Buying Him, page 8
She watched the idea take seed inside her assistant’s head. Trying to work out the ins and outs of how to go about finding such a person; after all, one couldn’t just put a personal ad out there. Victoria wasn’t even sure they did personal ads anymore. They had probably moved to social media. One simply took a selfie and popped it on Instagram with the words, Husband wanted! Willing to pay handsomely for a handsome husband. Please attach your curriculum vitae to your photograph as a reply. #MarryMe #Timelimit #Before35!
‘Okay,’ her secretary said slowly, shifting in her chair to sit forward and lean on the desk as if she was sure her employer had gone mad and didn’t want to spook her. ‘Say we did that, find someone willing to marry you for a… fee, it’s not going to be a simple or quick task.’
Victoria was about to push the file across the desk to show her she already had someone in mind when Kirstie continued.
‘If you were merely an heiress to your father’s fortune, things might be different, but you’re a member of the Royal Family. This person won’t just be scrutinised by business associates, but by the King himself, by your family, the media, and by the world. If I had the time to prep this hypothetical man, the idea might have some merit, but not only do we have a time restraint, there’s another minor problem…’
Victoria frowned. What hadn’t she thought of?
‘You have to have a baby with him.’
Oh. Yes, the baby clause.
‘And naturally,’ Kirstie prompted her, her face screaming think about this! ‘You’re going to have to sleep with this person again and again… and again until you get pregnant. And I hate to be unkind, but at your age we all know it can take longer to happen. There’s so much evidence of women in their thirties having less chance of getting pregnant. So, you’re going to have to sleep with this stranger that you’re paying, every night.’
Her fingers danced over the edge of the file, itching to find the picture of Cormac with just a towel around his waist, glistening with water after a shower at the gym. The idea of him in her bed every night really wasn’t going to be a hardship, she decided.
‘And even if you could find yourself doing such a thing, what's going to happen when you have a baby? Will it be over and done with once the baby is here or do you keep the marriage going for the whole five years? When you do go your separate ways, will he get access to the child? Would he even want access? Would you want him to have access? But the child would be his too and he’d be legally entitled to it—unless you write it into the contract that he couldn’t see the child.
‘But would you even want anyone who would consider or accept that as part of a contract in the first place? I mean what type of man would he be if he’s willing to walk away from a child he helped to create? And what if you can’t get pregnant? Does that break the deal? How would you pay him? Would he spill everything to the-’
‘Okay, you’ve made your point.’ Victoria slumped back into her seat, feeling defeated. Everything Kirstie said were points she hadn’t considered. She was so stupid. Especially for thinking she could ever compare herself to her father, with his sharp mind and business acumen.
‘Victoria, my lady, I’m sorry but this is what you pay me for-’
‘You mean did pay you for,’ Victoria muttered, folding her arms across her chest in a childish pout. She stared down at the table and winced as she heard Kirstie growl in frustration.
‘We’ve been over this. You’ll back pay me as soon as you’re married.’ Victoria heard the rustling of pages as Kirstie moved things around, rearranging herself so she could begin to organise herself again. Victoria knew she was already trying to formulate a new idea to help her.
Victoria glanced upwards as Kirstie reached for the file on Cormac Blake. ‘What’s this?’
‘Nothing,’ Victoria snapped. She grabbed the file from under Kirstie’s fingers and threw it back into the drawer, slamming it shut. She glanced out of the window again, unwilling to meet her assistant’s surprised face. ‘You’re dismissed,’ she grumbled.
She listened to her personal secretary gather her things and quietly slip out of the room, closing the door behind her with a soft click, giving Victoria the space she needed to seethe.
She toed at the carpet with her foot as she mulled over the points Kirstie had raised. If she went to Cormac with the proposition and if he accepted, they would have to sleep together… Victoria couldn’t help the smile that touched her lips as she recalled Cormac’s well-defined chest, how hard it had felt against her body and how it had glistened under the dim lights. She’d never admit to it out loud, but there had been a couple of nights where she’d dreamt of running her hands over that chest, having her body pressed against it again—this time naked—as it arched up to meet hers.
