The Tycoon's Scandalous Proposition
He’s known for getting what he wants...
...and she’s his biggest prize!
Actress Kate Holiday is used to the spotlight, yet is happy melting into the background at a society party. Until the scorching gaze of charismatic Blake Randall rests on her... No acting is required for their sizzling night together! So when he offers Kate a starring role on a billionaire’s arm—and in his bed!—dare she say yes?
Born and raised in the Australian bush, MIRANDA LEE was boarding-school-educated, and briefly pursued a career in classical music before moving to Sydney and embracing the world of computers. Happily married, with three daughters, she began writing when family commitments kept her at home. She likes to create stories that are believable, modern, fast-paced and sexy. Her interests include meaty sagas, doing word puzzles, gambling and going to the movies.
Also by Miranda Lee
A Man Without Mercy
Taken Over by the Billionaire
Rich, Ruthless and Renowned miniseries
The Italian’s Ruthless Seduction
The Billionaire’s Ruthless Affair
The Playboy’s Ruthless Pursuit
Marrying a Tycoon miniseries
The Magnate’s Tempestuous Marriage
The Tycoon’s Outrageous Proposal
The Tycoon’s Scandalous Proposition
Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk.
The Tycoon’s Scandalous Proposition
Miranda Lee
www.millsandboon.co.uk
ISBN: 978-1-474-07214-4
THE TYCOON’S SCANDALOUS PROPOSITION
© 2018 Miranda Lee
Published in Great Britain 2018
by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF
All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.
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www.millsandboon.co.uk
Contents
Cover
Back Cover Text
About the Author
Booklist
Title Page
Copyright
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
EPILOGUE
Extract
About the Publisher
CHAPTER ONE
BLAKE STOOD NEXT to the groom, wondering what the hell he was doing, being best man at this wedding. He knew this marriage wouldn’t last—knew it was just a matter of time.
He’d tried to reason with Lachlan. But nothing could dissuade him. Not even Blake’s argument that he himself had married at the same age—twenty-four—and the marriage hadn’t lasted six months.
At least the bride wasn’t an actress, Blake reasoned more positively. Also on the plus side, it wasn’t as though marriage—even a temporary one—harmed a movie star’s popularity these days. Gone were the days when the powerbrokers of Hollywood had dictated who a star could marry. And when.
The rise of social media had changed all that. The public couldn’t get enough of celebrity relationships. They especially enjoyed break-ups and divorces, and any whiff of scandal. Such was life in the spotlight.
Thankfully Blake’s own life wasn’t so much in the spotlight—though he’d gained a little more attention in the press since moving Fantasy Productions from Sydney to LA fifteen months ago. Still, movie-makers—even very successful, very wealthy ones like himself—didn’t grab the headlines the way actors did. Especially those like Lachlan, with his golden boy looks, buffed body and bedroom blue eyes. Add to that buckets of boyish charm and you had a prize publicity package.
Blake had first recognised Lachlan’s potential when he’d attended a performance at Australia’s much lauded National Institute of Dramatic Art a few years ago. He’d instantly signed him up. And the rest, as they said, was history. Three years and four movies later Lachlan was an established star, whilst he’d become Australia’s most successful film writer/director/producer.
Blake suspected, however, that their working relationship would not last for much longer. It was only a matter of time before something—like this marriage—would make his star move on.
‘There she is,’ Lachlan whispered suddenly, snapping Blake out of his cynical thoughts.
Blake followed the groom’s enthralled gaze past the seated guests and up the sweeping staircase down which the bride would eventually descend, and into the large living area, which had been filled with several rows of chairs divided by a strip of red carpet.
Blake spied a froth of white up on the gallery landing. White dress, white hair, white flowers. Behind the bride, attending to the long white veil, bustled the one and only bridesmaid, wearing something long and svelte in jade-green. Blake couldn’t see her properly—didn’t have a clue who she was. He hadn’t even met the bride, having been too busy with his latest movie, plus several other new projects, to fly back to Australia for Lachlan’s engagement party, and only jetting in to Sydney late last night.
The only contribution Blake had made to this wedding had been getting billionaire Byron Maddox—who was a good friend as well as a business partner—to offer his very lovely harbour-side home as a venue for the wedding and the reception afterwards.
The original venue had rather inconveniently burnt down six weeks ago, throwing Lachlan into a panic after getting a phone call on location from his hysterical bride-to-be.
