Bound by the Millionaire's Ring(2)

"I'm all ears," she said without turning around. She shoved the file  into the cabinet, feeling a burning sensation streak down her back. He  was not looking at her butt and she was not wishing he would. Seriously.  She consciously tried not to tense, but she needed to resist him. She  was so done with this man!         

     



 

"Arrange a press conference," he said. "I'm announcing my retirement from racing."



Isidora had the nicest ass he'd ever seen-and he was a connoisseur.

When she turned with surprise, one arm remaining atop the filing cabinet  so her buttons strained across her breasts, he stole an appreciative  glance at that, too, before lifting his gaze to her astonished  expression.

Auburn brows framed warm brown eyes. Her gold-tipped lashes were thick  and lush. Her glossy hair, which had toned down from a bright copper as a  child to a rich burgundy wine, was pulled back in a clip. He couldn't  help imagining it falling freely around those high, honey-toned  cheekbones. She wore little makeup, needing nothing to give her skin  that glow of health, or shape her plump lips.

He typically stuck with overt beauties, ones made with a generous hand  that exuded sexuality. When it came to physical companionship, he  preferred obvious women and uncomplicated encounters. Indifference was  his goal. He didn't objectify women, but they objectified him. He was  fine with being trophy-hunted. He gave as much pleasure as he took and  they both walked away unharmed and completely satisfied.

Isidora had never offered anything so simplistic. Her years of doe-eyed  hero worship had reflected yearnings and expectations he could never  fulfill. So he had done her an enormous favor five years ago. He had let  her believe he had slept with her mother. That adolescent crush of hers  had needed to be crushed.

She still hated his guts for it. Overnight, she had stopped accompanying  her father to the office or Ramon's races. She continued to visit his  sisters, but sent regrets to any parties the Sauveterres invited her to  attend. While completing her degree in public relations, she had  maximized work-abroad opportunities. On the few occasions Ramon had  crossed paths with her, she had left the room as quickly as she politely  could.

That's how he'd made such a study of her ass.

Her contempt had finally gotten to him last year, when he'd seen her at  her father's sixty-fifth birthday party. He had rivalries in business  and on the track, but no one outright hated him. Isidora had been all  grown up, incandescent in a sapphire-blue dress. Surely she was far  enough past her childish infatuation to hear the truth and get over her  anger.

"I want to bury the hatchet," he had said when he'd cornered her into a waltz. "Let's go somewhere private, talk this out."

"Is that what you're calling it these days? Burying the hatchet?" Her  tone had been glacial. "No, thanks." She had walked away before the song  finished.

Still acting like a child, he had deduced, but he had her attention now.

"You're retiring," she repeated now, with disbelief. "From racing."

"Si." It was the least he could do for his family.

"But you're still winning. Your fans will be devastated."

"I have sufficient fame and money."

"But... You love it. Don't you?" She closed the file cabinet and faced  him, weight hitched to one hip so her knee peeked out the slit in her  skirt.

Definitely no longer a child, his libido took great care to note.

"It's just a pastime." Psychologists would say his need for speed was  compensation for failing to catch up to Trella when she'd been  kidnapped. That might have been true in the beginning, but he was  genuinely fascinated by the mechanics of high-performance engines and  loved competing. Nevertheless... "This is something I've been  considering for some time. I'll continue to sponsor my team and stay  involved that way." These were the pat answers he would give the press  this afternoon.

"It seems extreme. Trella's pregnancy can't be denied. Not forever."

He folded his arms, not used to defending his decisions to anyone. He  didn't bother to soften the condescension in his tone as he explained,  "I'm choosing to announce it now to distract from the rumors about her,  but quitting racing was inevitable once Cinnia turned up pregnant. Henri  can't travel as much as he used to."

He and Henri jointly ran Sauveterre International, but work had been  Henri's sport of choice for mental distraction. Ramon had never shirked  his responsibilities, but he had never felt guilty handing something to  his brother if he had to race.

