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It was the woman. The one he’d seen outside Portofino’s.
The green-eyed beauty he hadn’t been able to get out of his head.
CHAPTER TWO
OH, WHAT a joy to see!
Damian Aristedes’s handsome jaw dropped halfway to the ground. Seeing that was the first really good thing that had happened to Ivy in a while.
Obviously his highness wasn’t accustomed to having his life disrupted by unwanted surprises.
Damian’s unflappable, Kay had said.
Well, okay. She hadn’t said it exactly that way. Nobody can get to him, was probably more accurate.
Not true, Ivy thought. Just look at the man now.
“Who are you? What are you doing here?”
She didn’t answer. The pleasure of catching him off guard was wearing off. She’d prepared for this moment but the reality was terrifying. Her heart was hammering so hard she was half afraid he could hear it.
“You were outside Portofino’s today.”
He was gaining control of himself. His voice had taken on authority; his pale gray eyes had narrowed.
“Are you a reporter for one of those damned tabloids? I don’t give interviews.”
He really didn’t know who she was. She’d wondered about that, whether Kay had ever shown him a photo or pointed out her picture in a magazine, but she’d pretty much squelched that possibility at the restaurant, where she’d followed him from his Fifty-Seventh Street office.
He’d looked at her, but only the way most men looked at her. With interest, avarice—the kind of hunger she despised, the kind that said she was a plaything and they wanted a new toy.
Although, when this man had looked at her today, just for a second, surely no more than that, she’d felt—she’d felt—
What?
She’d seemed to lose her equilibrium. She was glad someone had joined him because she knew better than to confront him with another person around.
This discussion had to be private.
As for that loss of equilibrium or whatever it was, it only proved how dangerous Damian Aristedes was.
That he’d been able to mesmerize Kay was easy to understand. Kay had always been a fool for men.
That he’d had an effect on Ivy, even for a heartbeat, only convinced her she’d figured him right.
The prince of all he surveyed was a sleek jungle cat, constantly on the prowl. A beautiful predator. Too bad he had no soul, no heart, no—
“Are you deaf, woman? Who are you? What do you want? And how in hell did you get up here?”
He’d taken a couple of steps forward, just enough to invade her space. No question it was a subtle form of intimidation. It might have worked, too—despite her height, he was big enough so that she had to tilt her head back to meet his eyes—but Ivy was not a stranger to intimidation.
Growing up, she’d been bullied by experts. It could only hurt if you gave in to it.
“Three questions,” she said briskly. “Did you want them answered in order, or am I free to pick and choose?”
He moved quickly, grasped her wrist and forced her arm behind her back. It hurt; his grip was strong, his hands hard. She hadn’t expected a show of physical strength from a pampered aristocrat but she didn’t flinch.
“Take your hand off me.”
