wasn’t important and I’d been stupid to let all those comments get to me. It was my mind, my intellect that made me stand out and that, at least, I was proud of.
‘He might refuse to go ahead with it,’ I said.
‘He wants those investors, Vita.’ Dad’s expression was nothing but sure. ‘He’ll go through with it. Don’t worry about that.’
That...wasn’t exactly what I was worried about, though I wasn’t sure what I was worried about or why I was afraid.
I didn’t know Leon King so his opinion of me—if he had one at all—didn’t count. All I had to do was say the words, get the ring, live in his stupid house and then it would be done.
No big deal.
Except Leon King was newsworthy, and no doubt the media would be very interested if he suddenly turned up with a fiancée. Especially a fiancée like me.
There goes your nice quiet life.
My heart was suddenly beating fast and my palms were damp and sweaty. I gritted my teeth, reining in my flailing emotions and shoving them aside.
I needed to be cool about this. Logical. Practical. I was a scientist now, not a shamed and humiliated teenager that the entire world had seen naked.
I was stronger than that—much stronger.
There is a way out of this.
An idea opened up inside me like an elegant solution to a difficult research question, or the missing ingredient in a recipe I hadn’t managed to perfect.
Leon King wasn’t a man who’d appreciate being played the way my father was intending to play him. And he certainly wouldn’t be pleased to find out he’d be getting me, not Clara.
But what if I approached him myself and told him what my father was planning? What if I gave him a heads-up? He’d probably take one look at me, realise I was no Clara and decide he didn’t want to get married after all. There was the issue of Dad’s debts, but maybe he’d simply be happy to have Dad talk him up in return for paying those off. He didn’t need to marry me.
It might not work. Leon King was, after all, a notoriously ruthless businessman and I was simply a research assistant. But I was sure I could make him see reason. Once I explained it all logically, he’d understand.
‘Well?’ Dad said sharply. ‘Think of your sister. Are you going to do this for us or not?’
I lifted my gaze from my hands and met Dad’s. ‘Okay,’ I said. ‘So, what do I need to do?’
He looked away. ‘Nothing at the moment. Just keep your head down until the big day.’
Of course I would.
After I’d let Leon King know exactly what was going on.
Leon
‘SHE’S NOT HERE,’ Xander said, his clear, cold voice cutting through the hard beat of the nightclub’s music.
I ignored him, looking out over the heaving crowd and trying to figure out which of the blondes on the dance floor was Clara Hamilton. It was difficult to tell since there were a lot of blondes and the dim lighting made their faces hard to recognise.
We were sitting in the VIP area of Red Door, the city’s current nightclub du jour, and pretty little Clara was supposed to be here—at least that was what Hamilton had assured me. But, as my younger brother had so eloquently pointed out, she wasn’t.
Annoying.
I’d sent Hamilton an email detailing the number of dates Clara and I were to go on, the locations and what would be expected of her in order to make this look real. And he’d sent me a response letting me know that Clara had agreed to my terms and that she’d be there for the first date, tonight, at Red Door.
But I’d been here a good hour already and there was no sign of her.
I was beginning to wonder if good old Tommy Hamilton had lied and hidden his daughter from me. If so, there would be words to be had. A great many fucking words and none of them to his liking.
Xander sat opposite me, stone-faced as usual, his dark eyes glittering as the club’s lights flashed. It wasn’t his scene—he spent most nights holed up in his office since he was a total workaholic—so I was surprised he’d decided to come with me tonight.
‘Do you have a reason for being here?’ I asked. ‘Or is it to sit around pointing out stuff I’m already aware of?’
‘I wanted to meet her.’ He didn’t look at me, too busy studying the dance floor. ‘Make sure she’s no threat to us.’
‘She’s a pretty socialite, Xan. How much threat could she possibly be?’
His gaze met mine. ‘Some women are dangerous.’
He would say that since he was currently having issues with our stepsister, Poppy. As in he hated her and she hated him.
I grinned. ‘Relax, brother. She’s my beautiful bride. Of course she’s not dangerous.’
I’d given him the run-down of my plan, along with Ajax, and both of them were on board with it, though Ajax more than Xander. Ajax liked the idea of rubbing our status in the noses of those who’d once been our enemies, while Xander didn’t much care. He was all about the money and protecting our investments.
Xander snorted and looked away, studying the dance floor again.
‘Have a drink,’ I said. ‘In fact, have two. Maybe they’ll dissolve that stick currently jammed up your ass.’
Ajax would have told me to fuck off. Xander merely ignored me, then, without a word, pushed himself up off the couch and disappeared through the crowd, heading towards the bar.
Good. I could use some time to myself to figure out what to do about Clara’s non-appearance.
I sat back on the couch, reaching for the glass of very expensive single malt I preferred and, as I did so, I caught the gaze of a woman sitting at a table near the stairs to the VIP area.
She was staring very hard at me.
Stares weren’t unusual—I got them a lot, especially from women—but I never looked back unless the woman was worth a second glance. And this one wasn’t.
Yet I found myself looking back now, unable to put my finger on why. She definitely wasn’t my type. At all. She wore a close-fitting black dress, more suited to a funeral dinner than a nightclub, that highlighted a body that was all angles and no curves. Her dark hair had been drawn back unflatteringly tight against her skull, making her plain, sharp face seem even more disapproving than it already was.
She looked like an offended nun.
Why the hell was I staring at her?
Christ,
