Bound by Their Love (6 page)

She had no one to come and see if she was all right. No one to comfort her. No one to hold her.

Never before had she felt so isolated.

Get a grip. You like being single and free.

Did she?

After seeing a real, loving, family unit, she wasn't so sure her life was as fulfilling as she had thought when she'd woken up that morning.

Chapter 7

Greta rushed into the corporate offices of the Morelli Corporation with minutes to spare. She was directed to the boardroom. Taking a deep breath, she opened the door. Instead of seeing a roomful of people, she was greeted by a young woman behind a desk.

‘Oh, sorry, I thought this was the boardroom.'

The other woman laughed. ‘Well it is, sort of. I'm Heather, Mr Morelli's assistant. You must be Greta Adamas from the Adamas Agency?'

‘Yes, that's me.' Still running on the high of delivery Sheree's baby, Greta paused to gather herself before continuing. ‘Could you please direct me to where the boardroom is? I'm running a little late and want to be able to set up before everyone arrives.'

The other woman hesitated. ‘Umm, don't you want to clean up first?'

‘Pardon?'

‘You have a little blood on your face. There's some on your shirt as well. Did you get hurt?'

Greta groaned. She'd been so concerned about getting to her meeting she hadn't given her appearance a second thought. ‘No, I didn't get hurt, I delivered a baby.'

‘I'm sorry, did you just say you delivered a
baby
?'

Greta laughed. ‘Yes. It's still rather surreal.'

‘What happened? And why did you have to deliver the baby? Why not a paramedic or doctor?'

‘The lift in my apartment building got stuck. My neighbour was on the way to the hospital as she was in labour. The baby decided the elevator was a good place to be born.' Greta paused and closed her eyes. Reliving the moment when she was holding baby Greta. ‘I don't think I'll ever forget it.' She finished on a whisper.

‘I'm sure you won't. Babies are so sweet and innocent.'

‘They certainly are.'

Silence surrounded them until Greta worked out where she was and what she needed to do.

‘Guess I'd better clean up before I go into the meeting. Can you tell me where the bathroom is?'

‘Let me take you. There's still time before your appointment. Plus a couple of other people from your agency are already here. If you're a few minutes delayed, I'm sure they'll be able to handle any questions.'

‘Good. I'm glad they made it,' Greta said as she schooled her features, hiding the shock at hearing some agency representatives were there.

Who the hell was here? And why?

Maybe her father decided to come along after all. She hoped to God it wasn't Graham. If he was in that room she'd be really pissed off.

They made their way to the bathroom. Greta gasped at her appearance. Her hair was falling loose from the sleek bun she'd put it in that morning. Her shirt had blood and God knows what else stained on it. It was basically ruined. There was no way she could go into the meeting looking like this.

How had she not realised the state she was in? Why hadn't anyone mentioned it to her when she'd been standing in the foyer at the apartment building?

Simple.

The place had been buzzing with excitement over a baby being born in a lift. She'd been as caught up as everyone else. When the situation had died down, she'd grabbed her things and headed out the door.

Now what was she going to do? She couldn't do her presentation like this. She might as well kiss the account goodbye.

Sensing her distress, Heather placed her hand on Greta's arm. ‘I've got a spare blouse. I picked it up from the cleaners this morning. It will work fine with your suit. You fix your hair while I get it for you.' Heather pointed to a powder blue bag sitting on the counter. ‘If you want to touch up your make-up, feel free to help yourself to mine.'

Heather turned and walked out of the bathroom. Greta quickly washed her face and slipped off her blouse. Luckily her jacket was clean. She'd just finished fixing her hair when Heather walked back into the bathroom, blouse in hand.

‘Here you go.'

Greta turned, took the blouse from Heather and slipped her arms into it. ‘So, do I pass muster now?' Greta asked, wanting to get her mind off the baby and back onto why she was standing in the bathroom. She had a presentation to give.

Heather ran a critical eye over her. ‘Yep, you'll knock them off their feet.'

‘I hope so. Let's go to the boardroom.'

