On His Terms(14)

“Would you like me to send her away?” Theodore asked, his wrinkled face showing no emotions. He was old, but he didn’t take shit from anyone, least of all a woman like Beatrice Marshall.

“No, I better deal with her.” Rian stood. “You’ve let her into the building?”

“Yes, sir. She was already making a fuss, so I thought instead of making a scene I’d let her up given the hour, and because I think she is a bit intoxicated.”

“Smart on your part. She can be … dramatic, and I’m sure she’s drunk.” He made his way back inside and to the front door. He’d planned on meeting her in the foyer right outside of his door, because he didn’t want her in the house, but as soon as he opened the door she nearly fell into him.

“Rian.” She dragged out his name in a slurred voice and started running her hands over his chest. “I’ve missed you.”

“Beatrice, you’re drunk, and not welcome here.” He gently pushed her away, and she stumbled back against the door, shutting it.

She frowned in a dramatic and false way, and then straightened. Her light pink Chanel business skirt suit was wrinkled, and out of place, and he wrinkled his nose at her.

“You smell like a bar, Beatrice.” He smoothed his hands over his shirt, and then took a step back and then crossed his arms over his chest. “I told you that there isn’t anything more between us aside from what we shared.”

And this was why the contract, if Sorcha agreed, was a brilliant idea. Sorcha may act like she was totally against it, but he’d bet his empire that she was lying in bed right now thinking about it, contemplating actually going through with it, and that was the doubt he needed her to feel. If she signed the contract legally she’d be his for that time, and after the term of the contract she would have no legal standings to converse with him in more than a professional manner, not unless she wanted legal ramifications.

“You said you were done, but I could see in those eyes of yours that you wanted more.” She moved closer, shuffled really, on those ridiculously high stilettos of hers, and rested a hand on the center of his chest. “I know we had one hell of a time, Rian.” She looked at his face, and he could see that although she was drunk her make-up was still impeccably perfect. Most likely she had touched it up before coming here unannounced. “Did we have a good time, a wild time?” She smiled, tying to be seductively, but it made him slightly nauseated. “I was open to whatever you wanted to do, Ran.” She started moving her hand lower down his chest. “And even after you kicked me out of your life only a couple of weeks later, I didn’t run to the press about the type of things you were into.” Right before she reached his belt he grabbed her wrist and moved away from her.

“You wouldn’t go to the press because your precious reputation, as well as your family’s, would have been tarnished.” He was tired and bored of this conversation. “I think it’s time for you to leave. Do you need a ride home?”

She grinned again. “Why yes, Mr. Hartford, I do need a ride.”

“Theodore?” Rian called out.

“Yes, sir?”

“Please have the car send Miss Marshall home.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Rian, why you insist on playing these games is beyond me. If we were to be together our families’ fortunes combined could very well control the real estate and overseas exportation business in the United States.” She had to brace a hand on the wall to steady herself.

“Go home, sleep it off, and please don’t call or come over here again, Beatrice.”

She pouted. “You play hard to get, but you’re a smart man, and I know you’ll come around.”

“Miss Marshall, I’ll escort you out to the car waiting below,” Theodore said and moved toward the door.

“I don’t need a car. I have my limo waiting for me,” she said to Theodore in a snappy, snarky voice, as if she were better than he was.

Rian might have wealth, might be a bastard, and was known as such by anyone that met him, but when it came to people he considered family—Theodore being one of them—he was no better than they were, and wouldn’t let anyone talk down to them.

“Goodbye, Beatrice.” He took her arm in his hand, turned her around, and opened the front door. He all but pushed her out, but gently enough that she wouldn’t fall on her stuck-up face. “And I meant it when I said we’re done. I have no interest in your family’s money, getting into business with them, or going any further with you.”

This dark snarl covered her face, and he knew the alcohol was wearing off, and the bitch that lay beneath the sophisticated and primped up veneer she displayed was coming out.