1925 - Millionaire's Secret Seduction Read Free Page B

like a cheap handbag draped over the arm of a couture-dressed model.
    There was definitely such a thing as being too good-looking, she reflected, as another beauty narrowed her heavily made-up eyes at Dominic Hardcastle. The chiseled jaw, the I-just-got-back-from-the-Caribbean tan that no doubt extended well underneath his custom-tailored suit.
    It was all a bit too much.
    Vulgar, even. Like so many aspects of his father’s glittering retail empire.
    “The Moon is on the top floor.” She pressed the button. Tried not to notice how his big body filled the tight space of the private staff elevator. “Do you live in New York?”
    “Miami. But I might move up here. I’m doing a lot of business in the city these days. And Tarr—my dad wants me to be close to headquarters.”
    Again, the word dad had a forced quality that intrigued her. She knew Tarrant had a daughter, but she’d never heard that he had a son. With security expert Sylvester—who she knew had been with Tarrant since before she was born—to vouch for him, she knew he must be the genuine article, but why had he suddenly appeared out of nowhere?
    She couldn’t help herself. “I don’t mean to pry, but I didn’t know Tarrant had a son.” There, she’d said it. And it was at least fractionally more polite than asking “who the heck are you, anyway?”
    “I’m a love child.”
    Her gaze jerked to his face. Again that hint of humor simmered in the muscles under his skin. Was he mocking her?
    “Tarrant had a fling with my mom back in the seventies. They met on the dance floor at Studio 54.”
    “The disco scene.” She’d heard Tarrant had a reputation as the most die-hard partier of the twentieth century.
    “At that time he wasn’t so interested in the responsibilities of fatherhood.” His jaw tightened. “But lately it seems he’s had a change of heart.”
    Silence thickened the air.
    Ping . The sound of the doors opening was possibly the best music she’d heard all year.
    Had this total stranger just admitted to her that he was Tarrant Hardcastle’s unwanted bastard son? His oddly intimate confession gave her a strange feeling.
    The restaurant was already packed. The wait for reservations had been at least six months since it opened two years earlier.
    “Dominic Hardcastle.”
    She thought she saw a muscle twitch in his cheek as he said his own name. Curiouser and curiouser.
    “Welcome, sir. I’ll seat you at Mr. Hardcastle’s table.” The mâitre d’beamed as Dominic congratulated him on the restaurant’s success and they shared some shoptalk on the way to the table. Did everyone fall at this guy’s feet?
    The décor was extravagantly minimalist; a single, perfect banana leaf in a slim black vase was the only centerpiece on each table.
    Dominic pulled out a sleek metal chair, then slid it under her as she sat. Of course he’d have to be a perfect gentleman too.
    She shook out her napkin. “I guess it’s too early for the moon to make an appearance. The ceiling rolls back to reveal the night sky.”
    Dominic looked up. She ignored the muscularity of his neck as it strained his perfectly fitted shirt collar. “Can’t say I’m sorry. I’m not sure I’d want to worry about an owl swooping down to share my filet mignon.” His grin revealed even, white teeth.
    “Oh, you don’t have to fret about that. Or mosquitoes. There’s a curved layer of microfine molded plastic to keep intruders out. If you look carefully you can see where it joins the support columns. All part of the design conception.”
    Dominic stared at the ceiling with undisguised fascination. “Amazing. Tarrant Hardcastle certainly is a genius, no matter what else you might say about him.” He opened his napkin. “Shall we order champagne?”
    The barb about Tarrant left her temporarily speechless. Was he testing her somehow? “Sure, champagne sounds great.”
    “You’ll have to tell me what food to choose, since I’m the new kid on the block.”
    That boyish