of the Thames-side building for years, and had often thought it would make the most fantastic restaurant should he buy it. He didn’t envisage it as an addition to the more commercial restaurants he already owned, but saw it as the kind of exclusive place that the glitterati liked to frequent. Just like the two esteemed establishments he owned in New York and Paris.
Recalling his meeting with Rose Heathcote, Gene mused that it was beyond his understanding how she couldn’t see what a gold-edged opportunity to capitalise on his assets he had given her boss. Most people would have ripped his arm off to take it. But one thing had become eminently clear to him... Just as she had said, Rose was no businesswoman. Her attitude had really irked him. Especially when he’d seen that she wasn’t going to be easily influenced by any amount of charm he might utilise. Yet part of him admired the brunette for her determination to stand firm even though he knew she was wrong.
And there was something else about her that had caught his attention. She had the most startlingly beautiful violet eyes. Her glossy black hair and ivory-coloured skin made them even more captivating. The passion he’d seen in their mesmerising depths had intrigued him and made him want to get to know her, even though she’d denied him the chance to purchase the property. But, as was his modus operandi when faced with situations or outcomes he didn’t like, Gene knew he would immediately work to turn it to his advantage.
Yes...he would step right back into the breach and make his purchase of the building a foregone conclusion. He wouldn’t be satisfied until it was his. Rose could take a couple of days’ sober reflection on what a mistake she’d made in turning him down, then Gene would get back to her with an offer that he knew her boss simply couldn’t refuse.
If he could have some more time with her and assure her that he was respectful of the gracious building’s admirable history, had always admired it and only sought to elevate it by housing his restaurant there, he didn’t doubt he could persuade her to convince Philip Houghton that selling the building to one of the country’s richest entrepreneurs wasn’t just a good idea...it was the only one that would take it off his hands and make him enough money to see him right for the rest of his life.
But just then, somewhere deep inside him, Gene couldn’t help feeling disturbed that he’d so easily dismissed the other man’s welfare in the belief that money was the answer to his problems. Even his parents had counselled him on that once.
‘Son, you can’t always fix someone’s pain by throwing money at the problem. No amount of money or good fortune made it any easier for us to endure the devastation of your sister’s death. Don’t forget that.’
The memory jolted him, and for a few disturbing seconds he felt as if a grenade had been thrown into the room. But now wasn’t the time to reflect on how much his sister’s death had nearly broken him...
He squared his shoulders. He and his parents saw life very differently. Gene saw practical solutions to adversity while they succumbed to their emotions and allowed their feelings to dictate how they responded... The idea of behaving in the same way was anathema to him. He’d heard his parents’ stories about their poor upbringings, how their own parents and siblings had suffered terribly when there hadn’t been the means to put food on the table or to have adequate heat and light, and how many nights they had gone to bed hungry... From a tender age he’d intuited how essential it was to have money, and as he’d grown older, having discovered that he had a talent for making it with ease, he wasn’t about to relinquish it—not for anyone.
Pleased that he’d come up with a plan to help him win the beautiful old property—a plan he was convinced would work because he never, never entertained the possibility of failure—Gene got to his feet, straightened his tie and strode out through the door.
Stopping at the desk of his blonde, statuesque secretary, Simone, whose cousin was an up-and-coming Parisian designer—and frankly that was why he’d given her the job...because it always paid to utilise his assets—he flashed her a warmer smile than usual and said, ‘Forget the coffee, ma chère, and book me a table for dinner at my club for eight o’clock.’
‘Will you be taking a guest with you, Mr Bonnaire?’
‘No, Simone. Not tonight.’
‘Then I will ring the maître d’ straight away and arrange for you to have your favourite table.’
‘Thank you.’
‘You are most welcome. It always makes me glad when I can do something to please you and make your life a little easier.’
The woman’s glossy pink lips curved in a smile that was definitely inviting.
Gene’s fleetingly good mood instantly vanished. Scowling, he said, ‘In that case you won’t mind doing some overtime tonight, will you? I’ve left a “to do” list on my desk for you. Goodnight, Simone. I will see you in the morning.’
He was more irritated than usual with the blonde’s obsequious manner. She hadn’t been working for him for very long, but he didn’t need to be a genius to know that she was only too aware of how to use her best assets...especially as she clearly thought it was only a matter of time before he would bed her... Just yesterday he had overheard her stating the fact, not very discreetly, to someone on her mobile.
Waiting impatiently for the elevator to arrive, he muttered savagely beneath his breath, ‘God save me from predatory women!’
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