A Virgin for His Prize
Auteur
Lucy Monroe
Lezers
16,5K
Hoofdstukken
14
Chapter One
FURY FIGHTING WITH the pain of betrayal, Romi Grayson set her phone down on the table beside her with careful movements. The temptation to throw the mobile device across the room was staggering.
That lying, manipulative, opportunistic tycoon!
Maxwell Black had made it very clear to Romi that he wasnât in the market for a long-term relationship, but that hadnât meant he wasnât interested in something else. His generosity in and out of bed with his lovers had been the fodder for gossip for years. As were the unexpectedly amicable breakups.
Max had promised Romi sexual pleasure beyond the scope of her imagination.
Heâd said she would be the sole focus of his interest.
Until he was done with her.
The ĂŒber-wealthy tycoon-playboy had offered Romi absolute fidelity with a time limit.
Sheâd walked away.
From the promise. From the possibilities. From the certainty of a broken heart.
Theyâd only dated a few times, but heâd sparked a depth of emotion in her that was both immediate and frightening. Terrifying for its intensity, Romi had had no doubts that she wouldnât survive a breakup down the road with her heart intact.
Walking away after their short, almost platonic association had been painful enough. Almost being the operative word. Max had given Romi her first taste of sexual pleasure with a partner.
Awed by the sensations he evoked, sheâd been close to giving in to Maxâs offer.
Ultimately, sheâd had no choice, though. Not with his attitude.
For all her âfree-spiritedâ ways, Romi was a traditionalist at heart. She wanted a home, a family and the man she loved to be looking at the future, not the expiry date on their relationship.
That same man had been prepared to marry Romiâs sister-by-choice, Madison Archer.
For a payoff!
Shares in Archer International Holdings and the prospect of taking over when Jeremy Archer retired had tempted Maxwell Black to break his âno commitmentsâ rule.
The mercenary cad.
It was an old-fashioned word, but man, it fit.
âRamona!â Her dadâs wavering call came from the den he spent most of his time in these days.
He only made it into the office about two days a week, his longtime director of operations running Grayson Enterprises in everything but name.
Some might have expected Romi to take over the family business, but not her dad. Harry Grayson had always made it clear he expected his daughter to follow her own dreams.
Filtered sunlight from the single window on the north side cast the den in gray light. Her father sat on the sofa facing the dark screen of a wall-mounted big-screen television. The highball glass in his hand was empty but for a couple of ice cubes. Bloodshot, red-rimmed hazel eyes testified to the fact it hadnât been empty for long, or often in the past hours.
She walked forward and took the glass from his unresisting fingers. âItâs only afternoon, Daddy. You donât need this.â
There was a time when he hadnât picked up a drink with alcohol in it before the cocktail hour. Heâd drunk steadily from that point so that he went to bed every night so inebriated, walking up the stairs was a danger.
But the drinking hadnât gone on during the day.
Over the past few years, the drinking had gotten worse while she was away at school. Her father now started at lunchtime with a glass of wine that often became a bottle.
But drinking hard liquor this early in the day was still something new.
Recognition took seconds to register in his rheumy gaze. âRamona.â
âYes, Daddy. You called me.â Something he never would have done sober.
Graysons did not do common things like shout through the house for one another. They used the intercom system.
But Harry Grayson didnât look in any shape to cross the room to the intercom. His brows drew together in an exaggerated effort at concentrating. âI did?â
âYes, Daddy, you did.â
He looked with confusion around the room, like the answer might leap out at him. âI think I lost the remote.â
Romi bent down and picked up the small electronic device from the floor at his feet. âHere it is.â
âOh, thank you.â He frowned. âItâs not working.â
She swiped her hand on the screen and spoke the command to turn the TV on. The sound of afternoon news commentary filled the room from the surround-sound speakers.
âItâs working just fine.â
âWouldnât turn on for me,â her father slurred.
She wasnât surprised. The remote was programmed to take voice instruction with recognizable commands, not speech blurred by alcohol.
