Page 7 of Worth the Risk

Andrea started to lean forward, winced and sat back again. Her hand shifted to rub the side of her stomach. ‘Okay, no need to kick me quite so hard, mon petit coeur,’ she murmured to her baby. After a moment, she looked up. ‘Leonie, think about it. You’re exactly what this client needs. Are you really going to lose this commission or sale over one extra person?’

I frowned. ‘He hasn’t even stepped aboard yet and he’s already a giant pain in my arse.’

‘So what? You’ve dealt with worse and come out smiling.’

‘Not like him, Andrea.’ Not with that voice and that take-charge manner that had always been a weakness for me. They said opposites attracted. But I wasn’t shy and retiring one little bit. Besides stubborn, Grandma Agnes had also referred to me as a charging heifer once or twice. Unattractive but accurate. So Gideon Mortimer should be the last person to make my lady parts quiver. But quiver they did. I’d ignored my reaction but its effect lingered for a little longer than I wanted it to.

‘Well, I looked him up on the internet on my break. He’s effing loaded, Leonie. And not just him. His family are seriously influential. Like, related-to-royalty-from-the-year-dot type of influential. He’s a mathematical genius or something. His IQ is through the roof. Don’t ask me what it is, I don’t remember. Did I mention he’s loaded?’

My mouth twitched in a reluctant smile. ‘Yes, you did. Still doesn’t change the fact that I can’t conjure up crew I don’t have.’

‘No, but you can offer yourself.’

‘What?’

‘For the service he needs,’ she stressed.

I pulled my overactive brain from images of me servicing Gideon Mortimer in the most basic of ways to a much more professional arena. ‘It’s not just that. I can’t leave you to man the office for three weeks.’

‘Sure you can. Laurent loses a little more of his mind every time I walk out the door. I thought I was bad, but he’s been getting progressively worse as the birth gets closer. He finishes with the market at midday. He’d love nothing more than to spend the rest of the afternoon here keeping me company. Plus, if you do get the rental commission or—please, God—the sale, that would solve a few money issues for us.’

I mulled it over for a minute. If I sold the boat I would be able to do much more than that. I could make Andrea a partner, a plan I’d been mulling over as part of my expansion. ‘Are you sure?’

She nodded eagerly. ‘Absolutely.’ She struggled to her feet and headed towards the back of the office. ‘I need to pee. Don’t overthink it, Leonie. Just call him back and say yes.’

Don’t overthink it.

I took a deep breath and reached for the phone. ‘Hello, can I speak to Gideon Mortimer, please?’

He answered immediately, ‘You’re calling me with a yes, I hope?’

I ground my teeth for a single second. Any more and I risked a cracked molar. ‘Yes. On the crew front, you’ll have the additional staff you need. On one condition.’

‘I hate conditions.’

‘And I detest games, Mr Mortimer.’

‘All games or just specific ones?’ he drawled, amused.

‘For the sake of our potential business relationship, let’s stick to all games,’ I responded tightly.

‘Shame,’ he murmured. ‘What’s this condition?’

‘That you let me have full control of the crew and rotate them the way I see fit without any interference.’ The last thing I needed was any unreasonable demands on my crew.

‘I accept your condition. But before we move forward I also need your reassurance that you will be as flexible as you claim you can be.’

For some absurd reason my breath caught, my imagination latching on to sexual positions and breathless fucking. Exhaling slowly, I reined myself in. ‘Yes. Fine.’

‘No, I need a little more than that,’ he insisted, his tone half amused, half irritated, if such a thing was possible. ‘So say the words, Miss Branson. Tell me you can accommodate my wishes.’

I crossed my fingers and prayed my response would hold true a day, or even a week from now. That I wouldn’t be tempted to throw Gideon Mortimer overboard before he’d bought my boat. ‘I can accommodate your reasonable wishes.’

‘Good. I arrive at seven tomorrow morning.’

The line went dead.

I stepped into my shower two hours later with a sigh of relief. My apartment on the Rue Jean Jaurès in Cannes was large and spacious and beautifully decorated. It was a little on the extravagant side, but I was determined to make a statement straight off the bat. I meant business and I wanted anyone who paid attention to know it. The sea view alone was worth the five figures I paid in monthly rent.

---