CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER THREE

T RAVIS STARED AT the woman in front of him, struggling to contain his surprise, and that vague feeling of insult that he remembered from when he was a kid—and he’d had to help out his mom on her jobs, while the rich kids they were cleaning up after looked at him like dirt. This wasn’t personal, that much was obvious, so why the hell was he insulted she’d rather sell a tract of her precious kingdom to him for a dollar than consider sharing a bed with him? It wasn’t as if he had been suggesting they hook up. But her desperation to get this deal, without going there, still got his goat. And he wasn’t even sure why.

The truth was, he’d decided as soon as she’d made the offer not to accept it. Sure, he was intrigued and kind of flattered—at first—that she would ask him. But at the same time, he wasn’t about to relocate his whole operation, and sign some secret agreement, or pretend to love someone he didn’t know just for a piece of land. He had his pride and, now he was a billionaire, he could afford to keep it.

The White Ridge might be perfect for what he wanted, but it felt as if he would be selling his integrity—along with his time—and, while he’d always been ruthless, even he had balked at the thought of posing as a loving husband when he was about as far from ever being that as it was possible to get. Hell, how would he even pull off the charade she was suggesting, given he wasn’t a professional actor? But weirdly, as he had glimpsed emotions that she had been trying to hide flit across her face—shock, confusion, panic—pretending that he wanted her, a lot, hadn’t seemed like such a stretch. Because the truth was, for reasons he could not begin to figure out, the whole ‘ice princess’ act she had going on was a challenge that he found surprisingly hot.

Maybe that explained why he was so mad right now. When he shouldn’t be...

‘A dollar?’ he said. ‘Are you serious?’

He’d already decided not to go for this deal... But now he was forced to reconsider. Because more than anything else, he had always been a shrewd businessman. His business had saved him after the accident, when he’d had to give up the sport he loved, and eventually become his life’s work. And while he had resigned himself to start scoping out the other places his team had shortlisted before they’d settled on this one, there was nowhere better for the resort than the White Ridge. He had been ready to offer her up to a half a billion dollars for the land. His turnover was enough at the moment he could afford to pay top dollar, but it would still have been a risk—because Lord Culture’s brand wasn’t yet established in Europe. Getting the land for nothing would take that risk away. And give him the opportunity to invest even more in the construction. And the marketing.

In fact, while he hated to admit it, marrying the Queen would be a huge PR boost, not just for the resort itself, but also for him personally. It would give him class, and an exclusivity he would never have been able to achieve on his own, not just in the States, but globally. And the kind of organic, viral, wall-to-wall publicity that couldn’t be bought. It annoyed him he needed to care about that stuff, because he’d never aspired to be anyone other than who he was... But from a business standpoint, he’d be dumb to ignore the opportunity to turn Lord Culture into something more than just the fastest-growing winter sports brand in the market. This deal could send his business over the top. Give him global reach. And seal his legacy for a generation. And for that, he had to consider his integrity—and his hurt feelings—an acceptable price to pay.

‘Yes,’ she said, staunchly. ‘One dollar.’

He stood up. To hell with it, he’d be nuts not to take a deal like this, no matter the pitfalls. And when it came to business he always went with his gut. And his gut was screaming at him right now to take the deal. ‘Okay.’

She blinked, several times, her cheeks reddening again. His heart rate sped up. And the heat in his groin pulsed, hard.

‘Really?’ she asked, momentarily nonplussed. ‘You’ll agree to the marriage?’

For some reason, he found himself smiling. When he’d walked in here, he’d got the definite impression this was a woman who was well versed in ruthlessly controlling her emotions, and her reactions. That he unsettled her, and seemed to have knocked her off kilter, felt like an important win.

If they were going to spend the next year bonded at the hip, he was going to need something to entertain him—and pushing her boundaries seemed like a great place to start. Especially if he wasn’t going to be having any sex—the one recreational activity he really enjoyed, other than boarding.

‘Yeah. Have your attorney send the paperwork direct to my EA, Claire Ainsley. She’ll handle everything from my end.’

‘Excellent.’ Her breath gushed out as she came around her desk. Her face brightened, and her expression became unguarded for the first time.

The heat surged.

Great , he was going to have to get a handle on that reaction if he was going to deal with her for a whole year. But even as the thought occurred to him, he couldn’t resist the urge to poke at her composure again.

‘I guess we’ll have to figure out a dating itinerary for the next couple weeks. So we can be seen getting up close and personal before you tell everyone how you’ve fallen madly in love with me.’

‘Oh, yes, of course, absolutely,’ she said, even though he suspected she hadn’t considered doing any such thing—which only made the urge to push more irresistible.

