Mine To Take (Nine Circles) Page 11

“That’s your prerogative, I guess. But hey, you don’t have to take my word for it. If you want proof why don’t you give your brother a call? I’ve got his number.”

  “You said he doesn’t want to speak to me.”

  “He doesn’t. Good luck with getting him to answer.”

  The anger simmering in her gut froze solid, her throat closing. Once, years ago, she’d found out Alex’s number and given him a call. He’d never answered and never responded to the message she’d left. She hadn’t tried again.

  Hating the knowing look in Gabriel’s eyes, she turned away. He knew she wouldn’t call him and she hated that he knew. She wasn’t a coward, but the hurt her brother’s silence had caused went deep.

  What would knowing the truth change anyway? Whatever happened with Alex and your father, it was a long time ago. You can’t fix it now.

  No, she couldn’t. Which made it easy to deal with in many ways.

  “Thanks, but I’ll pass,” she said, moderately pleased with how calm her voice sounded. “It doesn’t matter anyway since it all happened years ago.”

  “Are you sure you don’t want his number?”

  “Quite sure.” She found a chilly smile from somewhere. “I’ve got quite a few work calls to make and e-mails to check, so if you haven’t got anything else you need me for this afternoon…?”

  Gabriel ignored the question. “You’re sure you’re okay? I know all that about your father was a hell of a thing to dump on you.”

  “Why did you then?”

  “You wanted to know how Alex and I met.”

  “No, talking about Alex, period. You were the one who brought up the subject, not me.”

  He was still leaning casually against the door frame, but the look on his face was anything but causal. There was a hard, almost calculating glint in his eyes. As if he was debating what to tell her.

  “You did it on purpose, didn’t you?” she said suddenly, not sure how she knew, only that the glint in his eyes had warned her. “Why? And the ride … That wasn’t just a ‘let’s get out into the fresh air’ thing, was it?”

  He didn’t move. “What makes you say that?”

  A burst of adrenaline shot through her. He was playing with her. Like he’d done from the beginning, because that’s what he was. A game player. “There wasn’t any reason for you to bring my brother up. Or tell me about my father, but you did.”

  “I thought you’d want to know.”

  “Really, Mr. Woolf? Or was it because you’re involving me in another one of your games?”

  He raised a brow. “Games?”

  “Don’t be so disingenuous. It doesn’t suit you.”

  A thick, heavy silence fell.

  Gabriel smiled. A slow-burning, wicked smile. “You’re a smart woman, Honor St. James. Too smart maybe.”

  She took a silent breath. “You bastard.”

  He didn’t even have the decency to look ashamed of himself. “You’re right, I am a bastard. And you should never make the mistake of thinking otherwise.”

  “Don’t worry, I won’t.” The low-level anger that had been there ever since he’d told her about Alex and her father began to boil. Yet something else was there, too. That heady, illicit thrill. She’d seen through him and now she was certain the gloves were going to come off. Part of her was … excited by the thought. “You must want something from me pretty badly to use information about my brother against me.”

  “Let’s be clear. I didn’t use it against you. I mentioned Alex because I thought you needed to know. But sure, the ride itself wasn’t purely out of the goodness of my heart.”

  “Oh?”

  “No. I wanted to go riding with you so I could have that fucking hot little body of yours up against mine on the back of the bike.”

  She swallowed, her mouth suddenly dry.

  The look in his eyes glinted. “Don’t look so surprised. I’ve always been up-front about what I wanted from you.”

  He had. Brutally so, in fact.

  Dangerous. So dangerous.

  Yes, and she should be telling him where to go. Or at least packing everything up and leaving him here. But she couldn’t. There was this investment hanging over her head still and besides, leaving would be tantamount to letting him win.

  What happened to going with the flow?

  No, she wasn’t supposed to be fighting him, giving in to the burn of excitement that matching wits with him gave her. But then she couldn’t allow him to get the upper hand either. Because once he had it, she’d never get it back.

