Julia James - Billionaires - The Tycoon

His words hurt. More than they should have done. More than she’d expected them to—or perhaps that had something to do with the way he was looking at her. As if he couldn’t quite believe the person she was. As if someone like her had no right to exist. And yet all this was complicated by the fact that he looked so spectacular, with his black sweater hugging his magnificent body and his sensual lips making all kinds of complicated thoughts that began to nudge themselves into her mind. Because her body was reacting to him in a way she wasn’t used to. A way she couldn’t seem to control. She could feel herself growing restless beneath that searing sapphire stare—and yet she didn’t even like him.

He was like some kind of modern-day jailer. Strutting around in his Kensington mansion with all his skinny, miniskirted minions scurrying around and looking at her as if she were something the cat had dragged in. But she had only herself to blame. He had backed her into a corner and she had let him. She had come crawling here today to ask for his help and he had taken this as permission to give her yet another piece of his mind. Imagine working for a man like Conall Devlin.

A familiar sense of rebellion began to well up inside her, accompanied by the liberating realisation that she was under no obligation to accept his dictatorial attitude. Why not show him—and everyone else—that she was a survivor? She might not have a wall covered with degrees, but she wasn’t stupid. How hard could it be to find herself a job and a place to live? What about tapping into some of the resilience she’d relied on when she’d been dragged from city to city by her mother?

Rising to her feet, she picked up her handbag, acutely aware of those eyes burning into her as if they were scorching their way through her frumpy navy-blue dress and able to see beneath. And wasn’t there something about that scrutiny which excited her as much as terrified her? ‘I may be underqualified,’ she said, ‘but I’m not desperate. I’m resourceful enough to find myself some sort of employment which doesn’t involve working for a man with an overinflated sense of his own importance.’

He gave a soft laugh. ‘So your answer is no?’

‘My answer is more along the lines of in your dreams,’ she retorted. ‘And it’s not going to happen. I’m perfectly capable of being independent and that’s what I’m going to do.’

‘Oh, Amber,’ he said slowly. ‘You are magnificent. That kind of spirit in a woman is quite something—and if you didn’t reek of cigarette smoke and feel that the world owed you some sort of living, you’d be quite worryingly attractive.’

For a moment Amber was confused. Was he insulting her or complimenting her—or was it a mixture of both? She glowered at him before walking over to the door and slamming her way out—to the sound of his soft laughter behind her. But the stupid thing was that she felt like someone who’d jumped out of an aeroplane and forgotten to pull the cord on their parachute. As if she were in free fall. As if the world were rushing up towards her and she didn’t know when she was going to hit it.

I’ll show them, she told herself fiercely. I’ll show them all.

CHAPTER FOUR

‘I’M SO SORRY!’ Quickly, Amber mopped up the spilled champagne and edged away from the table as the customer looked at her with those piggy little eyes which had been trailing her movements all evening. ‘I’ll get you another drink right away.’

‘Why don’t you sit down and join me instead?’ He leered, patting the seat beside him with a podgy hand. ‘And we’ll forget about the drink.’

Amber shook her head and tried to hide her ever-present sense of revulsion. ‘I’m not supposed to mix with the customers,’ she said, grabbing her tray and heading towards the bar on feet which were far from steady. She was used to wearing high heels, but these stilt-like red shoes were so gravity defying that walking in them took every ounce of concentration and it wasn’t helped by the rest of the club ‘uniform’. Her black satin dress was so tight she could scarcely breathe and meanwhile the heavy throb of the background music was giving her a headache.

And judging by the look on her manager’s face, the drink spillage hadn’t gone unnoticed. Behind her smile Amber gritted her teeth, wondering if she’d taken leave of her senses when she’d stormed out of Conall’s office telling him she didn’t want his job. Had she really thought the world would be at her feet, waiting to dole out wonderful opportunities by way of compensation? Because life wasn’t like that. She’d quickly discovered that a CV riddled with holes and zero qualifications brought you few opportunities and the only work available was in places like this—an underlit hotel nightclub where nobody looked happy.

‘That’s the third drink you’ve spilled this week!’ The manager’s voice quivered indignantly as Amber grew closer. ‘Where did you learn to be so clumsy?’

‘I...I moved a bit too quickly. I thought he was going to pinch my bottom,’ babbled Amber.

‘And? What’s the matter with that?’ The manager glared. ‘Isn’t it nice to have a man show his appreciation towards an attractive woman? Why else do you think we dress you up like that? Well, you’ll have the cost of the drink taken from your wages, Amber. Now go and fetch him another one and, for goodness’ sake, try and be a bit friendlier this time.’

Amber could feel her heart thudding as the bartender put a fresh glass of fizzy wine masquerading as champagne on her tray and she began to walk back towards the man with piggy eyes. Just put the drink down carefully and then leave, she told herself. But as she bent down in front of him, he reached out to curve his fat fingers around her fishnet-covered thigh and she froze.

‘What...what are you doing?’ she croaked.

‘Oh, come on.’ He leered at her again. ‘No need to be like that. With legs like that it’s a crime not to touch them—and you look like you could do with a square meal. So how about we go up to my room after you finish? You can order something from room service and we can—’

‘How about you get your filthy hand off her right now, before I knock you into kingdom come?’ came a low and furious voice from behind her, which Amber recognised instantly.

The podgy hand fell away and Amber turned around to see Conall standing there—his rugged face a study in fury and his powerful body radiating adrenaline as he dominated the space around him. The lurch of trepidation she felt at his unexpected appearance was quickly overridden by the disturbing realisation that she’d never been so glad to see someone in her whole life. He looked so strong. So powerful. He made every other man in the room look weak and insubstantial. Her heart began to pound and she felt her mouth grow dry.

‘Conall!’ she whispered. ‘What are you doing here?’

‘Well, I certainly haven’t come here for a quiet drink. I tend to be a little more discerning in my choice of venue.’ Raising his voice against the loud throb of music, he glanced around at the other cocktail waitresses with a shudder of distaste he didn’t bother to hide. ‘Get your coat, Amber. We’re leaving.’

‘I can’t leave. I’m working.’

‘Not here, you aren’t. Not any more. And the subject isn’t up for discussion, so save your breath. Either you come willingly, or I pick you up and carry you out of here in a fireman’s lift. The choice,’ he finished grimly, ‘is yours.’

Amber wondered if there was something wrong with her—there must be—because why else would the thought of the Irishman putting her over his shoulder make her heart race even harder than it was already? She could see her manager saying something to a burly-looking man who was standing beside the bar, and as the music continued its relentless beat she began to dread some awful scene. What if Conall got into a fight with Security—with fists and glasses flying?