business-plans the banks had already turned down. This Miss Sophie Turner was no doubt another of their ilk. ‘Never heard of her. Get rid of her.’ He slammed the phone back down, annoyed again with the unnecessary interruption when he had important things on his mind.
Even more annoyed when the phone buzzed a second time not thirty seconds later. ‘What is it this time?’ he growled into the mouthpiece, unforgiving at the interruption, even if the girl didn’t know better.
Her voice sounded even more timid. ‘Miss Turner says it should have been in the email your sister sent you. All the details about her visit were apparently there.’
‘What email?’
‘You did read it?’ the temp continued apologetically, a crack in her voice; she sounded as if any moment she would burst into tears. ‘It was on your desk. I printed it out especially.’
That email? His eyes crossed to the crumpled ball of paper that had come to rest in a corner of the room. He hadn’t got past the casual bombshell Moni had dropped that she intended to marry the one man he had reason to hate with a passion. How the hell was he expected to absorb anything more?
‘Hold on,’ he said, dropping the phone down on the desk and crossing the office floor in long, purposeful strides. He swept up the ball of paper and unscrewed it, flattening it against his broad palm. The paragraph stared out at him, the same one that had turned his vision red scant minutes before:
Daniel, please be excited for me. I thought I was sworn off men for ever, especially after being dumped for the third time in quick succession, but then I met Jake Fletcher and the last few weeks couldn’t have been more perfect. He treats me like an absolute princess and he’s asked me to be his wife, and I’ve said yes.
No; his mind revolted. Never! He closed his eyes, the same rush of anger winning supremacy over his veins, the same flood of revulsion as the first time. Little wonder he’d been unable to bring himself to read the rest. His fingers ached to crumple the page into a tight ball once more, but this time he took a deep breath, willed his eyes open and read on.
I know you two never used to get on in the past, and maybe that’s why you didn’t return Jake’s calls last week, but I’m hoping you can put the past behind you when you see how much we love each other.
Put the past behind you? A thousand snapshots of a young woman’s bright smile formed a moving slide-show through his consciousness. How was he ever supposed to put the past behind him when she would never get to see another day?
I know it’s sudden but I want you to be among the first to know our happy news and just how much we love each other. It’s the real thing this time, I know.
Daniel snorted his contempt. The real thing? He had no doubt Fletcher thought it the real thing, but if he was in love with anything it was the Caruana fortune. When would his sister ever learn that that was all men wanted? Especially men like Fletcher.
But she’d soon see the light, just as she had before, just as soon as he’d dispensed with this latest in a long line of gold-diggers whose so-called love didn’t extend past her trust fund.
I wish I could give you this news personally, but you were in transit, and now Jake is whisking me off to Honolulu for two weeks for a surprise engagement present and there simply wasn’t time to get a connection through Cairns to meet up before we left.
He growled, the fingers of his free hand curling and uncurling into a fist; bile wasn’t the only bitter taste that filled his mouth. The thought of his little sister with him made him want to catch the next flight to Honolulu and drag her back before the bastard got her pregnant.
Or was that his intention—To make this marriage a done deal before the ceremony?
Daniel shook his head. It would take more than a baby before this marriage went ahead. The fires of hell would freeze over before he let someone like Fletcher marry his sister.
Monica was twenty-one now, so physically dragging her back was hardly an option, but there was no way he was going to stand by and let her get cornered into this marriage. Not by a long shot. He glanced down at the last few lines.
So instead I’ve arranged for our wedding planner to visit you. Her name is Sophie Turner and she’s already much more than a friend. Will fill you in on the details later.
Meanwhile, be nice to her!
His sister had signed off with a promise to send a postcard from Waikiki Beach, but that wasn’t what held his attention. It was the ‘be nice to her’.
What did his sister take him for—some kind of monster?
He wasn’t a monster. He was a businessman and a brother: a brother who had his eye out to protect his little sister from those who sought to take advantage of both her and the family fortune.
He was careful. Cautious. Protective of his own.
Did that make him such a monster?
Of course he’d see this Sophie Turner. And he’d be nice, just as his sister had requested. He’d invite her in, listen to her spiel and then he’d set her straight.
Because her services would not be required. As long as he drew breath, there would be no wedding between his sister and the likes of Jake Fletcher.
He picked up the receiver that lay abandoned on his office desk.
‘Send Miss Turner in.’
Chapter Two
SOPHIE perched uneasily on the edge of the waiting-room chair, the leather portfolio that contained all the details of Monica and Jake’s wedding resting on her knees. She couldn’t help but notice the bloom of pink spread over the young PA’s cheeks as reluctantly she placed the second call to her boss in less than a minute. Clearly what she’d read on the Internet about Daniel Caruana’s take-no-prisoners reputation extended beyond his business rivals and his girlfriends to his staff; the girl looked petrified.
Sophie might have felt guilty at insisting the girl call again and explain, but she wasn’t about to waste an entire day travelling from Brisbane to Cairns and back again for no good reason—not when Monica had told her today’s meeting had been all arranged and how much they were both relying on her.
‘Oil on the waters’, Jake had labelled her role, not exactly imbuing her with confidence. Apparently Daniel was super-protective of his little sister, having practically raised her since their parents had died, so of course he’d take the news of Monica’s plans with less than enthusiasm. Especially given Jake and Daniel hadn’t exactly hit if off back in high school, which Jake had admitted when attempting to explain why Daniel might not have bothered to answer his calls.
Something seriously wrong had gone on between them, Sophie mused, if Daniel wouldn’t even speak to him. Her suggestion had been for Jake and Monica to visit Daniel themselves, given he could hardly refuse to see Jake if Monica was with him, but Monica had come up with what she thought was a more diplomatic solution.
She’d break the news to her brother in an email and then the to-be-weds would disappear for two weeks while Sophie ran through the wedding arrangements with Daniel. By the time the happy couple returned from Hawaii, Sophie would have everything arranged and Daniel would have come to terms with the idea that his little sister was a grown woman, old enough to make her own decisions about getting married and to whom.
It was simple, Monica had told her.
Failsafe.
Monica had hugged her tight and thanked her. She’d looked so hopeful, if not half-desperate, this bride-to-be who wanted everything to be absolutely perfect, Sophie had swallowed back all her arguments that it should be them visiting Daniel and ironing out any problems face to face, and had nodded her agreement instead.
Now it seemed a crazy idea. Conscious of time spinning away while the PA waited for a response, she clamped down on the bubble of nervousness that had her suddenly fidgeting with