Determined billionaire, p.18
Determined Billionaire, page 18
part #4 of Titans Series
When she’d mixed her beverage the way she wanted it, she took a long drink and rested her hips on the counter.
Being here with her was an entirely different experience. At the present, no antagonism lay between them. While he enjoyed sparring, this moment was also a picture he wanted to take forward into the future.
“Now that I look back, I realize that I was flattered by his attentions. I believed he did want to help make the family home better and help improve the cottages. But…” She cleared her throat and took another drink. “In addition to the issues that you know about…”
Though she flushed, she boldly went on. “He became controlling. Things needed to be done his way, and not just things that were in his realm of experience, such as improving the electronics, check-in, key cards, that sort of thing. But he wanted certain linens, a specific brand of faucets, whether they were in the budget or not. He switched us to a different floral shop. And the one we’d been using was more than adequate, and it was owned by a distant cousin.” She scowled. “Family doesn’t do that, you know?”
“Indeed.”
“One night at dinner, he announced it was high time we were married so he could take charge of things. Then he slid a box across the table and told me to put it on. Nothing about love. Or how happy were going to be. It was more like, let’s get this out of the way.”
Jack winced.
“Not much different than an arranged marriage.”
This time, her pointy barb had spikes. Since he deserved it, he didn’t respond.
“And what about you, Jack? You told me you’d tell me everything I want to know about you. Maybe I’ll even write a biography about you. Spill all your sordid secrets.”
“That one, minx, didn’t touch me. You might be sorely tempted, but you’ll never do it.” He was completely confident.
“You can’t know that.”
“Ah. I do.” Jack longed to wrap his hand in her hair and bring her close. Anything to bridge this damn emotional distance. “You’re as loyal as the day is long. Whatever has transpired between us, even if on balance you judge it to be more bad than good, you’ll keep it private.” He leaned toward her. “I trust you.”
“Even when you’re nice—especially when you’re nice—you’re annoying as all hell.”
He grinned.
“I’d ask if you’ve ever had your heart broken, but you don’t have one. So I want to know about the Titans. How you became one.” She held the cup between them, and he gave her the space she was silently asking for. “I know you can’t tell me all the sordid little details that I really want to know, but in general terms.”
“Mind if I take a seat?”
“If you don’t mind if I remain over here.”
“Next to the coffeepot?” And away from him.
“Exactly.”
Jack pulled out a chair from the table and sat back, crossing his legs at the ankles. This was a first for him. He didn’t normally visit in here, even when he had guests. “Máthair chríona, actually. She was the first from the Quinn line.”
“That surprises me. I saw her ring, but I guessed maybe she joined after your grandfather or something.”
“He was gone before then. Through establishing a foundation, she was connected with very some very good international legal advice from the Fallon Group.”
“You go back a long way.”
“It was either Celeste’s father or grandmother who suggested máthair chríona apply for membership. As you may have guessed, it has been a rewarding endeavor.”
“In spite of the exorbitant membership fees?”
“It’s investment. With perhaps a ten-times reward.”
Her eyes widened.
“Knowing influential people can cut through a lot of bureaucratic nonsense and funding issues.”
“Like in the government?” Rather cleverly she was pressing for more.
“I’ve said enough.”
“And Julien Bonds.”
“Quirky bastard. Nice try. I will neither confirm nor deny his membership status.”
“You’re a closed book, aren’t you?” She scowled, as if confounded.
“Like you, Sinead, I’m loyal. It matters, doesn’t it?”
Rather than responding, she changed the topic. “You mentioned you had plans, ideas, for the cottages and my family home.”
“In my office.”
She tipped her head to one side. “I do not want to see your etchings, Quinn. You can bring them here to me.”
“I rather thought you might want to see the rest of the house?”
“Why do you always seem to know a way to get me to do what you want?”
If he did, they would have already agreed to a wedding date. He stood.
After she refilled her mug and added enough sugar that he wondered how the spoon still moved through the liquid, she nodded that she was ready.
“You’ve seen most of what’s on this level. There’s a bathroom through that door, along with a washer and dryer. There’s a dining room that hasn’t had any use in at least twenty years.”
“Have you considered expanding the living area and getting rid of that entirely? Maybe add a sectional? And over there, you’ve room for a gigantic Christmas tree.”
“As far as I know, it’s never been anything more than a bachelor pad.”
“That’s rather sad, isn’t it?” She wrinkled her nose. “Homes are made for memories.”
Without responding, her words echoing in his ears, he led the way to the stairs.
“Most people would call this a house, you realize? Rather than a cottage?”
After spending so much time at the oversize manor, this seemed small.
Upstairs, he showed her the guest quarters and then his room.
“Where will I be staying?”
“Your choice.” He forced himself to unclench his jaw. “With me, I hope.”
After pointing out another bathroom, he added, “The master has an en suite. My office is here.” He opened a door.
“Wow and a—wow.”
He rather enjoyed the space. Massive screens to see his work come to life, and even indulge in Bond’s virtual reality offering. “Have a seat, if you wish.”
