A Night, A Consequence, A Vow. Angela Bissell

had he gambled that away too? As he had everything else, including his father’s stately mansion where Emily had lived at weekends and holidays when she wasn’t at boarding school.

      He nodded and, though she shouldn’t care, she felt relieved that her father wouldn’t be homeless.

      He turned to go and all of a sudden Emily felt as if she were six years old and her daddy was abandoning her again. Walking out of the front door of the mansion and leaving her in that big, silent house with only her grandfather, his stern-faced housekeeper and her mother’s ghost for company.

      ‘Was it really so hard to love me?’

      The words blurted from her mouth before the left side of her brain could censor them.

      Maxwell paused, half turned. ‘Excuse me?’

      ‘Did you love her?’

      She clasped the pearl at her throat and saw the tension grip her father’s body. He had never talked about the woman who’d died giving birth to his only child.

      ‘Your mother...’ he began, and Emily’s breath caught, her heart lurching against her ribs as she waited for him to go on.

      But he simply shook his head.

      ‘I’m sorry,’ he muttered.

      And then he left, closing the office door behind him.

      Gone.

      Just like all the times before.

      Tightness gripped her throat and she blinked rapidly. No tears, she told herself fiercely. She returned to her desk, opened a spreadsheet on her computer and forced herself to concentrate. She hadn’t allowed herself to cry in a very long time. She wouldn’t start now.

      * * *

      Ramon draped his suit jacket over the back of the Chesterfield sofa in Maxwell Royce’s soon-to-be ex-office and sat down. His briefcase, a sheaf of papers and his open laptop lay on the dark wood coffee table in front of him. He could have worked at the big hand-carved desk at the far end of the enormous office, but staking his claim before the deal was officially done felt a touch too arrogant, even for him.

      He looked at his platinum wristwatch.

      The lawyers had been hashing out terms in the boardroom for nearly two hours.

      Trusting his own lawyer to nail down the finer details, he’d left them to it over an hour ago.

      Several times since then he’d thought about seeking out Emily, but each time he’d curbed the impulse. This morning’s meeting had been civil but tense. Allowing her a cooling-off period seemed sensible.

      His phone buzzed and he pulled it from his pocket and checked the screen. Xav had sent a text:

      Good work. Talk later.

      He dropped the phone onto the table, annoyance flaring. After having sent his brother an update an hour and a half ago, he’d expected a more enthusiastic response.

      He should have remembered Xav was not a man ruled by emotion.

      The door to the office banged open. Jarred from his thoughts, Ramon looked up to see who had so abruptly intruded.

      Emily.

      Her fine features pinched into a scowl, she stood in the doorway with a sheet of paper clutched in one hand. She breathed hard, as though she had sprinted the length of the carpeted hall from the boardroom to the office. Her gaze found him and he felt the heat of her anger wash over him. Felt it reach into places he probably shouldn’t have.

      ‘Who said you could use this office?’

      He rose to his feet. ‘Your father,’ he said, sliding his hands into his trouser pockets. ‘Is that a problem?’

      Stalking into the room, she raised the paper clenched in her fist. ‘This is a problem.’

      He remained calm. ‘Is my guessing what’s on that paper part of the game?’

      ‘This isn’t a game, Mr de la Vega.’ She threw the sheet of paper onto the coffee table and pointed a manicured finger at it. ‘Care to explain?’

      He glanced down. It was a page from the latest marked-up version of the agreement. He didn’t need a closer look to guess which amendment had raised her ire.

      He walked to the door and closed it. At her questioning frown, he said, ‘We don’t want the children overhearing our first argument, do we?’

      Her eyes flashed, and the glimpse of a temper intrigued him. She grabbed the piece of paper off the table.

      ‘We’re not going to argue,’ she said. ‘You’re going to take this to your lawyer—’ she slapped the page against his chest, anchoring it there under her flattened hand ‘—and you’re going to tell him to reinstate the bylaws under the list of matters that require shareholder unanimity.’

      Ramon looked down at the slender hand splayed across his chest then back at Emily’s upturned face. This close he could see the velvety texture of her long brown eyelashes and the rings of darker grey around the circumference of her irises.

      When he breathed in, he caught a subtle fragrance that was musky and feminine.

      For seconds neither of them moved.

      Then, with her luminous eyes widening, she snatched her hand away, took a hasty step backwards and lost her balance.