High Passion

CHAPTER 11

The valet took Alisha’s hand and assisted her from the car, passing her off to a black-and-gold-suited doorman who had obviously been hovering in anticipation of her arrival. “Mr. Monreal is waiting for you. Right this way.”

The doorman escorted her as if she were royalty, and Alisha held her frustration in check. The fawning attention was more than she wanted, but getting mad at the hotel employee would be unfair when his over-the-top courtesy was probably mandated from on high.

“How is your evening so far?” she asked him.

He blinked, as if surprised she’d noticed he was a real human being. “Um, very well. It’s been quite busy.”

He evaded all further conversation.

Her irritation rose another notch, and she hadn’t even reached her dinner partner yet. The games that were played in the upper echelons of society pissed her off more now than when she’d been immersed in the lifestyle and had to toe the line. It was simply another reason she was thankful to have put that part of her life behind her. Hopefully for good.

A quick glance across the grand foyer placed Vincent in an oversized wingback chair on the far side of the wide expanse. The glitzed table beside him held an enormous bouquet made of dozens of pure white roses. As he rose to his feet, the contrast between the snowy white and his dark hair and suit was stark—mischief made her picture the devil fleeing from the gates of heaven. He’d switched to an even more formal suit, and she was glad she’d dressed up. Not that she wanted to impress Vincent, but the turquoise silk encasing her was like armour to counter his possible attacks.

The high-necked, long-sleeved outfit also covered the more scandalous marks Devon had left behind during their enthusiastic sex.

As Vincent approached, the reminder of Devon only made her more determined to hold her ground. She had a good idea why Vincent was here. She wasn’t going to give in, though. She had far too much to lose by simply giving up and going back to being her father’s little girl.

He took her from the doorman, his gaze slipping down her torso and taking in every inch from top to bottom. Calculating, judging. Smiling as she passed whatever approval rating he’d set.

“You look beautiful,” Vincent breathed. He lifted her hand to his lips and kissed her knuckles.

“Thank you.” She stood motionless, hoping her lack of enthusiasm could be considered sophisticated restraint.

Vincent paced around her slowly, “Come, let me take you to dinner.”

As he turned her toward the main dining hall, his hand stroked her lower back, where the dress had an open keyhole in the fabric. His fingers were cold, and she shivered.

Even with the heels she wore, he towered over her. She rested her hand on his arm and attempted to create a space between their bodies as they walked, but it was impossible. He kept a tight grip, creating an illusion of intimacy that had passersby examining them with curiosity.

He seated her, ordered for them, then folded his hands together and stared for so long, even her determined attempt to remain indifferent was rocked. “Do I have something on my face?”

Vincent shook his head. “You are a blindingly beautiful woman, especially when you make a bit of effort.”

Alisha fought her first instinct. She’d obviously been hanging around the rougher-edged SAR team long enough that she’d lost some of her polish. In her society days she would have ignored a compliment/insult like that. Now she wanted to bite back and at least flash him a fuck off.

Instead she forced herself to smile. “Thank you.”

His gaze continued to burn over her. “I hope you’ll have many more opportunities to shine like this in the future.”

“Why would I—?” She slammed to a stop. Rethought her wording and deliberately didn’t ask him a question. “There’s not a lot of call for full makeup and silk when I’m involved in rescues.”

“Then I appreciate it all the more that you went all out for me.” Vincent caught her off guard and folded his fingers around hers. “Thank you.”

So far the night was everything she’d expected it to be. Awkward, unintentionally headed in the wrong direction. Alisha attempted to pull it back to the right path. “You and my father are good friends. I’m happy to spend an evening with you.”

He stroked his thumb over her knuckles, and she cursed her choice of words. With anyone else they would be considered innocent, but not with Vincent. Well, Devon would have totally turned that slip against her as well, but his type of sexual aggression didn’t scare her nearly as much as Vincent’s smoldering gaze.

Whoever had said smoldering was a sexy thing was wrong. The look didn’t cause her to be lit on fire with desire like she had experienced with Devon, all energy and excitement and wild passion. Smoldering was a piece of kindling being held under a reluctant squatter until the billows of smoke and noxious fumes forced them to move.

