The Billionaire's Defiant Acquisition

‘You know I wanted you. My body is programmed to want you. It’s a reaction outside my control.’

‘Gee. Thanks.’

He shook his head. ‘The first time is supposed to be special. It’s supposed to mean something and if I’d realised, I would have done the decent thing and walked away. But you weren’t prepared to let that happen, were you, Amber? You saw something and you just went right ahead and took it because that’s the kind of woman you are. Even though you must have known it would never have happened if I’d realised you were a virgin. But Amber always gets what Amber wants, doesn’t she?’

‘If that’s what you want to think, then think it,’ she said.

‘I just don’t understand why.’ He frowned. ‘How come someone who looks like you and acts like you has never actually had sex before now?’

Amber met the anger in his eyes and wondered how much to tell him. But what was the point in holding back—in trying to pretend that she was a normal woman who’d led a normal life?

‘Because I don’t really like men,’ she said slowly. ‘And I certainly don’t trust them.’

‘Which

is why you put out for someone you only met a couple of weeks ago, who hasn’t even taken you out on a date?’

Put like that, it made her sound plain stupid. As if she’d been caught scraping the very bottom of the barrel. Amber felt her cheeks growing hot, but she could hardly blame him for speaking the truth—even if it made her feel bad. And was she really going to let him take the moral high ground, just because she hadn’t given some embarrassingly graphic explanation before he’d made love to her? Why would she ruin the mood and risk spoiling something which had felt so natural?

‘I’m sure your colossal ego doesn’t need me to tell you why I succumbed to you. You must realise that you’re overwhelmingly attractive to women, Conall. I’m sure you’ve heard it many times before. It must be that blend of Irish charm coupled with a masterful certainty that you always know best.’ She snuggled down a little further into the bedclothes, but her skin still felt like ice. ‘It must be great to have that kind of unshakeable confidence.’

‘We were talking about you, not me,’ he growled. ‘And you still haven’t given me an explanation.’

‘Do I have to?’

‘Don’t you think you owe me one?’

‘I don’t owe you anything.’

‘Okay, then. How about as a favour to me for having given you so much pleasure in the last hour?’

Amber swallowed as she met the arrogant glitter in his eyes. In a way it was easier when he was being hateful because at least that stopped her from fostering any dreamy illusions about him. And she realised that this was the other side of intimacy—not the sex part but the bit where two people were naked in more ways than one. Because for once she couldn’t run or hide from the truth. She felt exposed; vulnerable. Conall was demanding an explanation and in her heart she guessed she owed him one.

‘Maybe it’s because I didn’t have the best role models in the world,’ she said.

‘You’re talking about your father?’ he questioned curiously.

‘Not just my father. There were plenty of others. My mother’s lovers, for starters.’

‘There were a lot?’

‘Oh, yes—you could say that.’ She gave a hollow laugh. ‘After my parents split, my father gave my mother loads of alimony—I think he was trying to ease his conscience about falling in love with a new woman. With hindsight it was probably a big mistake—because money buys you plenty of things, but not happiness. The biggest cliché in the world, I know, but true.’ Amber was aware of the irony of her words. As if it had taken this to make her see things clearly. Because hadn’t she experienced the closest thing she’d felt to joy in a long time when she’d been walking in that country lane that afternoon? And then just a few minutes ago, when Conall’s naked skin had touched hers and he’d taken her to heaven and back? Only one of those things had cost her...and it couldn’t be measured in monetary terms.

‘So what happened?’ he asked, his deep Irish voice penetrating her thoughts.

‘My mother couldn’t face staying in England with the humiliation of being replaced by wife number four, who was much younger—as well as being a lingerie model. So she decided to do an extensive tour of Europe—which translated into an extensive tour of European men. The trouble was that she was divorced and predatory, with a child in tow. Not the best combination to help her in her ardent pursuit of a new partner.’ She shifted her legs beneath the duvet, taking care to keep them well away from his. ‘Oh, there were plenty of men—but the men always seemed to come with baggage, usually in the shape of a wife. We were hounded out of Rome, and Athens, too. We were threatened in Naples and had to slip away in the dead of night. Only in Paris did she achieve any kind of acceptance because there the role of mistress is more or less accepted. Only she didn’t like playing second fiddle to other men’s wives, and...’ Her words tailed off.

‘And what?’

A wave of indignation swept over her as she met the hard glitter of his sapphire eyes. Why was he doing this? Interrogating her like some second-rate cop. Was he determined to ruin the amazing memory of what had just happened between them by making her retrace a past it was painful to revisit?

‘I’m waiting, Amber,’ he said softly.

Stubborn, hateful man. Amber stared straight up at the ceiling. ‘I don’t want to talk about it,’ she said woodenly. ‘She died, okay? I was brought back to England, kicking and screaming, and moved in with my father, who by that time was on wife number five. I didn’t fit in anywhere—and I knew his latest wife didn’t want me there. To him, I was a problem he didn’t know how to cope with, so he just threw lots of money at it. I started doing loads of courses but only the ones he thought were suitable and, of course, I never saw them through. I didn’t know how to deal with normal life—and I’d known so many creepy men when I was growing up that I simply wasn’t interested in getting intimate with any of my own.’

‘I see.’

Amber pulled the duvet right up to her neck— noticing he didn’t object—before rolling on her side to face him. ‘And what do you see, Conall?’