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The Ruthless Billionaire, Australian Bachelors

Yet I had to ask. In return for what? One dark eyebrow slanted, and his voice held an edge of mockery. “Occupying my home, my bed. My eyes blazed blue fire. “As your mistress? He sounded mildly amused, and at that moment I truly hated him. “Then…..what? I demanded. “As my wife! For a moment I lost the power of speech, and I felt the blood drain from my cheeks. “If this is a joke, I began shakily, it’s in very bad taste. Chef Anna needs cash fast and there’s only one man she can turn to… Eric Alexander. Eric needs to marry to meet the terms of his late father’s will, so he’ll help Anna. She’ll be his convenient wife. It’s so sexy and interesting, it will leave you breathless.

Vickie_Vickana · 现代言情
分數不夠
9 Chs

Chapter 8. LET’S GO

Anna's point of view 

The alarm and wake-up call sounded simultaneously, and I deactivated my watch as Eric reached for the phone.

His upper body was bare to the waist. Gleaming tanned skin pulled taut over superb musculature that rippled fluidly with every move. 

I caught a brief glimpse of the exposed buttock and momentarily froze.

My gaze met his and became thoughtful as he replaced the receiver and swung back to his side of the bed.

It was a long time since he'd shared a room with a woman where sex hadn't featured throughout the night.

A sophisticated conclusion accepted the appropriate gift with no hard feelings.

Yet this was different, without precedent.

Until now, marriage hadn't formed part of his agenda.

Risky taking, following his instincts, and acting on them, were part of who he was. In the cut and thrust of tough business deals, he'd surprised his competitors…and at times, himself…by winning against incredible odds. 

It also made him a very wealthy man, with an enviable share-and-property portfolio and was something of a legend for his business nous.

On Monday he'd entered Darius' lawyer's sanctum with no intention other than learning the contents of his late father's will. Yet within the space of a few hours, he'd made a series of life-changing decisions.

Based on what?

A young woman's air of fragility that meshed with strength, pride, and resolve. The memory of a teenage girl whose lips had melted against his own…warm, giving, and innocent. His sudden and unexpected reaction.

Impossible.

It was a decision based on loyalty to his father. An attempt to make amends for following his path, instead of agreeing to the one Micheal had set for him.

The marriage clause was contestable and unlikely to stand up in a court of law…yet he'd chosen to concede to the written dictum.

With me…the daughter of Micheal's second wife, a young woman far removed from his usual intimate companions.

Someone who'd won Micheal's affection and had returned it in kind, refusing, as had Maya, financial help in achieving my goals.

Evidenced by legal proof…a fact which had surprising goals. Evidenced by legal proof…a fact which had surprised him and soon destroyed his previous day, I continually battled for independence.

Unless I was a skilled actress, which he seriously doubted, I hated relying on him for anything.

I gathered fresh underwear, jeans, and tee-shirt and disappeared into the en suite, to emerge soon after to discover Eric dressed and in the process of pouring coffee into two cups.

There's no need—' for you to come with me…. Except one hard look in my direction ensured I didn't finish the sentence.

'We did this yesterday, Eric drawled. 'Let's not do it again. He held out a cup and saucer. 'Coffee. Black, two sugars. Drink it, then we'll hit the road.

There was the temptation to tell him what to do with coffee, and only the need for a caffeine fid prevented a verbal comeback.

The fact he knew irked her, and I opted for silence during the short drive to the fish market, where I made my selections, haggled a little, smiled when I beat down the price, and executed a high-five gesture towards a competitor.

'Negotiations are in place on a property at Point Piper, Eric informed me as we shared breakfast.

One of Sydney's luxury harbor-front suburbs, I acknowledge. Expensive—make that very expensive—real estate.

'I've arranged for a firm of interior decorators to quote on refurbishment. Ideally, it'll be completed by the time we return from New York.

Why should I be surprised? Money, enough of it, could achieve almost anything.

"I'll collect you at two-thirty this afternoon.

I opened my mouth to argue, only to close it again as Eric continued," And have you back at the restaurant by four.

Your staff assured me they'd manage.

'You arranged this without first checking with me?

'I merely circumvented your objections.

So he had, with a sufficient finesse that left me no quarter but to concede…or sound like a petulant child.

'Do all women of your acquaintance fall at your feet, eager to fulfill your every wish?

The corners of his mouth curved with humor. 'What an interesting concept.

'You didn't answer the question.

He inclined his head. 'More often than not.

I offered him a sweet smile. 'Count me among the not.

'Indeed?

He was amused, damn him!

'It'll be a refreshing change, I assured him.

Eric's husky chuckle curled around my nerve ends and tugged a little. 

'I think we'll share an…interesting marriage.

The mere thought sent my emotions into sensual overdrive, and I consciously tamped them down. 

If I allowed him to see the degree of my emotional vulnerability, I'd be lost.

And what would ever do?

I refrained from offering any comment as I drained my coffee, and then I stood on my feet and gathered my shoulder bag.

'I have to leave.

Eric reached the door as I did, and I opened my mouth to protest, only to incur his dark look.

'Give it up, Anna.

'Two-thirsty, Eric reminded as he drew the Lexus to a halt outside the restaurant.

OK, so I'd go look at the house.

How difficult could it be?

It was the usual morning rush, with the need to check deliveries, make any last-minute menu changes, ensure outstanding bills were paid, and elevate Shontelle to the position of manager.

Lunch orders involved coordination, deft speed, and, with luck, no hiccups.

Mercifully, there was only one picky customer who insisted I'd ordered a Caesar salad with anchovies, not smoked salmon. 

Freshly assembled, it was sent back again only to make a complaint that I'd requested dressing on the side.

Sally merely executed an expressive eye-roll. 'I'd ask for a precise count of cozy leaves, the number of croutons, anchovy fillets, with bacon bits or without, Parmesan on the side or sprinkled…or perhaps the customer would like all the ingredients brought to the table separately so I can assemble the salad to my satisfaction? 

'She offered a feline smile. 'Offered with the utmost politeness, of course.

I sent her an exasperated look. 'Must you?

'Watch me.

Within minutes Sally was back, a grim widening her generous mouth. 'We have a winner.

At two-twenty-five, I removed my apron, tidied my hair and secured it with a large clip, applied lipgloss, collected my shoulder bag, and moved through the swing door separating the kitchen from the restaurant.

Eric stood at the front desk, engaged in conversation with Shontelle.

Attired in tailored black trousers and a white collarless shirt over which he wore a black butter-soft leather jacket, he stood with the ease of a man comfortable in his skin, assured and able to deal with anything that came his way.

Steadily he was taking over my life, presenting options and choices that held validity, but in reality, provided me with no choice at all.

I wove my way past tables and paused as I reached his side. Only to have the breath catch in my throat beneath the warmth of my smile as he lowered his head and brushed his lips on my cheek.

'Ready?

Oh my. The show of affection had to have been for Shontelle's benefit…and anyone who happened to be watching.

I could be bright, friendly, even warm. However, nothing resembling flirting was out.

'Let's go.