‘Oh! I see.’ Taking the pen, she scribbled her signature where he indicated. So he had not called simply because it was her birthday, and now the conservative suit made sense. For a brief moment Bea felt a swift stab of something very like disappointment. She quickly dismissed the notion. Good heavens! It was a relief, surely, that she would not have to be around Leon. Hadn’t she been dreading the thought of meeting him only half an hour ago? But as he continued speaking her relief was overtaken by a rising anger.
‘I have arranged with Tom Jordan, the manager of the London office, for you to start work as an assistant to his PA, Margot. You’ll like her, she’s a great woman, and she knows almost as much as Tom about the workings of the office. Another plus—she also has an apartment in the same building where your father used to live when he was in town. I take it you will be using your father’s apartment? So you will not be alone at all. You’ll have a friend—’
‘Wait just a minute,’ Bea interrupted angrily. At another time she might have found the startled expression in his dark eyes amusing, but right now she was too furious. ‘As of now I own a large slice of Stephen-Gregoris.’ Shoving the document back at him to emphasise her point, she continued, ‘And as such I have no intention of starting work as an assistant to somebody else’s personal assistant. I have not spent the last three years of my life studying to end up as some office junior. I am no longer the little girl you knew. I am an intelligent woman who intends to take an active part in my late father’s company. Junior partner, yes... Anything else, I don’t want to know.’
Her blue eyes, glittering with anger, flicked over his impassive countenance, and then wildly around the room. ‘Put that in your pipe and smoke it, Mr Leon Gregoris,’ she quipped, probably because her glance had caught her father’s pipestand, she realised. And instantly she wished she could take the childish words back. But she could not believe the cheek of the man... No discussion, no asking her opinion—typical Leon. Do this! Live there! Have this friend!
‘So the kitten has developed claws,’ Leon said softly, and, slipping the document into his pocket, he turned more fully to face her. But his eyes narrowed to slits of anger when he saw her furious blue gaze resting on him. ‘Damn it, Phoebe, don’t be so stupid. There is no way a girl of twenty-one, however brilliant, can walk into a company as a partner. I run the business, and I have made you a wealthy woman in the process. Content yourself with that. In fact you don’t need to work at all. But, if you must, it has got to be the way I say.’
‘No way,’ she spat back.
His hands snaked out and tightened around her slender wrists, and she felt the pressure of his fingers biting into her flesh. Her pulse raced, but with anger, not passion, she told herself. She looked into his hard face and recognised the resolute expression there, but she refused to be intimidated by it.
‘My way. Understand?’ he said tersely.
‘Oh, yes, I understand very well, Leon. Keep little Phoebe in her place or she’s out of the business altogether. So you can remain the absolute dictator, the tyrant you have always been. My God! You were even prepared to marry me once, simply to keep your all-powerful position, until I wised up to what you were after.’ As soon as the words left her mouth she knew she had gone too far.
His black eyes widened in astonishment, and then narrowed in anger as the import of what she had said registered in his astute brain. ‘You little bitch!’ he exclaimed. ‘At last the truth is coming out. You broke our engagement not because I was too old—your desertion had nothing to do with my age,’ Leon snarled, and, jerking at her hands, he dragged her across his lap. ‘You actually thought I was trying to control your share of the company. You simply did not trust me.’
He’d got that right! Bea thought, and almost laughed at the incredulous expression in his dark eyes. But her own position was far from safe, so she bit down any response.
‘My God, I should give you the good hiding you deserve. But, as you were at pains to point out, you’re a woman now.’ Twisting her around, he pushed her flat on her back on the sofa. ‘A more adult punishment is called for.’
Confusion replaced her earlier anger and she could hear the thunder of her own heartbeat. She saw his expression as he bent over her. ‘No!’ she cried, and then his face became a twisted blur as his hand tangled in her long hair and his hard mouth fastened on hers in a long, grinding kiss.
Bea fought against him with all the strength she possessed. Her small hands pushed at his mighty shoulders, and when that had no effect she dug her fingers into the nape of his neck. He retaliated by rearing back. With his free hand he grasped the front of her dress, and in a second it was down around her waist and his band was clasping one firm breast.
She gasped, and, taking full advantage of her parted lips, his mouth covered hers again, his tongue plunging into its sweet, dark cavern. His full weight came down on top of her and long fingers nipped the perfect bud of her breast, teasing it into hard, pulsing life. Electric sensations shuddered through her even as she bucked beneath him, trying to throw him off. But she was no match for his superior size and strength, and, worse, when his kisses changed to a tempting fiery passion, she was helpless to resist.
His mouth never left hers but his hands were everywhere, stroking, teasing, tormenting. His muscled leg moved over her thigh and she felt the full pressure of his masculine arousal hard against her flesh... Her flesh!
Her passion-dulled mind came alive to what was happening. The lamé dress was now little more than a belt around her waist, and alarm returned to give her the motivation to fight. She lifted her hand and deliberately raked her long nails down the side of his face.
‘What the hell—?’ As he reared back she took her chance and slid from under him onto the floor. She didn’t care what she looked like, and, struggling to her knees, she hauled up the front of her dress, then stood up and tugged down the skirt.
She backed away from where he sat rubbing his hand against his cheek. Her breasts heaving and her face flushed, she watched him warily. He looked down in amazement at the blood on his hand, and then back up to fix Bea with glittering black eyes.
‘You little vixen. You drew blood!’
‘Serves you right—you attacked me.’ She had no idea how aroused or how young she looked to the seated man, or how beautiful. She was still reeling from the totally unexpected explosion of passion between them, and her own shameful reaction to Leon.
For a long moment they simply stared at each other, the sexual tension in the air almost tangible.
Leon finally broke the contact. He looked down at the floor and said quietly, ‘Yes, I did, and I apologise.’
Bea’s bewildered blue eyes searched his handsome face; Leon apologising was unheard of. ‘You apologise?’ she queried, as if she didn’t believe what she was hearing.
‘Yes, a hundred times over.’ He glanced at her with a look in his eyes that she could not fathom. ‘I am a lot older than you and I should have more control. But in all the years we have known each other it never once entered my head that you did not trust me.’
Bea, for some unknown reason, found it hard to look him in the eye. Yet he had made no attempt to deny her accusation. So why did she feel ashamed? It was Leon who should be ashamed, for having tried to trick a grieving teenager. But she doubted he knew the meaning of the word ‘ashamed’. Leon moved through life supremely confident of his own abilities, a ruthless predator, cutthroat in business, overpowering the opposition with arrogant ease. And, Bea realised, he was just as ruthless in his private life.
He