Читать книгу: «The Sauveterre Siblings»

CHAPTER ONE

ISIDORA GARCIA DIDN’T glance up as her boss entered her office. She recognized him in her periphery and was only a little surprised he was here in Paris. He was a new father, but when there was a crisis with one of his sisters, particularly Trella, he waded in without hesitation.

“I just saw it,” she assured him. “I’m emailing—”

She cut herself off as preternatural knowledge struck. Her body tingled and her skin felt stroked. Her fingers became clumsy while her blood grew hot and thick in her veins.

She didn’t have to look up to know that was not Henri Sauveterre advancing on her. It was his twin, Ramon.

A flash of intense vulnerability went through her. Treachery. Anguish.

She clamped down on the rush of emotion, hiding it behind a falsely cool lift of her gaze to the man who looked identical to the one who had arm-twisted her into taking this position. They were both ruthless in their own way, but at least Henri wasn’t cruel.

“I didn’t know you were in Paris.” Her voice came out steady enough to hide the tightness that invaded her throat.

Like Henri, Ramon’s dark hair was cut short, but had a tendency to spike on top. His clean-shaven, spectacularly handsome features were sophisticated without being pretty, angular without being rugged. His Sauveterre eyes were green when they were amused and gray when they were not.

His irises were somewhere between slate and ash this morning, making a knot of tension coil in the pit of her stomach. His sensuous mouth sat in a flat line. His honed physique flexed beneath his tailored suit as he set his hands on her desk, leaning in to confront her.

“Why aren’t you doing your job?”

His lethal tone cut her in half, sending a burst of adrenaline through her.

Oh, she hated herself for still being sensitive to his every word. Him, with his superiority, and opportunistic streak, and complete lack of conscience. She wanted to hate him. Did hate him. But she remained susceptible. In fact, it was worse, now that she knew how brutal he could be. At least when she’d been young and stupid, she hadn’t feared him.

She took a firm grip on herself and tried to hide her dread by casually looking back at her screen. She couldn’t absorb what she’d been writing. She waved at her keyboard, aiming for nonchalance. “I’m doing it now. If you weren’t interrupting me, I could get on with it.”

She managed to sound composed and begged her hand to stay steady. She didn’t want to reveal the fine trembles that worked upward from a deep, inner flutter in the pit of her stomach.

Because even with hatred and fear gripping her, she found him utterly compelling.

“What can you possibly do at this stage?” he growled. “The cat is out. Why didn’t you prevent it?”

“Prevent your sister’s pregnancy?” Her pulse hammered once, hard, as she met his gaze, but she managed to tilt her mouth into a facetious smirk. “Not in my bailiwick, if you can believe it. I’ve had three discussions with her, suggesting we leak the news in a controlled way. She chose to stay mum.”

Pun not intended. Trella was tall and a wizard with cutting cloth to create the effect she wanted, but she was five months along. She couldn’t hide it forever.

“You should have had a fourth discussion. And a fifth. Your father had the contacts to keep these things under wraps. Why don’t you?”

Her heart stalled. Oh, he was not going to bring her parents into this, was he? That was such dangerous ground.

At least it flipped her out of defensive mode into a willingness to go toe-to-toe.

“Even my father can’t control every person with a social media account. The photo was posted by a woman visiting her mother at the hospital. You took Trella there yourself—in that car everyone notices. Of course people watched to see who got out.”

She punctuated with a look that said, “Take some responsibility for a change.”

“The only reason it took this long for the trolls to call it a baby bump was because they were having so much fun shaming her for gaining a few pounds.” Then, as she remembered his sister-in-law had delivered twins by emergency cesarean a few days ago, she asked, “How are Cinnia and the babies?”

“Fine.” He pushed off the desk, expression blanking to aloofness—it was the way he and all his siblings reacted when questioned about their family, even when the inquiry was sincere.

The Sauveterre twins had become media sensations the minute the second pair, Angelique and Trella, came along. Born to a French tycoon and his Spanish aristocrat wife, the children had been mesmerizing in their mirrored resemblance and elegantly perfect lives.

Then, when the girls were nine, Trella had been kidnapped. She was recovered five days later, but rather than give the family breathing space, the media’s microscope had focused even more intently on their slightest move. The pressure had sent their father into an early grave and the fallout had continued for years.

