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“And not enjoy whatever interesting little performance is about to take place?” Lucas smiled thinly. “Not on a bet.”

She dug in her pocket, held out the same key she’d offered him before.

“It’s not too late.”

“Trust me, it is.” Another thin, unpleasant smile curved his mouth. “Things are just getting interesting.”

“Interesting,” she said, and gave a brittle laugh.

It reminded him of how she’d laughed when she’d almost ridden him down.

“Laughter,” he said carefully, “seems an inappropriate response.”

“Believe me, mister, any other response is out of the question.”

“Try an apology instead.” He took a step toward her. “You still owe me one.”

That made her laugh again. It made his blood pressure soar. He was in a game but he didn’t know the rules, didn’t know his opponent, didn’t know the prize he was playing for.

The only certainty was that the woman was knee-deep in whatever was going on.

“You have one minute to explain,” he said, moving slowly toward her. “You or Norton. I don’t give a damn who tells me what this is all about. One minute. Then I’m leaving.”

“Has anyone ever told you what a pompous ass you are?”

Dios, he could feel the rage building inside him. “I warn you, amada, watch how you speak to me.”

“The days of royalty are over, Mr. Reyes. Playing emperor won’t get you anywhere. Not here. This is my country, my land, my—”

It was as if she’d pushed some hidden switch. Nothing mattered but dealing with her interminable insolence and Lucas knew exactly how to do it.

He pulled her into his arms and kissed her.

CHAPTER FOUR

HOURS ago, she’d struggled against him, then given herself up to his kiss.

Not this time.

She didn’t just struggle, she fought like a wildcat. Tried to bite him. Knee him. Shove him away.

Lucas wouldn’t let any of that happen.

He used his anger, his height, his leanly muscled strength to propel her back against the wall. Then he used his hands to manacle hers and pin them uselessly beside her.

Dimly he heard the attorney saying his name but he ignored that, ignored everything but the need to get even. To win. To let her know, without question, she could not laugh at him or look at him as if he were a creature worthy of her contempt.

Even in the fever that gripped him, Lucas had to admit that there was more.

There was the taste of her. Wild. Honeyed. Passionate.

The heat that rose from her silken skin.

The texture of her mouth as he invaded it.

As she fought, as he forced her to accept his kiss, the part of his brain that still clung to civility asked him what the hell he was doing.

He had never forced sexual compliance from a woman in his life.

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