A Taste of Sin

‘How do you think I might take it, Rose? Humour me.’

If his tactic was to disarm her and lull her into a false sense of security because he’d decided to be playful, Rose couldn’t deny that on another day she might have succumbed to his charm. After all, what woman wouldn’t feel flattered by his exclusive attention? But today she wouldn’t be so easily swayed. Not when she had an important task to fulfil. She had to sell the antiques shop on her boss’s behalf and secure the very best deal she could. Nothing could distract her from that goal.

Leading the way back downstairs, in an attempt to let Eugene see that she wasn’t rattled by his friendly repartee, she breezily threw over her shoulder, ‘Okay, then. I’m guessing you probably like it strong and black. But I’m also guessing you like a couple of spoons of sugar to sweeten it. Am I right?’

‘I’m impressed. But be careful not to assume you know what I like in any other respect, Rose... You might find that you’ve bitten off a little bit more than you can chew.’

Even though she’d heard a smile in his voice, Rose didn’t doubt the comment carried a warning. No man became as successful as Eugene Bonnaire without carefully assessing anyone who might put obstacles in the way of him getting what he wanted...

* * *

When she returned to the office with the tray of coffee she’d made Eugene had his back to her, and she couldn’t help but let her gaze linger for a moment on the impressive breadth of his shoulders. In the better lit room she also saw that his hair was a rich dark brown, with dulled gold lights glinting here and there.

As if that wasn’t enough to capture her attention, the scent of his classy cologne drifted beguilingly on the air and made her insides turn over. With the tip of her tongue she moistened her suddenly dry lips and placed the tray on the gracious Victorian desk in front of him. Then she walked round to the beautifully carved chair that her boss usually occupied.

Coming face to face with Eugene’s features again was not something any woman with a pulse would soon forget... He was chisel-jawed and handsome as a Michelangelo sculpture. But she was perturbed when she saw that his dazzling blue eyes didn’t seem as warm as they had upstairs, when she’d met his gaze over the jewellery cabinet and he’d shared that touching story about the fake pearl and diamond ring his father had bought his mother.

In fact, as they swept over her they brought to mind a once sunlit ocean frozen under ice. A little alarmed, Rose sensed hot colour flooding into her cheeks. Was he assessing the way she looked?

Having never considered herself a beauty, she was painfully disconcerted at being scrutinised by the businessman so penetratingly. Friends had often remarked that her best features were her eyes and her cheekbones, but other than that she knew she was quite ordinary. Disturbed that she should waste even a second fretting over what the man’s opinion of her might be her instinct was to be doubly wary of him.

But the restaurateur’s carved lips curved in another disconcerting smile. ‘Would you like to pour the coffee for us? Then we can proceed. I have a particularly heavy schedule today, and would like to settle our business as quickly as possible.’

‘You sound as though you’ve made a decision?’

‘I have. Having seen the interior of the building, I’d like to make you an offer.’

Straight away Rose noted that he’d said ‘the building’—not the antiques business. Her stomach plunged like a stone.

‘I’d really like to tie up the sale of the property today,’ he added smoothly, bringing his hands together with his long fingers forming a steeple.

His words suggested it was a given that she would agree to the sale. Maybe he didn’t think she could possibly refuse him because she was only standing in for the owner? Perhaps he imagined his wealth and status would intimidate her?

If she was right, then his arrogance beggared belief. Biting her lip, she decided to delay commenting and garner her thoughts.

Reaching for the cafetière, she carefully poured out his coffee. ‘It’s two sugars, isn’t it?’ she checked, aware that his intense gaze was closely surveying everything she did and resenting it mightily.

‘That’s right.’

Passing him the beverage, Rose made a particular point of not meeting his gaze. After pouring her own drink she sat down, but in truth she knew any hopes she might have had of remaining calm throughout the meeting had fled as soon as her glance had encountered the Frenchman’s...

‘Can I just clarify something? You said that you wanted to tie up the sale of “the property” today?’

‘That’s correct’

‘Forgive me, but I thought my boss had made it clear that he wanted to sell the business as a going concern, Mr Bonnaire? You can’t separate it from the property and just purchase the building. Do I take it that you’re not interested in running the antiques shop at all?’

‘That’s right, Rose—but, please, call me Gene. You may or may not know, but I already run a very successful worldwide restaurant business and I’d like to install one of my most prestigious restaurants here. The location is perfect. And, although I do also have other successful businesses, to be frank with you I’m afraid that antiques don’t interest me in the slightest. I’m sure you must have learned from your boss that people just aren’t as interested in them these days as they used to be. Anyone in business wants to make money. No interest in the product, equals no profit. Isn’t that the reason why he wants to sell?’

Rose felt as if her face had suddenly been seared by an iron. She was both embarrassed and furious. ‘You don’t have to be so brutal—’

‘Business is brutal, ma chère...make no mistake about that.’

‘Well, Philip is selling because he’s ill and no longer has the energy to run the business. This antiques shop has always been his pride and joy, and if he was well I can assure you it wouldn’t be up for sale at all.’

