The Billionaire Banker(2)

To possess.

To own her.





Two

t can have been only seconds, but it seems like ages that ILana is held locked and hypnotized by the stranger’s insolent eyes. When she recalls it later she will remember how startlingly white his shirt had been against his tanned throat, and swear that even the air between them had shimmered. Strange too how all the background sounds of cutlery, voices and laughter had faded into nothing. It was as if she had wandered into a strange and compelling universe where there was no one else but her and that devilishly handsome man.

But here she is prey.

The powerful spell is broken when he raises his glass in an ironic salute. Hurriedly, she tears her gaze away, but her thin façade of poise is completely shattered. Hot blood is rushing up into her neck and cheeks; and her heart is racing like a mad thing.

What the hell just happened?

She feels his gaze like a burning tingle on her skin. To hide she bends her head and lets her hair fall forward. But the desire to dare another look is immense. She has never experienced such an instant and physical attraction before.

With broad shoulders, a deep tan, smoldering eyes, a strong jaw, and straight-out-of-bed, vogue-cool, catwalk hair that flops onto his forehead, he looks like one of those totally hot and brooding Abercrombie and Fitch models, only more savage and fierce.

Devastatingly more.

But she is not here to flirt with drop dead gorgeous strangers, or to find a man for herself. She presses her fingers against her flaming cheeks, and forces herself to calm down. All her concentration must go into getting Rupert to agree to her proposal. He is her last hope. Her only hope.

Nothing could ever be more important than her reason for being there with such a man as him. She looks miserably towards the tall doors where he has gone. This cold, pillared place of opulence is where rich people come to eat. A waiter wearing white gloves comes through the doors bearing a covered tray. She feels out of her depth.

The orange dress is itchy and prickly and she longs to scratch several places on her body. Then there are the butterflies flapping dementedly inside her stomach.

Don’t ruin this, she tells herself. You’ve come this far.

Nervously, to regain her composure, she presses her lips together and firmly pushes the sarcastically curving mouth out of her mind. She must concentrate on the horrible task ahead. But those insolent eyes, they would not go.

She brings to mind her mother’s thin, sad face, and suddenly the stranger’s eyes are magically gone. She straightens her back. Prepares herself.

She will not fail.

Rupert, having met whomever he had gone to meet, is weaving his way back to her and when their eyes touch she flashes him a brilliant smile. She will not fail. He smiles back triumphantly. He comes around to her side and drops her a quick kiss, before slumping heavily into his seat. She has to stop herself from reaching up to wipe her mouth.

Rupert seems transformed. Expansive, almost jolly.

‘That’s one deal that came in the nick of time. It’s almost as if the heavens have decided that I deserve a piece of you.’

The way he says it almost makes her flinch with horror.

‘Lucky me,’ she says softly, surprising herself. She tells herself she is playing a part. One that she can vanish into and emerge from unscathed, but she knows it is not true.

There will be repercussions and consequences.

He smiles nastily. He knows she does not fancy him, but that is part of the thrill. Taking what does not want to be taken. ‘Well then, don’t be coy, let’s hear it. How much are you going to cost me?’

Lana takes a deep breath. A bull this large can only be taken by the horns. ‘Fifty thousand pounds.’

His dirty blond eyebrows shoot upwards. ‘Not exactly cheap.’ There is something spiteful in his voice. ‘What do I get for my money?’

They are both startled out of their conversation by a deep, curt voice.

‘Rupert.’

‘Mr. Barrington,’ Rupert gasps, and literally flies to his feet. ‘What an unexpected pleasure,’ he croons obsequiously. Lana drops her head with shame. It is the stranger. He has heard her sell herself.

‘I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure of your companion’s acquaintance.’

‘Blake Law Barrington, Lana Bloom, Lana Bloom, Blake Law Barrington.’#p#分页标题#e#

She looks up then, a long way up—he is definitely over six feet, maybe six two—to meet his stormy-grey stare.

They are the most mesmerizing eyes she has ever encountered. She searches them for disgust, but they are veiled, impenetrable pits of mystery. She begins to tremble. Her body knows something she does not. He is dangerous to her in a way she cannot yet conceive.