Riley’s Billionaire (2 page)

Stoking an Irish temper might be fun at that. Turn on the charm? He could do that. It had been ages since anyone truly challenged Jack. How to do so with panache? He’d find a way. He hadn’t bothered to send flowers to a woman since Christ was a corporal, but maybe a bouquet was in order. That bended knee business, however, was crap.

Jack turned toward the door as James entered the suite. ‘You’ve met her, James. What sort of flowers might suit Riley Grace?’

The old man didn’t hesitate. ‘Cacti.’

Jack chortled. ‘I’m not sure those are flowers, but point taken. Something lovely with prickly thorns.’

Riley sat enjoying her coffee
al fresco
at The Baker’s Oven, a favourite haunt in Sydney. She noticed the massive bundle of roses coming toward her about the time she saw the dark-haired man bearing them. She recognised him instantly from the photographs James had left, and her heart skipped a beat. How the devil had he found her so quickly? Was someone following her every move and reporting back to him?

Take the lead,
she told herself.
Don’t let him control the conversation by starting it.

She cleared her throat. ‘I thought making a grand entrance was a female thing. You’re not gay, are you?’

She watched with satisfaction as shock briefly registered on his features.

‘If so,’ she continued, ‘perhaps I should reconsider your generous offer.’

Beauchamp stood staring at her a moment, then without breaking eye contact reached for the back of the bistro chair, pulled it out, sat, and lay the flowers between them on the table as if the large blooms were no more than a sheaf of contracts he wanted her to sign.

Then he leaned back, stretched his arms, and placed his hands behind his head, like the chairman of the board addressing some office peon. ‘So that’s how we are to play this.’

It wasn’t a question.

Riley wanted to emulate him, but it would’ve proven difficult, considering she still held a cup of mocha, so instead she searched her brain for what she knew of body language. He certainly seemed to use it well. Of course, with his body and face it wouldn’t take much to make women tremble and men unsure of their own masculinity.

She took another sip of her drink, set the cup on the table, brushing aside the roses to make room, plus give the impression that his floral gesture meant nothing. ‘Let’s skip the polite innuendo and get to the point. Who are you and what do you want with me — really?’

It seemed minutes before he finally spoke. ‘My business partner, Amelia, plans to retire soon, and she is big on family. As you might surmise, I have no wife or children. Neither does her nephew at present.’ His face darkened. ‘This man, Patrick, is of no blood relation to her — he is her late husband’s brother’s son, but he is indeed family, and both of us want control of Cadigal Valley. I, however, would make the better choice to run the company once she bequeaths her shares of stock to one of us.’

‘Wow. You’re marrying in order to obtain stock? Rather mercenary, wouldn’t you say?’

‘Not at all.’ He gave her body an appraisal. ‘I need a wife — you want a vineyard. Neither of us is bad looking, we’re both of sound character and mind, both financially stable — me, more so than you.’ He shrugged. ‘This is a win-win situation, if you agree.’

Riley tapped her fingernails on the table. ‘And if I don’t?’

His jaw tightened. ‘Then I must return home without a bride and hope Patrick didn’t fare any better. Something tells me he’s hoping to play the “family” card in order to win Amelia’s favour, because I don’t see him proposing to anyone, and I certainly can’t imagine anyone accepting.’

Riley’s curiosity peaked. ‘Why? Is he an ogre?’

‘Hardly. Quite the opposite, but I suspect he hides a secret. He’s Dorian Gray.’ Jack chuckled. ‘I keep scouring the house for his portrait, sure someday I’ll stumble across this canvas depicting a gnarly scoundrel that resembles Patrick. Until then, he’s my nemesis.’

‘My God. You sound as if the two of you are entering a horse race, and I’m the filly you’ve chosen to race against his.’

He waved his hands expressively, almost as if conceding the point to her. ‘Bravo, Ms Grace. I see I mustn’t take your intelligence for granted, not that you’re extremely bright for turning down the fortune I’m offering.’

‘Then increase my intelligence quota by explaining how selling myself to you for a handful of grapes might make me smarter.’

He laughed, a delicious rumbling of baritone male. ‘Hardly a handful. Your own vineyard, to use as you please, and enough capital to afford you a life of luxury.’

‘I’m used to struggling. The rewards of hard work outweigh the more instantaneous charity you offer.’