Henri had greater concerns now. Ramon was more than willing to pick up  the slack so his brother could look after his young family.

"So you've been planning this all along?"

"I knew once the babies came, my role would change."

"We all knew you were taking over this office so Henri could move to  Madrid, but I don't think anyone expected you to quit racing."         

     



 

"We planned to make all the announcements next month. With the babies  coming early, we've moved up the timetable. I will begin restructuring  today. Starting with you."

Her eyes widened. "Me? I arranged a transfer to Madrid. It takes effect  with Cinnia's due date, but-Are you saying that with the babies coming  early, I need to move that up?"

"You're staying here." He probably shouldn't take so much pleasure in  making that statement, but he found enormous satisfaction in it. "My  sisters came to Paris with me. They're sorting things at Maison des  Jumeaux in preparation for Angelique leaving. Her engagement will be  announced soon and there are details with Kasim's family that need your  delicate touch."

Isidora's jaw dropped behind her sealed lips, making her cheeks go  hollow. Her thick lashes quickly swept down to disguise what might have  been a flash of...fear? No. Fury? Why? He wasn't being sarcastic about  her delicate touch. She was very good at her job or she wouldn't have  the position she held.

He wasn't in the habit of giving anyone ego strokes, however, so he  simply continued. "With Trella in the hot seat again, I'll do my best to  draw fire with the retirement announcement, but you'll have to manage  all of that, as well as the press releases on the restructuring."

"I can do that remotely." She folded her arms, posture stiff and  defensive, face turned to the window, where vertical blinds held out  most of the July sun along with the building's excellent view of the  Seine. "I'll speak to Henri-"

"He just brought home twins, Isidora. He's working as little as possible  and mostly from home so he can enjoy his children and support his wife.  Henri is not your employer, we are. We speak for each other and this is  something we decided together."

"You decided between you to deny my transfer? Without discussing it with me?"

"Yes." It hadn't even been a discussion. As often happened, Henri had  voiced what Ramon had already been thinking. "It's a matter of response  time. Some of your work can be done remotely, but when a crisis arises,  like today's, we need you on the spot to defuse it."

Her mouth tightened. He could see her wheels turning, searching for an  alternative. He knew why she was acting like this and he was losing  patience with it.

"Perhaps we could coax your father out of retirement?" he said facetiously.

"Don't think I'm not tempted."

"Stow your grudge, Isidora. You're a professional. Act like one."

She lifted haughty brows. "It's not my ability to keep things professional that I'm worried about."

"If I was the least bit interested in frostbite below the belt, you'd have something to worry about. I'm not."

He always hit back. Always. It came from never wanting to be a victim again.

But when her nostrils pinched and she sniffed like she'd taken a hard  jab to her slender middle, he felt a pang of conscience. A shadow of  hurt might have flickered in her eyes, but she moved behind her desk,  ducking her head and sliding a nonexistent tendril of hair behind her  ear, the screen of her hand hiding her expression from him.

When she lifted her face again, it was flushed, but her expression was  one of resolve. "I'll hand in my resignation by the end of the day."

The floor seemed to lurch beneath his feet. Her antipathy ran that deep?

As he searched her gaze, unable to believe she was serious, her pupils  expanded until her eyes were like black pansies, velvety. Yet  disillusioned and empty.

For one heartbeat, the world around him faded. A quiet agony that lived  inside him, one he ignored so completely he barely knew it existed,  seared to life, flashing such acute pain through him that his breath  stalled. Fire, hot and pointed, lit behind his breastbone.

He slammed the door on that dark, tangled, livid place, refusing to  wonder how she had managed to touch it by doing nothing but trying to  retreat from him.

Why would she even suggest it? The job she held, as someone still fresh  from school and not yet twenty-four, was unprecedented. Nepotism had  played a part, sure, but she brought a rare and valuable quality to the  position: trustworthiness.