‘I didn’t do it much until Ashton started getting regular supplies,’ she said, trying to mitigate her usage.
Possibly it was true. It would obviously serve Ashton’s purpose to get Olivia hooked. ‘Okay,’ he said calmly. ‘I have the picture now. Sit down while I think about how to get you out of this mess.’
Relieved that she had finally loaded it off onto his shoulders, she dropped onto the sofa and resumed sipping coffee while darting anxious little glances at him.
Jordan mentally plotted the moves that had to be made. Call his lawyer to enquire about all the legal angles. Call his security guy. Olivia would have to be wired and rehearsed into how to get Ashton’s blackmail threat on tape. Once he could be threatened with criminal prosecution, Jordan was fairly sure a reasonable settlement could be reached. Pretty-boy Ashton wouldn’t enjoy a spell in jail. Olivia had to get stone-cold sober and stay sober until the situation was resolved, and then agree to a month in a rehabilitation centre.
He took out his mobile phone and called his mother. Fortunately she was home and, having been apprised of the problem, agreed to look after Olivia and ensure she was sober for a management meeting tomorrow morning. That gave him the rest of today and tonight with Ivy before he had to act for his sister who certainly deserved to stew overnight for being so damned stupid and careless.
He then called Ray to get the Bentley out to drive Olivia to his mother’s Palm Beach residence. He would drive the Porsche there himself in the morning. Having dumped her problem in her brother’s hands and now sure he would fix it for her, Olivia meekly followed his orders.
Jordan silently determined she would follow a few more in the very near future, like getting her head together enough to make sensible decisions and not take mind-blurring drugs.
It was all so bloody nasty, he thought, as he saw Olivia off in the Bentley. At least taking care of it could wait until tomorrow. Ashton was not about to go anywhere, not until he had milked the golden goose for all he could get.
And Ivy was waiting for him.
Ivy, who’d told him repeatedly she wouldn’t fit into his social world: the parties, the gossip, the competitive status thing with its bitchiness and back-biting, the high-flying celebrities who did dabble in cocaine or ecstacy or marijuana for their sensory hits. Part of his mind stood back from it all, like a spectator rather than a participant. But if he took Ivy into it …
No, she didn’t fit.
He didn’t want her to fit.
It was the difference in her that he found so beguiling.
Somehow he had to keep her out of it, yet keep her in his life.
And his bed.
Determined on making that happen, Jordan headed back into the house, the adrenaline surge of desire kicking in as he went to collect the woman he wanted.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
IVY found Margaret surprisingly easy to be with. Aware that the housekeeper had to be curious about the decisions she’d come to in regard to a relationship with Jordan, she’d told her straight out that she owned the rose farm he used for gifts to his girlfriends and hadn’t thought the attraction was worth pursuing, given her inside knowledge of his track record with roses.
‘Good Heavens! And he kept sending them to your mother!’ had been her stunned reaction.
‘Yes, it was great for business, but I had to stop it.’
Margaret had burst into laughter, vastly amused by the piquancy of the situation, her eyes twinkling merrily as she’d commented, ‘So you’re giving him a chance.’
‘I do like him.’ Not to mention wanting him so intensely it was almost frightening, which the housekeeper probably realised anyway. Ivy couldn’t imagine any woman not wanting to experience Jordan Powell in bed. It was his world, not his bed that was the problem.
‘Yes, he’s very likeable,’ Margaret had replied with a fondly indulgent smile. ‘I wouldn’t work for him if he wasn’t.’
This recommendation of Jordan’s character from an employee’s point of view, added to the masterly way he had handled the scene with his sister, had assured Ivy she wasn’t making too big a mistake in getting more involved with him, even if it proved to be a brief affair in the end. Besides, maybe his previous affairs had been littered with fortune-hunters and she wasn’t one. That might make some difference.
Margaret had produced a platter of nibbles, suggesting it might tide Ivy over until Jordan had finished with his sister and they could then have lunch together. The brie cheese and dates, little balls of fresh melon wrapped in prosciutto ham, marinated sun-dried tomatoes and olives were all very tempting and without any electric sexual tension knotting her stomach, Ivy suddenly found an appetite.