Heather laughed and held the bathroom door open for her. On the way past Heather's desk, Greta collected her materials. Glancing at her watch she saw that it was eleven fifteen. She hated being late.

‘How did you explain my lateness?'

‘I told them that there'd been an incident on your way to the meeting and you needed a few moments to straighten up.' Heather shrugged. ‘They all understood, and seeing as Mr Courteux has only just arrived, it's worked out fine. You couldn't have started the presentation without him in the room anyway.'

Greta didn't know what she'd done to deserve to have Heather supporting her, but she was grateful. ‘Thank you, you don't know how much I appreciate it.'

‘Oh no worries, us girls have to stick together. Besides, I want you to win the account.'

‘From your lips to their ears. I'd love to work on this account.' They stopped outside the door. ‘Do you have any last minute tips before I enter the lion's den?'

Heather grinned. ‘Mr Courteux hasn't been impressed with anyone's campaign as yet, including the other man from your agency. I have a feeling you are just what he needs.'

Heather opened the door with a flourish.

Greta strode into the room, a lingering buzz from delivering the baby giving her added confidence. She placed her portfolio case and laptop bag on the table and turned to face the room. Pasting a smile on her face, she looked directly at Luciano Morelli.

‘Good morning, Mr Morelli. I'm Greta Adamas and I apologise for being late. If you'll give me a few minutes I'll have everything ready.' She started to pull out her presentation boards and laptop. ‘As your assistant informed you, I needed to change my blouse. It's not everyday you get caught in a lift and have to deliver a baby.'

Greta turned to the other people in the room and gave a short laugh at seeing the shocked expressions on their faces.

She assessed the people seated at the table. She nodded her head at her father's assistant and a young intern. Opposite them was an attractive woman and a man dressed in an impeccably cut suit. She recognised him as Nick Bishop, Luciano Morelli's business partner. A movement toward the back of the room diverted her attention.

Stepping out of the shadows was the last person she expected to see. Wearing a dark suit and dark glasses, he commanded the attention of the others in the room. She would know those glasses anywhere.

What the hell was Jeff Court doing in this meeting?

As he pulled his sunglasses off and placed them in his top pocket, realisation struck. The person she'd spent an illicit afternoon with, the person she knew as Jeff Court, wasn't Jeff Court at all. He was the one and only elusive jewellery designer, Jeffrey Courteux. How had she not made the connection the day they met? It was so obvious to her now. If she hadn't let her emotions take away her sense she would've worked it out when he'd said his name.

She was so screwed.

Jeffrey saw the moment Greta worked out his true identity. The colour leached from her face and she swayed on her feet. He thought for a moment she was going to faint. The minute she'd walked into the room, he'd known exactly who would be presenting the campaign.

He moved toward her, ignoring the inquisitive look from both Luc and Nick as he walked past them. At all the other presentations, he'd taken a seat next to Luc and hadn't said a word to anyone.

‘Good morning, Ms Adamas. It's a pleasure to meet you.' He held out his hand as her eyes widened in surprise. She took his hand and warmth coursed through him. Filling all the empty spaces inside of him.

‘It's a pleasure to meet you too, Mr
Courteux.
' Her eyes never left his and he found himself drowning in them. Sparks of anger lit their depths. He smiled. He couldn't help himself.

She raised an eyebrow when she went to pull her hand away. Daring him to say something. He tightened his hold a fraction before letting it go.

He went and sat next to Luc, disregarding the way his friend eyed him. Asking him silently what the hell that had been all about. He shrugged his shoulders. Luc didn't need to know his business.

Greta started speaking, her words washing over him. He concentrated on watching her mouth move, and imagined it on his body. When she asked him questions, he said all the right things. He had to admit her campaign was different from any they'd seen. It was bold and risky, just like her. He knew Luc probably wouldn't go for it.

Tough. It was his jewellery line.

‘Do you happen to have a sample of your new collection here today, Mr Courteux? I'd really like to see it.' He enjoyed the way Greta said his name.

