At the Billionaire's Beck and Call? / High-Society Secret Baby. Rachel Bailey

on.” Despite the nausea in her belly, Macy blinked slowly, shoring up her reserves.

      “One, we walk out the door, past the cameras to the hotel. The security will shield you from the worst of it and their car will meet us at the curb.”

      The room tilted. A vision of them pushing past the small throng, with repeated flashes going off, made her dizzy. She took a stiff breath. “I can do that. But I think I’ll prefer option two.”

      “I ask the security to organize a diversion. We sit tight for half an hour to an hour, then we leave unnoticed.”

      Her stomach clenched. Memories surfaced of being with her mother, surrounded by paparazzi. Of being stalked by them after her mother’s death, when she’d been hurting and confused and grieving.

      Would he judge her for lacking fortitude? Would seeing her vulnerable twice in one day change the heat that had flared in his eyes a few moments ago? She knew he respected her professionally, and his opinion of her personally shouldn’t matter, but the thought of losing his respect sent a hollowness to her stomach. “It seems the coward’s way out.”

      “No.” He dismissed her concern with a nonchalant shrug. “If they bother you, then why let them harass you when there’s another option? All it will take is one call. We don’t even have to open the door.” He flipped open his cell phone. “Your decision.”

      She looked into Ryder’s eyes, seeking, but his face was relaxed, genuinely offering her a choice. “Make the call.” Relief surged through her veins as he dialed the number and made plans.

      It shouldn’t matter so much that people she didn’t know would take her photo for other people she didn’t know to look at in the papers. But it did. She’d always hated being put on display, but since her mother’s death, the thought made her sick.

      She heard Ryder ending his call and turned to see him pocketing his phone. “All done. Now we wait.”

      She nodded, acknowledging his words, but still uncomfortable that she’d needed him to organize the distraction. But, uncomfortable or not, he’d earned her gratitude. Again.

      She took a breath, waited a beat, then met his eyes. “It means a lot to me that you’ve done this. Thank you.”

      He frowned. “If I wasn’t here, they wouldn’t be stalking you.”

      True, but the paparazzi were the real culprits. “Even so, you’ve been very tolerant and accommodating of my anxieties today.”

      He shrugged. “Everyone has fears.”

      She couldn’t imagine Ryder Bramson fearing anything. He resembled an imposing warrior-leader from times past as much as the corporate giant he was.

      Ryder’s gut twisted as he saw the look in Macy’s eye. He knew she was about to ask him about his own fears, and that was something he didn’t talk about with anyone.

      He turned, casting an arm out to encompass the site. And neatly changed the subject. “You’ve done well to find this place. In fact, you’ve done well in every facet of the job. I’d like you to rethink your plan to leave at the end of the project.” To leave him.

      She took the change in good grace, and her countenance changed to match. Smiling, she walked around the old counter and jumped up to perch on its edge.

      She threw him a glance over her shoulder. “You know why I’m leaving. It has nothing to do with the job.”

      He followed her around to the other side of the counter and leaned a hip against its edge. “You made the decision when you were upset—”

      She opened her mouth but he held up a hand.

      “—and rightly so. There were things I should have told you up front, and I regret that. But we’ve moved past it. We could have a good working relationship if you take on the Australian arm of this company.”

      She smiled wryly, kicking her heels out straight ahead, her gaze focused on them. “You know, a month ago, I would have jumped at that offer. That job was everything I was working toward.”

      There was something in what she said—no, in what she wasn’t saying—that drew him.

      He folded his arms across his chest. “Why that job?”

      She turned to smile up at him, eyes twinkling. “Shouldn’t you be extolling the advantages of the position? Talking it up?”

      “I’m curious.” And he was. The drive to understand the mystery of Macy was stronger in this moment than any other concern. He could spend years asking her questions just to hear what she’d say. “There are hundreds of jobs that are suitable to your skills. Why is this one the one you wanted?”

      Macy stilled. “Honestly?” she asked, her face candid, as if the enclosed room with its newspapered walls had become a haven away from the world. A place away from reality. He liked being there with her.

      He swallowed. “Yes.”

      “I want to be CEO, so whether the company flourishes or perishes can be attributed to me and my team. I’d rather be CEO of a midsized company than have a senior position at a large company. And I want to be CEO of a company with an annual turnover in the range we forecast for Chocolate Diva.”

      “That’s quite a specific aim.”

      She smiled again, acknowledging his point. “Yes, it is.”

      “Have you had that goal long?”

      She breathed in slowly. Too slowly. “Eight years.”

      When he’d first met her, he’d found her hard to read—as he was sure she appeared to most people. But he was coming to understand the nuances of her expressions. Her gestures. The thought made his chest expand a fraction and drove him to try to understand what she was avoiding telling him.

      “Why a company this size?”

      She lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “It seemed a good number.”

      “No.” He smiled lazily. “You haven’t answered my question.”

      She arched an eyebrow, obviously a little surprised. “It’s a good midsize company to prove myself in.”

      “Sounds reasonable.” He pushed off the counter and moved to stand in front of her. “But that’s not it. Why?”

      She frowned at his rejection of her replies. “There’s no other reason.”

      He leaned one hand on the countertop either side of her, trapping her and bringing their mouths within inches of each other. “Your eyes tell me there’s more to this story,” he murmured. “Why do you want a company this size, Macy?”

      Silence met his question, but he waited. Her warm, sweet breath fanned over his face, driving him a little crazy, and still he waited.

      Then she replied in a rush. “Because that’s the size of my father’s company.”

      It was the truth this time. He felt it in his bones. His fingers picked up a lock of hair that had escaped the confines of the twist she’d redone after their flight and toyed with it. “You want to beat him? Show you’re better than him?”

      Her pupils dilated as she looked from his eyes to his mouth. “No,” she whispered.

      “Tell me.”

      Her pink tongue slid across her lips then she closed her eyes, as if forming the thought in her mind. When she opened them again, she was bare, vulnerable. Willingly open to him. “I want to prove to him, and myself, that I should have been his heir. He wanted a son, but he didn’t get one. And now he’s willing to blackmail you into marrying me to keep the company in the family. It never entered his mind to pass it to me.”

      Ryder swore and shook his head at Ian Ashley’s stupidity. He’d assumed Macy wasn’t in line for the inheritance because she’d