Million Dollar Devil (Million Dollar #1)(68)

“Yes, Lizzy. I have it on very good authority that you were seen after hours with him. And you were hardly coming into the office, acting suspiciously, so people were talking. So I think you need to step back from this. Got it?”

I press my lips together. That good authority? LB. It had to be.

“Fine, but—”

“But nothing. Leave James to me. Thank you.”

And he ends the call.

I stare at the screen for a good ten seconds before I grab my phone in my fist and almost launch it across the room. The next thing I know, James is holding a tumbler of scotch in front of me. “Looks like you can use this.”

I swallow miserably as he tries to put his arms around me, but right now? That’s the last thing I need. “My father . . .”

“I know,” he says. He reaches over and touches my face, but I flinch.

I shake my head. “No, you don’t understand the pressure I’m under.”

“I don’t?”

Well, I guess he is under a lot of pressure too. But it’s not the same. He can go back to his old life. Me? This is my one and only life, and I’m stuck with a father who I can never please.

“My father thinks I’m such a fuckup. He thinks you and I are together.”

He gives me a confused look. “Well, aren’t we?”

“I don’t know!” I cover my face with my hands. “I don’t see how we can be, right now. Maybe ever. It’s dangerous, James. I told you, he doesn’t like mixing business with pleasure, that’s for sure. And if he finds out where I found you . . . he won’t just think I’m a fuckup. I’ll completely embarrass him. My father is so . . . strict. He’s strict in all aspects. He wants perfection in me and demands perfection in whoever I date. If he knows that I faked perfection in you . . . that it wasn’t, well, really who you were . . . that you’re not what he thinks you are . . . he’ll never let me touch any part of Banks LTD again.”

“I got it,” he says, backing away. “Well, I shouldn’t be here, then. It’d probably look bad if I was seen coming and going from your apartment.”

I reach for him. “But wait. Don’t go. Let me clean you—”

“I’ve got it,” he says, his eyes cold, distant. “Don’t worry, heiress. I won’t let you down.”

And he sets the tumbler down, opens the door, and closes it behind him.

Leaving me alone.

I pace the room, a bundle of nerves. What did I think would happen if I contracted with James to be my model? How did I actually think I would be able to pull this off and emerge unscathed, without losing massive bits of my heart and my mind in the process?

I look at the glass of Macallan that he poured for me, then throw the whole thing in the bar sink and pour myself a tall glass of Patrón. I really need it.

James

It’s time to put on the magic for Saks. Harold Banks, Lizzy’s father, is a real, honest-to-god blowhard. He reminds me of an unsmiling version of the mascot in Monopoly, sitting in the back of his limo in his tux, drinking his scotch. He pours me one and says, “My boy, you’ve become quite popular, haven’t you?”

The cabin is dark, so he doesn’t see my black eye right away. I take the drink, swirl it like Lizzy taught me, and say, “I suppose.”

“You’re making me a mint. Let’s toast to that.”

We do. I chew my first sip, as instructed. “I do what I can.”

He’s still frowning. “But I have a question for you that I hope you can help me with.”

“Of course,” I say.

He straightens in his seat. “Who the fuck are you?”

My smile fades. I clear my throat. “I’m sorry?”

He grinds his teeth as he looks me over from head to toe. “My daughter would like us all to believe that you materialized out of nowhere or came down from heaven to be the face of Banks Limited. But I know that’s not the case. Your reputation as the face of my upscale clothing line is built on the belief that you’re a successful businessman in your own right. And yet my men can’t find a single entity that’s headed by a James Rowan, anywhere.”

I let out the breath I didn’t know I was holding. “Well, I—”

“What’s your net worth?”

“I—”

“Stop. Don’t answer that. We already have you in our ads, so there’s nothing I can do at this point. Just know that if you’re playing some game with me, and if the world finds out who you really are, I’m not going to stand idly by. And I’ll be damned sure to put my lawyers on you to get whatever money we promised you back. You understand?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Keep your private life private, boy. And you’d better not fucking show up at a meeting with a black eye again. Got it?”

So he did see it. I nod, wondering what the hell else he might have noticed about me. No wonder Lizzy is scared to death of him. By the time I’ve spent fifteen minutes in the limo with him on the way to the restaurant, I feel like I’ve been through a war.

The chauffeur comes around and opens the door for us. “And one more thing,” Harold grinds out.

I hold back, somehow knowing this isn’t an afterthought. From the way he’s looking at me, what he’s about to say is the main point. “Yes, sir?”