She cleared her throat, shaking her head to dismiss the wispy memories of dreams from her mind. She glanced at the desk drawer from the corner of her eye and worried her lower lip with her teeth.
Sleeping with Cormac Blake really wouldn’t be a hardship, but the other questions remained. She had no doubt he’d be willing to father a child. The dossier said he was raising his brother as if he was Cormac’s own son, and if the school reports on James Blake were accurate, he was doing a very good job, so he probably would want to be involved in raising any child they conceived. Victoria mulled on that detail for a moment and decided that she was more than fine with the idea. In fact, it only made her feel more certain that she’d made the right decision in picking Cormac for the job.
She bit her lip as she slowly reached down for the folder in her drawer. Perhaps another read-through—and a glance at that picture again—would make things a little clearer.
After all, it wouldn’t hurt to be completely certain one way or the other…
Chapter Seven
The thrum of the beat vibrated through the floor of the stage as Cormac turned and twisted in time with the music, following his fellow dancers as the choreographer put them through their paces. Cormac hated the start of the new season; new dances to learn, new teams to work with, and the start of the summer wedding season would mean plenty of handsy hen parties to contend with.
‘Cormac! It’s spin, down, then bring your head up as your bounce that behind!’
‘Sorry, Magda!’ he shouted to the exasperated dance expert.
‘A week,’ the woman shouted. ‘These dances go live in a week and you’re all a shamble!’
‘Her hair is a shamble,’ Harry whispered next to him as they ambled to the side of the stage to grab a quick drink of water.
‘Be nice,’ Cormac chided, before hiding his grin behind his own bottle as he took a deep gulp of the chilled drink. ‘You know her boyfriend left her last week.’
‘Heard he left her for a younger model, and I do not blame him,’ the other man said, as he wiped his brow with a fluffy white towel. ‘I’m the last man to find women sexually attractive, but even I know when a dog’s barking.’
Cormac’s drink sprayed across the stage at Harry’s words, causing the rest of the dance team to turn and look their way.
‘Stop being a bitch, Harry,’ Cormac said between coughing fits as his friend laughed at his side. ‘It doesn’t become you.’
‘Darling, anything becomes me,’ Harry said in a faux feminine voice as he fluttered his lashes at the other man.
Cormac was about to reply when Geri’s hurried call from backstage distracted him.
‘What’s up, my blue wonder?’ he asked as he grabbed his own towel and wrapped it around his neck before heading in her direction. ‘You gotta stop coming down and perving on us,’ he said, throwing her a wink. ‘People are going to start to think you’re obsessed with naked men- Whoa, hey!’ Cormac almost fell over as Geri grabbed his arm and forcefully pulled him into the shadowed wings of the stage.
‘Shut up and listen,’ she hissed, poking her head around the curtain to try and see out into the front of the club. ‘I just overheard Britney,’ she added hurriedly. ‘Apparently, we’re about to get a very special visitor.’
Cormac instantly thought back to last week, to Lady Victoria staring up at him as she disappeared down the stairs. Was the royal coming back? Did she want to see the club where she’d been rescued? Try and work out what had happened that night? Perhaps, it was the Guard or the police asking her to do a walk-through to try and jog her memory—they did that sort of stuff for crimes all the time, didn’t they?
Or maybe, just maybe, Cormac dared to fantasise a little, perhaps she just wanted to come and thank him and see him one more time.
Surely, the moment he’d experienced couldn’t have been one-sided. Could it?
He shook his head of the daft thoughts. The woman was royalty, an heiress, and ten years older than he was; women like her didn’t look at guys like him except for a quick weekend of fun. He’d been there and done that before, and certainly wasn’t looking for a repeat of it, no matter how caught up by her he’d been.
‘Ow!’ Cormac cried, snatching his arm from Geri’s clutches. ‘Did you just pinch me?’
