Boardrooms & a Billionaire Heir / Jealousy & a Jewelled Proposition: Boardrooms & a Billionaire Heir. Yvonne LindsayЧитать онлайн книгу.
first and second floors facing George Street. Our employees get generous discounts at these and we have a standing table for executive use at each restaurant. We occasionally rent out our ballroom to other companies. Last year it was the B&S and Make a Wish Charity Ball.”
She held out a glossy brochure that she’d helped design, one that detailed the building’s facilities. He just glanced at it, then back at her.
“No company propaganda. I prefer facts.”
Right. Feeling as if she’d failed some kind of test, she tucked the offending material back into her folder. Take a breath, Holly. Work out your strategy and stick with it.
“The rest of the floors are taken up by HR, the press room and our other divisions.”
“Which are?”
“Blackstone Jewellery, International Sales, Mining, Crafting and Design, Legal. I have a fact sheet of the departmental hierarchy and breakdown.”
“I’ll need that e-mailed.”
She nodded and fixed her eyes on the descending numbers.
Jake crossed his arms and studied her profile before ending at the low, elegant sweep of dark hair that brushed past her ears and up into a stylish ponytail.
An unexpected stab of lust hit him low and hard, but with practised ease he stuffed it back. Still, it didn’t stop his gaze from tripping back over her in leisurely study, taking in the navy suit that cinched in her waist, the V-neck shirt revealing a creamy throat adorned with one simple diamond on a gold chain. Down farther, her legs were encased in navy pants, ending in a pair of absurdly high sandals.
He found himself staring at those feet, the nails painted a subtle peach with the second toe sporting a diamond stud toe ring.
When she shifted the file in her arms and glanced over at him, he suddenly realised he’d been staring at the woman’s feet.
He snapped his eyes up to meet hers and it hit him again. It wasn’t the curve of her lips, nor the way her blue eyes tilted up at the corners. It was the tiny birthmark on the left side of her mouth, like some artist had painted it on to tease and tempt. To focus a man’s attention.
A prime kissing target.
When she glanced away, her profile oozed cool professionalism. So why did that calm facade annoy him?
Jake was used to all the tricks when it came to business, but this was definitely a twist. They could’ve given him any old assistant, yet this gorgeous brunette’s presence meant they’d obviously read the reports about Mia.
She was here not only to spy but to distract.
He scowled as his phone rang again. Expert, was she, held in high regard by Blackstone’s? That was enough to give him pause.
He’d learned from his mistakes. If they thought a pair of cat’s eyes and a kissy-mole would divert him from his purpose, they had another think coming. The press called him Mr Midas Touch, the bad boy of business, and if the Blackstones wanted an unfair fight, they would find out how bad he could be.
Two
So that was the great Jake Vance, Mr Midas Touch. Owner of the billion dollar AdVance Corp, corporate shark and Australia’s third richest single man under forty.
Holly quickly dumped the financials on the desk of her temporary office, whirled out the glass doors and back to the elevators.
She’d been prepared for the arrogance, the intolerance of anyone he considered beneath him. He was unconventional, a risk taker. He made business decisions that wiser people labelled career suicide. But somehow he always managed to come out on top. Maybe because he gave the impression he had nothing to lose. Those who had nothing risked nothing.
But the Sunday feature article hadn’t warned of the zing of attraction that had nearly floored her, the aura of power and control that stuck her tongue to the roof of her mouth and turned the words to dust in her throat.
Working at Blackstone’s put her directly in the path of many powerful men. But Jake Vance…It was something in his face, the way his eyes had swept over her even as he tried to keep his perusal impersonal. Call her crazy, but she’d felt the air practically crackle with a weird sort of expectation.
The elevator doors swung open and she pressed the basement button impatiently.
Their gazes had locked just long enough for her to recognise the moment—predatory interest, an almost promissory flame in those deep green eyes. His mouth, a frankly sensual sculpture in warm flesh, had tweaked for a brief second, not enough to be called a smile.
Then he’d shut it down.
The only man in all her twenty-six years who’d forcibly smothered his interest.
No wonder he was at the top of his game. With that much control over his emotions, he was dark, brooding danger in an Italian designer suit. Heaven help a woman if the man ever genuinely smiled.
She curled her lip at the thought. Men in power—those who played God with people’s lives—turned her blood cold.
Like Max Carlton, her soon-to-be ex-boss.
She’d been surprised when he’d approved her temporary transfer to PR eighteen months ago, but she’d had no time to worry if that approval came with strings, not when Blackstone’s ten-year anniversary had been her top priority. Months later she’d been on the team organising Blackstone’s Australian Fashion Week presence. It’d been a chance to show Kimberley Perrini her Blackstone’s-funded studies were paying off, a chance she’d desperately wanted since graduating over a year ago. Then, last week, she’d been pulled from the glamorous event that was the ultimate dream of every Sydney designer to babysit Jake Vance.
She sighed, automatically brushing her hair back from her forehead. If only it were simply a babysitting job.
She finally arrived at the basement and found Jake standing beside a shiny silver Commodore, talking into his mobile phone.
She paused, taking in the perfect snapshot that oozed wealth and class, forcing her heart to slow down, to settle the stupid hitch in her breath. He looked up as she approached and, without pause, opened the back door for her.
Holly blinked. No limo? No uniformed driver? She slid into the creamy leather interior, a niggle of confusion creasing her brow.
Jake got in beside her, his phone call now finished. “Back to the office, Steve.”
The car started with a gentle purr and the driver slid it into first gear, easing out the basement and into the traffic flow. And suddenly Holly realised Jake’s attention was now focused solely on her.
Disturbingly focused attention in an even smaller space than the elevator.
She clicked on her seat belt, ignoring the way his green eyes grazed over her in concentrated study. When she’d first faced him it’d been a stretch to retain her composure. The natural command, the sheer sexuality he exuded had rocketed her pulse. Now in close, almost intimate, quarters, she felt the heated warmth curling up from her toes intensifying.
Here was a man used to getting his own way. He expected acquiescence, demanded it. He crushed anyone in his way.
“Besides the financials, what do you need?” She spoke calmly, that last thought aiding her steely resolve.
“How about you start with the Blackstone history?”
Holly gave him a curious look. “Anything specific?”
“Not particularly. Don’t worry.” His lips curved. “I’ll stop you if it gets boring.”
She blinked at his innocent expression. How could he make that neutral statement sound like such a sinful suggestion?
She concentrated on flicking through her documents to stop herself from flushing. Boring and Jake Vance were planets apart. Of that she was certain.
As