Mr. Knightsbridge (The Mister 1)
“See? You can be charming.” She smoothed down the lapel of my jacket, and I had to fight back the urge to pull her on to my lap.
“So Tom Ford’s not good enough?”
“It’s far too good. You know these people aren’t cash rich. Their wealth is in property and art and trusts . . . They are caretakers of a fortune—they spend their time trying not to spend money. You know this; you’re not stupid.”
“That’s the point. I can make Henry cash rich if he’d give me the time of day.”
“Your way hasn’t worked so far, and he didn’t show much interest in speaking about your offer on his building. If you want him to sell you that property, you need to play by his rules. No one likes a show-off.”
I liked Stella’s feistiness, had since I’d met her that first day when she’d turned me down flat. But a step farther and I’d officially be pissed off. “I’m not showing off.”
“Then why did you win yesterday?”
“You’re not suggesting I should pretend to be less than I am so I puff up these people’s egos, are you?” I asked.
“If all it took was ego-puffing, then that would be easy. And I can’t imagine that you are so pig-headed that you wouldn’t be prepared to puff, puff, puff if that’s what it took. You can be so completely charming, so utterly convincing, I don’t get why you’re being so stubborn about using your powers of persuasion with these people. If I didn’t know better, I’d say part of you doesn’t want the Dawnay building at all.”
“You know that I want the building more than anything.”
“Why? You have plenty of money. It can’t just be a financial thing.”
She waited as if I was going to answer her, as if I was going to tell her all my secrets.
I stayed silent.
“It’s like you’re trying to antagonize people. You need to get them on your side, but you know this, and so I don’t get it—the Tom Ford when everyone else is in tweed. The winning at clays even though what you should be concentrating on is talking to Henry and letting the host win. None of this makes sense.”
“Oil and water,” I said. “We don’t mix. They don’t like me.”
“I like you,” she said.
Didn’t she get it? She wasn’t like the rest of them. She wasn’t like any woman I’d ever met. “You’re different.”
“Then trust me and let me take you shopping tomorrow.”
“If you let me kiss you,” I countered. It had been too long since our last kiss.
A small smile curled around her lips. “You always want to make a deal. But you’re asking for something I’m more than willing to give without anything in return. Maybe you need to sharpen your negotiation skills.”
This woman was as sharp as a pin.
“Well, then maybe I’ll make you wait.”
She sighed. “More waiting.”
I pushed down a grin and tried to ignore the ache in my balls at the thought of denying her.
Yes, I wanted the Dawnay building. But right at that moment, I wanted Stella London more. Tonight was going to be a long night, and I was going to have to use every ounce of my self-control to stop myself from pulling her out of this cocktail party, back to our room, and stripping her naked immediately.
Twenty-Two
Beck
If I told Stella what I had planned to do to her tonight, she’d no doubt rip off one of her ultra-high heels and thwack me with it. Stella was sexy as hell, gave as good as she got, made me shift my focus about a lot of things, but best of all being with her felt easy, comfortable—like being at home. It was like being with a friend, but better because she was gorgeous, and I wanted to get her naked.
Patience. I’d had to exercise a lot of it this evening and I was fast running out.
I unlocked the door to our hotel room and held it open as she walked through.