Seducing the Enemy (4 page)

It was exactly nine when the voices got louder. They must have opened the door to the other room. She honed in on one in particular.

“Yvonne?” he was saying—clear, masculine, cultured, American with an occasional British inflection, like he’d gone to Oxford or Cambridge. “Can you bring the coffee into the conference room so we don’t lose time? And we’ll break in two hours. Thank you.”

Marietta’s first reaction was surprised joy at the sound of his voice, but that sentiment quickly faded. She stood in an anxious rush. What the hell was Harry doing here?

Maybe he was a Damon lawyer.

No. That wasn’t right. It took only a few seconds to put the pieces together.

One of the nephews was named Harrison. She remembered that, despite her avoidance of all things Damon. Harrison Damon.

Her Harry.

She paled. Covered her mouth with her hand. She’d had sex with a Damon, and now he was about to walk into this room.

Nothing good could come of this. A settlement would never be made. She couldn’t
be
here.

“Etta, girl, are you ill?”

“Yes,” she said, improvising, “I don’t feel well. Is it all right if I go?”

“Of course. Go lie down. I will come to check on you later.”

She started for the door, but it was too late.

He looked professional in his expensive black suit. He exuded that aura of power she’d first noticed in the club. His presence alone commanded attention in any room.

Of course. He was a Damon. He’d been raised to think he was a king.

Just like Michael, whose recklessness had killed her sister.

She clutched the edge of the table to stay on her feet.

Harry—Harrison hadn’t noticed her yet. He was shaking hands with her grandfather, smiling with perfectly cool courtesy.

He hadn’t known who she was last night. He’d thought she was just some girl.

He was going to be…

“Let me introduce my granddaughter, Marietta.” Her grandfather looked over at her like she was precious. He didn’t know she’d given herself to a Damon last night.

Harrison froze when he saw her. She could see the truth processing in his eyes.

“What
is
this?” he demanded at last. “What is this?” He only raised his voice slightly, but his anger was palpable, intimidating.

This was bad. This was so, so bad.

“Harr—Harrison,” she began, trying desperately to control her voice. “I think there’s been some confus—”

He didn’t wait for her to finish. He turned to her grandfather, shooting him a frigid look. “You’d really whore out your own granddaughter to win the case?”

Marietta’s vision darkened when she realized the horrible conclusion he’d leapt to.

This was so much worse than she’d thought.

…

The truth closed in on Harrison like a sledgehammer.

The sweet, sexy, clever, utterly sincere Etta from last night was also the girl who’d been seriously injured in the car accident fifteen years ago, now no longer in a wheelchair. The girl who falsely accused Michael Damon of reckless driving. The girl whose grandfather had hounded his family with this lawsuit for years.

Just like Grace. All of it was a lie.

She’d known who he was all along. She’d found him at the club, tripped over him on purpose, seduced him like a pro.

And he’d fallen for it like a clueless, horny teenager—when he really should have known better.

“How stupid you must have thought me,” he said coldly, turning back to Marietta.

“No,” she choked. “That’s not what happened.”

She sounded convincing, but she’d also sounded credible last night. She was a consummate actress.

“What did you call her?” Edwards roared.

Harrison had years of experience in dealing with conflict and angry negotiations. He didn’t even flinch at the other man’s bellow. “What would you call it, then? What is it called when you send your granddaughter to screw me—for what? To somehow get me on your side? Did you think that would work? Or was the plan for her to screw me into—”

“Stop it.” Marietta’s gripped the table so hard her knuckles turned white. “Stop. It. Now.”

He arched his eyebrows and tried to appear in control, but he didn’t feel in control.

Waves of hot and cold assaulted him as shock, rage, betrayal, and bone-deep humiliation vied for control. He felt just like he had with Grace. Except it was worse this time. He’d already been through it once.

He’d thought Marietta was different.

He couldn’t stand to look at her anymore and wasn’t sure what he should do.

One of his lawyers was talking to him. “Mr. Damon? Maybe we should sit down and discuss—”

“No. The negotiations are over. I don’t know what kind of people you’re used to dealing with, but I do not play games, and I will not negotiate with anyone who uses such underhanded tactics to win.”