Their drinks arrived, appetizers. Alisha poked at the oysters without much appetite, nodding politely as Vincent told her about the latest changes at Bailey Enterprises. She’d been gone for four years. He talked about people and deals as if she should know what he was referring to, all of it positive and flattering toward himself, of course.

All the while she waited for the bomb to fall—for the moment when he’d turn into her father’s mouthpiece and start asking about her return plans for the following summer.

When it finally came it was almost anticlimactic.

“I have a friend who is selling his condo.” Vincent paused as the waiters whisked away their appetizer plates and brought a soup course. “It’s in a fabulous location, and I thought of you. I know you won’t need a place for a number of months, but it would make sense to buy now in anticipation of your return.”

Alisha shook her head. “You’re working under a false assumption, Vincent. I appreciate your thoughtfulness, but I have no intention of returning anytime soon. I have a wonderful job and a great career here in the mountains that I love. It’s valuable work, being the best search-and-rescuer I can be.” Her enthusiasm rang out strong. “It’s thrilling to make a difference in people’s lives.”

“I understand that.” Vincent slipped his chair closer, and she twitched in her seat. “I’ve always known how much this mattered to you. It’s why I didn’t fight it when you announced you wanted to go away to school.”

Why would he have fought it? “It wasn’t any of your concern, not then, not now.”

Vincent leaned in. “Of course it is. After all, I was the one who convinced your father to give you the time to yourself.”

His cheek was close to hers, but without tilting so far to the side that she’d fall out of her seat, there was no chance to retreat. Besides, she was still trying to make heads or tails of his last comment. “You convinced my father . . . of what?”

“I suggested there was no harm in your coming to the school here in Banff. That a chance to try something different would do you good, perhaps help you work your unhappiness out of your system. You’ve done well during your time away, and I’m very proud you—I even gave a donation to your school to prove how much I respect what you’ve done. Only now it’s time for you to make plans to move on. Put this childishness behind you, and return to where you belong.”

Her shock at one part of that announcement made it tough to comprehend the rest of what he’d said. “You gave what?”

Vincent smiled, obviously pleased with himself. “They supported you while you spread your wings, but now that it’s time for you to return home—”

“I’m not a bloody pigeon you can call home to the roost.” It hadn’t been her father, but Vincent who’d interfered? Anger replaced her confusion. “This is my life, Vincent. You had no right to try to organize, or suggest, or do anything in it.”

“I was giving you a chance to have time to yourself. Five years wasn’t a long time to wait in the big picture.” He stroked the silky fabric covering her arms, the back of his knuckles causing a warning shiver to race along her spine. “Five years to sow your wild oats before returning to where you belong. Although I do hope you haven’t taken the old interpretation of that phrase too literally.”

Around them the tinkle of wineglasses and gold flatware on china plates combined with the live piano music playing delicately in the corner of the room. Waiters stood at discreet intervals, but she couldn’t seem to catch one’s eye with the invitation to interrupt, and soon.

She and Vincent must have looked far too intimate to interrupt, which was so not what she wanted.

This entire conversation was off the tracks and headed for a cliff, and she’d had enough. Alisha lifted her chin and went for broke to regain control. “It’s none of your business if I’ve fucked my way through half of Banff. I am not going back in a year’s time. I have a home here. I have a job. I . . . have a boyfriend.”

Tossing the lie out was reckless and wrong, but it felt necessary.

Her fib partially worked. For the first time since the evening had begun, Vincent retreated.

“You do? One of your co-workers, perhaps?” Vincent poured her more wine, settling back in his chair.

“Again, none of your business.” Alisha hauled in the last dregs of politeness she could in one final attempt to halt the confusion between them. “Vincent, I feel as if you’ve gotten the mistaken idea that you and I are some kind of couple, or headed that way in the future. I’m not interested in a relationship with you other than as a family friend. I came out with you tonight to be polite. Now that this conversation has crossed into far too personal territory, it’s time to stop.”

Her outburst took him by surprise, and he seemed to reconsider, taking time to look around the room as he rearranged silverware and fussed with his place setting. Another change of plates occurred, their main courses arriving. Alisha calculated how much longer she needed to stay, or if they had reached the point where she could simply get up and leave.

