The Italian's Virgin Bride

Opal looked out the window, feigning interest in the passing foot traffic, tourists visiting the various galleries and shops, red-faced businessmen returning to their offices after long liquid lunches.

Certainly people outside the industry had little or no idea of the stresses and strains of the business. Especially when coupled with the stresses and strains of trying to impress a nineteen-year-old pole dancer who was eager to prove herself very worthy of the position of the next Mrs Clemenger. Just maybe, if he’d spent more time stressing about their tax position, he would still be alive and the business wouldn’t be in this mess now.

‘And that left you in charge. Without even your sisters to help?’

It was her turn to shrug. There was no point in thinking about maybes. She couldn’t change what had happened; though at times that knowledge didn’t make the truth any easier to deal with. For if it hadn’t been that particular girl his father had died in the arms of, it could have easily been any of a raft of others, lining up to be taken care of by a rich man old enough to be their grandfather. It was a miracle he’d never taken that final step of marrying one of them. Obviously he was a man who liked to pick and choose, and at least it had saved the business that complication.

‘That’s just the way things turn out. And both Sapphy and Ruby have such artistic flair—it would be unfair to make them work in the hotel business when they have a calling in another field. Whereas I’ve had a passion for Clemengers ever since I can remember, always wanting to help, always wanting to be involved. I can’t imagine doing anything else.’

His eyebrows peaked. ‘Which is where I come in, I take it. It would be understandably hard to let go.’

His words bristled. For want of something to do she pushed aside her now empty teacup and saucer.

‘There’s more to saving Clemengers than what I want. For a start, there are more than two hundred staff who depend on this hotel chain continuing to operate for their own and for their families’ livelihoods.

‘And,’ she continued, ‘there’s a tradition. No one else provides the type and scale and class of accommodation as Clemengers. That has to be worth saving.’

He held up a hand. ‘And you say this McQuade is likely to win the tender? How can you know that in advance?’

Her lips tightened as she nodded, the name sticking into her as effectively as a knife. ‘I was due for an appointment with the broker and I was just paying the taxi driver when I overheard two office juniors discussing the bids over a cigarette outside the building.’

‘But you’re sure?’

‘No doubt at all. I was so shocked I confronted the broker and he eventually confirmed it. I can be pretty persuasive when I want to be, you know.’

The corners of his mouth turned up and his eyes gleamed. ‘I had noticed something of the sort.’

She looked up at him sharply, not entirely certain he wasn’t laughing at her.

‘So you need a bidder who will outbid McQuade.’

‘Yes,’ she said, recovering some composure. ‘The bids close tomorrow at five o’clock, so there’s not much time.’

‘I see. And assuming I win the tender, I assume control of Clemengers and its three hotels and everything that goes with it.’

‘Well, sort of.’ She licked her lips. ‘I was thinking maybe more of a share of the business.’

‘What do you mean, a share of the business? If my offer is the highest, I win the business lock, stock and barrel.’

‘In a way, but I thought that maybe if I continued to manage the operation, and run it as a separate entity within the Silvers hotel chain, then you might accept a smaller share.’

‘How much of a smaller share?’

‘I was thinking, maybe forty-nine per cent?’

‘Now you are joking.’ His voice went up a number of decibels. ‘You expect me to outbid every other offer in the market, each of which is for ownership of Clemengers outright, I assume…’ he took her silence as assent before continuing ‘…and yet I will own and control only forty-nine per cent. That is not a deal worth making. That is not a deal at all.’

‘I assure you it’s no joke. You get a large share of the business and you get continuity in management—good management. I will stay on, working with Clemengers and with Silvers Hotels, where required. And within a year you’ll be reaping the rewards of a positive cash flow and you’ll be able to use the techniques you find in Clemengers in Silvers’ own operations. There have to be huge spin-offs for your other hotels. So even with less than complete ownership, you’re still getting a great deal.’

It had to sound convincing. It was the only way she was going to be able to keep Pearl’s Place—the refuge she’d established in a run-down inner-city terraced house four years ago—open for business.

Pearl’s Place was her secret, something she’d done because even though she’d never been able to help her own mother, other women would have a place to go, a place to flee. She’d bought the property with her own money and most of her own personal allowance went direct to the refuge, but without control of Clemengers there was no doubt what small funding it required would be one of the first sacrifices of the new merger. If she could retain fifty-one per cent of the business, however, her secret would be safe and funding would be ensured.

