‘If we’re waiting till after the marriage, I assume I’m free to go now?’ she said, blanking out any dissenting voices.

For a moment he seemed on the verge of disputing that assumption, then he inclined his head. ‘For now. You can tell your father the news tonight, if you wish—or you can wait until the morning and we can tell him together.’

‘You mean to come to the house?’

The smile was dry. ‘I think your father and I have some matters to discuss before he returns to his job. I’ll arrange a taxi for you.’

He got to his feet, heading for the telephone. Leonie watched him with a sense of déjà vu. Just what she was going to tell her father, she had no idea. How could she possibly convince him that her decision to marry a man she hadn’t even seen for two years had nothing to do with his own predicament?

It was a long and fraught journey back to Northwood. Relief held the upper hand for a moment or two when she arrived home to find her father had already retired for the night, though the problem was going to be no less in the morning. Somehow or other she had to find the right words before Vidal’s arrival.

It was still difficult to believe it was all really happening. She kept thinking she was going to wake up any minute and find the whole thing was a bad dream. She supposed she should be grateful that Vidal actually wanted to marry her, when he might simply have demanded she become his mistress for however long he chose.

None of which helped her sleep well. She rose heavy-eyed at seven, still with no clear idea of how she was going to give her father the news. He was already at breakfast when she finally went down, although not eating a great deal, she noted.

‘I thought you were staying out last night,’ he said. ‘You must have been late getting in.’

‘Fairly,’ Leonie agreed. The only way, she decided resignedly, was to come right out with it. ‘I didn’t actually tell you the truth about where I was going last night,’ she said. ‘I went to see Vidal again. He’ll be coming here this morning to see you.’

Stuart looked at her uncertainly, obviously struck by something in her tone. ‘To tell me what?’

‘That you can keep your job.’ She drew a steadying breath. ‘And to tell you we’re going to be married.’

Thunderstruck was too mild a word for the expression on her father’s face. ‘You’re what?’ he got out.