“Thanks.” She remained standing and cradled her mug with two hands.
Seizing every advantage, he went and stood next to her, very, very close.
She took a small step to the side—one, he was sure, that she was hoping he didn’t notice.
“Hello, Molly?”
“Yes, Lord and Master?”
Sinead turned to him. “What was that?”
“Please open the plans for Radharc Na Mara Manor.”
“What in God’s little green creation is that voice?”
A gorgeous aerial view of Sinead’s lands loaded, full screen. “It—or, rather, she—is known as Molly Three. She’s the house computer, developed by Bonds. She’s still in beta testing, but one of the finest examples of artificial intelligence ever imagined.”
“Harrumph.”
Instead of greeting Sinead as he expected, Molly powered down the screen and turned off the overhead lights. Jesus. He needed to get the Bonds team to work on Molly’s temperament.
“What happened?” Sinead glanced around.
“I believe I offended her.”
“You…what? Offended a—”
“Don’t,” he interrupted. “Molly is a bit…” He searched for the right explanation so she didn’t shut down the entire house. “Temperamental.” Was he fated to be surrounded by lippy females? “I apologize, Molly. I meant to say that you are my intelligent computer. Indispensable. You run every single damn thing in the house.” And all of his others as well. From ordering groceries to turning on his shower to the exact right temperature and brewing a pot of tea before he arose in the morning, she was incredibly efficient. Recently she’d decided to begin running the robotic vacuum cleaners at night so that she’d have more tasks to take care of.
Sinead grinned. “Hello, Molly.” Then she looked at Jack. “I like her.”
“Well, hello, Sinead. Nice to meet you. You’re even lovelier than I imagined.”
She clutched her cup tighter. “That’s creepy.”
“I’m sorry. Your picture is in the file, and I am trained in facial recognition. It helps when deciding whether to electrocute intruders or not.”
“Electrocute?”
“A little zap, really. Nothing too much. Voltage and amperage concerns, as you know. Just enough to disable them until Logan arrives. Though honestly, sometimes, I think he dawdles.”
Sinead laughed.
“If you’re done chatting, Molly, open my file, please.”
“Been trying to teach him some manners for the longest time, Miss O’Malley. Honest I have.” Even as she spoke, the picture of Radharc Na Mara Manor reappeared.
Moments later, it advanced to another image. It was much the same, except this one had more cottages, better landscaping, a spectacular fountain, plenty of outdoor space, including a tennis court, even places to play lawn games, including croquet.
“How did you do that?” Sinead asked. “It looks just like the actual aerial photo.”
“Some graphic manipulation. Imagine this on your website.” The slide stayed the same. “Imagine this on your website,” he repeated, a little louder.
“Oh. Sorry, Lord and Master.”
A mockup of a new version of Sinead’s website appeared, followed by gorgeous marketing materials.
But it was the pictures of the manor and cottage interiors that made Sinead gasp.
“Of course, these are simply ideas. You’d be free to change any of them, or you could start over.”
“Where did you get the ideas?”
“Rafe Sterling provided me with a few suggestions and some solid guidelines. And then he allowed me to work with a few of his designers.”
Her jaw dropped open. “You don’t mean the person behind Sterling hotels?”
Jack enjoyed surprising her. “One in the same.”
“I stayed at a Sterling in Denver. The one where you found me.”
“He’ll appreciate your good taste.”
“Is he a Titan?”
“The lord and master can neither confirm nor deny that.”
“Very intelligent,” Sinead remarked.
“I like her.”
He didn’t point out the obvious. Computers didn’t have feelings.
“This is slightly overwhelming.”
“It’s a lot to take in, granted. You’d be welcome to work with the firm yourself. Especially on ideas for Quinn Manor. My grandmother has indicated she’d be more than happy to relinquish her position to you.”
“Quinn,” she warned, her eyes narrowing as she looked at him.
“The outdoor areas were suggested by a different company. Also available for a fee.”
“This is a bit overwhelming.”
“I didn’t mean for them to be. You asked about the drawings.”
“But these aren’t drawings, are they? They’re full-on architectural plans and designs. That takes a long time to create, no matter how rich you are.”
“Sinead—”
“You could call them something else entirely. Part of an elaborate…” She seemed to fish for the right word. “Scheme. Carefully planned and carried out. It’s been an all-out assault for weeks, hasn’t it? And as easy to see through as those etchings I was joking about. You think you can buy me, Quinn. But you can’t. I’m not for sale. I know that you’re not accustomed to hearing the word no.” She rose up onto her tiptoes to push her index finger into his chest. “But let me be clear. Emphatic. No. No.” Her eyes frosted, near dripping with ice. “No.”
Jack ground his back teeth together.
Another round to the lass from Westport. For the first time, he wondered if he might lose the battle. Though he never conceded defeat, he’d never met an opponent like Sinead.
Chapter Thirteen
“Maeve. That’s the name of the woman I was planning to marry.”
Sinead was staring out the window. An unseasonal strong wind blew off Clew Bay, rattling the panes and making an eerie howl. Under other circumstances, she might have said the sound was the Banshee.