Vincent’s long sigh kept her in place for another moment. He nodded slowly before carefully lowering his voice. “I had planned on waiting until you returned because I didn’t want to burden you, but if you truly are planning on staying in Banff, you’ve left me no choice than to broach this now. I’m worried about your father.”

She blinked, but the puzzle pieces refused to fall in the right direction. “What does me staying in Banff have to do with my father?”

Vincent cut into his steak, the edge of the blade slicing through the thick flesh smoothly, red-tinged juices rushing from the cut. “You know your father has controlling interest of Bailey Enterprises. He’s been making unwise decisions lately, Alisha. I’m concerned for the future of the company. If he continues this way he’ll end up destroying everything he’s worked so hard to achieve.”

Well, not a way to motivate her to change her plans. “So?”

He pulled back in undisguised shock. “Your father could lose everything. You couldn’t possibly want that.”

“I couldn’t care less.” Her father had done the cutting off up to now, not her. “I have a roof over my head, and a job. I don’t need the millions that seem to be all that keeps him happy. If he can’t make the right business decisions, then he’ll have to lose it all.”

Vincent’s jaw hung open for a second before he pulled himself together. “Those are the words of an ungrateful little girl.”

She shrugged. “While I’m thankful for the benefits I received from my family when I was young, since I left home everything I’ve done has been on my own merits. Calling me ungrateful isn’t a threat.”

His dark eyes flashed, this time with something more like anger, and Alisha paused as she realized if the company failed, her father wouldn’t be the only one to lose.

“Oh, Vincent. I’m sorry. I didn’t even consider the impact Bailey Enterprises going under would have on you. You’re serious? It’s gotten that bad?”

He nodded. “Within the year if his mismanagement continues.”

While Alisha still wasn’t highly motivated to do anything, it was a lot tougher to simply blurt that out when one of the people whose livelihood was threatened by her father’s supposed incompetence was right there in front of her.

She tried to sound sympathetic. “I don’t see what difference I could make, Vincent, going back to Toronto. My father does have the majority of shares, and he’s not about to ask my advice in running the company even if I do return.”

Vincent gave her an earnest look. “If you add my shares to yours we have more than him.”

Alisha laughed. “What shares? Maybe you didn’t hear the news, but I don’t get my shares until I’m thirty-five. I would willingly sell them to you—I have no interest in running the company—but that antiquated requirement in my grandfather’s will means you’ll have to wait nine years before I can access them.”

He shook his head. “Too late and too little. There is another solution, and one that I think would benefit us both.”

She waited.

He raised a brow. “You could take advantage of the loophole in your grandfather’s will.”

Loophole?

What he’d said finally sank in and she went numb.

Oh. My. God.

Vincent sat back in his chair and smiled.

Alisha’s jaw hung open until she caught herself. “You’re insane,” she muttered. “Did you just . . . propose to me?”

He nodded. “It’s a simple solution, really. As soon as we’re married you’ll receive your shares, and with our joint influence I’ll be able to take control. Together we could save the company.”

Alisha picked up her wine and drank far too deeply. She needed something to combat the ringing in her ears that cautioned that her internal comment about him being insane had not been off the mark. She clutched the glass for a moment, staring out the window beside her at the twinkling lights decorating the thick stone balconies and tall black-iron posts. The mountains of the Bow Valley range beyond the ground of the hotel were blurred, fading into the clouds and the haze of nightfall.

This couldn’t be real. She’d slipped into a dream world—nightmare world—and she had to say the right words to break the spell, or she’d be trapped here forever.

“I’m honoured you consider us a good match, but we’re not in love.”

Vincent didn’t shift position. He didn’t change expression. “I didn’t mention being in love. I don’t expect it, even though I think we’d suit each other well.”

This was unbelievable. “That’s a little trite, isn’t it? Getting married to save the company? Because there’s an important dynasty to be preserved—”

“Isn’t there?” Vincent moved now, capturing her fingers again before she could pull away. “I’m going about this all wrong. I do care for you. Don’t mistake my lack of gushing for indifference. I simply see no reason to pretend unnecessary emotions.”

