The Vampyre Legal Chronicles - Marcus (3 page)

Her parents,
especially her mother, had taught her from the time she could crawl
that women were equal, even more equal at times, than men. Her
father not only adored her, but he'd treated Anais as a very
precious human being. A human being with a clever and gifted mind.
He'd taught her to ignore gender, race, color. He'd taught her to
see both sides in a debate, to treat everyone from the highest to
the lowest with the same dignity and respect. Her father had also
prepared her to understand that not everyone she'd meet in the
world would hold or agree with those ethics or beliefs, and that
they'd fight, sometimes to the death, to defend their own.

So along with a
rigid career plan, Anais had followed in her parent's footsteps and
studied the Israeli self-defence discipline of Krav Maga. She was a
blue belt level GII. Studying and excelling in the subject had
given her not only an awareness of self, but an awareness of space,
of her surroundings. Therefore Anais had an enhanced sensitivity to
atmosphere, the vibe, surrounding other people. She particularly
paid very close attention to the reaction of her gut. Even though
she was fiercely attracted to Marcus, she was also on her guard
around him. Anais knew to implicitly trust her instincts. And those
instincts told her very loud and very clear that something about
Marcus Gillespie was... off.

She frowned
now, the two emotions of attraction plus feeling desperately,
uncomfortable, in his vicinity, simply didn't gel. No matter how
hard she examined her physical responses to him, which included an
elevated heartbeat, dry mouth and a strange disconnect in her mind,
a weird brain-fog, those responses didn't make sense. They confused
her. She'd never been confused in her life. And that confusion left
her jittery around the man. It left her watchful and waiting.

As for Marcus
Gillespie himself, he was the eldest son of the intimidating Duncan
Gillespie. However, there was no room for nepotism in Gillespie,
Pattullo and Hindmarch. Marcus had reached the heady heights of his
chosen profession with an intellect that was as sharp as a blade.
From day one he had treated Anais with nothing but a professional
respect. Even if his amazingly blue eyes seemed to see right
through her, in his dealings with her, he was coolly polite. Marcus
listened. Even if, most of the time, he didn't agree with her
thoughts or ideas. But that was fine, too, because she was here in
Shanghai to learn from the best negotiator in the business. She
supposed a person became the best by being able to get his own way
in all things. Marcus never lost his temper, at least never in
front of her. His greatest skill appeared to be one of infinite
patience. Plus, a self confidence that appeared absolute. When he
made a business decision, he expected unquestioning obedience from
his team. And got it, too.

The fact Marcus
didn't appear to be attracted to her brought Anais feelings of both
relief and dismay. He handled her like any other junior member of
his crack legal team. He certainly didn't treat her as if she was
an attractive woman, and that was just fine with Anais. She'd come
to the realisation that her complicated feelings for him were her
own responsibility, not his. And it was up to her to deal with them
in as professional a manner as possible.

Which was fine
on a normal day at work in the office in New York. If she spent an
hour per day one-on-one in his company she was lucky. But when
Marcus had first mentioned that she accompany him on the China
trip, Anais hadn't been able to hide her shock, or her deep unease.
No way would she be able to cope with being in too close a
proximity with him twenty-four-seven.

No way.

However, her
attraction to him was the least of her worries.

Taking great
care to choose her words, she'd given Marcus her honest opinion
that due to her heritage there was a distinct possibility her
presence might be an issue for the Chinese.

Marcus's answer
had been an endless look out of his blue eyes, followed by silence,
the result of which had nerves doing a frantic dance in her
belly.

In general,
Anais did exactly what her charismatic boss asked of her. When
Marcus said jump her usual response was how high. So the fact she'd
opened her mouth in apparent disagreement had taken him by
surprise.

Those blue eyes
had given her a very long and very thorough study. A study that
went right through her in a way that had made her cheeks go
nuclear. It was okay for him, he came from a blue-chip family and
background. Plus, he spoke Mandarin like a native.

Anais was mixed
race, adopted by a wonderful American couple. She was also female,
single, and since she hadn't been beaten with the ugly stick, there
was a risk she might be regarded as Marcus's little bit of fluff on
the side. She didn't have the personal flair, the polish of an
inherited wealth, that cloaked Marcus. That wealth and status
greatly impressed his Chinese counterparts.