Mist had given way to fog, making Croagh Patrick look otherworldly and a million miles away.
After her anger earlier in the day, she’d wanted to leave, but the weather made it impossible. For most of the day, she’d avoided him. Instead of interacting, she’d jotted ideas and random lyrics in her notebook while trying to ignore the sounds of him moving around, ignoring him as he poked at the fire and added another log to keep her comfortable.
To save herself, she had to keep her distance.
The truth was, she was beginning to care for the dictatorial, annoying man. Seeing him interact so lovingly with his grandmother and placating Molly Three made Sinead like him. And that, she couldn’t allow. Softness toward him would make her weak.
Now, she looked up from her notebook and looked at him. What are you about, Jack Quinn?
“You’ve a right to know certain things about me.”
She should stop him, maybe get up and go to another room. “No. I really don’t. You were right to keep your life private.” Now, she had no doubt. He was trying to woo her.
He took a seat on the settee and rolled a glass of whiskey between his palms. “I was in love.”
Her heart thundered. He was capable of that, then, was he? Which made it all the more important that she demand nothing less.
“Or at least I thought I was.” He shrugged. “Enough to consider asking my grandmother to open the family safe so I could select a ring for her.”
“And what happened?”
“She was seeing another man for the last six months of our relationship. No doubt, she was waiting to see which of us would propose first.”
There was no faking the pain threaded in his words. Even at his worst, Donal had only been interested in her. She couldn’t imagine being cheated on. Dealing with the lies, wondering if anything had been real. Perhaps it was no surprise he treated marriage like a business proposition, complete with contracts and money and flashy video presentations. “I’m sorry for your hurt.”
“I’m a hard man, Sinead.”
That, she was sure of. And that meant he wasn’t for her. She had no reason to settle down. When and if she did, it would be with someone who supported her dreams and showed up at her gigs. Her lifelong partner would respect her need to create. Together, they’d slay their dragons, side by side. Their passion would be unbridled, and laughter would be a constant companion. The love they shared would banish all the sins of the past. “You’ve avoided love since then, have you?”
He sipped from his fine Irish distillate. “I’ve been busy with my business dealings.”
That was always a handy excuse. She ought to know. Hadn’t she told herself that a hundred times as well? “I’m sure many women have been interested.”
“Perhaps.” He shrugged.
In addition to being handsome and stupidly rich, he could be courteous enough. Any number of women in the country—even the world—would happily throw themselves into his arms.
Yet he’d opted not to bother with the annoyances that accompanied dating and decided instead to buy a suitable wife.
Further conversation was interrupted by the arrival of Logan with their evening meal. Jack poured her a glass of pinot grigio and insisted she sit and enjoy it while he and Logan worked together to set the table and serve the food.
If she were the kind of woman to be tempted by Jack Quinn, she’d already be under his spell.
After declining an invitation to join them, Logan said his farewells.
“I really could get used to this,” she admitted, dipping warm bread into a hearty stew, perfect for such a chilly evening.
“Many a time I’ve wished I could take Logan with me when I travel. I get tired of eating out.”
“Do you?” She rarely had the resources for more than a takeaway sandwich or soup.
“I’m either alone, or I’m entertaining clients or people I hope will become clients. Of course the opposite can happen as well. I’m treated like a king by people who want to do business with me.”
“Do you ever get lonely?”
“Lonely?”
“London. New York. Lunches and dinners that are business meetings instead of a chance to connect with family and friends. Everything you’ve said sounds…I don’t know.” Sinead searched for the right word to express what she was thinking. She didn’t like what she’d come up with, but there was nothing else that came to mind. “Soulless.”
He put down his spoon. “That’s a bit harsh.”
“Perhaps.” She didn’t apologize, however.
“You travel.”
Sinead shook her head. “It’s different. The money I earn on the road helps put food on my mother’s table. I don’t go to fancy places, and when I go to a pub or restaurant, it’s with other members of the band. They’re friends, but even closer. More like a second family. I’m always with people, even at Radharc Na Mara Manor. We’ve gotten to the point that we have some regular guests. The Major and his wife come over from Manchester every few months. A few writers have an annual retreat. They reserve the entire place. Then there’s the young couple that booked into a cottage for their honeymoon. They come back on their anniversary. The first time, the wife was pregnant. A year later, she had this dazed, exhausted look about her. She said being with us was her first good night’s sleep in months.” Sinead smiled. “Her husband looked a bit less than pleased. I think he was hoping to start on baby number two.”
Jack grinned.
“Radharc Na Mara is a happy place where people connect. And they return to recapture that feeling. That’s really what life is all about, isn’t it?” She traced her index finger just outside the base of her glass, where it sat against the aged wooden table. “Having experiences that help us feel the way we want to. Happy.” Maybe, if she’d hadn’t had any wine, she could have held her tongue. “Loved.”
“And what of building for future generations? Of doing good in the world.”
His argument didn’t dissuade her. “You can do all that and have meaningful relationships. If you’re miserable, what good does it do to keep acquiring worldly goods?”
