The official gave a formal nod and indicated with a jerk of his head for his sidekick to follow him out to the lounge area.
Remy got the full, fiery force of Angelique’s gaze as she swung around to face him once the officials had gone. ‘There’s no point glaring at me like that,’ he said before she could let fly. ‘You’re the one who brought this about.’
She visibly shook with rage. It reminded him of the shuddering of a small two-stroke engine on the back of a dingy.
‘Fiancée?’ She sounded like she was choking on the word. ‘Why couldn’t you have said I was your sister or...or even your cousin?’
‘Because the whole world knows I’m one of three brothers who were orphaned when we were young. And since both of my parents were only children, I don’t have any cousins.’
Her eyes fired another round of hatred at him. ‘Did you have to make that comment about controlling me as if I’m some sort of waspish virago? You did it deliberately, didn’t you? You just can’t help yourself. Any chance you get, you like to thrust home the chauvinist dagger.’
Right now that wasn’t the only thing Remy wanted to thrust home. He had always tried to ignore the sexual attraction he felt for her. In the past she had always been banned by his family or too involved with someone else. But it was hard to ignore the tingling that was stirring in his loins right now.
And if they had been in any other place he might well have done something about it.
‘Got under your skin, did it, ma petite?’
‘You set my father up, didn’t you?’ Her expression was tight with barely compressed rage. ‘I know how your mind works. You wanted to hit him where it hurt most because of that stupid deal in Ibiza. But I’m not letting you get away with it. I’ll fight you tooth and nail until you give me back my house.’
Remy gave her a cool and totally unaffected look because he knew how much it would annoy her. ‘Fight me all you like. There’s no way I’m giving it back. I won it fair and square. Your father knew what he was getting into—he knew the risks he was taking. But I must say, I think it’s pretty pathetic of him to send you out here to try and butter me up.’
Her head jerked back. ‘You think that’s why I’m here? As if I would ever sink so low as that. You’re the last man on earth I would ever consider seducing.’
‘Likewise, ma coeur; you don’t float my boat, either.’
A flicker of uncertainty came and went in her gaze and her perfectly aligned, beautiful white teeth sank into her bottom lip.
But just for a nanosecond.
She suddenly pulled herself upright, like an abandoned hand puppet that had just been reconnected with a firm hand. ‘And as for marriage... Well, that’s just totally ridiculous. It’s out of the question. I won’t do it.’
‘It’ll just be a formality,’ Remy said. ‘We don’t have to take this seriously. It probably won’t even be recognised as legal back home. We’ll just do what they require and then we’ll leave. Simple.’
‘Simple?’ Her eyes shot their fury at him again. ‘Tell me what about this is simple. We’ll be married—’ she gave a little shudder as if the word was anathema to her ‘—or at least, we will be on paper. I don’t care if it’s legal or not. I don’t want to be married to you. I can’t think of anything worse.’
He gave her a smile. ‘We’ll get it annulled as soon as we get back to Europe.’
‘This is outrageous! This is a...a disaster!’
‘Of your own making.’ He used his ‘too cool for school’ tone again. He loved the way it triggered something feral in her. She went off like a bomb every time.
She flattened her mouth into a thin white line, her eyes looking murderous. ‘This is not my fault. This is your fault for being so determined to score points. You don’t need Tarrantloch; your family have properties bigger and better than that all over the world. Why did you have to take the one thing I love more than anything else?’
Remy felt a little niggle of guilt. Just a niggle; nothing major. Nothing he couldn’t ignore.
He’d set himself a goal and he’d achieved it.
That was the Caffarelli credo—goal; focus; win.
Remy could have taken any one of the businesses in the Marchand Holdings portfolio if he’d been so inclined, but Tarrantloch was the one thing he knew Henri Marchand would regret losing the most. He had a score to settle with Henri that had nothing to do with his grandfather’s dealings with him.
It was far more personal.
Remy had just about got the Ibiza development in the bag when an anonymous email had spooked the vendor. It hadn’t been too hard to find out who had sent it. Henri Marchand was devious but not particularly smart at covering his tracks. Remy had sworn he would get revenge, no matter how long it took.
Tarrantloch was Henri Marchand’s most valued, prized possession. It was his ultimate status symbol. Henri liked to play Laird of the Highlands with a coterie of his overfed, overindulged, overweight corporate cronies by his side.
The fact that his daughter—his only child and heir—fancied herself in love with the place didn’t come into it at all.