Mistress By Blackmail(4)
Marcus gave him a wry grimace before sitting down once more. “Don’t I always share my plans with you?”
“Since I am usually a part of the plan, it’s smart of you to do so.”
“In this case, I don’t believe I’ll need your help.” Flipping open the lone file on his desk, he once again examined the report about his target. It never hurt to be thorough, although he’d committed all of the data to memory. “The information we’ve collected about Ms. Moran shows she’s got not a quid to her name.”
“That is a fact.”
“This would explain why she attached herself to Matt when they both were attending art school several years ago.”
“Your cynicism is showing. Maybe they became friends because they liked each other.”
“My cynicism is hard won and holds me in good stead.” He scanned the documents one more time. “She’s been playing her cards carefully, building rapport. However, the upcoming marriage has pushed her to act.”
“Snag Matteo while she can.”
“Correct.”
“And now we come to your plan.”
“My plan is to offer Ms. Moran a bigger prize.”
The blond man eyed him, then laughed. “You.”
“I plan to sweep her off her feet.”
“Which you have quite a lot of experience doing with women.”
“True.” His smile faded. “Once Matt is safely married and our business deal is done with the Casartellis, Ms. Moran will be given a nice piece of jewelry and told to take a hike.”
Blake walked to the window and looked down. “There is a chance she’ll refuse.”
“Not likely. But if she’s stubborn enough to say no, I’ll use the other key bit of information you found out about her.”
The man stilled. “Her father.”
“Si.”
“You are one ruthless bastard.” Blake said the words as he shook his head, yet the undertone of respect told Marcus what he needed to know. The head of his security thought his plan was solid.
“Do I detect judgment in your tone?”
His friend waved the question away. They’d gone through too many tense situations not to know what the other really thought.
He leaned back in his chair and contemplated what he had to do in the next few weeks. His voice hardened with resolve. “I do what I have to do to protect my family and my business.”
“There is a chance she’s actually in love with him.”
His sardonic chuckle filled the office. “Please.”
Blake surveyed him with amusement. “At some point this cynicism of yours is going to trip you up.”
“I doubt it.”
The intercom crackled. “Mr. La Rocca?”
“Yes, Angie.”
“There’s a woman here to see you.” His PA’s voice held annoyance. “She’s not on your schedule, sir. Yet she’s very insistent.”
Marcus threw a mocking grin at the other man. “I love insistent women.”
“Sir?” Angie’s voice blurred into confusion.
“Show her in.”
“Yes, sir.” The intercom went dead.
“Want me to stay?” Blake gave him an ironic smile.
“I don’t believe I need your supervision to seduce a woman.”
The head of his security snorted. “Then I’m out of here. I wish you luck.”
“I don’t need luck. I merely need to follow through with my plan.”
Shaking his head again, the blond man slid through the private side door leading into the conference room. At the same time, the main office door opened with a crash.
To his PA looking irritated and flustered. Which was unusual.
And behind her stood…
A fairy sprite.
A dainty nymph.
A sublime elfin creature.
She would barely reach his shoulder. Even in high heels. Certainly not in the clunky, plodding shoes she had on. The dress she wore did nothing for her—brown, ugly. Yet, it could not hide the body beneath. All lithe and elegant. Fine boned, but still with a delicious womanly curve to the hip and bust. The photos his mother had brought him had not done her justice. Had not shown the reality of her true beauty.
Every inch of his skin tightened and a particular part of his anatomy hardened. A flashing thought crossed his mind. He was glad he was sitting.
“Sir.” Angie regained some of her moxie and stepped forward. “This is—”
“Darcy Moran.” The delicate nymph stomped into his office, her dark, feathered brows held in a frown. “I have something to say to you.”
Struggling to regain his control, Marcus eyed his prey. “I can see that.”
“Mr. La Rocca—”
“You may go, Angie.” His gaze never left the tiny woman who’d stopped stomping and now stood inside the room in rigid anger.