Vivian Arend - High Passion

“I’m honoured you consider us a good match, but we’re not in love.”

Vincent didn’t shift position. He didn’t change expression. “I didn’t mention being in love. I don’t expect it, even though I think we’d suit each other well.”

This was unbelievable. “That’s a little trite, isn’t it? Getting married to save the company? Because there’s an important dynasty to be preserved—”

“Isn’t there?” Vincent moved now, capturing her fingers again before she could pull away. “I’m going about this all wrong. I do care for you. Don’t mistake my lack of gushing for indifference. I simply see no reason to pretend unnecessary emotions.”

“And I see no reason to pretend this isn’t some monumental joke. I’m sorry, but I’m not marrying you. Not to save the company. I’ve chosen a different life, and I do not want to go back to the old one.” She shook her head at the impossibility of it all. “Please, Vincent. There are other options. Convince my father to change business tactics, or find someone who will sell you the shares you need so you can take control and fix things. I’d sell you mine if I could access them—but I’m not for sale.”

“You think I haven’t tried to find another solution?” Vincent demanded. “I’ve gone over all the options, and it’s the only possibility. I had hoped you would agree to a short engagement and quick wedding, but if you have a boyfriend, that complicates matters. You’ll have to find a reasonable explanation to call it off. Soon. Once you’ve done that, we’ll wait a few weeks, then announce our engagement, and we could still be married by Christmas.”

He hadn’t listened to a single thing she’d said. “I. Am. Not. Marrying. You. Why is that so hard for you to accept?”

Vincent shrugged. “It’s in your best interest.”

She glared, arms folded over her chest. “Don’t threaten me.”

“What have I said that was threatening?” He laughed, glancing around the room in amusement, his smile shining out to the world his supposed happiness. “I offered you a proposal of marriage. Hardly front-page news.” His face tightened, and suddenly he wasn’t so handsome anymore. “Unless you want to tell them everything I’ve mentioned tonight. Wouldn’t that information look wonderful splashed everywhere in the media.”

She clutched the arms of the chair so hard her fingers ached.

“No, Alisha. Even if you don’t mind your father losing everything, I don’t see you as the type to enjoy causing his downfall.” The sorrowful smile on his lips didn’t reach his eyes. “Oh, that would be horrific, wouldn’t it? You, announcing your father’s incompetency to run the company? That kind of press would undoubtedly lead to a drop in stock value, and set off what you claim to not care about.”

“I would never get involved in that manner. I simply want to be left alone.” She hated that she was nearly begging.

“I agree. Forcing your father to be hurt like that would be cruel.” He ignored her real concerns again and pressed the issue. “It would be so much better to take a different approach regarding the media—perhaps announcing a far more lighthearted news item. Alisha Bailey being courted by Vincent Monreal, the two of us madly in love. One call, and I could have the paparazzi here—”

“You wouldn’t dare.”

He motioned with both hands as if he were soothing a wild animal. “I think we’ve discussed this enough. You’re upset, and I can appreciate that hearing about your father’s incompetence has been shocking news. Once you’ve had time to process it, I think you’ll agree that marrying me is the best—”

“Dammit, Vincent. Listen to me.”

He focused on his plate as if she hadn’t even spoken. “Eat your dinner, it’s getting cold.”

The man was impossible. “I’m not hungry,” she snapped.

“You are being terribly rude.” Vincent lifted the wine bottle as if to refill her glass and finish the meal. As if the entire conversation hadn’t just headed off into crazyland.

Alisha left. She didn’t look back. Didn’t glance over her shoulder to see if he was watching her. She knew he was, though. Felt it.

His scrutiny wasn’t like the constant surveillance Devon had kept over the years. This was cold. Calculating.

She pulled out her phone as she waited for her car to be brought around, her fingers hovering over the link to call Devon.

The impossibility of it all made her pause. What would she tell him?

Vincent had . . . proposed to her? Intended to use her to take over the company? The whole situation was unbelievable. Heck, she’d give Vincent her shares if that were possible. She hadn’t lied—she didn’t want any part of her old life.