  So how to handle him? She could be ruthless when she chose to—hell, you didn’t get to have your own investment firm by being a pushover, after all—and no one could ever accuse her of being weak. She couldn’t afford to be.

  You know how …

  A small electric thrill shot down her spine, mixed with a healthy dose of trepidation. Oh yes, she knew. She’d always sworn to herself she’d never use that particular weapon, certainly not when it came to business. And not only that, it would be a temptation that would push her own control to the limit.

  Then again, this would be another calculated risk, wouldn’t it? If she was aware of the dangers, she could handle it. Handle him.

  “Yes,” Honor said levelly. “You have. And I suppose I don’t need to ask you what that is.”

  He shifted against the door frame, folding his arms, the glint in his eyes becoming hotter. “No. Though I don’t mind saying it again if you need a reminder.”

  “You want me?”

  He didn’t look away. “Of course. You.”

  She didn’t want to think about how that made her feel, that he wanted her enough to be a complete bastard about it. That he would use anything he could to have her. “Why? You could have any woman you wanted. You don’t need me.” She paused. “Oh, I know, it’s because I resisted, isn’t it?”

  “Why wouldn’t I want you? You’re beautiful. Fucking smart. And we have major chemistry going on. Plus you’re one hell of a challenge mentally and that excites me. Why wouldn’t I use what I could to get you into my bed?”

  Don’t be flattered, for God’s sake!

  But it was too late. She was, the warm glow of it sitting in her stomach along with the anger and excitement, that fizzing electricity.

  No one had wanted her like that in a very long time …

  She folded her arms. “If you think I’m going to fall into your arms after that, you’ve got another think coming.”

  “After you saw through me so easily? Not in the slightest.” He pushed himself away from the door frame, still smiling. Wicked. Dangerous. “Which means the next move is all yours, baby.”

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Gabriel balled up his napkin and tossed it onto the table. The chair opposite him had remained stubbornly empty the whole evening and he supposed he deserved it.

  No supposing. You did deserve it.

  Irritated, he sat back and took another cursory look around the hotel restaurant. Another example of thought and great workmanship. The place had a quietly luxurious vibe to it, lots of vaulted ceilings and exposed roof beams. A huge brick fireplace with a roaring fire. Tables in alcoves with armchairs for seating and lots of crystal glasses and snow-white tablecloths. During the day there were probably views out across the lake but the outside was now in darkness, the only thing visible was the snow heaped up outside the glass, making the interior feel warm and cozy.

  There were a few other guests lingering over their meals but no sign of Honor.

  When he’d phoned down to the cottage about dinner, she’d said that she’d possibly join him or possibly wouldn’t. But not to expect her.

  He’d thought she’d come just to spite him. To show him she wasn’t going to let their last interchange get to her. Yet she hadn’t turned up.

  For some reason that annoyed him. Like she was backing down or conceding him the challenge. A disappointing thought when so far, she’d proved a fucking fantastic opponent.

  Still,
maybe this was part of her plan. Getting him to sit here alone through dinner while she stood him up. And yeah, he did deserve it.

  Reaching out, Gabriel picked up his glass and swallowed the dregs of the beer he’d ordered to go with his steak. Then he set his jaw as he put the glass down, casting another glance at the doorway. Still no Honor.

  Shit, he had made a mistake in bringing Alex up, but then he hadn’t been expecting her to see through him like that so easily. He should have known though. He’d meant every word when he’d told her she was smart, because she was. Very.

  Which was going to make her eventual capitulation to him all the sweeter.

  How long had it been since he’d played such a complicated, delicate game with a woman? Fucking never and Christ, he was enjoying it more than he’d ever thought possible.

  He was quite certain he was going to win their little game, of that he had no doubt. But getting there was the interesting part. After all, an easy victory was no fun for anyone.

  A waiter approached the table. “Would you like anything else, Mr. Woolf?”

  “Not here,” he said shortly. “I’ll have a glass of the Macallan seventy-five in the library.”

  “Certainly.”

