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He was pacing his office floor in such a way that she could almost hear the pad of a hunting cat’s sharp-clawed paws, along with the dangerous swish of its tail—as though her mere presence fed his hunger to destroy her, Keira thought sickly.
‘Has Sayeed bedded you? Is that why he is so keen to secure this contract for you? Did he promise it to you in exchange for your sexual favours?’
‘No. I don’t go to bed with anyone to secure business. I don’t need to,’ Keira told him proudly. ‘My work speaks for itself.’
‘Yes, indeed. I saw that for myself last night.’
The blood surged and then retreated through her veins, causing her heart to thud erratically. There was no mistaking the meaning behind his words.
‘You must think what you wish. Plainly that is what you intend to do.’
‘It isn’t my wishes that govern the logic of my thinking process, rather it is the visual evidence of my own eyes. I saw the man you were with handing you money—and rather a substantial amount of money at that.’
Keira had to defend her professional reputation. She wasn’t going to get the contract, so she had nothing to lose in defending herself, had she? She took a deep breath and spoke swiftly.
‘And because of that you leapt to the conclusion that I am…that I…that my body is for sale? That isn’t logic. It is supposition tainted with prejudice.’
She was daring to argue with him? Daring to defend the indefensible and accuse him of being prejudiced? Jay could feel his fury pressing against the cords of his self-control, threatening to break free.
‘He gave you money. I saw that with my own eyes.’
‘He is an old friend. He was paying me for the refurbishment of his flat. If you don’t believe me you can ask him—and you can ask Shalini as well.’
‘Shalini?’
‘The bride. She and Vikram are cousins. The two of them and Tom, Shalini’s new husband, and I were all at university together.’
Keira had no idea why she was telling him all this. What difference could it make now? She had lost the contract, and despite the fact that she desperately needed the money a part of her was relieved. There were some things that mattered more than money, and her own peace of mind was definitely one of them.
Jay frowned. Something told him that she was telling the truth. Not that he had any intention of demeaning himself by questioning others about her.
And besides, there were other issues at stake here. She had an impressive client list, the majority of whom were women. That had been one of the most important deciding factors in his original decision to take her on. India’s growing middle class wanted new and more westernised homes, and it was predominantly the women who were making the decisions about which developer they bought from. The interior of any new property was a vitally important selling point, and Jay knew that he could not afford to make any mistakes in his choice of interior designer.
On paper, this woman ticked all the right boxes. She had connections with an elite of London based Indian families—no doubt through the friendships she had made at university. She had worked for them in London, and he was well aware of the praise she had been given for the way she blended the best of traditional Indian and modern Western styles to create uniquely stylish interiors that had delighted their owners. She had also worked in Mumbai; she was at home in both cultures and apparently well liked by the Indian matriarchs whose approval was so vitally important to her business and indirectly to his.
His long silence was unnerving her, Keira admitted inwardly. It flustered her into repeating, ‘My work speaks for itself.’
‘But perhaps your body language speaks more clearly? To my sex at least.’
His voice was as cool as steel and just as deadly. Keira could feel it piercing her pride, taking a shimmering bead of its life force as though it were a trophy. Now that he had savoured his pleasure in wounding her no doubt he would close in for the kill and tell her that he wasn’t going to give her the contract.
She lifted her chin and told him proudly, ‘I don’t see the point in prolonging this conversation, since it’s obvious that you don’t have any intention of commissioning me to work for you as an interior designer.’