After careful
consideration of her opinion, Marcus had simply shrugged,
reiterated he needed her, and that was that.

End of
discussion.

Annoyed with
herself, with the way her mind seemed to wander when she was in the
vicinity of Marcus's incredible
aura
, Anais ordered herself
to focus on the main goal. She was so close to that goal, having
her dream job, that she could taste it. Tomorrow she'd be doing the
happy dance of success. Because tomorrow she'd be a junior
corporate law partner in Gillespie, Pattullo and Hindmarch. Yay!
Now Anais took a deep breath, ordered herself firmly to keep her
mind on the job, not to count her chickens, etc., etc.

She tuned back
in to the discussion and listened to Marcus make a point to the
Chinese trade minister. The man's command of the language was
utterly flawless. Actually, Anais was no slouch herself. But
Marcus's tone, his inflection, his body language, the way he held
his dark head, the rhythm of his speech pattern, was a thing of
beauty.

As the minister
of trade began his counter debate, Anais was very careful to keep
her eyes lowered on the thick file of notes that lay on the table
before her. Four days ago the Chinese delegation had become aware
she was sharing the vast penthouse suite with her boss and his
brother James, and since then the delegation had become deaf, dumb
and blind around Anais. The situation had been difficult enough in
the beginning. After all she was a mere woman. She'd been certain
she'd been winning the battle for a little respect from the Chinese
delegation. Now that respect had disappeared into thin air.

The atmosphere
that surrounded her these days was intense, intimidating and
entirely unfair. And none of it was her fault.

An indignant
irritation with Marcus, and the untenable situation he'd placed her
in, bubbled and brewed quite nicely in her belly.

Hadn't she told
him it wasn't wise for her to share a suite with the Gillespie
brothers?

Hadn't she?

And had he
listened?

Had he
hell!

Anais knew it
was so important, as guests in a foreign land, to be culturally
aware.

Surely the
great Marcus Gillespie, as skilled socially as he was in the
language, must understand how easy it might be, even when things
were perfectly innocent, to cause offense? To lose face? Plus,
Anais was Eurasian. She was an exotic mix of Vietnamese, French and
Irish. And she was a single woman. It didn't matter the reason she
was sharing the huge four double bed roomed suite with Marcus and
his brother was for business reasons. The Chinese now regarded her
as a woman of loose morals, and there was nothing she could do
about it.

Now a young
man, an aide to the Chinese trade minister, and a man she'd twice
turned down his very polite requests for a date, slid as smooth as
a snake closer to Anais.

Without wishing
to cause further offence, she carefully leaned her torso away.

Not far enough,
because now his voice whispered in her ear, "
Jianhuo
," he
hissed.

Whore.

Dismay was a
nasty fist in the belly.

But it was the
jerk of shock that had the heavy file slip from the table to land
with a thud on the floor.

Knowing the
aide had timed his remark to cause a distraction at a crucial point
in the discussions didn't help. Mortified she'd fallen for the
trick, Anais found herself red-faced and on her hands and knees on
the floor under the table, eyeballing a pair of black shoes,
handmade in Italy. She had a thing for shoes, and these were
gorgeous. Marcus's long legs were spread apart. The fabric of his
bespoke suit, a silk and wool mix in deepest charcoal, was
fabulous, too. The well cut pants encased muscled thighs. Her eyes
flicked to the impressive bulge between his legs. And a brutal
arousal flared so fast she nearly gasped out loud.
Dear God
.
Heat scorched her neck, her cheeks. She couldn't look away as her
eyes lingered too long on the way the fabric tightened now on a
place they had no right to linger.

"Everything
okay down there, Anais?" asked Marcus, his voice deep and low.

Oh yeah,
everything was more than okay.

Then she
realised the whole room had gone quiet.

She cleared her
throat.

"Everything is
fine, sir."

Cursing her
stupid behaviour under her breath, Anais found her legs weak as she
rose and placed the file on the table. Ignoring the frantic beat of
the pulse in her neck, she sank into the chair with her back
straight, chin up.