Thank heaven for rich friends, Blake thought, and threw Byron and Cleo a grateful glance.
When they smiled back at him his own face cracked open into a wide smile. God, but they were a great couple. If ever a man and woman were made for each other it was those two. They almost made him believe in true love.
Finally some music started up. Not a traditional bridal march but a rather romantic piano rendition of ‘The First Time Ever I Saw Your Face’.
It was at that moment that the bridesmaid in jade-green moved round from behind the Barbie doll bride and came into full view.
Blake’s dark eyebrows lifted in surprise. She wasn’t a stunner. But she was extremely attractive. Tall, with a slender figure and pale skin which suited the off-the-shoulder style of her gown. Her hair was a golden-brown colour, drawn straight back from her high forehead and falling in a softly waved curtain down her back, held in place by a simple circlet of pink and white flowers. It was her face, however, which Blake kept returning to—a face any camera would love.
Blake had a habit of looking at faces as though through a lens, especially on a first meeting. It was a long-ingrained habit, and one which didn’t do any harm, really. No one knew what he was thinking at the time, so Blake didn’t feel any guilt as he continued to assess the bridesmaid’s looks from every camera angle.
He knew from experience that high cheekbones and a well-defined jawline photographed well in any light and from any angle. This woman’s nose wasn’t starlet-small, but it suited her, giving her face character. She didn’t have pouting bee-stung lips either, although it was all the fad these days. Her mouth was actually rather wide, but still well formed. And expressive. So were her almond-shaped eyes.
Blake frowned as he tried to fathom the reason behind the sadness he kept glimpsing within their dark brown depths as she made her way slowly—and stiffly—down the staircase. Along with the sadness lay undeniable tension, he noted. Her knuckles were white as she clasped the posy of pink and white flowers at her waist with unnecessary force.
At last she reached the bottom step. It was at this point that she sucked in a deep breath, as though trying to gather all her courage. The gesture touched him, evoking an uncharacteristic surge of compassion. Something was bothering that girl about this wedding—something much more emotional and personal than Blake’s cynical view.
‘Who’s the bridesmaid?’ Blake muttered under his breath, so that only Lachlan could hear.
‘What? Oh, that’s Kate. Maddie’s sister.’
‘Older sister?’
‘Older? Yeah. God, doesn’t Maddie look incredible?’ he exclaimed, clearly awed by the beauty of his bride, who remained standing at the top of the staircase, all eyes on her.
Not Blake’s, however. He’d had his fill of Barbie doll blondes—especially those manufactured in Hollywood by plastic surgeons and ambitious mamas. His eyes were all for the bridesmaid, with her natural-looking figure and lovely but oh, so sad eyes.
Her chin lifted as she took her first step along the makeshift aisle, her focus straight ahead during what seemed to be a very difficult journey for her. She didn’t look at him, or at Lachlan, or at any of the guests. She seemed frozen now—a robot with no feelings on show any more. But that didn’t mean they weren’t there.
Smile, sweetheart, came the sudden wish from deep inside Blake. Don’t let the world see that you’re hurting. Don’t give people the chance to hurt you further.
And they would if she let them. People could be cruel—especially once they’d sensed weakness. Fortunately, no one was looking at her. All eyes were still on the beaming bride, who was now approaching the bottom of the staircase. The music changed to ‘Isn’t She Beautiful?’ Which the bride was. Even Blake had to agree that Maddie was drop-dead gorgeous. But such beauty was often only surface-deep, he’d found, the same way Lachlan’s was.
The same way Claudia’s was...
The thought didn’t hurt him the way it once had. But that didn’t mean he’d forgotten the lessons his one and only marriage had taught him.
The main one was, Don’t, for pity’s sake, believe anything that ambitious young actresses do or say to you. Sleep with them, by all means, but don’t fall for their flattery or their brilliant fakery. And never marry one. Lord, no.
In truth, marriage was not for him—even with a non-ambitious non-actress. Not yet, anyway. Aside from his scepticism over the lasting power of romantic love, he wasn’t good husband material. He was way too obsessed with making movies, working seven days a week, often twenty hours a day. What time did that leave for a wife, let alone children?
Maybe when he was forty he might consider both. But he was only just thirty-two. Plenty of years left to think about such things.
Meanwhile, his attention returned to the attractive but bleak-looking bridesmaid.
