Julia James - A Tycoon To Be Reckoned With

So why had it been so totally, utterly not the way he’d predicted? That was what he wanted to know. Not just wanted— needed to know.

Memories flooded through Bastiaan, hot and overwhelming, of just how he had responded to her as he’d held her in his arms. How the consummation of their congress had been like nothing, nothing he’d ever experienced before!

As if she were the only woman in the world! The only woman in the world for me.

He fought it down. Harshly…vehemently. This was Sabine he was talking about! Sabine in whom he had absolutely no interest whatsoever except that of getting her claws out of Philip by any means available. And the means he had selected was intended to achieve that end and simultaneously—conveniently!—allow him to slake his lust for her.

Yet here he was, shaken by the memory of the night, staring out over the ocean and wondering what the hell had gone wrong with his plan.

JULIA JAMESlives in England, and adores the peaceful verdant countryside and the wild shores of Cornwall. She also loves the Mediterranean—so rich in myth and history—with its sunbaked landscapes and olive groves, ancient ruins and azure seas. ‘The perfect setting for romance!’ she says. ‘Rivalled only by the lush tropical heat of the Caribbean—palms swaying by a silver sand beach lapped by turquoise waters…what more could lovers want?’

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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For IHV, who gave me my love of opera.

Contents

Cover

Introduction Predictable. That was what taking Sabine to bed should have been. So why had it been so totally, utterly not the way he’d predicted? That was what he wanted to know. Not just wanted— needed to know. Memories flooded through Bastiaan, hot and overwhelming, of just how he had responded to her as he’d held her in his arms. How the consummation of their congress had been like nothing, nothing he’d ever experienced before! As if she were the only woman in the world! The only woman in the world for me. He fought it down. Harshly…vehemently. This was Sabine he was talking about! Sabine in whom he had absolutely no interest whatsoever except that of getting her claws out of Philip by any means available. And the means he had selected was intended to achieve that end and simultaneously—conveniently!—allow him to slake his lust for her. Yet here he was, shaken by the memory of the night, staring out over the ocean and wondering what the hell had gone wrong with his plan.

About the Author JULIA JAMES lives in England, and adores the peaceful verdant countryside and the wild shores of Cornwall. She also loves the Mediterranean—so rich in myth and history—with its sunbaked landscapes and olive groves, ancient ruins and azure seas. ‘The perfect setting for romance!’ she says. ‘Rivalled only by the lush tropical heat of the Caribbean—palms swaying by a silver sand beach lapped by turquoise waters…what more could lovers want?’

Title Page A Tycoon to Be Reckoned With Julia James www.millsandboon.co.uk

Dedication For IHV, who gave me my love of opera.

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

EPILOGUE

Extract

Copyright

CHAPTER ONE

‘YOU KNOW, IT’S you I blame.’

Bastiaan’s aunt tried to laugh as she spoke, but it was shaky, Bastiaan could tell.

‘It was you who suggested Philip go and stay in your villa at Cap Pierre!’

Bastiaan took the criticism on board. ‘I thought it might help—moving him out of target range to finish his university vacation assignments in peace and quiet.’

His aunt sighed. ‘Alas, it seems he has jumped out of the frying pan into the fire. He may have escaped Elena Constantis, but this female in France sounds infinitely worse.’

Bastiaan’s dark eyes took on a mordant expression. ‘Unfortunately, wherever in the world Philip is he will be a target.’

‘If only he were less sweet-natured. If he had your...toughness,’ Bastiaan’s aunt replied, her gaze falling on her nephew.

‘I’ll take that as a compliment,’ Bastiaan replied dryly. ‘But Philip will toughen up, don’t worry.’ He’ll need to, he thought caustically. Just as he himself had had to.

‘He’s so impressionable!’ his aunt cried. ‘And so handsome. No wonder these wretched girls make a beeline for him.’

And, of course, so rich, Bastiaan added cynically—but silently. No point worrying his already anxious aunt further. It was Philip’s wealth—the wealth he would be inheriting from his late father’s estate once he turned twenty-one in a couple of months—that would attract females far more dangerous than the merely irksome spoilt teenage princess Elena Constantis. The real danger would come from a very different type of female.

Call them what one liked—and Bastiaan had several names not suitable for his aunt’s ears—the most universal name was a familiar one: gold-diggers. Females who took one look at his young, good-looking, impressionable and soon to be very rich cousin and licked their lips in anticipation.

That was the problem right now. A woman who appeared to be licking her lips over Philip. And the danger was, Bastiaan knew, very real. For Philip, so Paulette, his housekeeper at Cap Pierre, had informed him, far from diligently writing his essays, had taken to haunting the nearby town of Pierre-les-Pins and a venue there that was most undesirable for a twenty-year-old. Apparently attracted by an even more undesirable female working there.

‘A singer in a nightclub!’ his aunt wailed now. ‘I cannot believe Philip would fall for a woman like that!’

‘It is something of a cliché...’ Bastiaan allowed.

His aunt bridled. ‘A cliché? Bastiaan, is that all you have to say about it?’

He shook his head. ‘No. I could say a great deal more—but to what purpose?’ Bastiaan got to his feet. He was of an imposing height, standing well over six feet, and powerfully built. ‘Don’t worry...’ he made his voice reassuring now ‘... I’ll deal with it. Philip will not be sacrificed to a greedy woman’s ambitions.’

His aunt stood up, clutching at his sleeve. ‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘I knew I could count on you.’ Her eyes misted a little. ‘Take care of my darling boy, Bastiaan. He has no father now to look out for him.’

Bastiaan pressed his aunt’s hand sympathetically. His maternal uncle had succumbed to heart disease when Philip had just started at university, and he knew how hard her husband’s death had hit his aunt. Knew, too, with a shadowing of his eyes, how losing a father too young—as he himself had when not much older than Philip—left a void.

‘I’ll keep Philip safe, I promise you,’ he assured his aunt now, as she took her leave.