He lifted his hand and traced his thumb down the side of her face. Her brows rose and he felt her vicious jolt of reaction. But she didn’t pull away.

His grin widened. ‘Perhaps we should practise before I go,’ he teased, unable to resist.

‘I beg your pardon, Mr Lord.’

‘Call me Travis, Belle,’ he said, using the nickname he knew had horrified her earlier. He’d used it then to unsettle her deliberately. It had a similar effect now.

‘Belle is not my name. It’s Isabelle, or Issy,’ she whispered. ‘That’s what my mother called me.’ Sadness shadowed her eyes before she could mask it.

‘I prefer Belle. It’s better if my pet name for you is unique.’ He brushed his thumb across her lips. Her eyes widened, and he had the weirdest suspicion she’d never been touched by a man before... But then he got a clue.

She was just skittish with him because she didn’t know him.

This situation was super screwed up, whatever way you looked at it, but the sooner she got used to his touch, the better.

‘Okay, if you insist,’ she said, the intelligence in her eyes dispelling the shock. ‘And what should my pet name for you be?’ she challenged. ‘Trav, maybe. Or Vis?’

He chuckled. Was she making a joke? Because as outlandish as it seemed, it was also kind of cute.

‘They used to call me Killer on the slopes,’ he said, trailing his thumb down the elegant line of her neck and pressing the pad against the rampant pulse in her collarbone. Still she didn’t draw away.

‘Killer doesn’t seem very romantic,’ she managed, although her breathing had become ragged. Her throat contracted as she swallowed, the heat rising like a wall. Tall and infallible.

He was playing with fire. He’d agreed to no sex. But hey, they had to be convincing for this to work, and anyway, when had he ever been the type of guy who denied himself something he wanted...? And right now, he wanted to find out how soft her lips really were.

‘Brace yourself, Your Majesty,’ he murmured, giving her one last chance to tell him no.

But she didn’t, so he lowered his head slowly and pressed his mouth to hers.

She sucked in a breath, the giddy pulse beating double time against his thumb. He eased her into the kiss, slicking his tongue across the seam, gently, then more insistently, until she got the message. And opened for him. He pressed his advantage, tasting sweetness and spice... And all things nice. But as he probed, ready to go deeper, she jerked back.

He lifted his head, just as a knock sounded at the door.

She stared up at him—dazed.

Damn, but he could drown in those eyes, the mossy green sheened with heat and yearning, but also the panic he had sensed earlier.

Then she blinked and the shutters slammed down again. She took a step back.

He jammed his fists into his pockets to contain the urge to cup her cheeks, feel the heat against his palms—and take a heck of a lot more than just a kiss.

‘Was that sufficient?’ she asked.

Not nearly.

He eased a tight breath out of his lungs, and tried to remember this was all for show... And for his own amusement. Although his little joke had backfired, the heat now pulsing painfully in his gut.

‘To be convincing?’ she added, having regained her composure a lot faster than he had. Except... Her gaze wasn’t meeting his again.

‘I guess so,’ he said.

She walked back around the desk, sat behind it, and steepled her fingers in front of her, but he could see her hands trembling and guessed she wasn’t quite as composed as she was making out.

Well, good. Because neither was he. Somehow, though, she’d turned the tables on him and he didn’t know how the hell she’d done it.

‘Come in, Mel,’ she called out when the knock sounded again. A young woman in a dark suit walked in pushing a silver carriage loaded with fancy china and set it up on the bureau at the back of the room.

‘I hope you’ll stay for coffee, Mr Lord,’ the Queen said, polite as you please, which annoyed him more.

So, they were back to the formal. And that reserved shield of polite indifference. They were definitely going to have to work on that, once they were doing their loved-up act for the cameras. The thought of more kissing practice had adrenaline surging through his veins.

He thrust his fists further into his pockets as he watched Mel smile and leave the room. ‘I need to head to the airport. But I’ll be back in a couple of weeks with my surveyors,’ he said. ‘And the construction boss to do the initial surveys. If we can get the paperwork handled by then, let’s arrange a time and place to make goo-goo eyes at each other and practise our lip action for the cameras.’

‘Of... Of course,’ she said, looking a little less sure of herself.

He smiled.

My work here is done.

‘See you around, Belle,’ he said, then strode out.

But as he headed back through the stateroom towards his waiting car, the feel of her mouth under his, and the vivid memory of that sweet sob of shocked arousal before her lips had softened and accepted his kiss, echoed uncomfortably in his groin.

And he couldn’t help wondering what the hell he’d gotten himself into...