behind the scenes while my uncle Neil travelled the world using Elstrom maps and bringing in more orders than they could cope with. It was win/win. Until my uncle was killed in an avalanche in the Himalayas. And the whole thing fell apart.’
‘Now it’s my turn to be sorry. He looks like a remarkable man.’
‘He was extraordinary. And that was part of the problem. Do you know why my father never contacted the Baldoni family? Because he never once felt that he was the man in charge. I was about twelve when my uncle had the accident and as far as my dad was concerned I was the man who was destined to take my uncle’s place. My uncle had never married or settled down anywhere long enough to have a family, although he was never short of female company. Which meant one thing. I was the heir. The man who was going to be the next head of Elstrom Mapping. My father told me on my eighteenth birthday that all he’d been doing was keeping my seat warm for me.’
‘Wait. Are you telling me that he never wanted his portrait painted?’
‘Never. It was going to be my portrait hanging on the wall next to my uncle. Not my dad. Me.’
‘Wow. So why...?’
‘He finally accepted this Christmas that it was never going to happen.’
‘I don’t understand.’
‘Oh, it’s quite simple. I walked out of this building two years ago and made it perfectly clear that I had absolutely no intention of ever coming back. That was it. Unless Freya suddenly developed a burning fascination for sea charts, the Elstrom line ended with my dad. I was out and was out for good.’
Scott nodded to the wall and as he spoke every word seemed to come from a deep, dark place. ‘It has taken two years for him to finally get that fact into his head and admit defeat. Lars Elstrom truly would be the last head of Elstrom Mapping. There was no way he was going to get me to come back and run the business. No way at all.’
Then he turned around to face her and leant back against the table. Head high. Eyes narrow and all business.
‘Do you get the picture now, Miss Baldoni?’
Toni sat back in one of the boardroom chairs and tried to take in what Scott had just told her.
Scott Elstrom didn’t want to be here one little bit. In fact he had made it clear to his family that he had no intention of ever coming back to run the business.
No wonder he was grumpy!
She knew what it was like to be dragged out of your normal life by a situation out of your control.
When her parents died in the train crash she had been left utterly alone at eighteen with a ten-year-old sister to bring up.
Scott was lucky. He still had his parents and a sister who cared about him. He could pull this off. If he wanted to.
‘But you’re back to stay now. Aren’t you?’ she asked cautiously.
‘I promised my father that I would give him six months.’ Scott’s voice was flat and cold but at least he had stopped scowling at her.
Toni pushed off from the chair and flipped both hands into the air with a big grin on her face.
‘Then everything has changed. Your face should be right up here on this wall next to your uncle. Six weeks or six months—it doesn’t make the slightest bit of difference to me. You’re the latest CEO of Elstrom Mapping and it’s my job to paint your portrait.’
Then she rubbed her hands together. ‘Any chance of a coffee before we get started on the sketches? It’s a bit nippy in here.’
Scott didn’t move an inch. ‘You really aren’t going to let this go, are you?’
‘Nope—’ she grinned ‘—I have every intention of sticking around and taking your photograph and generally making a nuisance of myself until I have all the material I need to work my magic. It’s so important to get to know the client as much as possible. So, you see, there is no way that you’re going to get rid of me.’
He stepped forward, totally invading her space until she could see every hair of his grey and blond beard and practically feel his breath on her cheeks.
His skin was red and chapped and his hair needed cutting but somehow Scott Elstrom rocked that master-of-all-he-surveyed look better than any stylist she knew could have pulled off.
Any lesser mortal would have backed off. Not her.
‘I could pick you up one-handed and carry you outside. You know that, don’t you?’
‘Absolutely.’ She smiled, reached out with her right hand and squeezed his rock-hard biceps, sighing in appreciation, and then her gaze locked on to his eyes. ‘But then I would have to set up my paints on the pavement outside your front door and call on all of my media friends to interview me. Just think of the TV crews and reporters who would be hassling you day and night. Wouldn’t that be a nice treat?’
‘Stalker,’ he replied in a low, deep voice which seemed to echo around inside her head and come out of her ears.
‘Grumpy.’ She blinked then instantly refocused on those startling blue eyes which seemed locked onto hers.
Time expanded. All she could hear was the sound of their breathing and the chiming of a very old clock somewhere in the building.
Oh. And the burning of the air between them as if it was ignited by the fierce electricity that sparked in the few inches that separated them.
She had heard that ozone was addictive and maybe they were right because the air she was breathing now was so thick with pheromones and testosterone she could have sliced it and served it with tea.
It was almost a relief when Scott stepped back. But, to her astonishment, he grabbed her hand with his long strong fingers and started marching towards the door.
Was this it? Was he calling her bluff and throwing her out on to the street?
‘Come with me,’ he growled. ‘I want you to see for yourself why there is no time to spend hours of my life sitting for a portrait.’
* * *
It was an office of sorts. But it was totally unlike anywhere she had ever seen.
Every flat or even vaguely flat surface was covered with stacks of paper. All sizes—plain, decorated, scraps of what looked like paper napkins covered in handwriting, envelopes of every description.
Tables, chairs and bookcases were all crammed full of sheets of yellowing paper with the overspill stacked in vague piles on a faded threadbare carpet.
There was a rounded shape in front of the window which might be a sofa because she could see curved wooden feet at either end but, instead of cushions, there were scrolls tied with string and ribbon, about twenty cardboard tubes standing on end and box after box of padded envelopes with exotic bright stamps on the outside.
Floor-to-ceiling