Wrong word.
Riley cursed inwardly.

‘Make no mistake,’ he said. ‘You shall earn every dollar.’ His dark eyes assessed her once again. ‘And I assure you, I shall make the experience pleasurable for you.’ Jack lifted her hands and brought them to his lips for a soft, lingering kiss.

Riley swallowed hard, barely able to breathe. She pulled her hands from his. ‘I’m surprised you didn’t say
sous.’
She hoped to deflect his words by bringing up the antiquated coin.

‘I’m not old-fashioned,’ he informed her. ‘That would be passe, non?’ He smiled, but his eyes betrayed him. There was nothing friendly in those dark orbs. ‘Nice attempt to change the subject, but my statement stands. You would not be granted charity; you would earn your money.’

‘No doubt.’ Riley’s temper flared. ‘In your bed.’

He shook his head. ‘Only if you choose. I’ve never needed to force a woman to endure how I pleasure her.’ He shrugged and grinned. ‘However, the sheets are silk, the bed is large enough to be your playground, and I assure you the experiences will more than satisfy your obvious need to gain the upper hand with me.’

His lips hinted at promises, should she wish to accept. Dark eyes caressed her face, and the calculating presence he’d brought to the table melted into a softer, more relaxed demeanor, one more befitting a bearer of roses.

Riley’s anger dissipated, but questions persisted. ‘Why me?’

Jack studied her intently, as if scrutinising an opponent, the businessman fully back in control. ‘I am part owner of a vineyard and you applied to work for us. I’ve viewed your credentials. You’re young, but you have experience in determining vine diseases and issues.’

Riley shook her head. ‘Hiring me as a viticulturist shouldn’t entail marriage. Why not simply hire me for my qualifications? Are you in the habit of marrying your employees?’

He sighed, seemingly reluctant for the admission. ‘Let’s just say I’m in need of you for two occupations.’

I need, as opposed to I want.
This time he had her attention.

Riley shifted from personal to business matters. ‘You have the paperwork already drawn up, so you felt you could persuade me?’

Jack’s handsome face reflected surprise more than the confident arrogance she expected. ‘The prenuptial agreement is at my hotel. James is there, so we wouldn’t be alone.’

‘Not so fast.’ Riley’s insides roiled with anticipation and dread. ‘How do I know you’ll keep your end of our bargain, that I’ll be able to purchase my own vineyard?’

‘It’s a legal document. Get your own attorneys to look it over and advise you.’

Her own vineyard. The thought was mind-boggling. Most people would save for decades to obtain such a thing. He, who had at least a family of sorts, something for which she’d have given anything, was offering up a dream she’d had since she was a teenager.

‘I want more.’ The words escaped Riley’s lips before her brain had time to register the thought.

Jack shrank as if she’d thrown cold water on him. ‘More...money?’

Riley laughed sadly. ‘No, more than just money, I want a family.’

He relaxed. ‘If you remember, I offered you that as well.’

Riley was incredulous. ‘You offered to buy me to provide
yourself
with a family. Do you really think I’d have children with a man who bought and traded souls like they were cattle?’

She hadn’t meant to insult him, but surely the man was made of more than muscle and money.

He looked at her near-empty coffee mug, frowning. Then the corners of his mouth lifted.

Riley followed his gaze. Inside the rim of the pottery was one phrase —
Sharing the passion.

‘You want the fairytale.’ Jack’s voice was soft. He traced the inside of her mug with a forefinger, dragging chocolate syrup from the rim then offering it to her. When she didn’t want it, he popped his finger into his own mouth and sucked. Slowly.

She felt her jaw slacken and quickly closed it.
What a cheap trick.
If he was trying to turn her on, it was working, but she couldn’t afford to lose track of their conversation or this sexy beast would have her at his mercy, doing whatever he asked.

‘Don’t you?’ Riley probed.

‘I’ve never believed in them,’ he said. ‘I don’t know how to give you something I’ve never seen.’ He sat back in his chair, almost mumbling. ‘My parents were happy — are, by all accounts.

I talk to Mum regularly but I haven’t had a conversation with my father in years. He’s always on a trip, making more money or spending it.’

Riley felt relieved. So he had a family. Both parents. ‘Any brothers or sisters?’

