Название | Snowbound With His Forbidden Innocent |
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Автор произведения | Susan Stephens |
Жанр | Контркультура |
Серия | Mills & Boon Modern |
Издательство | Контркультура |
Год выпуска | 0 |
isbn | 9781474088503 |
PARTIES BORED HIM. He didn’t want to go to tonight’s jamboree, but his guests expected it. Ambassadors, celebrities, and royalty who craved the Da Silva glitter expected to see the head of the company and to feast at his table.
He took the short route to the ballroom via his private elevator. Senses firing on full alert, he was on his way to check every single element organised by the company he’d hired to run the event, and woe betide Party Planners if anything fell short of his expectations.
Why should it? Party Planners was reputed to be the best in the business or he wouldn’t have signed off on his people hiring them. There was just one fly in that very expensive ointment. Having assumed responsibility for the event last minute when the principal of the company, Lady Sarah, had been taken ill, his best friend Niahl’s kid sister, Stacey, had taken over responsibility for running his banquet in Barcelona. And, in the biggest surprise of all, his people had assured him that Stacey was now considered to be the best party planner in the business.
It was five years since he’d last seen Niahl’s sister at another Party Planners event, where she hadn’t exactly filled him with confidence. In fairness, she’d just started work for the company and a lot could happen in five years. On that particular occasion she’d been rushing around trying to help, spilling drinks left right and centre, in what to him, back then, had been typical Stacey. But of course his memories were of a young teenager whom he’d first met when Niahl had invited him home from university to visit their family stud farm. Niahl, Stacey and he had lived and breathed horses, and when he’d seen the quality of the animals their father was breeding, he’d determined to have his own string one day. Today he was lucky enough to be one of the foremost owners of racehorses and polo ponies in the world.
His thoughts soon strayed back to Stacey. He was curious about her, and how the change in her had occurred. She’d always tried to help, and had been slapped down for it at home, so it wasn’t a surprise to him when he heard she’d gravitated towards the hospitality industry. He hoped she’d found happiness and guessed she had. She’d found none at home, where her father and his new wife had treated her like an indentured servant. No matter how hard she’d tried to please, Stacey had always been blamed, and in anyone’s hearing, for the death of her mother in childbirth when she was born. No child should suffer that.
Niahl had told him that as soon as she’d been old enough and the opportunity had presented itself, Stacey had left home. All she’d ever wanted, Niahl added, was to care for people and make them happy, no doubt in the hope that one day someone might appreciate her, as her father never had.
He shrugged as the elevator descended from the penthouse floor and his thoughts continued to run over the past five years. Stacey had obviously gone quite a way in her career, but he wondered about her personal life. He didn’t want to ponder it too deeply. She’d been so fresh and innocent and he couldn’t bring himself to think about her with men. He smiled, remembering her teenage crush on him. He’d never let on that he knew, but it was hard to forget that kiss in the stable when she’d lunged at him, wrapping her arms around his neck like a vice. Touching his lips where stubble was already springing sharp and black, he found the memory was as strong now as it ever had been. The yielding softness of her breasts pressing against the hard planes of his chest had never left his mind. Thinking back on it made him hard. Which was wrong. Stacey Winner was forbidden fruit. Too young, too gauche, too close to home, and a royal argumentative pain in the ass.
Stacey was the reason he’d visited the farm. Supposedly he’d been there to look at the horses he’d longed to buy one day when he’d made some money, but once he’d met her he hadn’t been able to stay away. She’d kept throwing down the gauntlet, and he’d kept picking it up. She’d invigorated him, kept him alive, when the grief that had threatened to overwhelm him had become unbearable. He’d never shared his feelings with her—never shared his feelings with anyone. Nobody had suspected the battle going on inside Lucas except perhaps for Niahl, but Niahl was a good friend whereas Stacey had just liked to torment him.
He wasn’t short of cash now, and could buy all the horses he liked. Some had come from their farm—whatever else he was, Stacey’s father knew his horseflesh—and had gone on to become winners, or to earn fortunes at stud. The tech company Luc had founded in his bedroom as a desperate measure to pay off his parents’ debts went from strength to strength. Money kept pouring in. He couldn’t stop it if he tried.
Determined to support his siblings when their parents had been killed in a tragic accident and the bank had called in his parents’ loans, he’d used an ancient computer to put together a program that traced bloodlines of horses across the world. One programme had led to another until Da Silva Inc had offices in every major capital, but his first love remained horses and the wild foothills of the Sierra Nevada where the animals thrived on his estancia.
As the elevator slowed to a halt, and the steel door slid open with a muted hiss, he stepped out on the ballroom level. He couldn’t help but be aware of the interest he provoked. Da Silva Inc was now a top company. Thanks to his talent for tech, and with desperation driving him forwards, he was the owner of all he surveyed, including this hotel. But it was not his natural habitat. Staring at the glittering scene beyond the grand double doors leading into the ballroom, he wished he were riding the trail, but this lavish banquet was an opportunity for him to thank his staff, and to raise money from the great and good for an array of well-deserving charities. No matter that he was already uncomfortable in his custom-made suit, with the stiff white collar of his shirt cutting into his neck and the black tie he’d fastened while snarling into the mirror strangling him, he would move heaven and earth to make tonight a success. Untying the bow tie, he opened the top button of his shirt and cracked his neck with pleasure. There had to be some compensations for running the show, though he longed for the freedom of the trail and a flat-out gallop.
He scanned the bustling space, but