‘I guess I might,’ Destiny told him vaguely.
‘You guess?’
‘All right, then. I will.’
‘That’s better.’
But when she sneaked a glance at his profile, it was grimly tight. She knew what was niggling him. He’d tossed his proposal to her, expecting her to not be able to resist. A marriage of good sex and good business, without the tricky business of love getting in the way. It made perfect sense, didn’t it? And, into the bargain, she would have the pleasure of being wed to the most eligible bachelor in London and all the consequent advantages of limitless money. He must be thinking that the alternative was slinking back to Panama to continue working in a funless vacuum with enough money to fairly do what she wanted, but without the vital medical facilities the company would offer—because she knew that selling the company was virtually a foregone conclusion, despite the fact that so many people would prefer her not to go down that road.
Marriage would be of mutual benefit. He would get the company he had craved, a company that would establish a foothold in the huge, complex world of pharmaceuticals, and she in return would get the benefit of his considerable investments to make it work. Everyone would be happy.
‘How long are you planning on being out of the country?’ she asked tentatively, and he relaxed fractionally.
‘Five days. Maybe a bit longer. Depends on how many problems I have to sort out. Why, will you miss me?’
‘Will you miss me?’ She threw the question back at him and felt a treacherous sense of arousal as his mouth curved into a satisfied smile.
‘What do you think? Perhaps,’ he drawled softly, ‘I should find a deserted back road somewhere and stop the car so that I can demonstrate exactly how much I’ll be missing you…’
‘I don’t think so,’ Destiny said hurriedly, recognising the familiar road down which all her good intentions tended to go wildly astray.
‘No, maybe a little absence is good for the soul.’
A little absence? He was so sure of getting what he wanted, the way he always had, all through his life.
She didn’t dare contemplate his shock when he returned from his trip abroad.
‘Maybe it is,’ she repeated sadly.
CHAPTER NINE
CALLUM stared out of the window of his office which offered an uninspiring view of leaden skies pressing heavily above the grey, claustrophobic confines of the city. He had a meeting in under an hour and he was toying with the notion of delegating it to one of his directors, even though delegation was beginning to become something of a habit—and a habit that was not going unobserved by several of the people who worked for him.
Frankly, he didn’t give a damn.
He spun round on his chair and buzzed through to his secretary, telling her to send Peters in his place to the Viceroy meeting at the Savoy.
‘But he’s already scheduled to see someone,’ Rosemary protested uselessly.
‘Then he’ll just have to cancel, won’t he?’
‘But…’
‘I’m leaving the office. I can’t go. That’s all there is to it. In case it’s missed you, Rosemary, I pay these people to handle important meetings. They’ll just have to start earning their keep.’
‘Of course, but…’ She sighed. ‘Are you feeling all right, Mr Ross?’
‘Of course I’m feeling all right. Is there any reason why I shouldn’t be? Do I sound ill to you?’
‘Not ill, no…’ Rosemary’s voice trailed significantly down the end of the line and he had to stop himself from clicking his tongue in annoyance. He’d seen enough looks and been privy to sufficient concerned remarks to know what was coming next and he wasn’t in the mood for it.
‘It’s just that you never take time off work, and you have three meetings this afternoon…’
‘A simple request, Rosemary, that’s all it was. A simple request to cancel my appointments for today so that I can leave the office. I fail to see what the problem is.’
‘You haven’t been yourself recently, Mr Ross,’ Rosemary said in a burst of courage. ‘Several of us have been…’
‘Several of you? I pay you people to work, not to gather into little covens discussing my welfare.’
‘How long do you intend to be out of the office, Mr Ross?’ she said, returning to her normal brisk voice, and Callum sucked in his breath, realising that an apology was called for but temporarily incapable of dispensing one. Anyone would think that his employees had nothing better to do than shadow his every movement and watch his every expression.
‘I have no idea. One day, two days—maybe longer.’