Rocco’s hand tightened on hers. He held Axel’s stare, jaw tight, as the other man approached.
Axel Severin was her father’s protégé. He was thirtyish, smart, capable and highly ambitious. Mira didn’t resent him for having a closer relationship with Otto than she had, but she felt vaguely threatened by him. Whenever their paths crossed, she focused on keeping things civil, aware she would have to work with him once she joined Vorstoben.
“What are you doing here?” she asked, referring to London more than this hotel. Her father stayed here when he came to town. Sometimes she joined him for dinner. That’s how she knew of the spa.
“Meetings. You?” Axel swung his narrowed gaze from her to Rocco, making her wonder which one of them he was asking.
“I was at the spa. Axel works for my father,” she explained to Rocco as she self-consciously extricated her fingers from his.
“I know,” he said.
“You’ve met?”
“Not formally.” Neither man made an effort to shake hands, only held that cold, challenging stare.
The uneasiness that accosted her was worse than social anxiety. Mira felt transparent. She was in a robe and Rocco still held the open wine bottle while wearing only a towel.
“Do you know he owns GPS? His company competes with Vorstoben,” Axel said in German.
“No.” She swung a shocked look to Rocco, beginning to wither with embarrassment as she realized she had not only hooked up with a stranger, but it was also her father’s business rival.
She bit back what she wanted to say to Axel.Don’t tell him. Otto never seemed to approve of her and she belatedly realized this could make it worse. Her heart lurched as she realized Axel would have this to hold over her.
Another dark thought began to form in her head, one that answered her puzzlement over what Rocco saw in her. Notherat all, but who she was: Otto’s daughter.
Oh, God. Her stomach beginning to churn with horrified anguish.
“I genuinely don’t care what you do in your private life,” Axel said in German. “But Otto has had a grudge against him for years. I don’t know what it’s about, but it’s very personal. This wouldnotmake him happy. And he knows it.” Axel nodded toward Rocco. “Do whatever you want, but do it with your eyes open.”
That’s not what this is, she wanted to protest.
It was, though. She had told Rocco that she would be working for her father. She had told him the company name.
He was as still as a marble statue, his mouth a flat, grim line.
“You knew my father would disapprove?” she now said in English.
“Jawohl,” he said, letting her know he’d understood every word Axel had said.
An unbelievable depth of hurt, of exposure, expanded within her. Rocco had disarmed her and she had lost all inhibition under his touch.
“Do you completely lack a conscience?” she asked with outrage, very afraid she would start to cry if she didn’t cling to fury. If she didn’t fling contempt at him.
His only answer was a hacked-off laugh that held no humor. “It’s complicated.”
“Oh, shut up.” How dare he throw that word at her? “Never speak to me again.” She stabbed at the elevator button. “And if you tell—”
She strangled on her own voice, never so humiliated in her life.
The elevator hadn’t moved. The doors opened.
She stepped in and tagged the reader with the card from her robe’s pocket. Her hand shook as she hit the button for the spa. She wouldrunhome to pack for Berlin.
Axel stepped in beside her, but she couldn’t look at him. She tried very hard not to look at Rocco, but glanced up at the last second.
He was staring at her, mouth a tense line.
The doors closed.