“And I see no reason to pretend this isn’t some monumental joke. I’m sorry, but I’m not marrying you. Not to save the company. I’ve chosen a different life, and I do not want to go back to the old one.” She shook her head at the impossibility of it all. “Please, Vincent. There are other options. Convince my father to change business tactics, or find someone who will sell you the shares you need so you can take control and fix things. I’d sell you mine if I could access them—but I’m not for sale.”

“You think I haven’t tried to find another solution?” Vincent demanded. “I’ve gone over all the options, and it’s the only possibility. I had hoped you would agree to a short engagement and quick wedding, but if you have a boyfriend, that complicates matters. You’ll have to find a reasonable explanation to call it off. Soon. Once you’ve done that, we’ll wait a few weeks, then announce our engagement, and we could still be married by Christmas.”

He hadn’t listened to a single thing she’d said. “I. Am. Not. Marrying. You. Why is that so hard for you to accept?”

Vincent shrugged. “It’s in your best interest.”

She glared, arms folded over her chest. “Don’t threaten me.”

“What have I said that was threatening?” He laughed, glancing around the room in amusement, his smile shining out to the world his supposed happiness. “I offered you a proposal of marriage. Hardly front-page news.” His face tightened, and suddenly he wasn’t so handsome anymore. “Unless you want to tell them everything I’ve mentioned tonight. Wouldn’t that information look wonderful splashed everywhere in the media.”

She clutched the arms of the chair so hard her fingers ached.

“No, Alisha. Even if you don’t mind your father losing everything, I don’t see you as the type to enjoy causing his downfall.” The sorrowful smile on his lips didn’t reach his eyes. “Oh, that would be horrific, wouldn’t it? You, announcing your father’s incompetency to run the company? That kind of press would undoubtedly lead to a drop in stock value, and set off what you claim to not care about.”

“I would never get involved in that manner. I simply want to be left alone.” She hated that she was nearly begging.

“I agree. Forcing your father to be hurt like that would be cruel.” He ignored her real concerns again and pressed the issue. “It would be so much better to take a different approach regarding the media—perhaps announcing a far more lighthearted news item. Alisha Bailey being courted by Vincent Monreal, the two of us madly in love. One call, and I could have the paparazzi here—”

“You wouldn’t dare.”

He motioned with both hands as if he were soothing a wild animal. “I think we’ve discussed this enough. You’re upset, and I can appreciate that hearing about your father’s incompetence has been shocking news. Once you’ve had time to process it, I think you’ll agree that marrying me is the best—”

“Dammit, Vincent. Listen to me.”

He focused on his plate as if she hadn’t even spoken. “Eat your dinner, it’s getting cold.”

The man was impossible. “I’m not hungry,” she snapped.

“You are being terribly rude.” Vincent lifted the wine bottle as if to refill her glass and finish the meal. As if the entire conversation hadn’t just headed off into crazyland.

Alisha left. She didn’t look back. Didn’t glance over her shoulder to see if he was watching her. She knew he was, though. Felt it.

His scrutiny wasn’t like the constant surveillance Devon had kept over the years. This was cold. Calculating.

She pulled out her phone as she waited for her car to be brought around, her fingers hovering over the link to call Devon.

The impossibility of it all made her pause. What would she tell him?

Vincent had . . . proposed to her? Intended to use her to take over the company? The whole situation was unbelievable. Heck, she’d give Vincent her shares if that were possible. She hadn’t lied—she didn’t want any part of her old life.

If she had to struggle to pay the bills her entire life, it would be worth it as long as she got to be in the mountains doing something incredibly valuable.

To Vincent and her father, she was nothing but a game piece to be used and moved to their best advantage. Even if Vincent had lied about the business side of things, one part was true—her father did expect her to return in a year, all her wild passions satisfied. Prepared to be a quiet, docile member of the family. She’d never intended to return. This . . . option . . . offered by Vincent didn’t encourage her, either.

Only this wasn’t something she could explain to Devon. How could she explain it when she could barely comprehend it?

She pushed her phone into her purse and got back into her car, the ride home colder and lonelier than she ever remembered.