For Love or Legacy Page 2



He's never going to say yes to this. I'm wasting my time.

"Are you ok?" the woman asked, stepping away from the door and looking up at Nicole with concern.

You don't have to do this. Memory of the fervent plea made earlier that day by Thomas Brogos, her father's long time lawyer and friend, held her immobile a moment longer.

Yes, I do, she had answered.

Everything she loved, everyone she loved, depended on getting Stephan to agree to her outrageous request. She couldn't fail today.

"I'm ok," Nicole said even while her body betrayed her by threatening to increase the tears she kept blinking away. No, her mind screamed. I'm not ok. Nothing is ok. Nothing had been in a very long time and, if this didn't work, nothing ever would be again.

"I know this is none of my business, but I just want you to know that I'm out here if you need me."

Oh, God, I'm such a wreck that a pregnant woman is worried about me now? Taking a deep breath, Nicole willed her feet to carry her through the door and into Stephan's office.

Stephan Andrade, ex-spoiled rich kid, now corporate shark and owner of enough diversified computer software companies that no one was quite sure how his empire wasn't considered a monopoly, rocked back in his sleek office chair and steepled his fingers in a mockery of contemplation. Light from the immense office window behind him cast a shadow across his face, concealing any emotion which might have shown in his eyes. Manhattan’s skyline cut a ragged silhouette across the horizon, as harsh and unforgiving as the man who had not bothered to stand when Nicole had entered his domain. An oversight and slight breach of etiquette for some, the lack of movement was nothing short of a slap in the face from a man who prided himself on his traditional old-world upbringing.

It didn't help that he was still gorgeous.

If life were fair at all, Stephan would have been rounder in the middle with a receding hairline. Several inches above six feet, he was a striking mixture of his Scandinavian mother and his Italian father — thick blond hair, eyes so blue they caught ones attention from across a room, and a natural muscular physique that most men spent hours in gyms trying to emulate. But life wasn't fair, and his good looks were just as necessary to ignore this time around as they had been seven years ago.

"Thank you for seeing me," Nicole said, the words caught in her throat. Nothing about his expression or his mannerisms implied that he would entertain her request. She wasn’t about to turn tail and run, though, just because he was looking her over like she'd tracked mud across his priceless rug.

"I am flying out of town in less than an hour. What do you want, Nicole?" His voice implied that whatever it was, the likelihood that she was going to get it was close to zero.

Ever so carefully, Nicole sat on the unforgiving, white chair before Stephan's desk. She smoothed the knee of her navy pants suit and crossed her ankles to one side, hoping she didn't look as anxious as she felt. "Can't you at least try to be civil, Stephan?"

The jaded man who sized her up now bore little resemblance to the young man who had visited his father's company frequently over several months for no other reason than to saunter through her office, looking like he'd just returned from surfing, and ask her if she'd go out with him. She’d always said no, and he’d always smiled as if her refusal had just made him like her more.

He wasn't smiling now.

He stood and walked to the front of his glass desk. "We both know this isn't a social visit. I'll admit I'm surprised that your brother stooped to sending you. His deal must be in worse shape than I thought."

Nicole clutched the purse on her lap. "Dominic didn't send me."

Stephan leaned back, crossing his arms across his wide chest. Despite his expensive tailored suit and silk tie, he looked anything but tame. He had clawed his way from near bankruptcy back to the front page of financial magazines and the experience had hardened him. "Riiiiight," he drawled.

It doesn’t matter what he thinks of me. "I need your help," she said.

His eyes narrowed while he weighed her statement. "You needed something and you thought of me? How touching. Did you consider the time we haven't spoken and the circumstances of our last conversation before you came here?"

"You know I had nothing to do with what happened."

A careless shrug of his shoulder volleyed that he knew no such thing.

"Stephan. I don't even talk to my brother. I hate him. If I had known that he was going to buy..."

"Steal..." Stephan interjected.

"If I had known anything about what was going to happen, I would have tried to stop him."

"Easy to say now."

"What do you want me to say, Stephan? I went to him when it happened. He wouldn't listen to me. I tried to apologize to your family. What more do you want from me?"

"I guess the real question is - What do you want from me?"

Nicole shut the door on the welling response from within her. He wasn’t asking her what she had once wanted, what she’d spent many lonely nights dreaming could happen between them. He didn’t want to hear about that foolishness any more than she wanted to resurrect it. No, today was about something much more concrete, and the only thing she still allowed herself to care about. "My father left me his company, but he named Dominic the acting CEO for a year."

Stephan barked out a laugh. "Genius. Dominic was the one sabotaging your father's company, it makes sense that he's the one to turn it around."

