Bound by the Millionaire's Ring(12)

She'd be safest of all in his bed, no doubt. He had never been  interested in her and had shown more attention to his phone this week  than to her. She was little more than someone's dog he was minding. Here  girl, sit. Stay.

Blowing out a breath that made her fringe tickle her eyebrow, she threw  her suitcase onto the bed and opened it, took out her makeup bag and  locked herself in the bathroom.

She had squeezed in a fitting with his sisters the day after her  "engagement" and they had put a rush on several items for her. Tonight  she would wear a backless jumpsuit with a halter front in emerald-green.  The vague nod to his racing overalls had seemed cheeky and fun when  she'd chosen it for tonight's party, but as she pulled it on, insecurity  struck.

It clung to her backside and thighs, coating her curves in shimmery green.

Ramon hadn't said anything about the gold dress she had worn to their  engagement dinner. She had kept to her own outfits since, telling  herself she didn't care what he thought of her, but tonight she would be  judged against every supermodel who had ever dangled from his arm. She  had to look her best.

She curled her hair, then shook the loose ringlets around her shoulders.  The sparkle of her gold pendant drew attention to her cleavage. With  the sinfully high shoes she had charged to Ramon on a passive-aggressive  whim, all she could think was that she looked like she was trying too  hard.

Insecurity struck as she relived all those times she had thought combing  her hair a different way might be the ticket to finally catching his  eye. Nothing she'd ever done, whether it was a new shade of lip gloss or  a pricey push-up bra, had ever prompted the tiniest show of interest  from him. She didn't want to be that girl again, obvious in her yearning  and devastated when she fell short.

With a glance at her suitcase, which had nothing else to offer because  they were only here one night, and a glance at the clock, she knew she  was stuck. It wasn't as if she wore a minidress and bare legs, she told  herself as she left the bedroom, heart in her throat.

At the sound of the door, Ramon stood and pushed his arms into a dark  blue jacket over a pale gray shirt he wore open at the throat. He  finished reading and dropped his phone, freezing as he glanced toward  her. He took his time drifting his gaze from her carefully made up smoky  eyes to her pedicured toes in rose pink.

The only noise came from the distant move of traffic far below the open  terrace windows. As time inched along, her insides wobbled.

"Will I do?" she challenged, and did a slow pirouette, mostly so she  could turn her back on him and gather her composure. She gave her hair  another flip and felt his gaze strike her butt like a spank.

Get a grip, Isidora.

"Blame your sisters if you don't like what you see." She faced him  again, and pretended her clutch needed a thorough inventory of its  lipstick, mobile phone and credit card.

"I do like it," he said, voice hitting a low note that made her belly  contract. He finished shrugging on his jacket. "You look beautiful."

"You don't have to be polite," she said flatly. "I mean, be polite,  obviously, but don't say things because you think it's expected. I know  I'm a scarecrow in your eyes. This extra effort is for the cameras, not  you." She shook out a black chiffon jacket, startled when he was  suddenly right beside her, taking it to hold it for her.

He smelled divine and looked sexy as anything with that five o'clock  shadow and his dark brows pulled into a frown of admonishment. "I've  always thought you were beautiful."         

     



 

He sounded sincere, but it only made her sternum ache that he wasn't being honest with her.

"Seriously, save it for someone who wants to hear it."

He narrowed his eyes. "It's time to get over your anger, Isidora. Life's too short."

"I'm doing everything you ask," she snapped, taking back her jacket and tugging it on. "What else do you want from me?"

She flashed a look up, expecting the tired, remote look of boredom he  seemed to have carved specially into his face for when he looked at her.

There was an eerie stillness in his stony expression, but the spark in  his eyes turned them electric green. The air shimmered as though heated,  spilling excitement, heady and thrilling, through her.

It was her turn to stall with one arm in a sleeve, grappling with an  outlandish impression that she was not the only one fighting attraction.  More like they were both fighting this thing between them, but the more  they chipped at it, the closer they were to crumbling and crossing to  the other side.