  Gabriel waited another five minutes, then pushed back his chair and made his way out of the restaurant, going down the wide, wood-paneled hallway to the library.

  It was late and there were no other guests there. His scotch was waiting for him like he’d ordered, in a tumbler beside the leather armchair he preferred.

  He’d been there most of the last few hours, dealing with some shit about a site down in Florida that was causing him hassles. Then going over some files his research team had sent him about Tremain’s financial situation. That had proved interesting reading. The guy’s situation was dire, he knew that already, but what he hadn’t realized was that someone had already put a fair amount of money into Tremain Hotels. A company called St. James Investments. Honor’s company.

  She’d already admitted to him that she’d invested in her stepfather’s business, but what she hadn’t let on was the level of her investment. Which was significant. If Tremain went down there was a good chance St. James would, too.

  It was a bad investment, anyone could see that, which meant that Honor had done so out of the goodness of her heart. Risking everything, even her own company, out of … what? Duty? Love? What kind of hold did the guy have over her?

  Gabriel shut the library door behind him and went over to where he’d left his laptop, flicking the screen up and entering his code to unlock it. The spreadsheet was on-screen, the damning figures all over it. He frowned as a feeling he wasn’t used to shifted inside him. The one he’d experienced today by the lake, as he’d told Honor about Alex and seen her face go white. Concern. For her.

  Fuck, why? What did he care whether her company went down with Tremain’s or not? He wasn’t here to save her. He was here for information, nothing more.

  He reached down and picked up the tumbler, took a sip of the scotch.

  Jesus, he couldn’t afford to be worried for her or any shit like that. Only anger was allowed. That kept him going. That kept him strong.

  “I’m sorry,” a feminine voice said from behind him. “I missed dinner.”

  A heavy, hot sensation uncurled inside him, satisfaction and arousal settling in his gut. He paused to push the laptop closed and to put his tumbler back down on the side table. Only then did he turn around.

  Honor had shut the door behind her, coming into the room. Disappointingly, she wasn’t wearing her motorcycle leathers now but had changed into a tailored, black, silky blouse and one of those pencil skirts she seemed to like so much, this one in dark blue. She wore a pair of delicate sapphire-colored pumps with a spindly heel that made her legs look long.

  Beautiful. Sophisticated. And extremely self-possessed. As though the shock of this afternoon had never existed.

  Clearly she’d come to make her move.

  Anticipation tightened in him. “The steak was good,” he said. “Your loss. Did you get room service?”

  “Yes. I had … extra work things to do that I wasn’t expecting.”

  “No, you didn’t.” He smiled, letting her know he was as ready for whatever move she’d come here to make as she was. “You were punishing me.”

  Honor raised a brow. “Was I? That might work if I thought you cared whether I joined you for dinner or not. But you don’t.”

  “Are you kidding? It’s always painful when the gorgeous woman you thought would be joining you for dinner stands you up.”

  Her expression remained neutral, as if the compliment made no difference to her whatsoever. “You don’t look like you’re in pain.”

  “I hide it well.” He skirted around the side of the chair and sat down. “So, are you only here to apologize or do you have something else you wanted?”

  She came over to the couch and placed her hands on the back of it. “I thought you were the one who wanted something.”

  “I do. But like I told you, the next move is yours.”

  “You’re not a man who concedes a move, Mr. Woolf.”

  “Perhaps I felt bad.”

  “I don’t think that’s the case.”

  “Maybe not. But I like a woman who can see through bullshit.”

  “And I prefer an honest man.”

  Gabriel leaned back against the chair, studying her. “Do you? Or maybe what you really like is a man who challenges you.”

  “I’m not sure you’re in any position to tell me what kind of men I like.”

  “You’re excited by the thought of having someone to fight. It gives you a rush.”

  She smiled, long dark lashes veiling her gaze. “I think you’re attributing too much to me, I’m afraid. I didn’t come here for a fight. I came here to ask you exactly what you need in order to give me your decision about Tremain Hotels.”