‘Two younger brothers, one older sister.’ Jack smiled. ‘I promise not to force them all upon you at once, which is why we’re marrying here,
if you’ll have me,
instead of France.’

Riley wanted to tell him that giving her a family was the one thing that would’ve swayed her, without reservation. But he wanted an answer, and the best she could offer was to agree to marry him without commitment to have a child. Not under present circumstances. Perhaps, if they came to love one another...but not now.

She weighed her options. A loveless marriage that would provide for her financially and make her other dream come true, that of being her own boss and being able to work at what she loved. Or struggling for years, probably decades, until she could afford a vineyard and in the hope that another man who loved her would want her for his wife.

‘I’ll marry you.’

For several seconds they stared at one another, taking it all in, the impending joining of names if not souls, a business venture that promised to be nurturing on at least one level.

Jack motioned for a waitress. ‘I owe you a hot coffee before we go. Your beverage has grown cold.’

After ordering a drink for each of them, Jack pulled a money clip from inside his jacket pocket and slipped out a large denomination bill. Handing it to the waitress, he said he wished to buy two of their clean mugs as souvenirs.

‘We need something to commemorate the date,’ he said nonchalantly.

Riley scoffed. ‘You’ve never purchased souvenirs in your life.’

‘I’ve also never married.’ He smiled charmingly. ‘Something tells me I’m about to experience many firsts with you.’

He lifted his cup of coffee once they were alone. ‘Cheers. Is tomorrow okay with you for signing the required documents at the magistrate’s?’

‘So soon?’ Her breath caught in her throat.

‘Australian law, I’m afraid. We are required to give thirty-days plus one with our Notice of Intent to Marry. Once that’s done, we wait. In the meantime, we shop, perhaps go on a few dates, learn more about one another, and find a place where you’d like to store your things, since you’re intent on leaving them here.’

Riley tired just thinking about it. ‘Anything else?’

‘You must provide proof of birth. Will that be a problem?’

She shook her head. ‘The sisters helped me file for a delayed birth certificate years ago.’

Jack seemed pleased. ‘Good. Then we’ll go tomorrow. Don’t forget your driver’s licence and birth certificate.’

‘My mother insists on providing you with wedding accoutrements.’ Jack looked embarrassed, even though they’d known one another nearly a month. ‘I just found out about it, honestly, or I’d have suggested this earlier.’

‘A wedding gown is a bit more than that.’ Riley didn’t know what to think and couldn’t comment further. It wasn’t like her to get flustered, but this was one of those situations that called for decisive action on her part, or the reluctant allowance of granting Jack control. She already felt out of her comfort zone.

‘I know this is awkward,’ he said, ‘but your mother-in-law wants wedding photos she can display before her friends.’

Guilt trips from the billionaire used to getting his way? His mother must be some formidable force if she could reduce Jack to behaving like a nervous groom.

‘Then we can take photos with me wearing something else. Since we shall have no guests when we say our vows, I see no need for a wedding gown, so no shopping for clothing.’

He shook his head. ‘I’m afraid not. There are also outfits you must choose for the reception and ball gowns for our formal dinner parties.’

‘What reception?’

Jack folded his arms across his chest, CEO-style, and Riley knew she was about to lose the battle. Again.

He stared past her out the hotel window overlooking Sydney Harbour. ‘I have social obligations. It’s bad enough I’ll show up with a bride and cheat Amelia out of a wedding.’ He explained who Amelia was in short detail.

‘So you and your business partner are close?’

‘Extremely. She has been like a surrogate grandmother to me.’ He unfolded his arms and gently held her shoulders, forcing her to face his hawk-like gaze, which now seemed devoted to gauging her reactions. ‘Amelia is elderly, and I don’t want her upset.’

Riley swallowed hard, choosing her words carefully. ‘You don’t want her knowing you’ve purchased a bride. I get that, but you feel obligated to perform a charade with the reception? Why? To have her think you are in love with me?’

‘Succinctly put, and yes.’ The harsh look in his eyes softened. ‘Amelia is...special. You’ll see when you meet her.’

He released her. ‘I shall go with you to help choose your wardrobe.’

Riley rolled her eyes upward. ‘I’m not five. I can dress myself.’

‘And so you shall, in clothing befitting a Fitz...a Beauchamp.’