Bound As His Business-Deal Bride

‘You’ve got twenty-four hours to get things in order. We leave for Europe in forty-eight. I want to go through Knight’s French holdings first. Then we meet with Frau Bonitz.’

‘That—that’s not long. How do I prepare my family?’

‘I assume that’s a rhetorical question. If it’s not, tell them that after rigorously thrashing out our differences in the boardroom we concluded that we’d never stopped wanting one another. That should do it. Everyone loves a fairy-tale.’

Her cheeks flushed a gorgeous rose. Even though he loathed her, she was a beautiful woman. In her early twenties, he’d thought she was incomparable, but she’d been a pale imitation when compared to the woman who sat before him now. Fleshed out, with grown-up curves. It was all he could do not to reach out and haul her to him.

‘We need the business side committed to an agreement.’

Business. Yes. He needed to remember. He opened the folder sitting on the table in front of him, scribbled relevant percentages in the blank spaces his legal team had already left on his instruction, and drafted a short paragraph allowing for the provision of Caron shares. That bit galled him, but it didn’t matter. He would win far more than he lost in this deal.

He signed and dated the back page and slid it to Eve with a pen on top.

‘Here’s a memorandum of understanding. Our lawyers can sort out more formal details but this will do for now, since I never go back on my word. Unlike some.’

She picked up the papers and his pen slipped with a clatter onto the gleaming wood table-top. Then she read through the document slowly, her jaw clenched tightly. He fancied he could almost hear her teeth grinding. When he’d walked in today, he’d known almost exactly what he was prepared to offer, no more, no less. It was all about filling in a few blanks, which had cost him less than he thought. It told him how desperate she really was.

‘Aren’t you well prepared?’ Eve ignored his pen like it was a snake sunning itself in front of her. Instead she slid an elegant silver fountain pen from her bag and signed in neat, precise script. ‘How commendable.’

‘I’ve had a long time to prepare for this day, cher.’ Nothing took him off guard anymore. He allowed for every contingency. He’d never be surprised ever again. He’d waited long enough for today. He’d left nothing to chance.

‘I thought after seven years you wouldn’t care.’

He couldn’t read what was going on behind her intelligent eyes, but she’d get a warning nonetheless that he wasn’t one to be crossed.

‘Oh, cher. Beware the fury of a patient man.’

Eve nestled into the plush leather seats of a jet sitting on the tarmac of a private airfield. She rubbed at her temple, trying to ease the throbbing that had taken up residence and didn’t seem fit to move any time soon. It was as if her body had set out to spite her, ignoring the painkillers she’d downed as soon as she’d boarded. Even though her head pounded, she wasn’t sure what hurt the most, that or her heart. It had been a close-run thing since Gage had burst back into her life.

She’d thought it would make things better, knowing the company and her mother and sister were at least safe from the worst that creditors could throw at them, but it hadn’t made any difference, the dread replaced by another fear. Old doubts and regrets had resurfaced. The more she tried to shut them down the worse things became, so she allowed herself to sit with the thoughts for a short while. The ‘what-ifs’ she’d discarded years before.

They’d been too young. It would never have worked long term. These were the things she knew, that she’d told herself every day until the fantasy had died. Even if they’d survived the disclosures about his parentage and the ruination of his family, the seven-year itch would be settling in about now. It would be far worse for things to have ended up in a mess of recriminations at the hands of divorce lawyers than the way they had. A swift, clean break, no matter how painful at the time.

She just had to get through this, however long it took to play out. She could do it; she’d been through worse and while she allowed herself a few reminiscences right now, she wouldn’t dwell on some memories. Not those of a tiny white coffin in a lonely church. Not of a baby born too soon.

No good ever came of memories like those.

Eve glanced over at the baggage cupboard where she’d stowed the little yellow case that travelled everywhere with her, which held all her grief and tears. She’d have preferred to keep it at her feet, but the flight attendant had reassured her with a smile that it would be safe. Maybe she could just go and check? She resisted the urge that welled up inside and bit at her heels. There had been days where all she’d done had been to sit and weep over the contents. Now, to simply know it was wit

h her was enough.

Instead of needless worrying, she grabbed a magazine from a low table in front of her and flicked through it. Beautiful people, salacious gossip, fashion. It all blurred in a whirl of colour till she turned to an advertisement of a flower-filled field with a bottle of perfume overlaying the scene. A picture she recognised, the warmth of pride flowing through her.

That was her field. The farm she’d bought in the south of France with the help of her trust fund and a loan from Knight’s French arm. A breakout luxury perfume brand had bought her flowers to make their new flagship scent, and was keen to contract her exclusively. Especially since she’d hinted about the new rose she and her chief grower had developed. Her only regret was that she couldn’t keep the property all to herself. Renting out the house for part of the year to fund her loan was a sad necessity. One day it would all be hers, but not for a while yet.

She smiled at this indulgence on the side her father didn’t know about. He’d never understood her love of growing things. That was for gardeners—staff—and not his daughter. Getting dirty in the garden was something to be discouraged. Something beneath her. But it’s how she’d first spied Gage. She’d been picking jonquils in the lower reaches of the garden and there he’d sat, staring down at her from the dizzying height of a huge old magnolia tree, framed by a sky as blue as his eyes.

That was another memory she shouldn’t be wasting her time on. He wasn’t that mischievous boy in the tree any longer. She wasn’t that hopeful girl. They’d grown up, grown hard and moved on. Her focus was on building her farm. She could almost smell the scents of lavender, rose and jasmine hanging on the warm air and her headache eased a fraction. This was her happy place, where her worries seemed to leave her, the place she now felt most at home. She lingered a little longer on the picture as the flight attendant moved through the cabin and to the rear door of the aircraft.

‘Mr Caron, it’s a pleasure to see you. You’re cutting it fine today.’

‘Thank you, and my apologies to the captain and flight crew. Has my fiancée arrived?’

The ache inside intensified at the sound of his voice. She snapped her magazine shut and gripped it tightly in her lap.

‘Yes, and may I offer my congratulations. Please take your seat and buckle up. If there’s anything you need after we reach cruising altitude, just ask.’

Eve turned to see Gage coming on board. There should be a fanfare of trumpets heralding him. He was like some glorious corporate angel. Briefcase in hand, sporting a dark grey suit, pale grey shirt and silver tie, he stalked into the space with an authority that made her silly little heart swoon. He checked his phone before sliding it into his pocket and dropping into the seat opposite her. He was so tall his knees almost brushed hers. It was all she could do not to move away.