She took a step back from him and lifted her chin. “What if it’s the only thing protecting me from possibly hurting both of us again?”
Which was as good as admitting she did care, that something else was holding her back. He took a step toward her, wanting to touch her, but she retreated and held up a hand to block him.
“Don’t.”
His throat thickened as he watched the agony in her violet eyes.
“Please don’t,” she whispered.
He took a tactical step back. She lowered her hand and released another long breath.
“Then we’re agreed?” she asked. “You will find someone to take over in a week, two tops, and we will work together to restructure. In the meantime, I will email you what else I want to see and you will give it to me.”
Her directness had always turned him on. Oh, how he’d love to give her everything she wanted. “Of course. Where do you want to meet? I assume we’ll be working day in and day out until we’re finished.”
“Yes,” she said, taking a step back toward the window. “We can work here if you’d like, but we can also work at another location should you wish. My personal assistant, Alice Bailey, always accompanies me. You’ll like her. She’s from just outside Chicago. I remember your mother is from there.”
Somehow he wasn’t surprised at her recollection. “You never met her.” He tipped his head slightly. “My parents live in Napa, only an hour away.”
“Don’t get ahead of yourself.”
Her pointed look had him fighting a smile. “Too late. You should interview my dad about the company.”
“That won’t be needed. Now—”
“Why is Alice coming along really? Is it because you don’t trust me to be on my best behavior? I don’t like the idea of a chaperone.” Then he laughed and thought of his Aunt Clara and Uncle Arthur, who had accompanied his sister Michaela on a work expedition, along with his aunt’s butler, Hargreaves, to fulfill that very role. The fact that she was now engaged to the man she’d supposedly needed chaperoning from spoke volumes.
“Alice takes care of anything I need. She will cook three of our meals per week. I expect you to handle the other three nights. We take Sundays off. No work. Our brains will need the rest.”
“So Alice is kinda like your butler?”
She slashed a hand through the air. “These days we use the term personal assistant, but there are parallels. I was looking for someone resourceful and smart who was terrific with languages and people to make my consultancies easier. In some cases, she has served as a chaperone. Working alone with businessmen, sometimes they get ideas that require dissuading.”
He sure as hell didn’t like the sound of that. “Is she serving as a chaperone in this case?”
Francesca didn’t answer him. “She’s proficient in martial arts and speaks four languages fluently.”
“Alice really needs to meet Hargreaves.”
“Who?” she asked.
“Never mind,” he said, tapping his foot in frustration at this unexpected obstacle. If he knew Francesca, he’d never be alone with her without this Alice around.
“She’s also well versed in corporate etiquette and various cultural traditions,” Francesca continued, almost as if reading Alice’s LinkedIn profile. “An old business professor from Columbia contacted me about one of his MBA students who had an interest in international business and a background in hospitality, and I interviewed her the next day. We hit it off and agreed on a personal and professional scope of work. It has worked well for both of us. Don’t worry. She works with me behind the scenes, amassing those balance sheets you know I pored over.”
He wasn’t sure it was going to work for him.
She put her hands on her hips. “This isn’t negotiable, Quinn.”
“Fine. You decide on the location. We can do it here, another neutral site, or at my house. I want you to be comfortable.”
Her smile was all teeth. “How nice to hear.”
The important thing was that she was willing to work with him. He could figure out a strategy for dealing with Alice later. “When do you think we’ll have the restructuring plans completed if I have someone take over starting next week?”
“I’d say we’ll be finished by the end of February at the latest.”
Six weeks away. Another Merriam wedding was scheduled for February 22. Would he be drinking alone, thinking of Francesca at Michaela’s wedding like he had at Flynn’s this past Christmas? He couldn’t do that again. “What about us?”
“I make no promises there.” Her mouth lifted at the corner before falling again. “Honestly, I don’t see how a relationship between us could work. You have your duties to Merriam, and from what I’ve heard, you work all the time. My career requires me to travel significantly.”
She paused, and her violet eyes flashed with something he couldn’t understand.
“But you aren’t waving me off completely?” He rocked on his heels, awaiting her answer. “Even with Alice around?”
Her glare was all heat. “Could I stop an avalanche?”
“You’re more of a bonfire.” He unbuttoned his jacket. “Don’t you see I’m already smoking in response?”
She shook her head. “This is going to be complicated. I knew that when I decided I had to help you.”
He hated the guilt in her tone, but he wasn’t going to dissuade her from her decision, not when it was giving him the chance he needed. “We’ll figure it out, Francie.”
Her brow arched, likely at his use of his old nickname for her. But she only said, “God, I hope so.”
She took his hand, but it wasn’t a formal handshake by any imagination. It was the intimate reconnection of two hands that held deep knowledge of each other. His palm burned from the heat coming from her skin. She kept her eyes discreetly lowered, but her touch… It slayed him.
“One thing I can promise is that we will restructure Merriam Enterprises to be great again,” she said in a crisp tone. “I only need you to trust me.”
Still holding her hand, he didn’t hesitate. “I do trust you. I always have.”
“And I trust you.” She laughed. “Don’t tell anyone, but I rather like this grouchy side of you. It gives you a steely edge. You’re going to need it.”
He took the compliment, but he knew it wasn’t his edge that would see him through the challenges ahead.
It was her.
Chapter 2
Francesca poured herself more champagne the moment Quinn left.
“To righting past wrongs and being free of guilt and regret.” Her toast echoed her New Year’s resolution. She took a fortifying sip.
Emotions long buried clogged her throat. She’d already reached out to her father to begin clearing the past wrongs between them. While he was still angling for her to return as his scion, she was more interested in a personal reconciliation. Their relationship had taken a hit after she left Maroun Industries—her “birthright,” as her father liked to remind her. He hadn’t spoken to her for months.
Like she’d tried to explain to Quinn, her decision to leave him still haunted her. But her father had called her when she felt broken, and the picture he’d painted had ignited old hopes about earning her father’s approval. Leaving Quinn, she’d needed something to latch on to, and she had focused on proving herself at Maroun Industries.