âYou look upset, kitten.â
That was the thing about her dad. Even with his brain pickled by too much drink, he cared about her. He paid attention. She had no trouble remembering that even drunk, her dad was twice the father than a man like Maddieâs dad could ever hope to be.
âIâm okay.â
âNo, youâre not.â He was careful to enunciate every word.
And for some reason that made Romi feel like crying. âItâs nothing, really.â
âNo, I know itâs something.â For just a moment, her dad wasnât a drunk bent on destroying his liver.
He was the man who had loved her mother so much, heâd married her against his own familyâs wishes. He was the guy who raised Romi from the time she was three, refusing the easy road of allowing other family members to take on her care.
âItâs an old story.â And sheâd fallen for it.
âTell me.â
âI fell for a man.â
âYou didnât tell me.â
Romi ignored that, incapable of coming up with a response that wouldnât hurt one of them. âHe told me he didnât do commitment.â
âAnd you found out heâs married?â her dad asked, looking as angry as emotions dulled by overimbibing would allow.
âNo, but I did find out heâs willing to get married. For the right price.â
âThe cad!â
She couldnât help smiling at how her fatherâs word echoed her own thoughts just a few minutes before. âExactly.â
âYouâre better off without him.â
âOf course.â If only she could convince her heart as easily as her head.
* * *
Maxwell Black was bored. Attending these functions rarely provided anything but a few mind-numbing hours interspersed with brief moments of useful networking.
Oh, he believed in the cause. Tonightâs gala was dedicated to raising funds for and awareness of the plight of hunger among school-age children.
Considering the focus of the evening, he might have an opportunity to indulge in one of his favorite pastimes. Watching Romi Grayson.
Touching her was more satisfying, but sheâd turned down his offer of a liaison in no uncertain terms.
In a rare show of restraint, he hadnât continued the pursuit.
There was something differentâŠalmost specialâŠabout the old-money San Francisco heiress, a vulnerability he was unwilling to exploit.
A first for himâheâd stayed away from her as much out of self-preservation as anything else.
He felt protective toward her in ways he did not understand, ways that could be manipulated if she knew about them. So, she would never find out.
Even so, plans and intentions changed and he was coming to the conclusion that he and Romi might have a future after all. So long as Maxwell dictated the terms.
The soft scent of jasmine and vanilla he always associated with the heiress activist reached him before she did.
âWell, well, well, if it isnât Maxwell Black, master tycoon.â
Squelching the urge to turn quickly, he slowly faced her.
Black, silky chin-length hair framed Romiâs pixie-like features, her bow-shaped lips set in an uncustomary flat line. Her makeup was dramatic tonight, bringing out the gentian blue of her eyes. Eyes that snapped with accusation he did not understand.
Or perhaps he did.
âGood evening, Romi. You look lovely tonight.â
The elegant peacock-blue evening gown accented her modest curves, highlighting Romiâs particular brand of delicate femininity. Fragility at odds with her gung-ho approach to life. Romi didnât consider any cause too great, or any opponent too intimidating to take on.
Borderline petite at five foot five, with a personality that more than made up for her smaller stature, Maxwell had found Ramona Grayson intriguing from their first meeting.
âThank you.â She frowned at him, but offered grudgingly, âYouâre very handsome yourself tonight. Not a designer I recognize. A tuxedo from one of the tailors on Savile Row?â
He smiled, impressed by her powers of observation. Having his clothing made to fit could be considered a luxury by some, but for Maxwell it was more than that. Tailored designer brands impressed, but having a bespoke suit, patterned and constructed entirely to his specifications, made another kind of impression, one in line with Maxwellâs reputation for utter control in and out of the boardroom.
âMy suit-maker is local, but he apprenticed with a Savile Row tailor.â
âOf course. I notice you donât give his name.â
âWhy? Are you looking for a new tailor for your father?â Not that Maxwell thought his would take on Grayson.
The tailor was both expensive and extremely discerning about his clientele. An alcoholic on the verge of taking his company down to the bottom of a whiskey bottle had no chance.
