The car moved smoothly down the road, and she leaned back into the leather seat. The faint hum of the air conditioner relaxed her, and she tried to calm her racing mind. If she wanted to get away from Sean, she'd need to become financially independent. She'd need to regain control of the company and get her home back. Unfortunately, Sean was the only person who could help her with that. She sighed—she'd have to play happy wife.

A cool finger caressed her cheek, and she jumped and opened her eyes. Sean smiled and stroked her cheek again. Though his fingers were cool, her skin flamed beneath his touch. She fought the urge to jerk her head away.

​​

"What's wrong?" he asked her.

"I was just thinking about the conversation at lunch," she said.

"What specifically?" he asked.

"About your promise to invest," she said.

A strange look crossed his face—it almost looked like guilt. It disappeared as quickly as it appeared, and his cool, expressionless mask froze his features.

"What about it?" he asked.

"Well, are you going to do it?" she asked.

His hand dropped from her cheek, and he studied her face for a long moment, "Do you want me to?"

"Of course I want you to," she said. "My uncle doesn't have a clue about running a company, but I don't want to see my father's legacy just disappear. He worked so hard to build the company."

"Why throw good money after bad?" Sean asked. "Investments aren't sentimental things—they're business decisions."

"I know," she sighed. "I guess I was just hoping there was a way to save it. You know the company is all I really have left of my father."

"Hmm," he said.

He pulled out his phone and began to tap at the glass screen. She chewed her lip as she watched him. What would it take to persuade him to invest? What would she have to do?

He raised the phone to his ear and barked a short command, "Begin the approval process for the investment in Feather Textiles Corporation." He lowered the phone and looked at her. Her heart hammered in her ears.

"You're investing in our company?" she asked.

"It will make you happy, won't it?" he asked.

"Yes," she said. "Yes, it will. But how much are you investing?"

"The full amount," he said.

"And what about everything you said before?" she asked. "You can't make a bad investment just because it will make me happy."

"Well, there are some conditions to my investment," he said. "Besides, I never lose money."

"How can you be so sure?" she asked. "You've seen what my uncle has done to the company. He's brought a thriving business to the brink of total collapse. How do you know he won't do it again?"

He raised an eyebrow, "Do you want me to invest or not?

"I do," she said quickly. "Of course I do."

"Good," he said. "And since you're suddenly so curious about business, I'm not going to let your uncle manage it anymore."

She bit her lip and said, "I'm afraid he won't agree to that."

Sean's lips twitched, "He doesn't have much of choice. He can accept my investment and stay on a figurehead while my people run the company, or he can stand by as it all collapses around him."

"That's a good idea," she said. "He won't like it, but Lawson will choose to save face above all else."

"I know," Sean said.

"Thank you," she finally said. "It means a lot."

"Words are empty," he said.

"What do you mean?" she asked.

"I want you to show your gratitude to me," he said.

Her stomach turned, and she bit her tongue until she tasted blood. She should have known it wouldn't be so easy to convince him to sign away a billion dollars. She swallowed hard and unbuckled her seatbelt. Hating herself, she knelt down onto the spacious car floor and moved toward Sean. With a trembling hand, she reached up and began to rub the front of his trousers. He twitched under her hand, and she continued the rubbing.

"What are you doing?" he asked, his voice strangled.

"I'm showing you my gratitude," she said, trying to make her voice seductive.

She unbuckled his belt with an easy flick of her wrist and tugged at his zipper. He groaned low in his throat, and the sound sent shivers through her body.

"Stop," he gasped.

She froze, "You don't want this?"

"No," he said. "Not like this."

She stared up at his face. His eyes blazed with desire, but his jaw was clenched with the effort of restraint.

"What do you mean?" she asked.

"I only want it if you want to do it, Catherine," he said. "I don't want to buy favors from my own wife."

"I do want it," she said, hearing at once how lame and unconvincing her voice sounded.

"No," he whispered. "You don't. Now get up."

With her face flaming, she climbed back into the seat and clicked the seatbelt buckle into place. The shame of rejection flooded through her and mixed with relief. She shook her head and willed herself to get a grip.

"You're blushing," he said softly.

"I'm not," she said.

He smirked, and she looked away from him. What was wrong with her? He'd just spared her from exchanging sexual favors for money like a whore, and she was upset that he'd rejected her?

"Don't be embarrassed," he whispered.

"I'm not," she said. "I'm just thinking about how to say thank you."

"Oh, really?" he asked.

"Yes," she snapped.

"And what ideas do you have?" he asked.

"What if I invite you to dinner?" she suggested.

"Hmm," he said. "I accept the invitation but only on one condition."

"What's that?" she asked, suddenly wary.

"I want you to cook the meal," he said.

She gritted her teeth, "Fine, but be prepared to be terribly disappointed. I can cook, of course, but not like you're used to."

"You can cook?" Sean asked surprise etched in his face. "Where did a girl like you learn to cook?"

She cursed herself for slipping up. No wonder Sean was surprised—the Stewart and then Stewart families had always kept professionally trained chefs in their kitchens. She hadn't learned to cook until she started to live with Marco.

"Here and there," she said vaguely. "Anyway, can we stop at the bank on the way back?"

Sean nodded, and Levi made a sharp turn before pulling to a smooth stop in front of the marble pillars of the bank. She hopped out of the car and raced into the large, echoey lobby. She needed to get three million dollars in cash off of the credit card before her aunt changed the pin or reported it stolen.

***

Sean watched Catherine's slim figure disappear between the sturdy marble columns of the bank. He felt a stir of desire in his groin and looked away. He rubbed his temples and groaned. What was wrong with him? Just minutes before, she'd been on her knees in front of him, and he'd rejected her. He closed his eyes and briefly let himself imagine the pleasures he'd be experiencing if he'd just let her.

The buzzing of his phone brought him back to reality. With a groan, he opened his eyes and answered, "What do you want?"

"Sir, I just thought you'd want to know that the legal representative of Feather Textile Corporation is still listed as James Stewart," his business manager said in his posh Oxford accent. "It's most irregular."

"I see," he said. "Does that change the deal in any way?"

"Not necessarily," his business manager said. "But may I ask why you're investing? Is it on account of the new Mrs. Blair?"

"Just finalize the paperwork," he said. "You know I agreed to the deal a while ago, anyway."

"Well, yes," his business manager said. "But given events, I thought the conditions had changed."

"They haven't," he said. "Just do it."

He hung up the phone as Catherine emerged from the bank. Her stunning eyes glowed, and she smiled to herself as she descended the stairs. A slight breeze began to blow, lifting her shiny dark hair from her shoulders. She slipped into the car and did her seatbelt.

"Did everything go alright?" he asked.

"Yes," she said. "I managed to beat my aunt in her own game."

He wasn't sure what she meant and decided it didn't matter. What mattered was the soft smile that played around her beautiful lips and the spark of happiness in her eyes.