“Nobody used any underhanded tactics.” Marietta’s voice shook. “If you’ll just listen—”

He glanced toward her but couldn’t really see her. “Listen to more lies? I don’t think so. You’ll have to fuck your way into a different fortune.”

She made a sound like a whimper. He tried to take pleasure in having hurt her.

“How dare you!” Edwards burst out, stepping over until he was in Harrison’s face. “You’re just like the rest of them. You Damons are all selfish, uncaring, womanizing criminals. The authorities might be under your thumb, but not everyone will be deceived. The world will know—”

Harrison sucked in a breath, suddenly understanding their plan. “So that’s it,” he drawled in the tone Andrew called his viper voice. “You have pictures? Videos? Of your granddaughter naked in bed with me?”

When he realized what he was saying—how out of control he was—he turned abruptly on his heel. He didn’t behave this way. He wouldn’t let them reduce him to their level.

He strode out of the room without saying another word.

He tried to think clearly, tried to move into crisis mode. He’d always been good at dealing with emergencies with a cool head and keen insight.

This could be bad for the family, for Damon Enterprises. If they had pictures, videos, they could use them to…

He couldn’t seem to follow any thought through to the end.

He shouldn’t react this way. Not after a random one-night stand with a woman who meant nothing to him.

Harrison was a business and legal strategist. He tackled complex problems and overwhelming challenges with smooth efficiency. He was the nephew who could always be depended on.

If he’d thrown his family into more scandal by this foolish affair, his uncle might never forgive him.

“Mr. Damon!”

He turned and saw Marietta hurrying down the hall after him, her heels clipping on the polished floor. He’d hoped the elevator would have come by now, but no such luck.

He turned to her, some niggling sense of fair play prompting him to not simply walk away. “You have something to say to me?”

She’d been pale in the conference room. She wasn’t pale anymore. Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes flashed with anger. “Yes, I have something to say to you, you arrogant, foul-minded asshole. What did we ever do to deserve being treated that way?”

He almost gaped. “What did you do? Shall I rehearse the entire litany of offenses over the last fifteen years? Or shall we sum it up with simple, dirty extortion?”

She clenched her fists at her side, trembling with fury. “After last night, how can you possibly think that about me?”

Beneath his anger, he was astonished she still held onto her lies. “How can I not think it? How much of a fool do you take me for? You think I’ll believe you really didn’t know who I was, when your family has spent years trying to bleed money from us?”

“Why would I have done it at all?”

“You tell me. You’re the one who used her body for profit.”

“Fine. If I’m a whore, then tell me how much my performance was worth last night. How much are you willing to pay to have fucked a virgin?”

A question flashed in his mind about whether she’d been a virgin at all. Could she have faked it? For what purpose? She hadn’t bled, but he understood that virgins didn’t always do so. Could she have…

He shook the thought away. It was irrelevant. “Name your price, and I’ll write you a check. Or do you prefer cash?”

He hated himself for the crude words almost as much as he hated her. He reached into his pocket, pulled out a thick billfold, and counted out bills. “I’ve got…two thousand, three hundred and twenty dollars here. Is that a sufficient down payment? You know I’m good for the rest.”

His tone was nasty, bitter. It didn’t sound like him at all.

“Stop it, Harry! Just stop.”

She wasn’t going to call him Harry again.

He stuffed the cash into his pocket. The depth of his wrath was irrational, but he couldn’t rein it in. Beneath the anger was humiliation, as excruciating as any physical wound. Beneath that, there was something else, an ache he couldn’t bring himself to acknowledge, much less identify.

But together they pushed him into the icy hauteur he commanded when he was most furious. “My name is Harrison,” he bit out. “Harrison Damon.”

Marietta’s face twisted. His words had found their mark, but she didn’t cave. She replied with an exhausted bitterness, “Well, you’ve certainly lived up to your name today.”

Those words stung as much as everything else had, but the elevator had finally come. Harrison stepped on without another a word.

Chapter Four

“Are you sure you don’t want me to come with you?” Anne asked as she and Marietta waited in line for the security checkpoint at the Marseille airport.