Angelique—Gili to her family—seemed to have found some happiness, though. She was secretly engaged to her soul mate, Kasim, which was why the family had convened in Spain.

Their celebration had been cut short when Cinnia was rushed to hospital.

Trella had jumped into Ramon’s distinctive Bugatti Veyron to chase the ambulance with him. Not content with the limited edition Pur Sang, worth millions, Ramon had had one custom-built to his own specifications. It was fully carbon this and titanium that, didn’t have a lick of exterior paint and topped out at a speed of over four hundred kilometers an hour.

Isidora was dying to ask if it had air-conditioning.

Worried for Cinnia, Trella had leaped out of the car without taking due care over how much midsection she showed.

Any casual snap of a Sauveterre went viral. And one that allowed the public to speculate on a secret pregnancy and the identity of the father...? There was no containing such a nuclear bomb.

Isidora knew all this because she had grown up with the girls. Her father had worked for Monsieur Sauveterre. She’d had tea parties with the girls before Trella was taken and still had slumber parties with them. She cared deeply for them and wanted the best for the whole family.

That was why Henri had hired her. He trusted her with his sisters and all of the family’s most delicate PR announcements—most recently a statement that he and Cinnia had spoken their wedding vows in the hospital with their newborn daughters in attendance.

None of that mattered to Ramon, however. To him, she was an outsider, not entitled to anything more than criticism and a pat. Fine.

Fine. It didn’t hurt. She was so past yearning for his positive regard.

“I was hoping you were Henri.” For a million reasons. “I was going to suggest taking the family portrait with Cinnia and the babies sooner than planned. I’m inundated with requests. Releasing photos might divert this focus on Trella.”

“By all means, let’s make sacrifices of my brother’s innocent children before they’re a week old.”

She was only trying to help. Swallowing back a lump that formed behind her breastbone, she rose to walk a file to the cabinet in the corner, mostly as an excuse to put distance between them. “Do you have another suggestion?”

“Yes.”

Oh, that supercilious attitude grated. If her father hadn’t badgered and cajoled, if Henri hadn’t offered her disgusting amounts of money, if she didn’t adore Trella and Angelique and now Cinnia, and want to protect her friends as much as Henri did, she would quit this job. Even this little bit of interaction with Ramon was too much.

“I’m all ears,” she said without turning around. She shoved the file into the cabinet, feeling a burning sensation streak down her back. He was not looking at her butt and she was not wishing he would. Seriously. She consciously tried not to tense, but she needed to resist him. She was so done with this man!

“Arrange a press conference,” he said. “I’m announcing my retirement from racing.”

* * *

Isidora had the nicest ass he’d ever seen—and he was a connoisseur.

When she turned with surprise, one arm remaining atop the filing cabinet so her buttons strained across her breasts, he stole an appreciative glance at that, too, before lifting his gaze to her astonished expression.

Auburn brows framed warm brown eyes. Her gold-tipped lashes were thick and lush. Her glossy hair, which had toned down from a bright copper as a child to a rich burgundy wine, was pulled back in a clip. He couldn’t help imagining it falling freely around those high, honey-toned cheekbones. She wore little makeup, needing nothing to give her skin that glow of health, or shape her plump lips.

He typically stuck with overt beauties, ones made with a generous hand that exuded sexuality. When it came to physical companionship, he preferred obvious women and uncomplicated encounters. Indifference was his goal. He didn’t objectify women, but they objectified him. He was fine with being trophy-hunted. He gave as much pleasure as he took and they both walked away unharmed and completely satisfied.

Isidora had never offered anything so simplistic. Her years of doe-eyed hero worship had reflected yearnings and expectations he could never fulfill. So he had done her an enormous favor five years ago. He had let her believe he had slept with her mother. That adolescent crush of hers had needed to be crushed.

She still hated his guts for it. Overnight, she had stopped accompanying her father to the office or Ramon’s races. She continued to visit his sisters, but sent regrets to any parties the Sauveterres invited her to attend. While completing her degree in public relations, she had maximized work-abroad opportunities. On the few occasions Ramon had crossed paths with her, she had left the room as quickly as she politely could.