He was a formidable man. He had a special hold over her, but in that  moment, she didn't feel small and helpless. She felt exalted. Empowered.

At the same time, attraction didn't merely tug at her. It drew her taut from the inside, threatening to swallow her whole.

He's doing it again.

With a muted gasp, she forced herself to pull back a step. Her heart  thundered with panic, which she hid by finishing the yank of getting her  jacket into place, nearly tearing the delicate fabric in her haste.

"Ask me that again when you're ready to hear the answer." His voice  coiled around her, squeezing until she could hardly breathe, holding her  in merciless thrall for one second as he lazily reached for the door.

He held it open, sending her an unreadable look as he waved an invitation for her to escape this airless apartment.





CHAPTER FIVE

RAMON'S RETIREMENT PARTY was held in the rooftop ballroom of a casino. A  band played all the latest hits and a disco ball sent rainbow flecks  bouncing off the mirrored columns that stood between draped alcoves. The  guests, some of whom he considered friends, others merely faces he  knew, were taking full advantage of the open bar, dancing in a crush on  the floor and gambling enthusiastically where tables were set up in an  adjoining room. It was a photo op and give-back to the racing community  that had embraced him all these years. No expense had been spared.

Ramon liked parties. He was the extrovert of the family, but he couldn't seem to relax and enjoy this one.

"She's not what I expected," one of Ramon's toughest competitors,  Kiergen Jensen said, as he gazed at Isidora dancing with Ramon's test  driver. "Too nice for a man who stops at nothing to win."

Here, at least, Isidora wasn't being vilified for his departure from the  track. She was lauded. His rivals were ecstatic they had a shot at the  championship without him in the way and admired her for stealing the  heart of such a confirmed bachelor.

Little did they know she hated him more than ever.

She had a right to be angry. He had put her in danger and made a mockery  of her childhood dreams. The job she had already struggled to prove  wasn't pure nepotism had been turned into something even more blatantly  biased. She had made it clear she wanted him to leave her alone, so he  had.

But her enmity grated at him.

He had moved her into his space, something he had never done with a  woman in his life. She resented it, and had gone back to leaving a room  if he entered it. At work, she did a credible job of gushing if put on  the spot, but she made sure everyone knew they intended to behave  professionally. It was her way of avoiding physical contact. When he did  have to act like a smitten suitor and take her arm or press a hand to  her back, she stiffened. It was subtle, but he felt it. She didn't even  want a compliment from him.

He was an egocentric man. He looked after himself, but had the capacity  to love and worry for his family. He had even made accommodations in his  life for his infant nieces. That's how he'd wound up at this retirement  party. But he didn't reserve a lot of bandwidth for worrying about  anyone outside his chosen few. Using Isidora for his publicity stunt had  been expedient. Whatever cost she incurred as a result could be  compensated monetarily. Her feelings had never been much of a factor in  this.

So why did her antagonism bother him so much?

Then, as they were leaving to come here, it had become obvious. Sexual tension.

In the privacy of his apartment, with no one to see it, she had  revealed-very briefly-that she was still attracted to him. Which was  adorable, given their history.

He really wished he could dismiss the discovery that cavalierly, but  he'd taken it like a bullet to the chest. He'd been aware of her all  week. Hell, he'd always been aware of her. Now that she was grown and  under his nose, it was impossible to ignore how alluring she was. She  could wear subdued business attire and a sober office persona, hold  herself beyond his reach and mutter pithy comments under her breath, but  that had only fed his intrigue. Turns out, he had a depthless appetite  for sexy-librarian fantasies and they all starred her.         

     



 

Then, tonight, he had nearly popped a blood vessel when she had emerged  looking chic and feminine in a skin-tight suit that revealed more than  it disguised. She was utterly delectable and Kiergen wasn't the only one  to notice.