“Don’t be silly. You already took a day off to meet me here. You can’t take off any more.” When Anne looked like she was about to object, Marietta continued, “I do appreciate your coming. If you hadn’t, Grandpapa would have come, and then I wouldn’t have been able to stop him from going with me.”

“But wouldn’t it be nice to have someone with you when you talk to Mr. Damon?”

“Yeah. But it’s my disaster. I’m the one who needs to fix it.”

She and her grandfather had gone home to Aix shortly after the confrontation at the hotel. She’d cried and thought and talked with her grandfather for a week until she’d decided on her plan—fly to England to meet with Cyrus Damon and try to get negotiations back on track. She and her grandfather needed the closure, and the only way to get that was to settle.

“Are you sure it’s not worth talking to Harrison again?”

Marietta stiffened. “No. He’s not going to believe me. Anyway, I don’t want anything to do with him after the way he treated me. I’m hoping not to see him at all. If I can get in to see Mr. Damon, I’ll try to explain things and arrange another meeting—hopefully with him rather than Harrison. Then I’ll leave.”

“Okay.” Anne stepped out of the way of a pushy middle-aged couple behind them. “You’ll do great.”

“Do you think I’m crazy?” Marietta smothered a swell of insecurity. It did sound like a rather insane plan.

“No. I think it’s good that you’re doing it.” When Marietta raised an eyebrow Anne continued, “It’s like the
old
you.”

“What do you mean?” Despite the question, she knew exactly what Anne meant.

“The old you. Before you could walk you were fearless. But for the last two years you’ve just sort of…I don’t know…shrunk.”

Her friend was right. Marietta could argue she was getting used to the drastic change in her life, but she’d had a hard time moving on. Whenever she tried, panic paralyzed her.

She’d never believed the endless surgeries would be successful. She’d never thought she would be able to walk again.

Her life was supposed to have headed one way, and now it went another. She hadn’t been ready. Maybe that was why she still felt stuck.

“Well, wish me luck.”

Anne hugged her and stepped out of line, since Marietta had reached the checkpoint. Dread rose in her belly as she went through security alone.

It had been a long time since she’d done anything alone.

…

Marietta had waited for more than an hour, and it was getting on her nerves.

She’d shown up at Damon Manor without an appointment on a Sunday afternoon, so she certainly hadn’t expected him to drop everything to talk to her. She hadn’t even been sure he’d let her in.

Security had motioned her through the gate, however, and the butler had shown her to a sitting room and offered her a cup of tea. Then she’d been completely ignored.

If they’d let her in, they could at least give her the courtesy of acknowledging her existence. Cyrus Damon was supposed to be the model of old-world civility, but he was evidently as rude and arrogant as his nephew.

He was probably jerking her around. Making her wait forever in this stuffy, old-fashioned room.

She’d worked herself into a fine state of righteous wrath when the door opened. The butler entered.

“Would you like more tea, Ms. Edwards?”

Marietta released a breath and smiled at him. She could hardly take out her frustration on this quiet, considerate man. Even if he resented her for his employer’s sake, his blue eyes conveyed nothing but kindness. “I’m fine. Thank you, though.”

If she drank any more tea, she would have to go to the bathroom.

“My pleasure, Ms. Edwards.”

The butler left, and less than a minute later another man entered the room. At first, she thought it was Damon, but a closer look told her it wasn’t. This man was perhaps in his fifties, balding, and wearing wire-rimmed glasses.

“Ms. Edwards,” he said. “I’m John Cassell. I handle the Damons’ legal matters.”

The family lawyer. Not one of those at the meeting last week. He must be higher up the food chain.

She stood and shook his hand, recognizing that although he was polite, he wasn’t happy to see her. “It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Cassell.”

“You understand,” he said matter-of-factly, “that we prefer to deal with lawyers about matters such as this. I’m sorry you came all this way—”

“But I don’t want to discuss legal matters,” she interrupted, before he could dismiss her. She was so out of her comfort zone, but managed to keep her tone firm and even. “Of course we would have our lawyer present for any sort of legal negotiations. I simply want to offer an explanation. To Mr. Damon. For what happened in Monte Carlo.”

Cassell stared at her for a moment. “He’s a busy man.”

