Page 6 of Fallen Roses

“Of course not. What kind of woman do you take me for?”

He raises his eyes and I hiss, “Don’t answer that.”

I take several deep breaths and say with a slight cough, “Okay. We can’t change what happened, but we can agree never to speak of it again.”

“If that’s what you want.”

He shrugs, effectively dismissing me, and points to the chair in front of his desk.

“Welcome to The Rose Foundation, Miss Starling.”

His mouth twitches as I hold out my hand and say formally, “I’m pleased to meet you, Mr. Warner. Thank you for the opportunity.”

He raises his eyes and I note a hint of amusement in them and as his hand folds around mine, I hate the irresistible urge to hold on to it for longer than necessary.

“So, the Candyland account.”

He wastes no time in bringing us back to the reason for the meeting, and I nod, extricating my notes from the file I have read and then re-read several times already.

“I have some questions.”

He says nothing as I fix him with a blank expression. “They have been donating to The Rose Foundation for the last five years. The same amount every year, despite the fact their company accounts show their profits fall year on year.”

He raises his eyes and yet says nothing and I continue. “Their owner, Mr. Michael Harrison, insists on running the business himself with no board, or no heirs to his empire. He is considered out of touch and failing at business, caught in the past and disconnected with the future.”

I stare him straight in the eye and say coolly, “The one consistency on his balance sheet is the amount he pays to The Rose Foundation every year. Does that strike you as curious, Mr. Warner, because it raises many questions with me?”

He says nothing and merely stares at me with a blank expression, and it’s a tactic I’ve used many times myself over the years. It creates tension and usually prompts the person to carry on talking, but I’m too aware of it for that and merely stare back at him, waiting for an answer and wishing like hell I wasn’t having flashbacks to last night.

My heart races as I dwell on his dirty kisses, the slide of his skin against mine and the way his touch fired up my soul.

“You appear to have gone the extra mile with your investigations, Miss Starling. Surely it is no concern of ours how he spends his company’s money. If he chooses to donate a set amount each year, he must have his reasons and it makes no difference to us.”

“You disappoint me, Mr. Warner.”

I am dismissive and yet he appears amused by that.

“How?”

“You look at business in a one dimensional way. Money is all you consider and you disregard the bigger picture.”

I lean forward and stare him straight in the eye and say icily, “I expected more of you than that.”

You could cut the tension in the air crackling between us and then he arches his brow and says coolly, “If I disappoint you, Miss Starling, that is no concern of mine. I am not here to gain your approval and must remind you that it’s your job to impress me, not the other way around.”

He casts a disparaging look at the file open on his computer and says with no emotion. “Candyland is one of our biggest benefactors and is considerably important to us. Michael Harrison is a good man and a close personal friend of our owner and is treated accordingly. If he chooses to donate his dwindling profits to charity, I can only imagine it’s because he has no heirs to leave itto and wants to help unfortunate children and other such worthy causes. I fail to see the mystery in this, or the problem, so unless you have anything further to add, case closed. Move onto the next.”

For a moment, I say nothing and we stare at one another, both reluctant to be the one to back down.

Then I nod and gather the file together and say coolly, “Will that be all, sir?”

As I stare into his eyes with a composure I certainly don’t feel inside, his voice scratches against every nerve I possess as he drawls, “No, Miss Starling. That is most definitely not all.”

CHAPTER 4

JAMES

Ican’t believe my bad luck. This is an impossible situation. My mysterious woman is sitting before me, looking as if she wants to kill me stone dead with one glance in my direction. I’m guessing she’s embarrassed, if not a little mortified, and I feel it too. How can we possibly carry on as if nothing happened when I know how good she tastes? How she trembles when she gives into desire and how good she feels under me.

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