Romiâs barely there grimace was quickly masked. âNo.â
âThe waiting list for his services is a year out.â Maxwell found himself offering the truth as an excuse, an unaccustomed effort to spare her feelings.
âNo doubt you subverted it somehow.â
Maxwell smiled. âNot a chance. The manâs a martinet about his schedule and his client standards.â
âStill, Iâm surprised,â Romi said, her intent to bait him obvious.
Something was definitely bothering her. âAre you?â
âYouâre a very opportunistic man.â The edge to her voice was sharper than a chefâs cleaver.
He couldnât deny it, didnât want to. His ability to identify and take advantage of opportunities was something that had helped Maxwell to build his business and his fortune to what they were today. A multimillionaire personally, his company, Black Information Technologies, or BIT, was valued at ten times his personal assets.
Not bad for a thirty-two-year-old bastard having no acknowledged ties to wealth, like Romi had been born with.
However, it was clear something about that character trait had upset Romi. Recently, if he wasnât mistaken. Since there was no way she could know about the plans heâd been considering for her fatherâs company, it had to be something else.
Mentally going back through the events of the past week that others were aware of, Maxwell thought he might know. âYouâve spoken to Madison Archer.â
âI talk to Maddie every day, several times a day.â The increased annoyance in Romiâs voice left no doubt he was on the right track.
Though he still was not sure why Romi would be upset with Maxwell for being offered the marriage-based business contract by Jeremy Archer.
âI can hardly be held accountable for her fatherâs actions.â Though he wouldnât hesitate to take advantage of the auspicious conditions Archer had provided, even if not for the opportunities the president of AIH had intended.
Romi crossed her arms, leaning back in a classic pose of annoyance. âOnly your willingness to participate in them.â
He took a moment to appreciate the way her stance pressed her small breasts together to create a shadow of tempting cleavage. Everything about her body turned him on. Thin, with modest curves, she was nevertheless one-hundred-percent enticing woman.
âI went to a meeting where Jeremy Archer offered a very lucrative contract and your so-called sister-by-choice held her own very well.â Though he wasnât prepared to tell Romi how Madison had kept her father in line.
Maxwell had plans for that information. Because he was an opportunistic bastard. Literally and figuratively.
Unless heâd misread Madison Archer, she had not shared her actions with her best friend.
Which created leverage for Maxwell with Romi. She would do anything to prevent her SBC from being harmed in any way. Even by Madisonâs own precipitous actions.
âYou were willing to break your own rules for a price,â Romi sneered.
Ah. Now he understood. Maxwell was actually a little surprised that Madison had shared his offer with Romi. The Archer heiress had never seriously considered it and he hadnât expected her to. That didnât mean he would deny himself the opportunity to give Viktor Beck a few seconds of doubt.
Theyâd been friends and competitors since early childhood.
Still, Romi was upset Maxwell had made the counteroffer. That might bode well for his own plans where she was concerned.
âAnd that price wasnât love.â He laced the last word with his own brand of disgust.
The overly emotional and incredibly naive heiress thought that sentiment the only motivation worthy of note. Even after the loss of that love had nearly destroyed her own father and what remained of their family.
âMore like thirty pieces of silver.â Her blue gaze snapped with fire he wanted in his bed.
The small taste heâd had of her had only whetted an appetite Maxwell had come to accept would not be satisfied by anything but unfettered access to this woman alone.
âYour inference would imply I betrayed someone. I didnât.â He and Romi had gone their separate ways nearly a year ago.
âYour own integrity maybe.â
âWhat is dishonest about a business deal where the terms are laid bare for everyone involved?â
âSo, your âno commitmentâ rule was only for me?â Romiâs voice betrayed pained disappointment.
He didnât like hearing that from her. Even less than heâd liked the sound of âno thank youâ spoken with a catch of desperation in her voice. âI didnât offer Madison the kind of commitment you believe you need.â
âYou offered to marry her.â
âI offered a business arrangement without conjugal rights or the promise of fidelity.â
âThatâs horrible.â Romi was getting genuinely upset, her voice rising in agitation.
Soon, those around them would notice.
