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‘I will be, marginally, when you tell me what’s wrong. And for the sake of my sanity, and yours, don’t say nothing.’
Her nostrils quivered delicately with the sustaining breath she took. ‘Fine. I don’t want to return to the ice.’
Javier frowned. ‘Not while your wrist is still in a cast, no. That part of the ad will only be shot once the binding comes off.’
She shook her head, once more inducing a tightening in his gut. ‘Can we not just use CGI like Darren suggested?’
‘Explain to me why you don’t want to use the ice.’
She shifted, her skin sliding against the silk tunic. Memories of how smooth and warm that skin was slashed across his brain, driving heat into his groin. ‘Another fall if I’m not careful could set me back even more months. Why risk another injury for the sake of an ad campaign?’
‘Because that campaign is paying you millions in sponsorship funds. Funds that could go away very easily if you don’t adhere to your part of the agreement. Surely you’re not so obtuse as to overlook that?’
‘But we have an alternative!’
Javier sensed something else going on. Had t
he trauma of Blackwell’s training left her with something more than just a bodily injury? Would she even tell him if that were the case? Frustrated anger rose to mingle with the irritations pulsing within him. He refused to add hurt to the equation. Because being upset that he was on the outside of something so important to her shouldn’t be an issue for him. She was contractually obligated to give him whatever he wanted.
His mind veered to other things that he wanted. Things that had made him stay away from his own penthouse for two weeks because he didn’t want to admit to the need hammering beneath his skin.
‘The alternative doesn’t work for me. So unless you want to tell me the real reason why you’re making the request, the original plan stands.’
He waited. And waited some more. Her eyes shadowed, but her defiant chin stayed up, her mouth firming with whatever emotions were surging through her.
‘I told you why. Obviously, you disagree. Are we done now? I’d like to get out of here, get some fresh air.’
‘Carla—’
‘Oh, God, please don’t tell me I’m a prisoner too?’
He caught the hand she’d brought up to push him away, the knowledge that she didn’t intend to share what was upsetting her hardening into a knot. He set the notion to one side for the moment. ‘You’re not a prisoner. But you can’t go out on your own either. It’s not safe.’
She stilled. ‘What do you mean?’
‘I mean a group of your fans—I believe they call themselves The Nardozzians?—are camped downstairs. If you go out on your own, you’ll be mobbed.’
She paled. ‘I... I didn’t know. They weren’t here when I went out for a walk yesterday morning.’ The hand in his chest balled into a fist, pressed deeper into his flesh, and Javier got the impression she didn’t know how clearly her agitation was showing. ‘How long have they been here?’
‘They arrived last night. Obviously word has leaked that you’re in town.’
She closed her eyes for a split second. When she opened them again, her gaze lingered on his jaw. ‘Damn, so I can’t go out?’
Catching hold of her chin, he tilted her face. Breathed easier when her eyes connected with his. And then, because he couldn’t help himself, he brushed his finger down her cheek. ‘You can go out, as long as you’re accompanied.’
‘And who...?’ She exhaled. ‘You?’
‘Me. Especially since I know that one of those fans has been brazen enough to propose to you several times. I believe he’s even gone a few steps further and sent you some risqué pictures of himself?’
Her eyes widened. ‘How do you know this?’
‘When are you going to get it through your head that I know everything that is relevant to know about you?’
A shadow fleeted through her eyes. ‘At least you’re not purporting to know absolutely everything.’
‘Sadly, carina, if we knew everything about each other, we wouldn’t be here now, would we?’
The shadows deepened. When she tried to turn her head away, he held her still.