Anais picked up
her pen, and waited.

Out of the
corner of her eye she was alarmed to find that Marcus had turned
his head to study her carefully. The man never missed a trick. And
something, call it intuition, told her he'd picked up on her mood.
Tension contracted in her gut before crawling up her spine, over
her shoulders, to settle horribly tight in the back of her
neck.

Now her gaze
dropped to stare at his hands resting on the table. They were
beautiful hands with smooth skin. Strong. A sculpture's hands, with
long fingers, short, clean nails. No scars or nicks. Hands that
would feel wonderful against bare skin... her skin... if he...

Marcus cleared
his throat, the sound making Anais blink.

Good God.

What on earth
was she doing thinking about his
hands
?

This was not
the time for daydreaming.

She needed to
focus.

Now the Chinese
minister began the lengthy process of wrapping up the meeting.

And Marcus
hadn't got what he needed, namely signatures cementing the
deal.

For the life of
her Anais couldn't remember what had been said in the last ten
minutes.

Anais
understood how the power game was played. The Chinese regarded her
as a weak link in the corporate armour of Gillespie, Pattullo and
Hindmarch. She knew the aide was only obeying orders, to throw her
concentration. And he'd succeeded. It shouldn't have upset her so
much, but it did. She felt embarrassed. After all, she was only
human. And after days of tense negotiations, of living in such
close proximity with the Gillespie brothers, she was stressed.

She was tired.
Plus, she couldn't do anything about the horrible nerves fluttering
like bats in her belly.

The Chinese
diplomats rose.

And so did
Marcus and his team.

Anais managed
to swallow a sigh of relief that the seven-hour meeting was
over.

It hadn’t gone
well.

Oh God, the
whole day had been a disaster.

She shouldn't
have come.

As they took
their leave, the Chinese delegation bowed to the tall man standing
to her right and shook his hand. He was too much of a professional
to show it, but Anais had worked with him long enough to recognise
the infinitesimal signs of displeasure in that poker face. It
wouldn't take a rocket scientist to work out that her boss was...
irked. The body language said it all.

Taking a deep
breath she chanced a look at the cement set of slashing cheekbones,
the narrowing of those blue eyes that had gone almost black and the
tight set of that wide and sensual mouth.

Yep.

He was
angry.

Beyond
angry.

With her.

The edgy nerves
in her gut wound it even tighter.

She might not
understand
how
she'd messed up, but she had.

Big time.

The contracts
were still not signed, which meant they wouldn’t be returning to
the headquarters of Gillespie, Pattullo and Hindmarch in New York
anytime soon.

Why the hell
had she slipped up today of all days?

In a few short
hours she expected to hear confirmation she’d made junior partner
to be announced. Now she had the horrible feeling, she'd blown it.
Anais had known going in that the six months probation period was
excessive but she'd been taught to only work for the best. For too
many years she’d sacrificed family life, friendships, and even
love, to get to the top to fail now.

He led the way
out of the hotel conference room and stalked before her towards the
elevator, like a big black panther.

In four-inch
heels, Anais found her feet matching the beat of her frantic heart
in an attempt to keep up with Marcus's ground-eating stride. She
could just imagine the picture she was presenting to the Chinese
delegation, running after her boss like a naughty little puppy. The
picture in her mind annoyed her so much that she deliberately took
her time and slowed her pace.

Marcus didn't
look at her as he waited until she entered the elevator before
pressing the button. The clear glass doors closed to whisk them to
their penthouse suite. Never a man to indulge in small talk Marcus
ignored her now as he scrolled through messages on his cell phone.
The atmosphere between them was so thick with tension that Anais
fought to keep her breathing steady. Close proximity to Marcus was
something Anais struggled with and found difficult to handle. It
was something she did her level best to avoid since there were
times when he helplessly mesmerised and discomposed her. It was the
sound of his deep voice, with the toe curling Scottish accent,
which seemed to trigger something very strange in her blood. A sort
of low and liquid longing deep in her belly that she'd recently
found harder and harder to control. Anais regarded herself as an
intelligent woman who understood the laws of attraction, that it
was made up of chemistry, pheromones and what those secretions
could do to the human body.