really want to argue?’
Give it up, a silent voice warned.
The temptation to launch into her request was uppermost, if only to get it out there and be done with it—for the thought of playing polite and conducting a meaningless conversation almost brought her undone.
He looked every inch the man he’d become. Hardened, ruthless, powerful. Someone it would be wise not to toy with…unless you were prepared to face the consequences.
Successful beyond measure, Darius had been known to reveal with pride, with an apartment overlooking New York’s Central Park, residences in London and the south of France, to name a few.
While she was almost destitute and in debt up to her eyeballs.
Some comparison!
Did—could—Wolfe know of her financial circumstances?
Probably not. Unless he’d made it his business to find out. Despite privacy laws, information wasn’t too difficult to elicit if one knew how to circumvent conventional channels.
The mere thought sickened her, and she felt a slight degree of relief as a waiter appeared and placed a platter onto the table.
The bruschetta was tempting, although, given the state of her nerves, forking morsels of food into her mouth would require concentrated effort.
‘Eat, Lara.’
To refuse would be churlish, given a banana followed by coffee had comprised breakfast, and anything she managed to consume this evening would be eaten on the run. If nothing else, she needed food for sustenance and energy to maintain long working hours.
‘How long do you intend to stay in Sydney?’
He met her gaze and held it. ‘As long as it takes.’
An ambiguous answer that didn’t commit him to anything.
Would he comply with the conditions of Darius’ will?
It really was no concern of hers whether he did or not.
Lara moved the food around on her plate, and was so caught up with nerves she didn’t trust herself to lift her fork.
‘You wanted to run something by me?’ Wolfe prompted, and caught her sudden look of anguish.
This was hard, but she couldn’t prevaricate, wouldn’t pretend. Only explain…and ask.
Which she did, as briefly as possible, whilst outlining only the pertinent facts and her desperate urgency for funds.
The spectre of the loan shark hovered over her like the sword of Damocles, ever threatening, and poised to fall any time soon. Fear consumed her, stretching her nerves to breaking point.
There was nothing to be gleaned from his expression, making it impossible to discern whether he’d view her request favourably or not.
‘What amount do you have in mind?’
She mentioned a sum, and he didn’t even blink.
‘You perceive it as a gift?’
‘No.’ Genuine shock widened her eyes, and her hands shook slightly as she replaced her water goblet down onto the table. ‘A loan.’ She closed her eyes, then opened them again. ‘Using the shares bequeathed me under the terms of Darius’ will as collateral.’
She’d done the maths, had agonized and lost sleep over the figures, minimizing them to bare essentials in order to clear accumulated debts and purchase a vehicle. ‘I’ll pay you back every cent, with interest.’
‘Over what time frame?’
Lara relayed an estimation. ‘Less,’ she assured him quickly. ‘I can utilize the annuity from Suzanne’s estate and transfer it directly to you.’
Wolfe surveyed her carefully, then offered a silky negative. ‘No.’
Her features paled, and her eyes became large stricken pools. She had nowhere to go…no one else she could ask.
Loan sharks lent money on a strictly short-term basis, and non-payment wrought dire consequences.
She could feel the germ of anger begin to seed and take hold, sparking into flames that owed much to the past.
Uppermost was the desire to pick up the salt-shaker and hurl it at him. She consciously placed her hands onto her lap in an effort at control.
Any hope Wolfe might honour Darius’ verbal assurance of financial help died a natural death, and she rose to her feet, unable to bear so much as another minute in his company. ‘Go back to New York and have a nice life.’
‘Sit down.’ Dark slate-grey eyes seared hers. ‘I’m not done.’
‘I am!’
Lara turned away from the table, and in the next instant a hand closed over her wrist, manacling her as securely as steel restraints.
‘Let me go.’ The words husked from her throat in a low growl, and her eyes flared with brilliant sapphire chips.
This close, she was supremely conscious of his height and breadth of shoulder, the clean, laundered smell of his clothes and the faint, teasing aroma of his cologne.
‘Sit down…please.’
The ‘please’ did little to appease her anger as she glared at him. ‘Give me one reason why I should.’
His gaze didn’t waver, and a muscle bunched at the edge of his jaw. ‘I have a suggestion.’ One he had no hesitation in making…having reached the decision with split-second decisiveness.
Lara stilled, and her glare became tinged with wariness. ‘I’m not sure I want to hear it.’
She was hardly aware of being manoeuvered down into her seat until Wolfe released her wrist and resumed his position opposite.
‘I’ll settle your debts.’
The wariness increased. ‘You just gave me a categorical no.’
‘To providing you with a loan,’ Wolfe corrected, adding, ‘Or accepting a transfer of Suzanne’s annuity.’
Why did she suddenly have this icy chill feathering the length of her spine?
‘As it stands, the future of the Alexander Conglomerate is at risk. Your bequeathed half-share is projected into the next generation via issue of your children. While mine, should I not relocate to Sydney and assume directorship, will disappear entirely.’ His gaze seared her own. ‘Not something, I think you’ll agree, Darius intended for his billion-dollar conglomerate?’
She knew Darius had accumulated immense wealth…but that much?
Only a fool would allow an investment of that size to slip through their fingers. And Wolfe was no fool.
‘So