"Do you know what Dominic will do with the company as soon as he gets his hands on it? He's going to fire everyone at the top and put his own people in there."

"And?"

"And I can't let that happen."

"Because you need to be in control."

Does it matter? He wouldn't believe her. He'd made up his mind about her a long time ago. "I just need to know if you can put the past aside long enough to help me."

No didn’t require vocalization; it shone in his ice-cold eyes and the stiff set of his shoulders.

"I can make it worth your while," she added quickly, playing her last card in this game.

He pushed off from the desk. Suddenly interested. "Now this I have to hear."

It would slow the rebound of the company, but if Stephan didn’t agree to help her, she was going to lose it all anyway. "I own the patent to a new conversion software. I could sign it over to you."

He leaned closer. Close enough that she could smell the light scent of his aftershave. Close enough to block out her view of everything but him.

"Disappointing," he said.

"What is?" She shifted uncomfortably in her seat. Beneath her modest navy jacket and silk blouse, her body was having some very immodest reactions to his nearness. She didn’t want to remember how those lips, the ones that were so close that she could lean forward and taste them, had felt on her neck, on other parts that were now straining against lace - begging for his attention.

She met his eyes and realized that he was watching her reaction intently; testing something, something they both knew was there, something that was better left unsaid.

She steeled herself against her need for him. Hadn’t she learned years ago how giving in to a whim, even if only for one evening, could have devastating emotional consequences? Losing him would never have hurt as much if she hadn’t allowed herself that one day of believing that she could actually have someone like him in her life.

"Your offer. I thought you had something a little more personal in mind..." he said. One corner of his mouth curled at the thought.

Calm. Breathe. Stephan would pounce on any weakness. Not that she hadn't imagined that pouncing - in glorious, tantalizing detail - but not here, not like this. "Trust me, nothing personal is being offered."

"What a shame. I would have almost been tempted." His suggestive smile was a flash from the past that elicited an instant, completely unexpected playful response from her.

She said, "Who are you kidding? You would have been panting at my feet." And regretted the words as soon as they were uttered.

His eyes lit with a spark of interest so intense that Nicole had to look away before she completely forgot all the reasons they could not give in to that attraction. He laid a hand on either arm of her chair suggesting her escape relied on revealing what she was trying very hard to deny. "See, that is what always intrigued me. Which one is the real you? The cool bitch who talks about her recently deceased father only in terms of his will or the much more tempting tease who just threw down a challenge? What would you do if I took you up on it?”

His words gained the reaction he’d likely desired. Her head whipped back around, only to find that he was closer, much closer than she was comfortable with. He might want her, but he’d wanted many women over the past seven years. The tabloids were full of pictures of him with some heiress or starlet on his arm. No one held his interest for long, and Nicole couldn’t risk the pain of losing him a second time.

He leaned in just a fraction closer.

"I don't know why I said that,” she said, back peddling.

"You said it for the same reason I'm fighting to keep my hands off you. There is something between us; something we should have resolved years ago."

"I can't go there, Stephan." Her voice was huskier than she’d intended.

"I can't either, so you're safe." He straightened. "Go back and tell your brother that however tempting the offer is, I'm not going to call off my plans - not even for a romp with you."

And the truth rears its ugly head.

He didn’t want her.

He’d only wanted to see how far she’d let him go.

Nicole said, her hands curling into angry fists, "You know, I'll never understand why you and my brother aren't the best of friends - you're both complete assholes."

"Tsk, tsk. Your mask is slipping. It'll be hard to explain to Dominic how his plan involved slugging me."

Nicole stood, chest heaving, and said, "This is all a game to you, isn't it? You just want to see if you can get to me.” She hated that her eyes blurred with tears when she wanted to show him how little his jabs affected her.

What’s the use? Why hide it? In a moment she was going to walk out that door and never see him again, anyway. "Guess what? You won." One tear escaped down her cheek. "I was an idiot to think that there was a shred of humanity in you."

She turned to leave.

"Nicole..." he said softly.

She turned back, her composure returning with icy calm. He wasn’t going to seriously pretend to care, was he? Or had he just thought of another witty slam that he couldn’t resist imparting before she left? "What, Stephan? Have you thought of another insult? Do you think that after the week I've had I really care what you think of me?"

Slowly, as if the words were wrung from him, he said, "You shouldn't have come here."

"That much is obvious, thanks," she said, turning away and walking toward the door only to stumble over nothing. Dammit, can’t I at least hold it together until I get out of here?

He caught her by the arm near the door, stepping in front of her and waiting until she looked up at him. If she didn’t know better, she’d have thought he was concerned.

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