“Naturally. I’ll only take fifteen minutes of his time.”

For a moment, he looked torn.

She wondered why the family lawyer had greeted her and why Damon hadn’t sent an assistant to deal with the intrusion instead. Cassell didn’t appear to be angry or offended. Rather, he looked defensive—and, for a second, almost scared.

She decided she must have misread his expression when he glanced at his watch

Following through on her advantage, she grinned brightly and pulled out a book from her leather bag. “If he’s busy, I’m happy to wait. I don’t have anything else scheduled today.”

She sat in a chair, opened the book, and pretended not to be nervous, determined she wouldn’t leave unless they bodily evicted her.

When the lawyer continued to stare at her, she glanced at him, smiling more confidently than she felt. “Whenever he has a spare minute.” She focused on her book, not seeing a single word on the page.

Finally Cassell left the room without comment.

Marietta exhaled in a rush. She’d won that round as well. It hadn’t been as bad as she’d feared.

The hardest round was yet to come. Her conversation with Damon.

The gentleman who entered a few minutes later was certainly Cyrus Damon. She remembered him from when she was a child—when he and her grandfather had partnered in a chain of Provençal-style restaurants—and he hadn’t changed much. A slight, unimpressive man of only average height, he had gray hair and eyes the same brown as Harrison’s.

“Good morning, Ms. Edwards,” he said, extending his hand with perfect courtesy. “I hope you have been made comfortable.”

She’d thought he would be cold and hard the way Harrison had been after discovering her identity, but she could see no anger or distrust in his expression.

Already, she felt off-stride. She hadn’t expected him to be nice to her. “Yes, thank you, sir. Your staff is very kind.”

He gestured to a chair, and she noticed he didn’t sit until she did. She’d heard that he cultivated the aura of a gentleman of old—honorable, respectable, and eminently civil—and she’d scoffed. Yet, the deference he showed her appeared genuine.

She’d almost rather he bite out insults like Harrison had. At least that way she’d know where she stood.

“I will admit to being surprised by your presence,” Damon began. His face was mild, but his sharp, observant gaze proved he wouldn’t miss a thing. He wouldn’t be easily won over.

“I apologize for not making an appointment. I wasn’t sure you would meet with me, you see.”

“And so you decided ambush was your best tactic.”

“Precisely.” She risked a half-smile and noticed a faint smirk on his lips.

“What can I do for you, Ms. Edwards?”

“I wanted to offer you an explanation for the breakdown of the meeting last week.” She began her prepared speech with only a slight wobble in her voice.

His eyebrows lifted. “Did you?”

“I wanted you to have the whole story so you could decide how to proceed.”

“I am happy to hear the whole story.”

She cleared her throat. Now that she’d gotten to this point, she couldn’t take a full breath. “I suppose your nephew told you his understanding of what happened.” She needed to be diplomatic, but it was difficult to talk about Harrison without conveying how much she wanted to smack his smug, handsome face.

“If I may interrupt, Ms. Edwards. I haven’t heard anything about what happened in Monte Carlo. Harrison told me the negotiations failed but offered no reasons, and I could get no coherent explanation from our lawyers. All Harrison would say was that he’d been stupid.”

Marietta gasped. “He didn’t say anything…anything about me?”

“No. I sent investigators for information but haven’t heard a full report.”

She was astounded. She’d been sure Harrison would have thoroughly defamed her, poisoning his uncle’s mind against her. Her whole approach had been based on that assumption. Now she had no idea how to proceed.

“My dear Ms. Edwards,” Damon said gently. “You look rather unsteady. Perhaps some more tea—”

“No. No, thank you. I’m all right.”

Why hadn’t Harrison told his uncle what happened?

“So you see,” Damon continued, kindly overlooking her lingering discomfort. “Your arrival is fortuitous. I’d very much like an explanation. And it seems you can give me one.”

She swallowed, finding her momentum again. “Well, you see, sir, your nephew was in a club in Monte Carlo. I guess it was a Damon club, although I didn’t know that at the time. He was working, and I went to the club with a friend. I didn’t know who he was. And he didn’t know who I was.”