Damn. She looked as if she was going to cry now. Her bottom lip was definitely quivering, accompanied by a flash of true panic in her eyes. Clearly she didn’t want to cry. Just in time she got control of herself, her nostrils flaring as she sucked in another deep, desperate breath.
Blake wondered what on earth was going on in that girl’s mind. He knew that women often cried at weddings, but they were usually tears of happiness. He could be wrong, he supposed, but he was absolutely certain that whatever she was thinking they weren’t happy thoughts!
Maybe this Kate knew what sort of man her kid sister was marrying—knew that he was a player. Maybe she feared for Maddie’s future happiness. Well, she had a right to be scared on that particular score! Not that he could be a hundred percent positive that was the reason behind her grim face. He could only guess.
In actual fact Blake often found himself speculating on the various emotions he noted on the faces of perfect strangers. He was a people-watcher—an essential talent for a writer-cum-movie-maker. After all, motivations and emotional conflicts were the backbone of all storytelling.
His gaze returned to Kate’s stiffly held face and robotic walk. At last she reached the end of the aisle, flashing him a frowning glance before moving sideways to her left, where no one could see her face except the celebrant. And he was busy ogling the bride. Now all Blake could see was her profile. Her head and shoulders drooped for a split second, then lifted abruptly, the muscles in her throat standing out as she once again took rigid control of herself.
His heart went out to her. As did his admiration. Whatever was bothering the bride’s sister, she was a brave soul. Brave, but still rather fragile.
When the posy of flowers she was holding began to shake Blake determined not to let the evening end before he found out what was upsetting her so much. He could be charming when he wanted to be. And quite good at getting people to open up. Yes, he would worm the truth out of her. Women did love to confide. And hopefully, sooner rather than later, he would bring a smile to her face.
He imagined she would be quite lovely if she smiled. Already Blake found her attractive. And intriguing. And extremely desirable.
Much more desirable than the Barbie doll bride.
CHAPTER TWO
KATE GRITTED HER TEETH, still stunned at how much she was hating this, how sick she felt to her stomach. Yet she’d known for ages that this day was coming. She’d had plenty of time to prepare herself mentally. All to no avail, it seemed.
She clasped her bouquet even tighter and willed her mind to go blank. But her mind refused to obey. It whirled on and on, tormenting her. Torturing her.
Because today was the end of the line, wasn’t it?
The end of all her hopes and dreams where Lachlan was concerned. Today the man she loved would marry her sister. And that would be that. No more stupidly hoping that he might wake up one morning and realise Maddie wasn’t right for him and that she was a much more suitable wife. No more fantasising—as she had during their three years studying together at NIDA—that he might finally see her as a potential girlfriend and not just as his good mate and acting buddy.
There was nothing worse, she realised, than the death of hope.
Kate sighed, stiffening when she realised just how loud that sigh had been. As much as she was wretched to her core, she’d determined earlier today not to let anyone—particularly Maddie—suspect the truth. And she’d managed—’til the moment that sickening music had started up and she’d had to step into the spotlight on those stairs. At which point she’d frozen, the sheer futility of her feelings washing through her.
She knew she should have smiled but she simply hadn’t been able to. Not that it had mattered. No one had been looking at her. No one except the man standing next to Lachlan. Blake Randall, the best man.
He had kept on looking at her. And frowning at her. Wondering, probably, why she looked so forlorn.
Kate would have liked to tell him why—would have liked to scream that if it hadn’t been for him all their lives would have taken a different course and she wouldn’t be standing here today, having her heart broken.
A slight exaggeration, Kate. Your heart was broken last Christmas, when you optimistically brought Lachlan home for dinner.
They’d both just graduated from NIDA, and Lachlan’s parents had gone away on a Christmas cruise. Plus he’d been between girlfriends at the time. Which hadn’t happened too often. She’d thought it was her chance to snare his sexual interest. And it had seemed at first that she had. Lachlan had actually flirted with her in the car during their drive from his flat at Bondi to her parents’ home at Strathfield.
But all that had changed the moment he’d met her very beautiful and very vivacious blonde sister.
Something had died in Kate when she’d seen how quickly and easily Maddie had captured Lachlan’s sexual interest. By the end of Christmas dinner Maddie’s almost-fiancé had been firmly dispensed with and she’d gone off with Lachlan, moving in with him the very next day.