That’s how he’d made such a study of her ass.

Her contempt had finally gotten to him last year, when he’d seen her at her father’s sixty-fifth birthday party. He had rivalries in business and on the track, but no one outright hated him. Isidora had been all grown up, incandescent in a sapphire-blue dress. Surely she was far enough past her childish infatuation to hear the truth and get over her anger.

“I want to bury the hatchet,” he had said when he’d cornered her into a waltz. “Let’s go somewhere private, talk this out.”

“Is that what you’re calling it these days? Burying the hatchet?” Her tone had been glacial. “No, thanks.” She had walked away before the song finished.

Still acting like a child, he had deduced, but he had her attention now.

“You’re retiring,” she repeated now, with disbelief. “From racing.”

“Si.” It was the least he could do for his family.

“But you’re still winning. Your fans will be devastated.”

“I have sufficient fame and money.”

“But... You love it. Don’t you?” She closed the file cabinet and faced him, weight hitched to one hip so her knee peeked out the slit in her skirt.

Definitely no longer a child, his libido took great care to note.

“It’s just a pastime.” Psychologists would say his need for speed was compensation for failing to catch up to Trella when she’d been kidnapped. That might have been true in the beginning, but he was genuinely fascinated by the mechanics of high-performance engines and loved competing. Nevertheless... “This is something I’ve been considering for some time. I’ll continue to sponsor my team and stay involved that way.” These were the pat answers he would give the press this afternoon.

“It seems extreme. Trella’s pregnancy can’t be denied. Not forever.”

He folded his arms, not used to defending his decisions to anyone. He didn’t bother to soften the condescension in his tone as he explained, “I’m choosing to announce it now to distract from the rumors about her, but quitting racing was inevitable once Cinnia turned up pregnant. Henri can’t travel as much as he used to.”

He and Henri jointly ran Sauveterre International, but work had been Henri’s sport of choice for mental distraction. Ramon had never shirked his responsibilities, but he had never felt guilty handing something to his brother if he had to race.

Henri had greater concerns now. Ramon was more than willing to pick up the slack so his brother could look after his young family.

“So you’ve been planning this all along?”

“I knew once the babies came, my role would change.”

“We all knew you were taking over this office so Henri could move to Madrid, but I don’t think anyone expected you to quit racing.”

“We planned to make all the announcements next month. With the babies coming early, we’ve moved up the timetable. I will begin restructuring today. Starting with you.”

Her eyes widened. “Me? I arranged a transfer to Madrid. It takes effect with Cinnia’s due date, but—Are you saying that with the babies coming early, I need to move that up?”

“You’re staying here.” He probably shouldn’t take so much pleasure in making that statement, but he found enormous satisfaction in it. “My sisters came to Paris with me. They’re sorting things at Maison des Jumeaux in preparation for Angelique leaving. Her engagement will be announced soon and there are details with Kasim’s family that need your delicate touch.”

Isidora’s jaw dropped behind her sealed lips, making her cheeks go hollow. Her thick lashes quickly swept down to disguise what might have been a flash of...fear? No. Fury? Why? He wasn’t being sarcastic about her delicate touch. She was very good at her job or she wouldn’t have the position she held.

He wasn’t in the habit of giving anyone ego strokes, however, so he simply continued. “With Trella in the hot seat again, I’ll do my best to draw fire with the retirement announcement, but you’ll have to manage all of that, as well as the press releases on the restructuring.”

“I can do that remotely.” She folded her arms, posture stiff and defensive, face turned to the window, where vertical blinds held out most of the July sun along with the building’s excellent view of the Seine. “I’ll speak to Henri—”

“He just brought home twins, Isidora. He’s working as little as possible and mostly from home so he can enjoy his children and support his wife. Henri is not your employer, we are. We speak for each other and this is something we decided together.”

“You decided between you to deny my transfer? Without discussing it with me?”

“Yes.” It hadn’t even been a discussion. As often happened, Henri had voiced what Ramon had already been thinking. “It’s a matter of response time. Some of your work can be done remotely, but when a crisis arises, like today’s, we need you on the spot to defuse it.”