If she had to struggle to pay the bills her entire life, it would be worth it as long as she got to be in the mountains doing something incredibly valuable.

To Vincent and her father, she was nothing but a game piece to be used and moved to their best advantage. Even if Vincent had lied about the business side of things, one part was true—her father did expect her to return in a year, all her wild passions satisfied. Prepared to be a quiet, docile member of the family. She’d never intended to return. This . . . option . . . offered by Vincent didn’t encourage her, either.

Only this wasn’t something she could explain to Devon. How could she explain it when she could barely comprehend it?

She pushed her phone into her purse and got back into her car, the ride home colder and lonelier than she ever remembered.

It was far too early for the phone to ring. Devon blinked through the haze in his vision as his body responded to the call-out from Lifeline faster than his brain. He was on his feet. Pouring himself into his gear, waking up enough to get himself to respond. A glance at his watch showed he’d actually slept in, which he must have needed considering he still felt like hell.

The short trip to the Lifeline building passed in a blur.

“Looks as if we’ve hit stupid season early.” Marcus’s voice carried over the speakers in HQ as they scrambled to gather gear. “Sorry I’m not there, but I got stuck in Calgary last night. I didn’t expect another emergency so soon. Lana will be your contact in the office for any information you need.”

Lana waved at them from behind the call desk, already on the phone with their contact and relaying flight information details to Erin.

“I’m on lead,” Anders called out. “We’ll be fine, Marcus. We’ll keep you posted. Now get off the line and let us do our job.”

“Bastard.” Marcus laughed. “Everyone stay safe and good luck.”

A rush of energy surged as they got ready. Devon paused to pour an extra coffee and set it before Lana, and she flashed him a huge smile without pausing her task.

Teamwork. The smooth coordination flowing around him eased the pre-rescue butterflies that came no matter how many times they did this.

Devon hurried with the rest of them into the chopper. Alisha looked nearly as bleary-eyed as he felt, but otherwise she appeared in complete control. It had been a couple of days since their explosive sexual release, but he hadn’t been in a rush to contact her, and neither, it seemed, had she craved his company. They were back to keeping their distance.

Fine. As long as she was on task right now, he’d deal with the other situation later today.

“At least it’s a decent hour.” Xavier’s nonstop banter arrived as usual. “Daylight will make it easier for the search. Anders? What’s the word?”

“Lana? Want to fill in the gaps?”

“Guide took inexperienced paddlers down the Selkirk River. There’s more than one set of class five rapids and at least two impassable class six falls—and the expected happened. Guide is missing along with one other canoe, so there are four possible victims.” Her voice purred over the headsets, and Devon found himself nodding—having a contact who was easy to listen to was a nice change from Marcus’s far more gravelly tones.

Devon bet she was glad she’d had time to recover from her little drinking session, though.

Lana continued. “The third canoe was found trapped in a logjam. The two who were in her made the call for help. It’s been three days since they started the trip—it took that long for them to find their way out of the bush.”

Anders jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “There’s a local SAR team patrolling the river downstream from where the canoe was found. The valley widens so they can cover the territory pretty easily. We’re heading upstream into the mountains. Erin can manoeuvre through most of the canyon. If she can’t clear a section, we’ll have to drop in to check the territory on foot.”

“Descending on the winch?” Alisha asked.

“If it works.” Anders shook his hand. “We’re talking narrow-gauge canyons in that area.”

He pulled out a map and laid it flat. Devon leaned forward with the rest of them, highly aware of Alisha on his left, her leg next to his as she wiggled to get a better view. She didn’t seem overly stressed about the upcoming rescue.

He focused on the region Anders was highlighting.

“They put in the canoes at this point. Following the river, and with the news from the two that made it out, we know they were fine until this point.” Anders stabbed the map with a finger. “That’s when the group got separated.”

Tripp made a rude noise. “That’s the first set of rapids, and it’s not even technically challenging. Bunch of idiots. What was the guide thinking?”

“If they had problems with those bumps, they’d never have made it through here.” Xavier tapped the map where there was a noticeable change in elevation. “Did they even know how to park the boats to portage around the falls?”