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Prologue
Rose had a sixth sense. She knew all about instinct and intuition and why it was vital to pay attention to silent warnings. So why, when instinct screamed keep away from Dante Formosa, was he the one man on the Blood and Thunder polo team she wanted to get really close to? He’d done nothing to encourage her. Apart from him being the coldest man on earth, Dante was hardly going to notice a pale Celt in a sea of sloe-eyed beauties.
Rose’s body didn’t care. It craved the touch of the man they called the Romani chieftain. Not knowing his touch, was…safe, Rose concluded as she watched the most brutally physical man she’d ever known cast a net of menace over the wedding guests. She worked with his horses every day, so she knew he wasn’t a bad man. It was just that Dante was a force of nature, like a threatening storm.
She was in no danger from the storm. Supermodels were more Dante’s type than women with the tang of the stable about them. It didn’t help that, according to her brothers, she was a spiky, awkward tomboy.
Rose was blessed with six brothers, all of them fierce and all of them polo players, and all thankfully too far away on a mission with Blackheart Security to be in a position to judge her today. If they’d seen her in this lacey girly bridesmaid’s dress, with her black hair floating free as per the bride’s instructions, they’d laugh their heads off.
Truth be told, she didn’t go to many parties, and she felt awkward at this high-tone occasion, even though it was being held on the beach. The marriage between Rose’s friend Amber Smith and Alexei Riga, the Russian billionaire who had founded the Blood and Thunder polo team, had attracted the great and good from across the world.
And then there was Rose.
Lately come from a remote farm in Ireland, where the most prized fashion item was a new thermal vest, Rose was still getting used to life on the glamorous subtropical island of Isla Celeste, where fashion was something to titillate the jaded palate when it had tired of caviar and champagne. The tanned and slender one percent of the world’s elite were currently flashing their impeccably curated bodies on the dance floor, while Rose was barricaded behind the cake table, where she could avoid small talk—of which she had precisely none—or worse, the inevitable offer of a pity dance with the wallflower at the party from the most unappealing man. Not that there were many of those here. Most were polo players, and all were spectacularly gorgeous…especially the one she was keeping track of from the shadows. Dante stood out, Rose had decided, because of his grim, unsmiling face and his sheer, mind-blowing physicality.
Sexuality, don’t you mean?
Yes. Well, refocus Rose. She was here to support the bride, not to weigh up the field of runners and riders. And now Dante had caught her staring at him. She quickly looked away and poured herself a glass of lemonade to bury her face in. Why was he staring at her when every eligible woman at the party would kill to attract his attention? She worked for him. He’d never shown any interest before. He arrived at dawn when she started training his horses. Cantering into the indoor arena on his handsome black stallion, he’d rein in, issue instructions, and then go. She doubted he’d even recognize her in a different setting.
But he was heading straight for her and holding her frowning stare as he wove his way through the dancing couples. Her body responded eagerly. Her body was wasting its time. This would be horse talk, nothing more. The only action Rose had seen so far on Isla Celeste was a fumble in the tack room with one of the stable lads. “It’s the tradition,” he said when she’d pushed him away. “Fresh meat has to be sampled.”
She’d thanked him with a grin for his kind attention and then warned that she’d geld him next time, to cheers from his friends. Comparing that encounter to an approach from Dante was like comparing a leaky rowboat to Alexei Riga’s superyacht. It was rumored Dante could deliver more pleasure with a look than most women could handle, but where sex was concerned, he drank his fill and then moved on. Why would she risk her reputation for that? She loved her job working with some of the best horses in the world. She’d be a fool. For one night of pleasure?
But the sexual heat coming off Dante made solar flares seem puny by comparison. She tried to steady her breathing as he came closer, but her heart refused to cooperate. Dressed to kill in a formal suit for the wedding, if Dante looked hot in breeches, he was scorching now, and there was a hunting light in his eyes she’d never seen before. Hunting Rose? She made a sound of disbelief. That didn’t make sense—not with so many beauties on the beach. Rose, with a potty mouth second to none? Rose, who could rope a horse and fire a gun with as much accuracy as a man and who had all the grace and charm of a mule? Not a chance she was the Romani chieftain’s quarry tonight. He was probably coming over to tell her he had a new horse for her to train. Lifting her chin, she smoothed the soft lace over her curves. She always had a ready answer for her brothers when they overstepped the mark, so why was she afraid of Dante?
Because you shouldn’t tempt the devil unless you’re prepared to take him on.
“Rose…”
Just hearing him speak her name in that husky, slightly accented baritone, had more effect than a sex toy
“Dante?” Angling her head in polite question, she gave him her best businesslike smile, and then froze when he delivered his message. Everything froze. Her body, her synapses, her ready repartee. Dante Formosa had just suggested they go bang their brains out, for want of something better to do. And all she could come up with, bearing in mind he was her boss, was a lame “I beg your pardon? I don’t think I heard you correctly. Could you repeat that, please?”
He did.
“Is that your usual chat-up line?” She was beginning to recover and, boss or not, he wasn’t getting away with that.
“I believe in being direct,” Dante confirmed in the same husky tone.
“You certainly do,” she agreed.
“Well?” he pressed, frowning impatiently. “What’s your answer?”
