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He hid a smile. She was formidable. Enough to tweak and hold his interest. It made him wonder in what other ways she could achieve that. And he silently shook his head.
Theirsshouldand would remain a transactional relationship. He didn’t have the head space to deal with the untamed emotions she triggered in him.
‘You will sell me your code.’ He needed the words spoken out loud so he could finish this and move on to more important things. Like helping his people. Like stopping his uncle from stripping his beloved homeland of every last resource.
‘Yes.’
The affirmative answer he’d wished. And yet...
Suddenly, he wanted to be somewhere else. Somewhere the presence of others didn’t intrude on this moment.
‘We’ll take your dessert to go,’ he said, shocking himself once more. Hadn’t he promised himself one minute ago that he’d move on?
‘Go where?’
Our separate ways. Now that I have what I want.
‘Somewhere quieter where we won’t be interrupted. The English weather is being uncharacteristically cooperative. Inside or outside. We can go anywhere you want.’
Her nose wrinkled cutely. ‘I’m not an outside type of person.’
He shrugged. ‘Because you haven’t been exposed to therighttype of outside.’
‘I’m not sure what that means.’
He fished out his wallet and tossed a few hundred pounds on the table. Summoning the waiter, he gave his request.
A minute later, her dessert was boxed up and themaître d’was wishing them a good evening.
But when they stepped outside, a spurt of misgiving sprang up.
He’d never mixed business with pleasure and he was certain he wasn’t about to start. But almost instantly, he was flooded by the unsettling sensations that had been driving him all night.
Seve wasn’t a man who liked to admit weakness, but as he sped through the streets of London towards his destination, he couldn’t fail to register that he was helpless against the compulsion pounding in his veins.
Compulsion that had nothing to do with the fact that he now had within his grasp his most effective tool of toppling his uncle’s power and setting Cardosia back on the right track.
And everything to do with Genie Merchant.
Somehow he wasn’t entirely surprised when he pulled up to his private parking space in the underground garage of his duplex.
‘Where are we?’ Genie asked.
She’d remained silent throughout the journey. Now she looked around for a moment before turning her gaze to him with one eyebrow raised.
‘Somewhere you can finish that—’ he nodded at the box in her hand ‘—while we finalise the terms of sale.’
Her fingers spasmed on the box, a tiny betraying movement he caught nonetheless. Because everything about her interested him to the point of slavish intrigue.
He realised he’d held his breath when it rushed out at her eventual nod of consent. He unfastened her seat belt with more alacrity than he’d intended, and with every click of their footsteps towards the private elevator that shot them up to his penthouse, he ignored the inner voice demanding to know what he was doing.
The East London residence he used when he was in England had been constructed to impress men of his business stature and influence. Every sophisticated amenity was within reach. But what had sold the vast, luxurious space to Seve—as was the intention—was the view both day and night.
At almost eleven p.m., the carpet of lights and distinct icons of the bridges that dissected the Thames drew Genie past the soft dove-grey walls interspersed with some of his favourite art and sculptures, past the sumptuous matching sofas and lofty ceilings, past the Italian marble floors and the specially commissioned Swarovski crystal chandeliers.
To the outside.
He watched her make a beeline for the wide outdoor sofa facing the spectacular view, something inside kicking wildly as he witnessed her unfettered interest inhisview. He hid a smile as she took it all in.