‘Are you even listening to me?’ she demanded with a huff. Heat filled Cormac’s cheeks, tinging them pink. ‘You’re adorable, Cormac, and still very green here, so you need to shut up and listen to me. Conner O’Malley is supposed to be coming down here today.’
Cormac frowned. He didn’t recognise the name.
‘Oh, c’mon!’ Geri groaned. ‘You have to know who that is? How the hell do you not know anything?’
‘Well sorry if I’m not able to read the gossip columns on whatever website talks about the rich and famous or watch mindless television night after night. But in case you haven’t noticed I’ve been raising a kid on my own for the last six years after losing both my parents.’ He glared at his friend before beginning to march away, but Geri grabbed hold of his arm again and tried to pull him to a stop.
‘I’m sorry, I know, and I shouldn’t have said that, but you need to listen to me.’
The panic in her voice gave Cormac pause, and he stopped his attempt to get rid of the little minx and stared down at her.
‘Spill, Smurfette.’
‘You know she had blue skin, right?’ the woman sighed, rolling her eyes at him. ‘Whatever, Conner O’Malley is the owner of Fortune Holdings, the parent company of Star Entertainment, which, through various other channels, owns Pleasure Heights Inc.’ She gave him a look that said, think this through. Cormac furrowed his brow. That did sound familiar. ‘For God’s sake, Cormac, I know you’re pretty, but I thought you were smart! That’s who owns the club! And about fifty others across the country! This is the big boss of the big boss of several more big bosses of our boss! He’s the great-great-great granddaddy of all bosses!’
‘And why do you need to drag me off stage for that? If he’s coming down to check us out, then surely you’d want me out there practising.’
Geri shook her head again. ‘I overheard Britney say your name and Lady Snape’s name. Cormac, I think he’s coming to see you!’
Cormac took a deep breath, holding it so it puffed out his cheeks as he slowly released it. Well, shit. This could go several ways. The worst being that he’d be fired for consequently letting the Guard on the premises—no one wanted that for their company’s reputation—or he was being rewarded for a member of the Royal Family being snapped sneaking out of the back of the club. That could put Monty’s on the map with some better clientele, and they’d all love that. Bigger spenders would equal more money coming into the club, meaning pay rises and bigger tips for the dancers.
He prayed it was the latter reason, but with the way his luck had been running these past eighteen months, hanging onto everything by the skin of his teeth, he’d bet his last bit that it’d be closer to the former.
‘I want to take it from the top! Where are my dancers!’ Magda’s voice called out, and the pounding of feet scrambling into place rumbled across the stage.
‘Sorry, I gotta go,’ Cormac said, pushing his bottle of water into Geri’s hands and dashing towards his place. ‘Keep me posted!’ he called as he flung the towel towards her. Geri grabbed it but dropped the bottle in the process.
He laughed at Geri’s lack of grace as she chased the rolling bottle, trying to stop it from going onto the stage and into the dancers’ way when a commotion at the front of the house caught everyone’s attention.
‘What in God’s name is it now?’ Magda’s shrill, frustrated voice echoed throughout the theatre as she turned to look. She pressed a button on a remote she was holding which brought up the lights in the club so they could see who was coming in unannounced.
A wave of whispers started as their eyes fell on the group that waltzed through the door as if they owned the place. At six-foot-three inches, Cormac was considered tall by Avalonian standards, but the two men at the front of the group were taller than him—by at least half a foot!—and almost as wide.
‘Wouldn’t want to meet them in a dark alley,’ Harry muttered to Cormac’s left. ‘Or maybe I would!’ The man laughed quietly, but Cormac couldn’t find the amusement in it. He swallowed as two more men, not quite as tall but just as wide, followed not far behind the first pair; if Conner O’Malley needed such men for protection, just how big a deal was the man?
