Cat Schield - The Rogue's Fortune

“Perhaps. But your activities of late haven’t helped.”

Roark remained silent. It would do no good to protest that what he did had no bearing on Waverly’s, but as long as he remained connected to the auction house, anything he brought in would be suspect. Being someone accustomed to operating alone, Roark found a sense of discomfort stirring in him to have others relying on him.

“What I do is completely legal and legitimate.”

“Of course.” The board member nodded. “But the world of business is not always interested in facts. Markets rise and fall on people’s perceptions of what’s going on.”

“And I’m being perceived as…?”

“Too freewheeling in both your professional and personal lives.”

Roark couldn’t argue. He based his actions on his needs and desires. Taking others into consideration wasn’t part of the equation. But the older man’s assessment poked at a tender spot, bruised earlier by the scathing opinion of a petite blonde.

His attention wandered in her direction. He knew exactly where she was. Her presence was a shaft of light to his senses.

Pleasure flashed like lightning along his nerve endings when he caught her staring at him. He winked at her and grinned as she turned away so fast she almost plowed into a passing server.

Oblivious to Roark’s momentary distraction, the board member continued, “I think if you could demonstrate that you’re committed to Waverly’s, I could convince the other board members that you, Vance and Ann are the future we want.”

“And how would you suggest I do that?”

“Show us and the world that you’ve settled down.”

In other words, postpone any dangerous operations for the near future. That could be problematic. Roark was now in pursuit of a new rare artifact—the second half of a pair of leopard heads that had once graced the throne of Tipu Sultan, an important figure in Indian and Islamic history. The first head, encrusted with diamonds, emeralds and rubies, had been discovered in a long-forgotten trunk in Winnipeg, Canada, and auctioned several years earlier.

The buyer was a collector of Middle Eastern art and had offered Roark access to the one-of-a-kind documents in his private library if Roark could find the second leopard. The knowledge locked up in the collector’s home was worth way more to Roark than the half million dollars that the man had originally offered as a finder’s fee.

Roark’s gaze swept the party guests until he located Ann Richardson. “I’d planned to leave New York in the next few days.”

“That’s not a good idea if you’re at all concerned about the future of Waverly’s.”

Roark tensed as the jaws of responsibility clamped down on him. “I have business in Dubai.”

“Do you think that leaving town is a good idea while the FBI is interested in you?” George Cromwell nodded sagely at Roark’s scowl. “Stay in New York. Demonstrate that your personal life has stabilized.”

“Stabilized how?”

“Your romantic exploits are legendary. If you could settle down with one woman, that would convince everyone you’re the man we need at the helm.”

Roark ignored the sensation of a noose being tossed over his head and kept his body relaxed. Settle down with the love of his life. Not so easy for a man whose one true passion involved dangerous, globe-hopping adventures. No woman, no matter how lush, blonde and adorable, could compete with the thrill of discovering what had been lost for centuries.

But the prospects of Waverly’s depended on his ability to project a stable, reliable image. What he needed was a woman who could play the part of his adoring girlfriend. Someone who understood this was for the good of Waverly’s.

That way, when it ended, he wouldn’t need to worry about breaking her heart.

Roark grinned. “It’s funny you should bring this up now because I’ve been seeing someone for a while and we’re very close to taking our relationship public.”

“Wonderful.” The board member covered his surprise with a relieved smile. “Bring her around for dinner tomorrow night and we’ll discuss your future in more detail.”

“We’ll be there.”

“Looking forward to it. What’s your lady’s name?”

“Elizabeth.” Roark glanced toward the screened-off section of the loft. If he had to be settled down by a woman, he intended to choose one who intrigued him. “Elizabeth Minerva.”

Elizabeth barely noticed the exuberant buzz filling the offices of Josie Summers’s Event Planning as she navigated the halls. A large coffee clutched in her hand, she thanked the coworkers who congratulated her on the success of the previous night’s wine auction. Normally, the well wishes perked her up. She’d worked hard to become Josie’s top earner and enjoyed the prestige it brought her.

Success had come easily since she had started immersing herself in her work a year ago, to keep despair at bay after her sister’s death. If she was busy, she had no time to fall prey to the depression that lurked in the shadows. It wasn’t long before she discovered that running herself into a state of exhaustion wasn’t something she could do forever.

She needed a personal life, but thanks to her rotten taste in men, dating brought her more heartache than happiness.

What had struck her hard after losing her sister, brother-in-law and niece in a car accident was how alone she was. Her parents had moved from upstate New York to Oregon right as Elizabeth started her freshman year of college. In the seven years they’d been gone, they’d never returned to the East coast. It was as if with both their children grown, they’d started this whole new life for themselves.

When they’d first announced that they were moving Elizabeth had been bothered by their abandonment. But after she moved to New York City and started college, she’d fallen in love. Not with a man, but with the city. The excitement and the possibilities of living in such a wonderful place. And she’d never once felt lonely.

It had helped that her sister was a couple hours away by train. But with Stephanie’s death, a hole had appeared in her heart. What she wanted was a family. That’s when she decided to make a family of her own. Unfortunately, as fabulously as her career was progressing, things on the baby front weren’t going so well. Two rounds of in vitro had failed.

She was all out of money. Her dreams of motherhood wouldn’t be coming true this year.

Elizabeth’s heart wrenched in dismay.

She should be flying high. Last night’s triumph was yet another step upward professionally. She was crossing career goals off her list ahead of schedule. But what good did all her success do her when the reason she was working so hard was to provide for the child her body refused to conceive?

Maybe if she’d been more positive during the second in vitro try. Kept her hopes up. Spent her days and nights visualizing a baby in her arms rather than bracing herself for disappointment. Maybe then things would have turned out better.

If her sister could hear her thoughts, she’d agree. Stephanie had been an advocate for positive thinking since she was a freshman in high school. Top of her class. Head cheerleader. Captain of the women’s volleyball team the year they won state. Whatever Stephanie visualized, she made happen.

And what would her sister say about Elizabeth’s pity party for one? Stephanie would tell her to pull out a piece of paper and write her goal at the top, then list all the things she could do to move forward.

Elizabeth settled her purse in a drawer and hung up her coat. Flopping into her desk chair, she set a yellow legal pad in front of her and wrote Motherhood at the top. Below that she doodled dollar signs.