Virgin For The Billionaire's Taking. PENNY JORDAN

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      Keira had no idea why she was telling him all this. What difference could it make now? She had lost the contract, and despite the fact that she desperately needed the money a part of her was relieved. There were some things that mattered more than money, and her own peace of mind was definitely one of them.

      Jay frowned. Something told him that she was telling the truth. Not that he had any intention of demeaning himself by questioning others about her.

      And besides, there were other issues at stake here. She had an impressive client list, the majority of whom were women. That had been one of the most important deciding factors in his original decision to take her on. India’s growing middle class wanted new and more westernised homes, and it was predominantly the women who were making the decisions about which developer they bought from. The interior of any new property was a vitally important selling point, and Jay knew that he could not afford to make any mistakes in his choice of interior designer.

      On paper, this woman ticked all the right boxes. She had connections with an elite of London based Indian families—no doubt through the friendships she had made at university. She had worked for them in London, and he was well aware of the praise she had been given for the way she blended the best of traditional Indian and modern Western styles to create uniquely stylish interiors that had delighted their owners. She had also worked in Mumbai; she was at home in both cultures and apparently well liked by the Indian matriarchs whose approval was so vitally important to her business and indirectly to his.

      His long silence was unnerving her, Keira admitted inwardly. It flustered her into repeating, ‘My work speaks for itself.’

      ‘But perhaps your body language speaks more clearly? To my sex at least.’

      His voice was as cool as steel and just as deadly. Keira could feel it piercing her pride, taking a shimmering bead of its life force as though it were a trophy. Now that he had savoured his pleasure in wounding her no doubt he would close in for the kill and tell her that he wasn’t going to give her the contract.

      She lifted her chin and told him proudly, ‘I don’t see the point in prolonging this conversation, since it’s obvious that you don’t have any intention of commissioning me to work for you as an interior designer.’

      He certainly didn’t want to do so, now that he knew who she was, Jay acknowledged. But there was the delicate matter of losing face—both for Sayeed and in a roundabout way for Jay himself.

      Sayeed might be a very junior partner in their current venture, but he would be within his rights to question why Jay had rejected Keira, after allowing the negotiations to get this far. Sayeed would be personally insulted, and whilst Jay was too rich and too powerful to worry about that, his own moral scruples were such that bringing his own personal feelings into the business arena was something he just would not do without explaining. That would cause him to lose face.

      The situation was non-negotiable—both practically and morally. He had no alternative but to go ahead and formalise the offer of a contract, as Sayeed would be expecting him to do.