Chapter 5

Chapter Five

B ritt gritted her teeth and rapped at Nick's door.

She'd been summoned.

Of all the nerve…if her promotion didn't mean everything to her she would've told him exactly where he could shove his summons.

But the promotion was all that mattered, and she was determined to keep a smile on her face and a lid on her curiosity no matter how much she wanted to know how Nick the bad boy had become Nick the billionaire.

The way he'd toyed with her, how he'd dropped the information he was now a hotelier, rankled too, as if it had been a game to him.

Screw him.

And his four world-class hotels.

At least she'd come to this meeting prepared. After he'd dropped his bombshell in the hotel bar, she'd hightailed it back to her room and done a quick online search on the FantaSea chain.

What she'd discovered had blown her away.

Nick's hotels were luxury all the way, five-star elegance and beyond. Their breathtaking bedrooms were a signature feature, but all the reviews agreed these classy hotels delivered on their promise—a fantasy experience all the way.

She'd been intrigued by the mention of a Mermaid room, a Roaring Twenties room, and a Princess room, wishing there were pictures to go with the tempting descriptions. Then again, if she played her cards right, maybe she'd get a firsthand look at some of the rooms?

The thought of stepping inside a hotel room with Nick acting as tour guide brought a scorching blush to her cheeks and she pressed her hands against them, desperately trying to cool them before he opened the door and caught her on the back foot again.

The door swung open and she immediately squared her shoulders, ready for battle. She'd left home at eighteen, travelled to the other side of the world, lived in a big city alone, and made a success of her life without using a penny of her father's money.

Making this deal happen with Nick should be a walk in Hyde Park, regardless of the games he seemed determined to play.

'Right on time.'

He stepped aside and gestured her into the room, a huge suite converted into an office, complete with monstrous mahogany desk, leather director's chair, and matching black leather sofas designed to make whoever set foot in the giant room at home.

She ignored the comfy-looking couch and settled for the solitary chair opposite his desk, her back ramrod straight. She wasn't here to get cosy and comfortable, she was here to seal this deal.

Clasping her hands in her lap, she fixed him with a businesslike stare. 'Let's get down to it, shall we? You know what I want. You've had time to study the figures in my presentation. What's your answer?'

To her chagrin, he grinned, a wide, self-assured grin of a fat cat toying with a baby mouse.

'It's killing you, isn't it?'

In an instant she knew what he referred to. He used to tease her about being a nosy busybody all the time, so he'd know how much his bombshell was burning her up with curiosity.

As if she'd give him the satisfaction of knowing it.

Keeping her expression carefully blank, she shrugged. 'You're not the only one who's changed. What you've done in the last ten years, why you chose not to tell me the truth when we were at the farm, is your business.'

She leaned forward and tapped her presentation folder sitting in prime position in the middle of his desk. 'And this is mine, so let's cut to the chase. Are you willing to make this deal or not?'

'That depends on you.'

He sat, leaned back, and clasped his hands behind his head, stretching the fine cotton of his business shirt tight against his chest, drawing her attention, tempting her to stare, to envision what he looked like without it.

Not that she had to try too hard. She'd had an up close and personal look earlier and that bronze chest had burned into her memory bank no matter how many times she hit the mental delete button.

She shook her head to clear it. 'Of course I want this deal to happen. It's why I'm here.'

The only reason I'm here , hung unsaid between them as she matched his steady stare, not blinking, not moving a muscle.

To her surprise, he broke the deadlock first by reaching for the folder and pushing it toward her with one finger.

'I'm not interested in your money.'

That got her attention. 'Pardon?'

He tapped the folder. ‘I'm not interested in the remuneration your company is offering for use of the farm.'

Her hopes sank faster than her first attempt at rowing on the Thames as she struggled to come up with a new twist on her pitch, something, anything, to persuade him to agree to this deal.

'But I do have something else in mind,' he said, the determined glint in his eyes sparking an urge to match wits with him like they used to.

Though she didn't like the hint of subterfuge in his smoother-than-caramel tone. He was up to something. ‘Like what?'

He pushed away from the desk, came around, and squatted next to her, way too close, way too overpowering, way too much.

'I'll agree to your precious deal if you agree to mine.'

His silky smooth tone sent a shiver of foreboding creeping across the nape of her neck. She had no doubt whatever demands Nick made, she'd be forced to agree.

Hanging onto her cool by a thread, she tossed her hair over her right shoulder and fixed him with her best intimidating glare. 'Go on, then. State your terms.'

Placing a finger under her chin, he tipped it up, his slight touch sending unexpected heat spiralling through her and slashing a serious gash in her concentration.

'It's simple. I hold onto the farm for now and give you complete access for however long you need it, on one condition.'

She leaned forward, drawn toward him against her will, his finger less of a guide than her stupid attraction when it came to this man. 'Spit it out.'

With his lips a hair's breadth from hers, he murmured, 'You become my wife.'

With their lips so tantalisingly close, and the ever-present heat shimmering between them like an invisible thread binding them despite time apart, it took a few seconds for his words to penetrate.

When they did, she jerked back, shock rendering her speechless. Her mouth opened and closed as her mind spun with confusion.

She could've sworn he'd proposed…

'You heard me.' He straightened, and while half of her wanted to clobber him for the ludicrous statement he'd made, the other half irrationally missed his proximity.

He perched on the desk, towering over her. 'Marry me. That's my condition.'

'Are you out of your mind?' She leaped to her feet so she could stand toe to toe with him. 'What sort of stupid condition is that? Like I'd ever marry you, like I'd agree to—'

'The idea didn't seem so distasteful ten years ago.' He snickered. ‘As I recall, you used to love talking about marrying me.'

Heat flooded her cheeks and she clenched her hands to stop from reaching out and strangling him. 'I was young and stupid then.'

'So you're old and wise now?' His mouth twitched and the itch to strangle him intensified tenfold. 'In that case, you'll see how much sense this makes.'

'None of this makes sense!'

Her temper, which she'd learned to control over the years, exploded like a tinder-dry bush touched by a match.

'You're insane. You've been playing some warped game ever since I saw you this morning and I have no idea why. You pretend you're still working on the farm, you hide your new job from me, then you come out with this ridiculous proposal.'

She dragged in several breaths and released her clenched fingers before her nails sliced into her palms. 'I came to you in good faith, to try and put a simple deal forward, and what do I get in return? A load of bollocks.'

This time, his mouth creased into a wide grin and she almost committed murder on the spot.

'Is that London speak for bullshit—‘

'It sure is and you're full of it.' Hands on hips, she leaned into him, shoving her face in his. 'When did you become such a jerk, Mancini?'