words held an accent-inflected drawl that did little to diminish their harshness, and her chin lifted fractionally.
‘There were extenuating circumstances.’
He inclined his head in acknowledgement. ‘Submitted in detail by your father’s legal team.’
She regarded him steadily. ‘Have you no compassion? Does fifteen years of loyal service count for nothing?’
‘Had your father approached me and confided his difficulty in coping with crippling medical expenses, I could have made certain allowances. Instead, he chose to defraud, then compound it by racking up extensive gambling debts.’ His expression hardened and his eyes seared her own. ‘The DeVasquez Corporation offers strict but fair contracted terms of employment. The consequences of flouting those terms are clearly defined.’
For a wild, unbidden moment she had a desperate need to pick up the nearest object and hurl it at him. Perhaps he sensed her intention, for one dark eyebrow slanted and his eyes became watchful. Such an action would be pure folly, and instead she drew in a deep breath in a need for calm.
‘Your rise and rise in the financial ranks is well tabled. Your methodology known to be mercilessly ruthless.’ She waited a beat, then offered a deliberately sweet smile. ‘Would your professional ethics bear intense scrutiny?’
A deadly silence encroached the room…electric, heart-stopping. Except she refused to shift her gaze.
‘You choose to insult me?’ The words were deceptively mild, but only a fool would dismiss their lethal intent. There were corners cut, authority skirted, and a few early dealings that had just skimmed beneath the legal line, but he’d made generous recompense and his conscience was clear…on all counts.
Romy experienced the strangest feeling: the floor tilted slightly beneath her feet. Crazy, when she was on a high floor of a concrete-and-steel building in downtown Melbourne!
Reaction, she assured herself silently. Tension, and a few other emotions she determined not to explore as she marshalled strength of will.
Xavier took a cellphone from his pocket, keyed in a few numbers, yet delayed activating the call as he regarded her with chilling intensity. ‘Do you really want to be escorted onto the street?’
It was all Romy could do to control the sudden thumping of her heart, unaware its heavy beat was clearly visible in the pulse at the base of her throat as she held his gaze and offered quietly, ‘Threatening me isn’t going to work.’
Silence hung suspended in the confines of the conference room, and she was conscious of every breath she took as she waited for his reaction…certain he would call her bluff.
For an age he merely subjected her to an all-encompassing appraisal, almost daring her to lower her gaze and back down.
‘No?’
He was a powerful force, one only a fool would disregard…yet she refused to subjugate herself. If this was a battle of wills, then she’d fight him to the bitter end.
‘Three years ago you chose to cut and run,’ Xavier reminded her with deceptive mildness. ‘And refused to acknowledge any of my calls.’
Her eyes deepened to a brilliant sapphire. ‘I’m surprised you remember.’
Yet he did, more vividly than he was prepared to admit. Her sweet mouth, the taste of her, the way she fit in his arms…her smile, how her eyes lit up with pleasure whenever she was in his presence.
He’d been her first lover, Xavier reflected. A fact that had alternately delighted and dismayed him, for he’d always dealt with women who knew the score and that what he offered them was a pleasant interlude for however long the relationship lasted, with no strings attached.
Romy had been different. Something he’d only begun to realise after she had ended their brief affair. That had been a rare, almost unknown occurrence, for in the past it had been he who had called time, presented a parting gift and moved on.
‘What of your father’s gambling debts?’ Xavier pursued. ‘Do you intend presenting his loan shark with a similar deal?’ He was already aware of the facts, except he wanted to hear them directly from her.
Romy bore his appraisal with equanimity, holding those dark almost black eyes in a determined effort not to be diminished in any way. ‘Yes.’
‘You have to know they won’t buy it.’ Quiet, deliberately stark words that accelerated her anxiety factor to new heights.
She’d already paid over a reasonable sum, but it had been made painfully clear what would happen if the outstanding balance wasn’t paid on time.
‘They might if I can negotiate reasonable terms with you.’
His eyes narrowed. ‘You don’t have the means to negotiate.’ Didn’t she know what she was up against? Or fully realize the consequences her father faced at the hands of a loan shark, who, after subjecting Andre Picard to a brutal lesson, would have no scruples in enforcing the lesson on Andre’s daughter?
‘That’s your final answer?’ Each word uttered caused her immeasurable pain, evidenced in the paleness of her features, the pulse jumping at the base of her throat.
Xavier bit back a pithy oath…more in anger at the situation she found herself in, than sympathy for the man who’d inadvertently put her there.
‘Your expectation of my generosity is too high.’
‘How much too high?’
She had courage, a quality he admired. Except she was way off base if she imagined any help he might be predisposed to offer came without a price.
Every risk Xavier took, and he admitted to many along the way, involved deliberate calculation. It was the basis of his success, the code by which he ran his business interests.
He knew all the angles, every devious aspect of human nature. Hadn’t he worked them to his advantage in his early days on the streets of New York? It was also the reason no woman had managed to capture his heart as he climbed high among the social echelon.
Yet recently he’d experienced an unaccustomed restlessness. He owned a luxury mansion in one of Melbourne’s prime waterfront suburbs, houses and apartments in various cities around the world, his own jet, expensive cars, an art collection worth millions. All he had to do was indicate he needed a woman in his bed, and several lined up to please him, aware the gift of jewellery and an all-expenses-paid sojourn in a spa resort were the only price he was prepared to pay.
While his business interests continued to challenge him, his personal life had become predictable, even boring. Was he sliding towards a mid-life crisis in his late thirties? Evaluating what he really wanted when, if appearances meant anything, he had it all?
In spite of the acquired sophistication, his generosity to select charitable causes, and the numerous acquaintances who sought his attention, his favour, he retained a degree of cynicism. Aware there were few women who would see past the size of his bank balance.
He owned a multi-national business enterprise, yet there was no child of his blood to take the reins in future and forge a dynasty.
His