  “A week. That’s what I said. I need to examine this place thoroughly and look over the various financials before I make any kind of decision.”

  “No, you don’t. I think you’ve already decided. I think you made that decision even before you got here.”

  Smart. Sexy. God … He shifted in his chair, watching her. The fire glossed over her inky hair, giving her face a wash of color, reflecting a glow deep in her dark blue eyes.

  “So why am I here then?” he asked softly.

  She took her hands off the back of the couch and walked around the side of it. “I can only assume you’re here for me, though why you should go to all this trouble, I can’t imagine.”

  “You’re underselling yourself.”

  She strolled closer to his chair. “Seems a lot of work to take yourself away from your busy company merely to look over this hotel. In fact, if you wanted to sleep with me, why didn’t you hold the investment offer over my head?”

  “Ah, but that would be blackmail.”

  “You don’t strike me as the kind of man who would balk at a little blackmail.” She reached down and picked up his tumbler full of scotch, took a sip. “Hmm. Macallan?”

  “You know your scotch.”

  “I have expensive tastes.”

  He let his gaze drift down her body, all her slender curves on show in the beautifully tailored clothing she wore. “Yes, you most certainly do.”

  “So, why didn’t you?”

  “Why didn’t I what?”

  “Blackmail me into bed?”

  Gabriel looked up into her face. Color tinged her cheekbones. He could still feel that kiss of hers on his mouth, the touch of her fingers as he’d held her hands in his. “You’re assuming that sleeping with you is all I want to do.”

  A spark of something that looked like surprise glowed briefly in her eyes. “What?”

  “If sex was all I’d wanted then yeah, I could have blackmailed you. But I didn’t.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because blackmail is like using a hammer to crack an egg. It’s clumsy. And while
I may be a fucking beast at heart, I’m not a clumsy one.”

  Her gaze made its way down his body as if she couldn’t help herself, the color in her cheeks deepening. “If you don’t want sex then what else do you want?”

  “I didn’t say I didn’t want sex. I said that’s not all I want.”

  “Then what?”

  He very much wanted to reach out and curl one hand around the back of her thigh, pull her in close to the arm of his chair then slide his palm up over the curve of her butt. But he wasn’t going to touch her again. Not like he had in the cottage the day before. No, this time she had to come to him. “Your permission. I want you to want it, sweetheart. I want you to want me. I want you to say ‘yes.’”

  She gave a short laugh. Then tipping back her head, she drained his glass before setting it back down on the table beside him. “You’re going to invest.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Because you’re right. I do want you.” She took a breath, her eyes glittering in the light. “Tell me what you want from me, Gabriel.”

  The sound of his name was like an arrow, piercing him straight through. It had never sounded so erotic. Holy fuck, it had been worth all the times she’d called him “Mr. Woolf” just to hear her say it.

  His muscles tightened, fighting the urge to get up and grab her, tear the clothes from her, push her up against the wall, and have her sink her sharp, hungry claws into him. The beast, all that black passion, threatening to break free.

  But it wouldn’t. It just fucking wouldn’t. Yes, he wanted her and he wanted her pretty damn badly. Yet he wasn’t about to break years of perfect self-control over his urges just because one small, blue-eyed, black-haired woman said his name.

  “Are you sure you want to know?” he asked softly.

  “I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t.” She paused. “And I’m tired of you holding the reins.” She moved, stepping over his outstretched legs, putting her hands on the arms of his chair and leaning forward. Aggressive as hell and fucking sexy. “I want the control back. So how’s this for a deal? If you don’t invest in Tremain hotels then I won’t fuck you.”

  * * *

  She’d never done this before in her whole life, come on strong to a man who was a virtual stranger to her. It was like having an out-of-body experience. The scotch had gone straight to her head—mainly because she’d also had a glass of wine beforehand for liquid courage—but the thing that was really making her buzz was the adrenaline. A great, surging rush of it, making her say things she never thought she’d say, do things she never thought she’d do.