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His smile disappeared as he shoved back his chair and got to his feet. “In that case,” he said softly, “let’s get started.”
So much for bluffing.
His hand closed on her shoulder. She tried not to wince at the pressure.
“Stand up, Mia.”
“No.” The breath hissed from her lungs. “I swear, if you—”
“Stand up!”
The pain was almost unbearable. Gritting her teeth, she did as he’d ordered. He marched her from the kitchen, along the hall, back into the library. Her heart raced. Was he going to lock her in the safe room?
“Sit.”
She sat, almost falling into a chair that faced an enormous fieldstone fireplace.
Matthew went to a cabinet. Took out a bottle and filled two balloon-shaped glasses. Held out one to her. She stared at it as if it might burst into flames at any minute.
“For God’s sake,” he growled, “it’s brandy. Watch.” He brought one glass to his lips, drank and swallowed, then did the same with the other and offered her the glass again. “Drink. Maybe it’ll put some color back in your face.”
She accepted the glass and took a small sip. The brandy was wonderful, warm and darkly rich. She shut her eyes, let its fire trickle down her throat, then licked the taste from her lips.
When she lifted her lashes, she saw Matthew watching her. Watching the progress of her tongue across her mouth.
His eyes met hers. “Good?” he said, his voice husky.
She nodded, and he sat down across from her, rolling his glass between his palms to heat the brandy before finally lifting it to his lips and taking a drink.
“It’s time to get down to business.”
Her heart thumped and she fought to keep the fear from showing in her face.
“We don’t have any business.”
“Wrong.” His eyes narrowed. “We do.”
The glass she’d wrapped both hands around began to tremble. The thing to do now was stay calm. Impre
ss him with her honesty.
“Look,” she said, striving for sincerity, “I understand that Douglas hired you to find me. Well, you found me. Tell him that. Call him up, tell him you did what he employed you to do and then tell him—tell him I don’t want to go back to Cartagena.” Did she sound sincere or desperate? “Then you just let me walk away.”
He smiled thinly. “You walk away and I return to Cartagena, empty-handed.”
“He’ll still pay you. I mean, he’ll see that you’ve done your job.”
“He’s not paying me.”
Her eyes widened in surprise. “Then why…?”
“Why did you run away?”
She stood up. “We’ve been over this already. I left him.”
“You ran. There’s a difference. I want to know the reason.”
“It’s none of your business.”