The front two men stepped aside and a small, rotund man with receding dark hair stepped forward, a fat cigar clenched between his lips as he took in the club. The man nodded his head as he walked slowly around the floor, running his finger along the edges of the tables, picking out the roses from the little plastic vases in the middle of them before moving forward towards the stage again.
The dancers on the stage shifted uncomfortably.
They were all big men, muscular and toned, but they weren’t fighters. Cormac had been a mixed martial arts junior champion in his teenage years, which was how he’d toned his body so well, but he’d never been in a fight outside the ring. And certainly not for the last few years. He also knew if one of those four bodyguards had stepped into the ring during a competition, he’d probably have thrown in the towel right away.
‘And just who are you?’ Magda asked haughtily. ‘And smoking indoors in a public place is illegal.’
The short man puffed on his cigar some more as he played with a tablecloth between his fingers. ‘I’m none of your concern,’ he said, dropping the covering back to the table. He held the woman’s gaze and tapped the ash from the thick, brown toro onto the crisp white linen. ‘But who you lot are, or at least one of you, concerns me.’
Cormac swallowed, watching the man narrow his eyes as he took in each of their faces. He had to act surprised, which he was sure wasn’t going to be a problem.
‘I’m looking for our little hero from last week, I understand-’
O’Malley didn’t need to finish his sentence, as every head in the club turned to stare at Cormac at the word hero.
‘That’d be me, then,’ Cormac said wearily, lifting his hand to give his so-called ultimate boss a single wave. O’Malley popped his cigar back in his mouth and smiled around the thick stogie as his eyes drank Cormac in.
‘Oh, you’ll do nicely,’ the man said, waving Cormac to him.
He climbed off the stage and followed the smaller man as he walked towards the back of the club where the VIP tables were set up. O’Malley fell into one of the chairs, his legs barely touching the floor when he wiggled back into the deep cushions to get comfortable. The man began playing with his phone as he puffed on the sickening cigar.
‘Sit,’ O’Malley said with a wave of one hand to the chair opposite. Cormac did as he was bid, biting his lip so as not to ask questions. Finally, the man put away his phone and pulled the stogie from his mouth. ‘So, lad, heard you played Prince Charming to one of our Royal Family the other night.’
‘Well, I wouldn’t say that, exactly-’
‘No, no, don’t you put yourself down,’ O’Malley interrupted, pointing his yellowing fingers that held his cigar at Cormac. ‘You did well…?’
‘Cormac. Cormac Blake, sir.’
‘Cormac.’ O’Malley leaned back and stared at him, his brow creasing in thought. Cormac resisted the temptation to shift in his seat; for all the women—and men—he’d had stare at him as he stripped out of his clothes, he’d never felt more naked than he did at that moment.
‘Yeah, you’ll do nicely.’ O’Malley didn’t comment further as he stuck the cigar back into his mouth and puffed. ‘Tell me what happened then.’
‘Er, well,’ he began, telling the older man everything he’d seen and what had happened once he’d taken Lady Victoria inside. He didn’t mention how he’d felt attracted to the Lady of the Realm or their moment as she descended the stairs. O’Malley found it amusing that she’d managed to overcome him, and extremely interested when he mentioned her and the Head of the Royal Guard, probing for more information. Cormac kept it to the facts and kept how he’d thought at times they’d seemed awfully familiar with one another to himself.
‘And then they left.’ He finished his tale with a shrug. ‘I went to see Axel about getting any security footage we might have. As far as I know, he gave it to one of the police officers before they disappeared.’
‘And you didn’t go to the press about this?’
‘Absolutely not, sir!’
O’Malley raised one eyebrow as he peered at him through the smoke that surrounded his head. ‘You didn’t even think about it, did you, boy?’ It wasn’t really a question, but Cormac shook his head anyway. ‘A real Prince Charming after all.’
O’Malley looked towards one of his men and gave him a firm nod. The man turned, twisted his finger in the air, and the other three men did the same before stepping away from the VIP booth. Cormac watched them as they formed a line between the rest of the club and the VIP section, all with their backs to their boss.
