Ramsay(9)

I swallowed, heat flooding my face. Outside thunder rumbled. "He didn't  send me. I insisted on coming. But yes, I am here to clean up his mess."  I licked my lips nervously.

"And how exactly are you going to do that? Are you offering to purchase  the company back? There'll be a surcharge now, of course."

Surcharge? "I . . . I can't. We don't have the capital to do that. I'm hoping we can come up with some other arrangement."

He lifted one dark brow. "And what did you have in mind?"

I looked to the side and then back to him. Truthfully, I hadn't arrived  at a plan before rushing over here to beg Brogan for mercy. And now I  saw the folly in that. "We were friends once, Brogan. I'm hoping  you'll-"

He suddenly slammed his fist down on his desk, his face contorting into a  mask of fury. "We were never friends. You tricked me and lied to me.  You cost my father his job. You have no idea what you cost my family."

I swallowed heavily, shaking my head. "I . . . I know. I did trick you.  It was an awful, selfish thing to do. I've wanted to apologize for so  long, I even-"

"I have no need of your apology, Lydia."

"All the same, Brogan-"

"No," he gritted out harshly. Rain began pelting against the windows.  "You don't get to throw a sorry at me in order to assuage your own  guilt. I don't want it. Keep it for yourself, princess." He added the  old nickname mockingly.

My God. He hated me vehemently. After all this time.

I studied his face, hard and set in his anger. "Stuart was right. You  did this on purpose. You planned it. You tricked him into losing the  company to you."

"Tricked him? Hardly. Your brother's problems are of his own making."

"I know that, Brogan. Believe me, I do. I'm under no illusion as to my  brother's weaknesses, his vices. But please, we employ so many people.  They all depend on us for their livelihoods."

"Ah, now you care about peoples' livelihoods? How refreshing."

I opened my mouth to respond, but he interrupted me, plowing ahead.  "Anyway, what makes you think I'd put anyone out of work? Except, of  course, you and your brother. As the new owner, I've taken it upon  myself to look into De Havilland Enterprises. At first glance, it  appears things could be turned around if it was being run by someone who  wasn't a gambler, a drug user, and a fucking self-serving waste of  oxygen."

My heart dropped. He might not take the company apart, but the business  my father had worked his fingers to the bone for would no longer be in  our family. It would have broken his heart to know . . . oh God. And all  because of something I foolishly did seven years ago.

I pulled in a lungful of air, a lump forming in my throat. Whether  Brogan agreed or not, I had thought we'd been friends . . . once, long  ago. Before. I searched his face for the kind, sensitive boy he'd once  been, but saw nothing of him in the hard lines of this man's face. I  didn't know him anymore. This man was a callous stranger.

"There's nothing I can do, is there?" I asked. I licked my lips, pulling the bottom one between my teeth.

Brogan studied me, his gaze skittering to my mouth and back to my eyes.  Tapping on his desk again, he appeared to be weighing something, some  decision. "How much do you want ownership of De Havilland Enterprises  back, Lydia?"

My throat went dry. "I . . . I'll do anything, Brogan. Anything." My  face flooded with hot shame. But it was true. In that moment, I would go  to any lengths to fix this mess. For my father, for his dream, I'd do  anything. It was his legacy, the only part of him I could still care for  in this physical world.

Brogan chuckled, a sound filled with disdain. He rubbed the edge of the  leather inset on his desk with his index finger, my eyes following the  movement for a moment. He'd always been such a sensual person, always  touching something, his hands lingering, caressing, seemingly entranced  by textures . . . He had covered his accent, but not that. I grasped  onto it-finally recognizing something in this man that had also been in  the boy. "Anything? Would you beg for it? Would you get down on your  knees and beg?"

I froze, my heart seeming to stop before it picked up an erratic beat,  my gaze meeting his. "Is that what you want me to do? Is that what this  comes down to? A payback of some sort?"                       
       