She was the first person to ask if he had any pieces with him. The other ad executives had said their spiel and answered the questions Luc asked. Jeffrey had suspected they wanted to ask the same question, but seemed unwilling to approach him. He was first to admit he'd been an arrogant arse and had kept his glasses on. He liked the untouchable stance they gave him.

Kudos to Greta for, again, being bold and different. He knew she was challenging him too.

‘Is it necessary to see some of the new pieces, Ms Adamas?' Luc spoke before Jeffrey had a chance to respond. He bit back a grin at the way Greta bristled at Luc's tone.

‘With all due respect, Mr Morelli, yes, it is necessary. While I'm confident my campaign can deliver everything you and
Mr Courteux
want, being able to see the new pieces means I can give you some fresh ideas on the best ways to tempt the consumer into wanting to buy a piece.'

Jeffrey watched Luc as Greta spoke; he could see the moment Luc appreciated her response. Luc was always all about business and Greta was all business. She'd won him over.

That's my girl.

Luc gave a nod and turned to him. ‘Jeff?'

‘Yes, I happen to have some pieces here.' He heard the murmur of excitement from her colleagues seated at the table. He stood and went through a door into Luc's office. He took a couple of deep breaths before he picked the pieces up. He knew he would have to control the urge to touch Greta. She'd haunted him since their time together.

‘Are you okay, Jeff?'

Jeffrey turned to see Luc standing in the doorway. ‘Yes, why wouldn't I be?'

Luc gave a negligent shrug of his shoulder. ‘You tell me. You've been different through this whole meeting. Why?'

‘No reason, I like her ideas.'

‘Hmmm, I think there's more to it.' Luc put on his take-no-prisoners look. ‘This is an important venture for the Morelli Corporation, I don't want anything to jeopardise it.'

Jeffrey had been friends with Luc for years. He didn't appreciate the threatening undertone of his words. ‘Yes, and just remember whose collection it is. It's mine, Luc, not yours. I can decide to show it, or let you sell it in your hotels. Not you.'

Luc laughed. ‘Point taken. I'm glad to see your eye is still on business.'

‘Always.' Jeffrey collected the boxes. ‘Right, I think we've kept them waiting long enough. Let's go.'

He brushed past his friend and walked back into the room. Greta turned to look at him, and for an instant he saw the undisguised desire shining in her eyes. It was masked quickly with a blink of her eyes. It didn't matter to him. He'd seen it and that's all that mattered.

‘I think there's way more than business going on here.' Luc murmured as he made his way back to his seat at the table. Jeffrey chose to ignore the jibe.

He walked up to the table, placing the boxes on the table. He was standing close to Greta. He closed his eyes for a moment, savouring the feeling of her being in his orbit again.

‘May I?' She almost whispered the words in his ears.

He turned his head. If he wanted to, he could lean forward and take her lips with his. As if reading his mind her tongue darted out, moistening her lips. He swallowed a groan. The need to taste her again threatened to unravel him. However, conscious of the people in the room, he took a step back. He reached down and handed the box containing the ankle cuff to her.

Their fingertips touched as she took it from him. He waited to see her reaction as she opened the box. Hoping against hope she liked what she saw. Usually he never saw people's reactions to his pieces. He was commissioned to design and make them. The designs went back and forth between him and his agent and the clients. He knew that whenever they received their pieces, they didn't dare complain. They wanted to own a Jeffrey Courteux design and flaunt the piece among their friends.

‘Oh, this is exquisite.'

Seeing Greta caress the piece in the box had his body tightening in memory of her fingers stroking him.

‘Thank you.' What he really itched to do was take the piece out of the box and place it around her ankle. The ankle he'd designed it for.

‘These pieces need to be worn by models when the collection is launched. There's no way people can appreciate the beauty and craftsmanship when these pieces are locked away behind glasses cases.'

‘No, it would be security a nightmare.' Luc immediately responded to Greta's idea.

‘How so, Mr Morelli? Bodyguards dressed in tuxedos trailing the models? Are you telling me the people invited to the opening night are the sort of people who would steal the pieces?'