So, in reality, Kate had had ten months to get over her broken heart. Ten long, soul-destroying months during which her own acting career had stalled and she’d been reduced to working weekends in a local deli whilst going to endless auditions during the week.
If she hadn’t been living at home she wouldn’t have survived. The only acting job she’d managed to snare in that time had been a part in a play. It had been quite a good part, too. But the play hadn’t proved commercial or popular at the box office. Despite garnering reasonable reviews, it had closed after six weeks.
She’d tried out for various movies and television shows, but had so far been unsuccessful, usually being told that she wasn’t ‘quite right’ for that particular part; didn’t have the ‘right look’—or the right height, or the right something. Sometimes she wasn’t given a reason at all. Her agent said she needed to be more positive when meeting producers and directors, but any positivity she’d possessed seemed to have disintegrated.
In truth, Kate had always been on the shy side, with social skills not her strong point. The only time she felt truly confident was when she was in character, playing an outgoing role. Then she exuded confidence. If only she could be more like Maddie, whose social skills were second to none and whose confidence was out of this world.
A nudge at her elbow snapped her out of her thoughts, and Kate turned to see Maddie glaring at her before shoving her bouquet into her hands. The glare disappeared once she’d turned back to beam at the male celebrant. Kate felt a sudden urge to throw the bridal bouquet onto the floor and stamp on it.
She didn’t, of course. But the unexpected burst of anger did achieve something, shoving aside her self-pity and replacing it with a determination to stop letting unrequited love ruin her life. It was way past time for her to get over Lachlan and move on.
Steeling herself, Kate turned her body to the right in order to watch the ceremony, seeing immediately that Blake Randall had done the same and was looking straight at her. No, he was staring at her, as if he was trying to work out what was going on in her head.
If she told him he would probably laugh. Whilst she’d never actually met the man, she’d seen him interviewed on television several times. Despite having made a career—and loads of money—making movies about love and romance, he’d come across as a cynic about both, stating bluntly on one occasion that he was just giving the audience what they wanted.
Of course he had been a popular topic of conversation amongst the students at NIDA—especially after making Lachlan into a star. Kate knew Blake Randall had been married once to Claudia Jay, an Australian actress who’d starred in one of his early films. The marriage hadn’t lasted long, and Claudia had claimed her new husband had neglected her shamefully once the honeymoon was over. Kate suspected there was more to their divorce than met the eye, Claudia having moved to Hollywood soon after the breakup.
She didn’t feel sorry for either of them. They were both tarred with the same brush, in her opinion. Both of them ruthlessly ambitious, leaving little room to really love anyone other than themselves. Blake had gone from strength to strength after his divorce, whilst Claudia had gone on to have a successful career in Hollywood, her name linked with a succession of high-flying producers and directors.
Kate herself didn’t dream of Hollywood success. Or necessarily of being in movies. She loved acting on the stage most of all. But she wouldn’t knock back a decent role in a movie or a television series. If she was ever offered one.
Kate was about to sigh again when she remembered her agent’s advice to be more positive. And a little more proactive. It occurred to her that any other aspiring actor would take advantage of being in a wedding party opposite a brilliant movie-maker like Blake Randall. She shouldn’t be ignoring his interested glances. She certainly shouldn’t be standing around looking like a wet weekend and sighing all the time. She should be making the most of this rather amazing opportunity by smiling and flirting and projecting Little Miss Confident and Available, not Little Miss Miserable and Vulnerable.
All she had to do was pretend. No, act. She was an actor, wasn’t she?
But it was no use. She simply couldn’t summon up a smile. Maybe if he’d been more pleasant and approachable-looking she might have managed it. But his looks matched his reputation as a demanding tyrant to work for. He had gleaming black hair—worn unfashionably long. Thick black brows. Deeply set piercing blue eyes. An arrogant aquiline nose. Slightly hollow cheeks. And a rather cruel-looking mouth.
The press described him as ‘handsome’. Kate thought him scary-looking. And very intimidating.
She was in the process of abandoning any idea of even talking to him later when he smiled at her. Just a small smile, really—a slight lifting of the corners of his mouth—but it was accompanied by a wicked twinkle in his eyes. They did strange things to her, that smile and that twinkle. Made her feel more confident. And quite sexy. Which was astonishing given her libido seemed to have died ten months ago, along with her heart.