It was a far better scenario than if McQuade’s offer succeeded. Then there would barely be enough to satisfy the demands of the taxation department and the banks. She’d be able to make some sort of contribution out of any remaining share of her own, but after that Pearl’s Place would be on its own. She wouldn’t let that happen.

He shook his head. ‘No. This is not complete ownership. It is not even control of the business you are offering. It is a junior partner you want, but for the greatest investment. No one would accept a deal that one-sided, least of all a Silvagni.’ His hand slammed down on the table so hard she flinched.

‘There is no way I would ever accept less than fifty per cent on principle, especially where I have just paid over the odds for one hundred per cent. But if you really think your management skills are worth something, I will ensure you receive a suitable remuneration package. It will be worth your while continuing.’

‘That’s all you can offer? After I have brought you this opportunity? Don’t you see that you wouldn’t even have had this chance if it weren’t for this huge tax liability hanging over our heads?’

‘That, as they say in the classics,’ he said, with a look of complete satisfaction, ‘is not my problem.’

‘But you would have missed out on this opportunity entirely without my intervention. Your finance department hadn’t even considered Clemengers’ sale as worthy of your notice. Surely, if the deal is worth something, you should be prepared to acknowledge that fact.’

‘And surely you realised that once the business was sold, you would lose control completely.’

‘Yes, but that was before I spoke with you. I thought you understood this business, could see the benefits of a joint operation.’

‘You forget, first and foremost, I am a businessman. I am not running a charitable institution.’

‘I am not looking for charity!’

‘Then why do you expect something from me that you have not asked from the other bidders?’

She couldn’t tell him. Not the real reason. ‘I just thought you were more attuned to the business, that you might understand. I now see I was wrong to expect you to look at it my way.’

‘So my offer still stands. A higher bid than McQuade, you end up with an appropriate remuneration package, and Clemengers is saved from the bulldozers.’

She was silent for a few seconds and Domenic wondered what was going through her mind. Her eyes swirled with colour and he could practically see the machinations going on behind them. She couldn’t be serious. Any normal person would be satisfied with saving her precious hotels from destruction. Well, she’d made her stand and he hoped she understood his. There was no way he’d accept anything less than one hundred per cent ownership. No way.

‘I’ll have to think about it,’ she said at last, rising from the table as if he’d been dismissed.

He looked up sharply without saying a word. He didn’t have to say a word—she should be able to tell he was furious. He’d just wasted hours and all for nothing. No one had ever turned down a deal like the one he was offering. No one would. No one in their right mind, that was.

He had to hand it to her. Here she was with a solid offer to save her business, by far the best offer she had on the table and the best offer she was going to get in the twenty-four hours she had left, and she wanted to think about it, as if the ball was in her court.

She was not like the people he usually dealt with; people who exchanged properties and investments and millions of dollars with hardly a blink, who knew when to take a good deal and when to break one. Who knew when they were asking too much.

Opal Clemenger didn’t fit that mould. Opal Clemenger came with her own. He let his eyes wander over her woven-silk-clad figure, the rise and fall of her chest betrayed by the play of light over the textured fabric, the swell of her hips accentuated by the nipped-in waist of her jacket, and felt his eyebrows rise in appreciation as his anger turned into an entirely different emotion.

It was some mould. Even through the expensive fabric, he could just about picture the skinscape underneath—the firm, silky breasts and the subtle hollows he’d find below her ribcage, the bare swell of her tummy and the dip to the rise of her hip bones, and then down, beyond…

What would she be like in bed? How would it feel to have those long legs wrapped around him, her breasts peaked and firm and her eyes flickering green and blue when she lost control?

He would pay dearly to find out. It was some time since he’d had a woman, and something told him Opal Clemenger would be all woman. No one could be as passionate as she was about saving her hotels, and yet be cold and lifeless in bed. That kind of passion didn’t just come with a cause. It came with character. It came from within.

No, Opal was as polished and refined as the gem whose name she bore, and just as he’d seen it in the precious stone he’d seen the fire and the flame that lurked within her, below the surface, the sparks that erupted when provoked.