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‘And yet word on the street is that Cavendish and Cox is going under.’
For a few half-seconds she had that same sensation as earlier, as if she was floating outside her own body. Whatever she had been expecting him to say, it hadn’t been that.
Her heart thumped hard inside her chest as she remembered the conversation she’d overheard in a bar. It had been several months ago now. A couple of lawyers from a rival firm had been discussing office space, and one of them had said he had heard that the Cavendish and Cox building was going on the market.
In a panic, she had confronted Alistair, but he’d been unperturbed, almost amused.
‘It’s just gossip. Honestly, I’ve lost count of the number of times that this place has supposedly been up for sale.’ He had patted her arm reassuringly. ‘Things get a little sticky sometimes, but we always get through it, Dove.’
And she had believed him. Selfishly, she’d wanted to believe him—because she couldn’t face thinking about what it would mean if he was wrong. She couldn’t deal with yet another loss.
But what if hewaswrong?
A shiver of panic scuttled down her spine.
What if Alistair had lied to her?
Fighting for calm, fighting for control, trying desperately to hold on to her anger and keep the panic at bay, she met Gabriel’s gaze. ‘I don’t know what stone you were under when you heard that particular rumour, but you’re mistaken,’ she said crisply, as if she wasn’t the least bit shaken. ‘Everything is fine.’
His face was impassive, but the sudden glint in his eyes sent a dizzying drumroll of adrenaline pounding through her veins.
‘Maybe it is,’ he agreed, but there was a taunting softness to his voice that made her shiver inside.
‘That’s the trouble with rumours. Once they’re out there...’ his gaze shifted momentarily to the tree-lined square outside the window ‘...they get a life of their own. All it would take would be one high-profile, wealthy client to walk away or perhaps express his concerns—privately, of course—to some of his other equally high-profile and wealthy friends and all of this—’ his eyes snapped back to her face ‘—would come tumbling down like a house of cards.’
The air thumped out of her lungs and she felt her face drain of colour. The room was suddenly silent. Outside in the street even the traffic stilled, as if he had cast a spell over the whole of Lincoln’s Inn Fields.
‘You wouldn’t—’
He must be bluffing.
But she knew from the tiny pause before he answered that he wasn’t.
In fact, she was certain he would have no compunction in making good on his threat, and it was all too easy in that moment to remember why, and how much, she hated him.
He looked at her assessingly. ‘I wouldn’t want to. And I won’t have to. Just so long as we’re on the same page.’
‘And what page is that?’
‘Now who’s playing games?’ he said softly. But his face was hard like polished bronze.
Stiffening her shoulders, she forced her gaze up to his. ‘I’m not. I just don’t understand why you would want me to work for you.’
‘Isn’t that obvious?’
The question was accompanied by a careless, deliberately provocative lift of his broad shoulders. ‘This acquisition is particularly important to me, so it’s vital that I have someone managing it who is as invested as I am. I need someone whose commitment to making it happen matches mine. You’re that person.’
She gave a trembling ghost of a laugh. ‘You thinkI’mthat person?’
Her heart was racing, and the dampness of her hands had nothing to do with the warm morning sunshine filling the room. This was insane.Hewas insane—he must be if he thought that was possible.
Her chin jerked upwards. ‘The only thing I’m invested in, Gabriel, is never having to see you again.’
He looked at her, his gaze impassive. ‘So you don’t mind if Alistair loses the business? The business founded by your great-great-great-grandfather. You don’t care about his legacy? Or about all the people who will lose their jobs?’
The challenge in his voice danced lightly over her skin, making her insides prickle with anger—and something softer and more treacherous.
‘Of course I do.’
