Page 16 of Business Temptations

He pretended to wave at someone, but in reality, he was using that as a trick that would allow him to lean down and speak more softly in her ear. “My father hasn’t spoken to me in years, nor has he sent any representative of the Martazan faction, even though they are gaining control of large groups of businesses. So where the hell did that question come from?”

She smiled and nodded, pretending to laugh, as if he’d just said something amusing. “We should dig into the issue. Maybe the reporter has some information that we’re not privy to.”

“I agree,” he replied, accepting two glasses of champagne and handing one to her.

She sipped the bubbly liquid, her eyes sparkling up at hm. “I know you hate champagne.”

He pretended to sip the stuff and shrugged. “It’s fine.”

She looked around at the crowd. “You should go speak with Senator Kingman. He hates me since I stomped on his foot last year after he groped me.”

Matteo barely glanced towards the group where the senator was holding court. “I’d rather not.”

Her grin widened. “He’s making noises about banning certain chemicals.”

Matteo struggled to contain his disdain as he remembered the senator's feeble attempt to retaliate against Bailey. "Not the ones that would make a difference from an environmental standpoint," he grumbled under his breath, his voice laced with contempt. "The chemicals he wants to ban are pointless, some of them not even used anymore."

"I know," Bailey sighed, her frustration mirroring Matteo's. "He only introduced the legislation because you refused to donate to his reelection campaign."

A bitter taste filled Matteo's mouth as he clenched his jaw, his scorn for the corrupt political system bubbling to the surface. "Your country really needs to figure out how to elect politicians that the voters prefer instead of the elected officials selling their votes to the highest bidder," he spat, his voice dripping with disparagement.

Bailey nodded in agreement, a dismissive shrug punctuating her disdain as she glanced around at the others. "Talk to the Supreme Court," she added with a bitter edge to her tone. "They've declared political contributions from corporations to be 'free speech' no matter how much their donations smother the voters' voices."

He shot her one of his “Yeah, I get it” looks before Bailey moved off to her right, heading for one of the many bars that had been set up at various points throughout the ballroom. She was making a beeline for the bar so that she could get a glass of scotch for Matteo. She knew that he absolutely detested champagne. She suspected his revulsion for the sparkling wine had something to do with the fact that his father preferred the stuff, but her friend and business partner never confided in her.

Speak of the devil, she thought as a very elegant man that looked shockingly similar to her business partner, stepped in front of her.

She came to a halt and forced her features into a politely blank expression. “Lord del Campo,” she greeted the man, refusing to bow as he’d ordered her to do several years ago when she’d run into him in at a similar event. “What a surprise.” That was honest enough. Plus, she patted herself on the back for hiding her hatred of the man who had psychologically, emotionally, and physically abused Matteo throughout his youth. “What brings you to our side of the Atlantic?” she asked. His appearance answered her questions about why the reporters had asked about the Martazan faction!

The man frowned down at Bailey, but she ignored it and noticed the half-empty glass of champagne in his hand.

“I wanted to speak with you, Ms. Larkin. Please come this way.”

Bailey remained still for a long moment, not surprised when the older man turned and started out of the ballroom. He obviously assumed she would follow him simply because he’d ordered her to do so.

However, Bailey wasn’t the type to blindly follow anyone. He really should know this fact by now. If he’d done even a minimum of research into her and her contributions to the company she, Tim, and Matteo owned, he would know that.

But his aristocratic arrogance kept him blind to everything other than his own self-interests.

Shaking her head, she ignored the man and continued towards the bar.

The bartender smiled at her, placing a napkin on the counter in front of her. “What can I get you, ma’am?”

“I need a glass of the best scotch you’ve got.” She eyed him carefully. “And I also know that you have a secret stash for the more important people in the room. I’d recommend that you pull that out for this request.”

The bartender hesitated for a moment, then slowly grinned and nodded. A second later, he bent down and reached under the bar, pulling out a bottle of Glenlivet single malt and poured her a healthy portion. When he looked up at her, he winked.

“You rock,” she whispered, taking the scotch and adding a ten dollar tip into the glass off to the side.

Taking the scotch, she started to head back towards Matteo, wanting to warn him that his father was here. She and Matteo would most likely leave the gala quickly. Matteo had a very strong antipathy towards his abusive father.

“Mrs. Larkin!” a hard voice called out from behind her. Several other groups stopped speaking and turned, searching for the autocratic disruption.

Sure enough, the Marquesso del Campo stood several feet away, his body literally shaking with rage. “I asked to speak with you in private!” He even turned, gesturing towards the doorway, but this time, he glared at her, silently demanding that she obey his command.

Bailey shrugged and moved closer to the hateful man. She lowered her voice and leaned into him in a conspiratorial manner. “Actually, you didn’t ask, you commanded.” She gestured to the other groups that were still watching, eagerly anticipating a scene that they could recount to their “friends” tomorrow. She ignored them, pretending as if they weren’t there. “And if you ask anyone here, they’ll tell you that I never react well to commands.” There were several knowing chuckles from the on-lookers but Bailey didn’t bother to look around. She kept her eyes trained on the arrogant bastard.

The man’s features turned an interesting shade of red. “This is a private matter.”

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