An Heir for the Arrogant Billionaire

After sitting on the floor for so long and crying her heart out, she realised that she couldn't stay there all day. She had to go down to breakfast because he was capable of coming up to get her and she didn't want that- she didn't want him walking back into her bedroom. The very idea wanted to make her want to throw up again.

She showered and put on a dark grey pleated skirt, a lemon shirt, a grey waist coat over that. She combed her auburn hair into an elegant French pleat and did her make up. Clipped neat silver earrings on her ears and the considered her reflection.

She wanted to look businesslike, cool and remote.

Bryan Ferdinand wasn't going to find any weakness in her today, never again in fact.

She had lied to herself for so long, telling herself that she hated him while she was in fact carrying a torch for him. Last night, the torch had set her on fire but it had burnt out now, thankfully, all that was left was blackened earth and emptiness.

Now she really did hate Bryan Ferdinand.She would be armoured against him from now on.

She collected her conference briefcase, the notes, the folders, the printed material they kept being handed and never had time to read.

Head up, she took a deep breath and went down to the dinning room. She paused in the door swallowing.

Yes, he was already there, sipping orange juice, turning the pages of a copy of the Financial Times, no doubt, yesterday's paper. Today's issue would not have reached Rome yet.

This morning, he looked grimly formidable in a dark suit, the jacket open to show his tight fitting waistcoat, immaculate white shirt and dark blue silk tie. His face was closely shaken, unshadowed, his black hair, sleek. He looked like he had had a great night's sleep, damn him, unlike her.

He must be as cold as ice. Last night she had been utterly convinced that he wanted her as much as she wanted him.

She watched as he put his half finished glass of juice down, his long fingers steady. Hard to believe that those same hands had taken her to heaven last night.

She flinched from the memory of his lovemaking, bit her lip and tasted the salt of her own blood in her mouth. Damn him. Damn him.

He closed the newspaper, glanced up, caught sight if her, his eyes narrowing, searching her face. What was he looking for? A sign of how much he had hurt her? She showed him a shuttered face, saw his brows flick together as if he was disappointed. If he thought that he was having any more fun at his expense, he was sadly mistaken, she thought grimly, walking towards him.

He rise to his feet. 'Good morning', he came round to hold her chair for her and she sat down, very conscious of him as he pushed her chair inwards again, unable to hide the flinch she gave as his hands brushed her shoulder.

Bryan gave her another if those piercing looks, his black eyes chilly. 'Did you sleep well last night?'

The bite in his tone didn't escape her. She wanted to hit him, yell at him but she fought to keep her face as icy as his own.

'Yes, thank you. Did you?'

Before he could answer, the waiter arrived and she ordered coffee, orange juice, prunes with natural yoghurt and toast.

When the waiter had gone, she asked Bryan stiffly, 'What did you want to talk about anyway?'

'Your opinion on the conference discussion, obviously, or of what you have heard so far', he coolly said as though they were mere acquitances. You were making notes all the time in the conference hall, I noticed.

He always notices everything, she thought. 'For David', she said aloud.

His mouth twisted. 'Of course'. His eyes stabbed at her across the table suddenly. 'Did you make notes last night, for David?'

White, she whispered, 'Shut up. Damn you. Shut up!'

The waiter came back with her orders and poured her a large cup of Fresh coffee,offered cream or hot milk.

'Black, thank you', she said hoarsely, spooning the creamy white yoghurt over her prunes, feeling her stomach churn at the very idea of eating them, but forcing herself to do so.

She had to seem normal, calm, unworried at all costs. She mustn't let him know how much damage he had done to her.

The waiter refilled Bryan's cup, 'I'll bring your toast now'.

When he walked away, Bryan said in his remote, cool voice, 'May I read your notes or are they for David's eyes only?'

Sharon glanced at him secretly through her lowered lashes, hating him. 'You mean, is there anything about you in them?No, there isn't and there won't be, don't worry. I won't be telling David any private anecdotes'.

'I'm sure you won't', he said, his voice stinging, 'Hasn't it occured to you yet that I might?'

Her face grew taut, white as bone. She watched him with bitter contempt. 'Was that all it was all about? Was that your game plan? You got me into bed so that you could tell David and wreck my....'

'Chance with him?' he drawled, mouth twisting.

'Reputation!', she said. 'I know how ambitious you are, I think that you see me as some sort of threat to your plans. If I married David, I'd stand in your way, wouldn't I? But I didn't think that even you would sink to seducing me just so that you could run off and tell David about it!'

That got home. Dark red filled his face and he looked at her savagely. 'And I wouldn't! I am not the type to kiss and tell, you needn't worry'.

'Am I supposed to say thank you now?' she asked icily.

There was a barbed silence, the Bryan clipped out, 'What about your conference notes? Can I see them or not?'

'Oh, why not?' she said wearily, 'But they are in shorthand'.

'That's no trouble. I can read shorthand'.

'I might have know you could', she said bitterly. 'You are an expert at everything, aren't you?' Including seducing women. He was very good at that. He must have had a lot of practice to be such an expert.

His eyes glittered, but he answered flatly. 'I did a business course before I went to the university. Shorthand, typing,computers. I've found it very useful.

She tried to match his level tone. 'I use a rather scribbled shorthand of my own though. Wouldn't you rather wait until the notes have been typed?'

'Not unless this is your roundabout way of refusing to let me see them.

'Oh, very well', she said, knowing that he left her no choice, got out her notepad and gave it to him.

'I'll read it some time today and let you have it back before we leave', he said putting it into his own briefcase.

The waiter came back with their toast. Sharon took hers with black cherry jam and pretended to eat it while Bryan ate his with marmalade.

They talked about the conference as they finished their breakfast. Then Bryan looked at his watch.

'The car must be here by now, we'd better go'.