He took her by her elbow and began leading her toward the balcony doors. He was hoping the evening drop in temperature would mean it was deserted.
âWhere are we going?â she asked, though she didnât try to pull away.
âSomeplace more private than here.â
Memory slashed across his brainâŠa similar question, an almost identical answer, but for a very different purpose.
Heâd wanted to kiss her.
Sheâd been seething with an emotion very different from anger that time. Sheâd wanted the kiss, too.
Her response had nearly caused him to lose control of his own body for the first time since his initial foray into sex.
The balcony was as deserted as heâd hoped it would be, with only one other couple tucked away in the corner shadows at the opposite end. The low-level lighting and thirty feet separating the two couples insured a certain level of privacy so long as he and Romi did not raise their voices.
She shivered in the cool air and he moved them into the corner, where strategically placed potted greenery acted as both a privacy screen and wind barrier.
Anyone looking closely would see them, but only from certain angles. The other couple was not at that angle.
Even without the wind, the evening air was still chilly.
He removed his jacket and tucked it around Romi like a cape. âBetter?â he asked.
Nodding, Romi bit her lip in a gesture of vulnerability that nearly derailed his intention to talk.
âYou didnât need to give me your coat.â She pulled it closer, a clearly unconscious action in direct opposition to the words she spoke. âWe wonât be out here long. Iâm not even sure why I came with you in the first place.â
âBecause you are angry I considered Jeremy Archerâs business proposal and we need to talk about that.â
âI donât know why.â
He merely waited in silence.
Romi huffed out a sigh. âMaddie deserves better than a business marriage.â She glared up at Maxwell with a mix of emotions he couldnât quite read. âYou do, too.â
âI do not find Madison particularly attractive. Foregoing conjugal rights would not have been a great sacrifice.â
âSheâs beautiful.â
âI find beauty in a different package.â The red-headed Archer heiress was undeniably pleasing to the eye, but she did nothing for Maxwell personally.
He liked willowy figures, usually going for taller women because of his own six-foot-five-inch height. Though despite the foot difference in their height, Romi fit with him surprisingly well. He preferred dark hair and found her black tresses particularly appealing. Sharp elfin features were also unexpectedly attractive.
Before Romi, heâd never been drawn to blue eyes, but hers were so striking, so expressive, he found them intensely alluring. He liked knowing everything his sexual partners were feeling and thinking. Romiâs eyes revealed what her charming verbal honesty did not.
And unlike her SBC, who rarely blushed at all, Romiâs frequently pink cheeksâat least in his presenceâthat had nothing to do with her makeup were equally expressive.
âI just donât understand how you were willing to marry her.â With a sound of frustration, Romi put her hand over her mouth, a sure sign she wished she hadnât said that out loud.
âI was willing to entertain the idea, but she wasnât interested in me as her future husband and I knew that before I ever made the offer of a marriage in name only.â
âWhat? How did you know?â
âMadison Archer may be better at hiding her emotions than you, but there can be no doubt that only one man in that conference room had the remotest of chances in fulfilling the contract her father had drawn up.â
Romiâs smile was soft. âTheyâre good together.â
âLetâs hope so.â Viktor and Madisonâs engagement had already been announced, along with the whirlwind date set for their wedding.
He didnât know Madison Archer well, but what he knew of her, he respected and liked. And while many would look on Viktor as Maxwellâs lifelong rival, the man who shared his Russian heritage was one of a select few Maxwell called friend.
Considering the fact that both people appeared to be entering the agreement with poorly hiddenâto him at leastâromantic aspirations and a long-term future together as their goal, Maxwell hoped it worked out for them.
He didnât believe in permanent romantic ties. He considered marriage like any other contractâto be kept in place for the duration of the benefit of both parties.
His mother had taught him from an early age to see romantic relationships as a means to an end. Natalya Black had always told her son that love was the biggest fairy tale of all.
Sheâd believed in Maxwell and told him he could do anything he set his mind to, but never give in to âso-calledâ love. It only weakened the afflicted and made them lose their focus.
Maxwell didnât know where his motherâs life lessons had come from, but he knew his own and heâd discovered early on she was right.