Her mouth tightened. He could see her wheels turning, searching for an alternative. He knew why she was acting like this and he was losing patience with it.

“Perhaps we could coax your father out of retirement?” he said facetiously.

“Don’t think I’m not tempted.”

“Stow your grudge, Isidora. You’re a professional. Act like one.”

She lifted haughty brows. “It’s not my ability to keep things professional that I’m worried about.”

“If I was the least bit interested in frostbite below the belt, you’d have something to worry about. I’m not.”

He always hit back. Always. It came from never wanting to be a victim again.

But when her nostrils pinched and she sniffed like she’d taken a hard jab to her slender middle, he felt a pang of conscience. A shadow of hurt might have flickered in her eyes, but she moved behind her desk, ducking her head and sliding a nonexistent tendril of hair behind her ear, the screen of her hand hiding her expression from him.

When she lifted her face again, it was flushed, but her expression was one of resolve. “I’ll hand in my resignation by the end of the day.”

The floor seemed to lurch beneath his feet. Her antipathy ran that deep?

As he searched her gaze, unable to believe she was serious, her pupils expanded until her eyes were like black pansies, velvety. Yet disillusioned and empty.

For one heartbeat, the world around him faded. A quiet agony that lived inside him, one he ignored so completely he barely knew it existed, seared to life, flashing such acute pain through him that his breath stalled. Fire, hot and pointed, lit behind his breastbone.

He slammed the door on that dark, tangled, livid place, refusing to wonder how she had managed to touch it by doing nothing but trying to retreat from him.

Why would she even suggest it? The job she held, as someone still fresh from school and not yet twenty-four, was unprecedented. Nepotism had played a part, sure, but she brought a rare and valuable quality to the position: trustworthiness.

Ramon would not be the reason his sisters lost a precious ally.

He wasn’t a man who begged, however. Racetracks were not conquered by being nice. She already hated him so there was no point in trying to charm her. Meanwhile, that strange split second of confused feelings left him with the scent of danger in his nostrils. It fueled his need to control. To dominate. To conquer.

He came down on her with the same lack of mercy he showed anyone else who might threaten him or his family.

“Cariño, let me explain what will happen if you resign.” He moved to lean on her desk again.

She was standing now, blinking with wariness. She stiffened, but she didn’t fall back.

He caught a light scent off her skin, something natural and spicy with an intriguingly sweet undertone. Herbs and wildflowers? The base, primitive animal inside him longed to get closer and find out.

Perhaps he would get the chance, he thought darkly, as he continued.

“I know you’ve signed confidentiality agreements, but given your antagonism toward me, I don’t trust you not to take what you know about us to the highest bidder. I will make your life extremely difficult if you walk out of here. There won’t be other jobs available to you. Not at this level.”

A renewed flush of color swept across her cheekbones. “If that’s your way of trying to make me warm up to you, ‘hash-tag friendship fail.’”

“Prove your loyalty to our family. Do what we pay you very well to do.”

“Me.” She pointed at her sternum. “You want me to prove my loyalty to your family.”

“Yes. And quit editorializing on mine.” He ignored a stab of compunction. “You know nothing about my capacity for loyalty or anything else.”

“I know what I need to know,” she assured him bitterly. “But if you’re going to make threats against my career, fine. I’ll take the high road and show you what loyalty really is. I’ll stay because I care about your sisters and because my father would come out of retirement if I quit. His devotion to your family is that ingrained. I never told him that you slept with his wife or he might feel differently. And don’t say they were divorced!”

She jabbed her finger at him.

He narrowed his eyes, warning her she was standing on the line.

“It would gut him to know what you did and unlike you, I’m not someone who enjoys making other people miserable.”

“I said ‘difficult,’ hermosa. If you want me to make your life miserable, I can arrange that quite easily.”

“Job done, hermoso,” she said with a smile that went nowhere near her eyes. “Will you excuse me? I have a press conference to arrange.”

“Isidora,” he said gently, without moving. His eyes clashed with her gaze in a way that kept his muscles tight and his skin tingling with exaltation in the battle. “I care about my sisters and your father. That’s why I’m allowing you to continue with us, and not firing your ass for insubordination. Mind your manners, or you will discover exactly what kind of man I am.”