Page 81 of Seduced by Her Billionaire Fake Fiancé

Salvatore spoke next. “Once upon a time, when our grandfathers ran the companies, they were best friends. They worked side by side, furthering each other’s interests. Then there was a deal that went bad, a setup by the Valentinos. The story is, they hit hard times and got jealous of our grandfather’s success, so they undermined him at every turn. It’s been this way ever since.”

“Like some kind of Montague Capulet style vendetta?” Portia murmured, a smile playing at the corners of her lips, because it was impossible to think of a roomful of grownups having that kind of antagonism towards a whole other family.

“Except more serious,” Marco responded, perfectly droll, but Portia was sure he was laughing too.

The room devolved into outraged conversation and conjecture once more until Dante spoke firmly, cutting through the noise. “Enough.”

Silence fell.

“So they’re freeing up cash. Why do you think that has anything to do with Acto?”

“You just heard the neat little summation of our family history, right? Does anything mean more to you right now than buying this company? How many hours have we put into this? What’s the deal already cost us? How much restructuring have you pre-emptively done to accommodate this company? And how much would it hurt us if they swooped in and took it away at the last minute?”

Dante stood, prowling to the windows, staring out. “Preposterous.”

“No, perfectly rational,” Marco contradicted. “If you’re a Valentino and you’ve sworn an oath to hate our guts.”

Portia wanted to interject again but it wasn’t her place. She could grill Dante on this later—on how adults could behave so childishly and not think it utterly absurd.

“Can they afford it?”

“It’s hard to tell,” Marco said. “I’m looking into it.”

“I need all the answers you can get me, as soon as you can.”

“I know.”

Dante nodded once.

“I’m pretty sure they’d stretch themselves to do this, though,” Marco continued. “And at the very least, by throwing their hat into the ring, they’re going to make it harder for you to play hardball. If they can’t get the company, they’ll drive the price up for us. It’s win, win, for them.”

Dante ran a hand over his jaw, nodding once. “Let’s meet again in two days,” he declared. “Guys, get the due diligence cranking. I don’t want any hold ups at our end. Marco—you know what you have to do.”

Marco’s eyes glittered when they met Dante’s. Portia shivered. Everyone stood—meeting adjourned, meaning she was free to go, and she couldn’t wait. Suddenly, she could no longer bear to be in the same room as Marco, breathing his air, hearing him speak. She had to get out.

“I’ll be at my desk,” she murmured, for Dante’s hearing alone, scooping up her things and leaving with a heavy breath of relief.

They were all so distractedby the bombshell Marco had just dropped that no one watched Portia gather her things, and no one noticed Marco watching her, but he did. He couldn’t help it.

She was wearing silk, and he’d always been a sucker for silk on a woman, the way it clung and hugged and had such a sensual feel to it. This particular blouse ran over her breasts like a second skin, leaving little to the imagination—not that he needed his imagination where Portia was concerned. He had his memories, and they were so white hot he couldn’t look at them without being burned.

Clutching several notepads and her tablet to her chest, she kept her head bent, eyes averted as she strode from the room, the design of the skirt emphasizing the curves of her bottom, so he watched her all the way to the door, just as he’d done at his place, when she’d left the other day.

Two weeks ago, he reminded himself grimly.

He remembered the date because it had been on the contracts he’d signed.

Fortunately, he’d had the Valentino rabbit-hole to disappear into since then, so he’d been able to stay busy enough not to contemplate calling her and asking her to come over and sign some other document pledging meaningless sex that they wouldn’t discuss with another soul, but hell, that didn’t mean he hadn’t had some moments of temptation.

Right now was a big one…

He took a step towards the door, figuring she’d be at her desk and the rest of the family was in here, wading through the surprise of betrayal at the hands of the Valentinos, yet again. But Raf forestalled him, drawing Marco into a conversation he couldn’t easily escape, even when thoughts of silk draped over breasts was calling to him with the intensity of a thousand sultry voices.

* * *

“Do me a favour?”Dante said, striding out of his office and pausing besides Portia’s desk.

It was a turn of phrase. Doing favours for Dante was part and parcel of her job. She paused, mid-way through typing the email and fixed her steady green gaze on him. It was strange to think that so many people found Dante intimidating. Portia had, when she’d interviewed for the job. He had one of those no-nonsense bearings that spoke of such inner-strength it was impossible not to be awed by it. But over the last eighteen months, she’d become used to that, and had even gotten beyond it. She liked Dante. They were friends, in a sense. His tragic history was something he kept close to his chest, but knowing who and what he’d lost, she couldn’t help but feel sorry for him. When he was hard-edged, it was because he’d had to become that way, to protect himself from further pain. And when he was soft with her, it showed how much he trusted her, that he could let his barriers down with Portia.

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