Leaving Russia and her disapproving relatives for a new start in America had not included Natalya giving up her tendency to line her nest with the golden straw of cleverly chosen bed partners of defined duration.
The transience of the men in his motherâs life had taught him one thing. There was no such thing as forever and anyone who believed in it was a fool.
Theyâd only come close one time. One man had made Natalya glow with something besides satisfaction in a well-chosen partner. The man had also taken a paternal interest in Maxwell as none of his motherâs other affairs ever had or been allowed to.
For three years, Maxwell had a father figure show up at his activities, someone as interested in teaching him what it was to be a boy raised in America as his mother and those at the cultural center had been in exposing him to bits of his Russian heritage, someone besides a neighbor the school could call when Maxwell needed to go home early with the flu.
Then Carlyleâs estranged wife had returned, along with his real son and daughter, and Maxwell never saw the man again. Natalya lost her glow, but not her determination to give Maxwell every chance life in America had to offer.
âMadison said she thought something about Perryâs claims intrigued you.â Romi frowned, her gaze searching.
Broken out of the unexpected reverie, Maxwell took a moment to catch up. Then he said, âYou know I like control in bed.â
âI figured.â
Yes, he hadnât hidden his preferences during their kisses and the touching. âI had no desire to take her to bed, therefore it follows my preference for control wasnât my reason for intrigue.â
âOh.â Romiâs frown turned to puzzlement. âThen why?â
âI found it interesting that Perry made the claims he did.â
âThe more salacious the story, the more money they would pay for it.â The lovely heiressâs tone dripped cynicism.
Maxwellâs was a bit more derisive when he said, âPerry Timwater isnât capable of upholding a more dominant role in sex.â
âHow would you know?â
âIâve met him.â And what Maxwell had seen of the other man had neither impressed, nor inspired a desire to further their association. âHe has neither the confidence, nor the attention to the needs of others to succeed in that role.â
âIâm sure heâs a selfish lover,â Romi said with her customary direct honesty. âHe was a very selfish friend.â
âYou are probably right.â Maxwell felt his lips quirking as they often did in her presence.
Romi Grayson always entertained him, even when she didnât mean to. She intrigued him as much because of the attraction he felt for her as the fact she was so unlike him. He didnât understand her.
That was not something Maxwell was used to.
Understanding what motivated people was what made him so good in the business world. He knew how to identify a need and exploit it, without compromising his own sense of honor.
It might not be as shiny and uncomplicated as Viktorâs, but Maxwell did have one.
Romiâs mercurial nature made her an enigma. Heâd been sure she would go for his offer of monogamy of limited duration, but she hadnât. Even more inexplicably, her reaction had told him the offer had hurt her in some way, which he hadnât expected and found he did not like.
âSo, why were you intrigued?â
âWhy do you think?â he prodded, wondering how much sheâd really learned about him during their brief time of dating.
She paused and thought, which wasnât something anyone else would have expected from her. She came off as passionate and impetuous, but heâd learned that as much as she might appear to act without thought, Romi rarely ever did.
Finally, she said, âYouâve got more curiosity than any man Iâve ever met. The situation didnât make sense to you, something you arenât really on a first-name basis with. So you wanted to understand it.â
He nodded, not really surprised she guessed his reaction so easily. Heâd learned that she studied him with as much attention as he had any business rival in his career.
âThe stories themselves were a puzzle,â Maxwell agreed. âDespite both you and Madison Archerâs penchant for making it into the media spotlight, neither of you are known for sexual exploits.â
Something he should have paid closer attention to before making his offer to her. He should have realized that the reason her sex life was never speculated on in the media was because she didnât have one.
That innocence wasnât going to leave her open to the kind of liaison Maxwell was used to negotiating with his lovers.
Which meant that if he wanted Romi, and the year apart had shown him that at present no one else would suffice, he would have to figure out a different arrangement.
One they could both live with.
If his plans included a measure of what he thought might well be irresistible persuasion, well, his honor didnât require a level playing field.
Winning was key. Full stop.
