Married on Paper: The Argentine's Price / The Inherited Bride / Marriage Made on Paper. Maisey YatesЧитать онлайн книгу.
She wanted to laugh, because really, it wasn’t a date at all. Parts of her seemed to be forgetting that, her knees certainly had. They were weak now, trembling a little bit. But just because her body seemed to have forgotten didn’t mean her mind had.
This wasn’t a date. They barely knew each other. She had the sense that Lazaro didn’t like her very much, and considering all he’d done to her in the past few weeks, she really shouldn’t like him either.
“I’m not going to kiss you because you’re my future wife. And I’m showing my respect for you. Discretion,” he said softly.
Oh yes, discretion was law as far as her father was concerned. And anyone present who knew her would know that.
“G-good,” she said, allowing him to lead her out of the restaurant and into the cool night air. His limousine was waiting for them, idling at the curb.
He opened the door for her and helped her inside, his manners those of a perfect gentleman, the earlier tension absent now.
Vanessa leaned her head back on the seat.
It wasn’t a date. They didn’t have a real relationship. But they were going to get married. And for one, crazy moment she’d really wished that he was going to kiss her.
Of course, the truth was that even though she’d only seen him in pictures, part of her had been longing to be kissed by Lazaro for twelve long years.
But he held so much power over her. Her professional life, the life of her family’s legacy was in his hands. She wasn’t going to give him power over her body too. When they were married, she would deal with it.
But for now she had to keep her control. She couldn’t forget that this relationship was as mercenary as they came.
And when Lazaro touched her it was too easy to forget. She could never let herself forget.
CHAPTER FIVE
“I HOPE you aren’t busy today.”
Vanessa jumped and dropped the pen she was holding into the cup of tea on her desk. She looked up and saw Lazaro standing in the doorway of her office.
She looked down into her tea then back up at tall, dark and handsome intruder. “In some cultures it’s considered rude to sneak up on people.”
“I didn’t sneak. You were deep in thought, or something like that.” He walked in and put both of his hands on the back of the chair that was positioned in front of her desk. “I wanted to talk to you about your plans for Pickett. Being your principal shareholder, it’s very much a vested interest of mine.”
“I thought you were going to impart your wisdom to me. That is what you do, right?”
“Yes, that is what I do. Do you know why I’m so good at consulting, Vanessa? Why I make more than any of the CEOs I give consultations to?”
“Why?” she asked, her tone dry.
“Because I’m not stuck in the past. I have no loyalty to tradition or convention. I know how to increase profit, and I’m equipped to see new ways of doing things because the old style of business means nothing to me.”
Vanessa gritted her teeth. “Well, tradition means a lot to me. To my father.”
“And that’s probably the source of most of your problems.”
“It’s probably also why we’ve lasted as long as we have,” she said stiffly.
“Until now. Now you need change. I’m bringing it. I’ve been over the expense reports from the past five years, and you might be interested in knowing that there was a sharp decline in sales and production the year before you took over. So it isn’t all your fault.”
Vanessa bit her lower lip, forcing herself to hold back a string of colorful and inventive expletives. “I know that. I told you changing markets have …”
“Made it difficult to compete. The fact is, Vanessa, if you want to keep the bulk of your production in the U.S. you won’t be able to compete. But you can change what you’re offering.”
“Change what, exactly?”
“The future is in environmental sustainability. Responsible waste-disposal practices, using recycled materials. You might not be able to offer the cheapest product, but you can offer the safest, the most ethical.”
“It would require some fairly aggressive campaigning.” She started looking around the desk for a pen.
“In your teacup.”
She felt the blush creep up her neck and over her cheeks. “I’ll just get a new one.” She opened her desk drawer and rummaged until she found a non-soggy pen.
“It would require some changes to the factory, to materials, to a lot of things actually. And it will cost.”
“I’m not exactly swimming in resources.”
“You could take a loan from your future husband.”
Lazaro watched as Vanessa’s cheeks flushed with angry color. “No.”
“We have an agreement, Vanessa. I intend to honor it.”
And he intended to let Michael Pickett know just how much control he was assuming of his assets. That he didn’t have just his daughter, but that he’d played the part of savior for the venerable Pickett family business.
“I am not getting myself into that much debt. Not with you.”
“Not a loan, an exchange. A fair one, I think.”
“Hardly. I feel like you’re … buying me.” She spat out the last words as though they were distasteful.
“Do you want to back out?”
She snapped her mouth shut, tightened her jaw. “I don’t …”
“Because if you do, make no mistake, I don’t make idle threats. I will push the board to appoint a new CEO of Pickett, Vanessa.”
She curled her fingers around the pen she was holding, angry color spreading from her cheeks down to her collarbone. “Are you always going to hold your power over my head? For the rest of our lives? Because that might be the one thing I just can’t deal with.”
A stab of regret hit him hard in the chest. Making threats wasn’t really his style. But something about the Pickett family, about the whole situation, brought things out in him that were normally dormant. Rage, a reminder of what it was to feel truly helpless, to feel as though his life wasn’t really his own, but belonged to those with power over him.
“You don’t have to worry about that, Vanessa, provided you don’t back out of our agreement.”
“I won’t,” she said tightly.
She looked at him, her dark eyes hard, her lush lips thinned into a tight line. He wanted to kiss her until her lips softened, until she was as desperate as he was. Until she begged.
Later. There would be time later. He wasn’t about to let her manipulate him with his desire, even if she was doing it unknowingly. And he was certain she didn’t know. She didn’t give him any coy looks, no knowing smiles or flutters of her thick, dark lashes.
She blushed easily, her skin turning pink with nerves, embarrassment or anger. Her reactions seemed honest. He wasn’t used to dealing with people who possessed Vanessa’s straightforward manner. He was used to games, had gotten very good at playing them, at holding his cards close to his chest. Vanessa stripped that ability from him. She brought things to the surface, emotions, he wasn’t used to dealing with. He wasn’t about to allow her that sort of control. She’d turned him into a blind fool twelve years ago, a stupid boy who’d let the Pickett heiress walk all over him.
He was past that now. He would not be manipulated.
“You’re