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My heart leapt into my throat on cue as I turned and watched him walk towards me. He looked dashing and debonair in the tailored tuxedo, reminding me of the man I’d met that first night who had terrified me on some visceral level.
He terrified me even more now, I realised, because I couldn’t seem to control the erratic beat of my heart as he gathered me into his arms.
‘At last, the work is finally finished, the investors are in place and we can celebrate,’ he murmured, nuzzling my neck, raising goosebumps that rioted over my collarbone and arrowed into my sex—which had already begun to melt at the sight of him, readying itself for the erection that pressed insistently against my belly.
‘That’s wonderful,’ I said, trying to smile, and swallow down the bubble that only got larger at the thought that we only had tonight now, before this affair would be over.
He drew back and held out my arms, his gaze becoming dark and intense as it roamed over the satin ball gown Nina had had made for me especially for tonight’s occasion. ‘You look absolutely stunning,’ he said.
The familiar blush flared across my cleavage. He never forgot to compliment me, to make his appreciation and his approval known. And I realised I had become completely addicted to that too. My skin burned at the reminder that Nina had insisted I wear nothing under the gown.
‘So do you,’ I said, letting my gaze roam over him in turn. He really did look magnificent in the dark evening wear. I imagined the scars that lurked beneath it, which I had explored with my fingers and lips countless times now. They were a testament, just as the suit was, to how hard he’d worked to escape the degradation of his upbringing. A stupid spurt of pride at his achievements worked its way up my torso, even though I’d had nothing whatsoever to do with them.
‘Hey?’ He lifted my chin and met my gaze. ‘Is something wrong?’
‘No, nothing,’ I lied easily enough. I didn’t want to mar our last night together with my ridiculous emotions. ‘I just wish we could stay and celebrate here,’ I said boldly, which wasn’t a lie.
He let out a hoarse chuckle. ‘You and me both.’
He gripped my fingers and gave them a squeeze. ‘But I’m afraid we’re going to have to make an appearance. I wouldn’t want that beautiful gown to go to waste...’ His pupils darkened as he led me towards the door, his thumb rubbing my palm possessively. ‘Before I rip it off you,’ he added, sending the familiar shiver of anticipation through me.
I let out a strained laugh as we walked down the wide sweeping staircase towards the ballroom. People turned to stare, and I had the weirdest sensation of being like a princess at a ball—young and desperately in lust with the handsome prince every other woman here wanted but couldn’t have, because he had chosen me.
The sensation of acceptance, of belonging, was fanciful and fleeting for sure, but still I rejoiced in the renewed leap in my heartbeat.
Why not enjoy tonight, and worry about the struggle to keep my emotions in check tomorrow, when I returned to Belle Rivière—and reality intruded again?
‘Who did you decide to offer investor status to in the end?’ I asked, as Dante took a glass of champagne off the tray of a passing waiter and handed it to me.
‘Devon O’Reilly and the consortium from Le Grange,’ Dante said, mentioning an Irish racehorse owner and a group of hedge fund managers, both of whom I’d recommended. There was only one other person I’d recommended.
‘Not Elise Durand?’ I asked, surprised but also stupidly pleased. I tried to quell the trickle of pleasure that she hadn’t been invited to invest after all, because it made me feel petty and insecure.
‘No, not Elise,’ he said, his brows lowering as he watched me over his glass. ‘Although it might have been nice if I had found out about her unsuitability from you, instead of Collette.’
‘I...I don’t understand.’
I lowered my glass from my lips, scared to take another sip in case I choked on the emotion currently rising up my torso.
Had he found out about Elise’s comment to me from Collette? And if he had, why was he so angry about it, because I could see the temper swirling in his eyes?
‘She insulted you, Edie,’ he said, giving me the answer to a question I had been too scared to ask. ‘Do you really think I would want to do business with her after that? I had her escorted off the estate as soon as I found out. And I intend to make it known that I refused to do business with her or her company.’
‘I’m not sure she meant it as an insult,’ I said, not sure why I was defending her. Because it seemed very obvious to me now that’s exactly what she had intended—to undermine and belittle me. And of course she had succeeded, tapping into my insecurities, my feelings of inadequacy with a simple offhand remark. But what seemed so much more dangerous now was Dante’s reaction. Because he hadn’t just spotted the insult before me, he had jumped to my defence. And was clearly furious on my behalf. Enough to base an important business decision on it. It suddenly felt like too much. Not
just his decision to defend me and protect me, and do something as extreme as having Elise Durand kicked off the estate, but also my reaction to that response.
I had tried so hard not to fall in love with this man. And I’d succeeded, despite the violent intensity of his lovemaking, despite the respect he showed me at every turn, despite the way he had cherished and complimented me. But I could feel myself slipping—no, crashing—over the edge as he stared back at me now with outrage and annoyance, at me as much as Elise, etched on his face.
His emotions were rarely so unguarded, and that unsettled me too. That he would let me see how much Elise’s insult had angered him.
‘Don’t ever apologise for or excuse other people’s prejudices again,’ he said, or rather commanded, and just like that I felt my heart drop like a stone. Wow, I really was a hopeless case, I realised vaguely, as I tumbled into the abyss—unsure of where I would land but unable to break my fall.
How could I be falling in love with this man, not because of his sensitive nurturing qualities, not because of his protectiveness, or even his epic skills in the sack, but because of his quick-fire temper, his possessiveness and his overbearing arrogance? It would be utterly tragic... If it weren’t so... I took a shuddering breath, trying to collect myself and fight back the tears threatening to spill over my lids... If it weren’t so wonderful.
‘You’re not your mother,’ he continued, still lecturing me and clearly completely oblivious to the emotions I was struggling to get a grip on. ‘And no one gets to judge you or insult you because of the mistakes she made. You’re worth so much more than that. Do you understand?’
I nodded, because my heart was too swollen and rammed too far up my throat to attempt coherent speech.