It was Gene’s turn to sigh. ‘But I’m guessing the fact is, due to his poor health, he’s decided to take the opportunity to make as much money as he can on his asset while he is still in a position to do so. Is that not so?’

She flushed again, and twisted her hands in her lap to still their trembling. She couldn’t make a proper decision about anything if her emotions got in the way. But Gene, as he seemed to prefer being called, had guessed right. Because of his failing health Philip needed to make this sale. But she knew that he’d fervently hoped to sell the business along with the building, and if Rose didn’t manage to do that for him then she would have failed the man who was not just her boss and mentor, but who had been her father’s dearest friend...

She came to the only decision that could possibly be right. Now calmer, she met the Frenchman’s gaze across the desk. ‘It’s true that Mr Houghton needs to make this sale, Mr Bonnaire—Gene—but, since you’ve just admitted that antiques don’t interest you in the slightest, and that you’re not interested in running the business and only want the building, I’m afraid I can’t agree to sell it to you. It just wouldn’t be right. I realise it’s not the decision you hoped for, but I’m sorry. I hope you understand?’

‘No. I do not understand. I have told you that it’s the building I’m interested in and I’m willing to pay what I know to be the going rate for the property...no question. How many interested buyers has your boss seen since he put the shop up for sale?’

Gene Bonnaire’s glare was steely.

‘In the current economic climate my guess is not many... Maybe I’m the only one? If I were you, Rose, I would take my offer on your employer’s behalf and congratulate yourself. Trust me...the only regret he would have is if you should be foolish enough to turn me down. Do you really want to put yourself in such an untenable position and lose the faith and trust he has obviously accorded you?’

As a helpless tide of defensive anger surged through her Rose set her eyes on the man she now considered to be not quite so charming. He might not be as heartless as she’d first thought—the story about the fake pearl and diamond ring his father had bought his mother demonstrated that he had the capacity to feel things deeply—but she knew that he was determined to secure the desirable Thames-side building at all costs. And he was plainly willing to risk Rose not liking him if he became too insistent.

‘I think you’ve said quite enough, Mr Bonnaire. I’ve given you my decision and you’re just going to have to accept it.’

‘Is that so? Do you imagine that any businessman or woman worth their salt who is determined to seal a deal should give up so easily merely because you tell them that they should?’

His tone was sardonic, and Gene’s glance swept over Rose as if she was a foolish little girl.

Swallowing down her fury that anybody could be so reprehensible, she stiffly folded her arms. ‘I wouldn’t dream of advising anyone what’s best for them, because I clearly don’t know. I’m not a businesswoman...I’m an antiques dealer. However, I do know my boss Philip, and how much this antiques business means to him. He’s impressed upon me more than once that he wants to sell it as a going concern, so I would be failing in my duty if I didn’t adhere to that. On his behalf, I thank you for your interest but our meeting is over. I’ll see you to the door.’

‘Not so fast.’

As he rose immediately to his feet it wasn’t hard for Rose to detect that Gene Bonnaire was more than a little thrown off balance by her refusal to sell. He was holding on to his temper by a thread.

The expensive cologne he wore again stirred the air, reminding her that the moneyed and elite world he inhabited was light years away from hers and that he hadn’t expected an argument. But on this occasion, Rose was determined to stand her ground...

‘Look, I didn’t come here to waste my time or yours,’ he went on. ‘I came here for one reason and one reason only: to purchase a listed building that I understood was up for sale. If you won’t sell the premises to me then perhaps you’d reconsider your decision if I agree to purchase the antiques as well? I don’t doubt some of them might be valuable to an ardent collector.’

The comment was hardly encouraging. He might just as well have referred to the collector as misguided rather than ardent. Rose didn’t have to guess how appalled Philip would be if he knew that Gene didn’t want to purchase the antiques for their beauty and historical significance, or even because he might be considering continuing the business after all, but only because he was thinking about their monetary worth.

‘Indeed, some of them are extremely valuable,’ she confirmed. ‘But unfortunately your remark illustrates to me exactly what you asserted earlier...you have no interest whatsoever in antiques. That being the case, I’m not inclined to consider your offer any further, Mr Bonnaire.’

Extracting a leather wallet from the inside pocket of the impeccably tailored jacket he wore, the businessman took out a card and threw it down onto the desk. The blue eyes that Rose had noted could be icy had turned even more glacial.

‘When you’ve had some time to think things over—meaning when you can make a far less emotional decision about the matter, Rose—I don’t doubt you’ll want to get in touch with me to discuss a sale. In the meantime, I’ll say au revoir.’

As he spoke Rose found herself yet again uncomfortably captured by his mocking glance, and she thanked her lucky stars that the man was going. Yet as her gaze followed him to the door in truth she didn’t know whether or not to be pleased she’d stood her ground—whether the decision she’d made was the right one or not...

* * *

Back in his Mayfair office, after the tedious round of meetings he’d chaired that afternoon, Gene asked his secretary to get him some coffee and sank down into his high-backed leather chair to mull over the day’s events. He didn’t think he had ever felt more irritable and out of sorts, and it was all down to his offer being refused on that damn property.