           



       

"Actually, Lydia, some interest has accrued since I was asked to beg. If  we're considering a payback, your begging would have to be on a much  larger scale. Grand even."

"What does that even mean?"

Brogan looked off to the side, seeming to be considering something.  Moments ticked by before he finally looked back to me, his light blue  eyes a soft and startlingly beautiful contrast to the harsh expression  he wore. "Here's my offer: Come work at my home as I used to work at  yours. Do as I ask you to do and every day, you will beg me for your  company back. If you do it well enough, I'll consider your request."

I gaped. "Are you out of your mind?" I hissed.

He shrugged nonchalantly, his face impassive now. "It's been said."

"Said? Said by whom? Because I'd be inclined to agree. It's a disgusting offer. You're a pig."

"That's been said as well." Brogan chuckled, leaning back in his chair  again, flashing me an arrogant smirk. I blinked. I'd never seen Brogan  smile that way before. I remembered a different smile-sweet and slightly  shy. That smile used to make my heart flutter. That smile used to make  me giddy with desire. One of his front teeth overlapped the other just a  tiny bit and I'd noticed the way he'd run his tongue over it when he  seemed to feel unsure. When I had kissed him, I'd run my tongue over it,  too, and it had thrilled me in some way I hadn't been able to  explain-even to myself. I swallowed at the memory, not allowing myself  to think any more about it. Because while it was true that his smile had  filled me with want once upon a time, when he'd smiled at me all those  years ago, his eyes had been warm and full of affection, full of  yearning. Not now. Not anymore. He shrugged. "The operative word is  offer. You're free to accept or decline. But it's the only offer I'll  give you-the only chance you'll get."

"And what type of work would I be doing at your home exactly, Brogan?" I asked tightly.

He steepled his fingers. "I'm not sure yet, Lydia. All kinds of things  probably. I guess ya could consider it a jack-of-all-trades position of  sorts. Or would the expression be jill-of-all-trades?" He smiled again  as I simply stared.

His phone buzzed, and he pulled it toward him, glancing at it quickly.  "I'll have to wrap this up. I have more important things to attend to.  Consider my offer," he shrugged, "or not. Either way. I'm assumin' ya  have my card since ya found me."

I was still staring at him, my teeth clenched together, disbelievingly.  It didn't escape my notice that his accent had emerged during those  final sentences. I stood up and, without another word, left Brogan  Ramsay's office, slamming his door behind me. Oh God.





CHAPTER FOUR




Brogan



I attempted to control my breathing. Lydia De Havilland had just slammed  out of my office, and I still couldn't catch my breath. The fact made  me want to hit something.

I'd seen her from afar several times, even followed her home a couple of  days before for some reason I still couldn't explain. Gathering  information on the De Havilland family, I'd told myself. All the better  to know how to proceed with the acquisition I'd planned of their  company. But that was flimsy at best, and I bloody well knew it. And  even though I'd seen her from across a party, and across a street, I  hadn't been prepared for the impact of her right in front of me. I  hadn't needed Rory to tell me her name so I'd recognize her. I'd just  wanted to be ready. But I hadn't gotten that, and the entire time she'd  been in my office, it had felt as if the ground was rolling beneath me.

Lydia had matured into a stunning woman-even more beautiful than I'd  remembered. And back then, she'd had the power to steal my breath right  from my lungs.

Her golden hair was shorter than it'd been, shoulder length now, but it  still looked as soft and lustrous as I remembered it. I rubbed my  fingertips together as if the gesture itself would conjure up the feel  of the blonde strands on my skin. I longed to touch her hair again, and  that small longing alone filled me with impotent rage. Her face had lost  the roundness of youth, highlighting her delicate bone structure, and  those beautiful, almond-shaped blue-green eyes. I put my head in my  hands and massaged my temples and then raked my hands through my hair.  Just sitting in the same room as her made me hungry in that same  desperate way I'd felt when I could never get enough food, never feel  the satisfaction of a full belly. Only it was worse because this hunger  would never be satisfied, nor would I let it.