Defying The Billionaire's Command. Michelle Conder
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His grandfather frowned. ‘Carly is...well, she’s a guest of mine,’ he finished lamely.
‘How nice for you.’ Dare ran his hand over the length of the tartan rug, noting the frown on Carly Evans’s face as he did so.
‘I can go.’ She moistened her lips with a nervous flicker of her pink tongue. ‘I don’t mind, really—’
‘Stay,’ Dare said, rethinking his position. It might actually be better to have her around to get a full picture of what was going on.
Her eyes darkened infinitesimally at the command. She obviously liked to be the one in charge.
So did he.
His grandfather cleared his throat to cut through the awkward silence and Dare watched him move to the drinks trolley. ‘Cointreau on ice, Carly?’
‘No, thank you,’ she husked, moving forward. ‘I’ll just have water but, here, let me get it. You sit down.’
The lady had expensive taste, Dare thought, but then he knew that from the ruby necklace, which was markedly absent. In fact she wasn’t wearing any jewellery to speak of. Had she not had time to put it on?
He watched as she fixed her own drink and poured tonic water for Benson without having to ask what he would like. How very comfortable it all was. The nubile, young woman playing up to the doddery old rich fool no doubt hoping he’d kick the bucket soon. Dare couldn’t help but acknowledge that he was disappointed. He’d somehow felt she had more substance to her.
Yeah, right. Substance. Was that what he was calling lust these days?
Nothing like a cold shot of reality to kill that bird dead.
He glanced at her ring finger. No diamond rock there. Obviously she still had some work to do yet.
He felt something primitive unfurl inside him. Something dark and dangerous. Disgust, he told himself. Every one of his senses had gone on high alert as soon as she had entered the room and he didn’t like it that he was so aware of her as a woman. Not when she was screwing his grandfather.
Just the thought of the two of them intimate made his stomach turn. Could a man even get it up at that age? A cynical smile touched the corner of Dare’s mouth. He certainly hoped so.
But he wasn’t here to think about his grandfather’s sordid sex life, he reminded himself. He was here to find out why Benson had contacted his mother, and he wouldn’t let himself get sidetracked by this wide-eyed mistress again.
‘As pleasant as this is,’ Dare mocked, facing off against his grandfather, ‘what I want to know is why you contacted my mother.’
A heavy silence followed his lethally soft words and it sent a chill down Carly’s spine.
When Benson had informed her that his grandson would be joining them for drinks Carly had thought he had meant Beckett, and she’d been pleased that she would be able to return his necklace to him and not have to worry about losing it.
Now she wished that it had been Beckett, because she had no idea how to deal with this arrogant American’s barely veiled hostility. She especially had no idea how to deal with the way her insides jolted with nervous heat every time he trained his piercing blue eyes on her.
The Baron inclined his head towards his grandson, a small sigh escaping past his lips. ‘I didn’t imagine this would be easy.’
Carly noted the aggressive stance in the younger man. He might now only be wearing faded denim jeans and a white T-shirt but he looked no less intimidating for it. In fact he looked even more so because now she could see that he was as leanly muscled as she had first imagined. And with black biker boots on his feet...
‘What did you imagine it would be?’ Dare asked the Baron with cold disdain.
‘Difficult,’ he acknowledged wryly.
‘Glad to see you’re a realist.’ His gaze homed in on the Baron like a shooter lining up a clay pigeon. ‘At first I thought you needed money but given the appearance of the place I’ve discounted that. Which leaves the possibility that you’re sick or dying. Not that you look it.’
A gasp escaped Carly before she could contain it. ‘That is so rude,’ she admonished, welcoming the bite of her temper in replace of her previous uncertainty.
Dare’s lethal gaze swung to hers, pinning her to the spot. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said softly, ‘what made you think I was talking to you?’
Oh! Carly refused to let him intimidate her. The Baron was her patient and it was her job to make sure he was well enough to undergo surgery to remove a brain tumour the size of a golf ball in two weeks’ time. He needed rest and relaxation, not animosity and outright aggression.
She would probably be able to add heart attack to his list of ailments if his grandson continued on in this vein.
‘You shouldn’t speak to anyone like that!’ she reproved.
‘It’s all right, Carly.’ The Baron patted her hand. ‘Dare has a right to feel angry. And from what I understand my grandson has a reputation for being ruthless, powerful, and relentless when he wants something.’ He listed the traits as if they were trophies to be shown off on a mantel, Carly thought with disgust. ‘It actually pleases me that he feels the need to defend Rachel.’
Carly tried to accept the Baron’s version of things. Rachel, she knew, was Dare’s mother, but other than that she didn’t know anything about their history.
Fortunately the butler chose that moment to enter quietly and announce that dinner was ready to be served.
‘Very good, Roberts.’ The Baron smiled, but Carly could see it was strained. ‘Dare, I was hoping that you might join us for the evening meal.’
Carly couldn’t believe he was extending an invitation, given the level of disrespect he had been shown.
‘I hadn’t intended to,’ Dare said coldly, and Carly felt her shoulders relax slightly as he declined. ‘But if it’s okay with Miss Evans perhaps I will.’
If it was okay with her? Carly’s spine snapped straight. Why would he put this on her?
‘Of course it’s all right with me,’ she said, too brightly.
‘Very good.’ She felt the Baron’s relief as he exhaled. ‘Shall we adjourn to the dining room? I, for one, am very eager to find out what Mrs Carlisle has prepared in your honour, Dare, and I do so enjoy eating my food without indigestion. Roberts, if you would be so kind as to set another place at the table?’
‘Very good, sir.’
For a moment Carly thought—hoped—that Dare was going to change his mind, but then he shrugged.
‘I haven’t eaten anything decent since breakfast. Lead the way, old man.’
She felt the Baron tense as he cupped her elbow and she wanted to strangle Dare James with her bare hands. She was quite sure that whatever bad blood was