Damon let out a breath and relaxed back in his chair. “Ah.”

She nodded. “I genuinely didn’t know he was a Damon. I thought he was just a…just a guy. I never read the magazines and gossip columns. I’ve avoided obsessing too much on…on…”

“I understand. Please continue.”

“So we started talking. And danced.” She completely lost her polished explanation and let the words spill out. “I didn’t know who he was. I just thought he was nice and interesting and… He didn’t know who I was either and I think he had a good time. I…I liked him.”

Comprehension dawned on Damon’s face, overwhelming the polite astonishment he’d shown as she told her story. “And he liked you.”

She dropped her eyes. “Yes. Well, I, uh, think maybe he did. A little.”

“And he discovered your identity in a way that was rather abrupt?”

“Yes. It was terrible. He thought the whole thing was a plot against him, that I’d been deceiving him the whole time. But I wasn’t! I really wasn’t. He thought I…” She couldn’t bring herself to say any more. All the painful feelings of that confrontation had returned.

“Naturally, he did.”

She cut her eyes back to him with a harsh gasp. “I promise you, sir, that I was as shocked by the truth as he was.”

“I didn’t mean to imply otherwise,” Damon said, his voice as mild as ever. “I was referring to something else. Harrison has had experiences that lead him to assume the worst.”

“Oh.” She didn’t know what to say to that. “I tried to explain, but he didn’t…he wouldn’t…”

“I find it hard to believe he didn’t give you a chance to explain yourself. Harrison believes in fair play. He used to come home black and blue because he’d jumped into fights at school when one side had an unfair advantage.”

Marietta found the image of Harrison as a brave little boy troubling. He’d counted out cash to pay her like a whore. She wouldn’t give him her sympathy. “He did give me a chance. But by then I was too mad—as if I would stoop to begging for his forgiveness for something I didn’t do.”

Damon tried to hide a smile. “I see.”

Remembering what was most important, she concluded, “So you see, sir, that it was all an unfortunate misunderstanding. I know he wants nothing to do with me, but I don’t want that to ruin all chances of finally settling this. My family needs for this situation to come to a conclusion. My poor grandfather—” Her voice broke on the word, and she cleared her throat. “He loved us so much. Me and my sister. And he can’t seem to let it go. But we need to.” She added, taking a great risk, “And maybe you do, too.”

“Hmm.”

She let out a long breath. Damon had surprised her by acting like a reasonable man—remarkably polite given the circumstances. This meeting hadn’t been as hard as she’d feared, and she felt a faint stirring of excitement over being brave enough to do it alone.

“Harrison is at home,” Damon said unexpectedly. “He has his own flat in London, but he stays here much of the time for business. Did you want to see him?”

“No!” Flushing and moderating her tone, she added, “No, thank you. I came only to see you. And I appreciate your listening to me. I will be on my way now, if you understand why everything fell apart last week. Perhaps you or another one of your representatives can come back, or my grandfather and our lawyer might be able to come here. I just didn’t want this…this thing to ruin our best chance for…”

She wasn’t sure what to hope for. Not reconciliation. Not satisfaction. Not even peace. Maybe just an end, at last.

Damon stood, so Marietta did as well. His eyes took in her appearance. The close scrutiny changed and for the first time, something like kindness softened his eyes. “I am very glad to see you looking so healthy, Ms. Edwards. We were so pleased when we heard the last surgery was a success.”

“Thank you.” She hadn’t expected the shift in mood, and her voice cracked embarrassingly. “Much more was lost that day than my ability to walk. For all of us.”

He glanced away, but not before she saw the flicker of sorrow.

Empathy stirred, but she squashed it. He might have loved his nephew, but he was a Damon. Michael Damon had killed her sister, and this man refused to admit the truth.

She assumed she was about to be dismissed and congratulated herself for getting through the interview with no disasters and no run-ins with Harrison.

Then Damon said, “I hope you will do us the honor of remaining our guest for the week.”

Marietta gaped. “What?”

Damon’s mouth twitched, exactly like Harrison. “I seem to have taken you by surprise. I am inviting you to stay with us for the week. You’ve had a long trip, and it would be a shame for you to turn around and leave immediately.”