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It sounded more like a floating high-security prison than a boat, she thought, panic swelling in her throat.
As they stopped in front of a door, the steward turned and smiled. ‘We can outrun almost anything on the high seas—including pirates. Although that’s not something we have to worry about in this region.’
He knocked briskly on the door, and without waiting for a reply opened it.
Dove stepped reluctantly into the room. Frankly, the idea of coming face to face with a pirate was not nearly as unsettling as the sight of the man standing on the other side of the room with his back to her, gazing out to sea.
Only this time it was going to be different, she told herself firmly. There would be no sliding back in time, no picking over the bones of the past. She would be cool, calm and professional.
But as Gabriel turned slowly to face her, her heart lurched like a scuttled ship.
Five days ago, when this moment had been simply a concept, she had thought that it would be easier seeing him the second time. She’d been wrong. If anything, she was having to fight a quivering, betraying flush as he walked towards her, shockingly beautiful in dark suit trousers and a pale blue shirt.
‘So, you made it, then?’
As he stopped in front of her she forced her eyes up to meet his, and for a moment she thought she saw a flicker of admiration or respect. But then it was gone, and he was gesturing towards one of the large cream Barcelona chairs that were grouped around a delicate scallop-edged eau-de-nil wool rug.
She took a furtive glance around the room. It was cool and modern and minimal, with sculptural lighting, one vast Cy Twombly canvas in muted shades and ocean views on three sides. It was nothing like the war room at Cavendish and Cox but, judging by the edgy, pulsing tension filling the room, it was still a battleground, she thought, tucking her legs to one side as she sat down.
‘I wondered whether you might send someone else in your place.’
His voice was cool, taunting, silky-smooth, and she couldn’t tell if the tightness in her chest was anger or foreboding or confusion. Because shehadn’tsent her father to find him all those years ago. It had been Oscar’s idea to challenge Gabriel—to test his intentions. She didn’t know to this day how he had found out about their relationship—it hadn’t seemed to matter much in the scheme of things. And, really, what did it matter now what Gabriel had mistakenly thought all those years ago? It was a detail. It wasn’t something vast and life-changing...like lying to someone about being in love.
She squared her shoulders. ‘I’m not like you, Gabriel. Once I’ve committed to something I don’t change my mind.’
‘Nice try.’ His tone matched hers, but it was layered with a dark edge that made her legs tremble. ‘But we both know the only reason you’re here is because you’re scared of calling my bluff.’
She swallowed, her hand reaching up to touch the pearls at her throat. Was this how it was going to be? Death by a thousand cuts. Every word, every glance, a fresh blow to parry or contain.
I can’t go through with this, she thought, misery gnawing at her insides.
But she knew she would; It was what she’d been trained to do—both as a lawyer and as the daughter of Oscar and Olivia Cavendish.
‘I’m not scared of you.’
Oddly enough, she wasn’t. Not now that she was here and the danger of him making good on his threat had receded. Mostly she was scared of herself. Or rather she was scared of her body’s strange, ungovernable response to his.
As if to prove the point, she felt her gaze drift towards him, drawn irresistibly by the triangle of light gold skin that was visible between the open collar of his shirt.
Stop it, she told herself.It was only one kiss.
But even as she shoved the memory aside she felt it prickle beneath her skin.
He raised one, smooth, dark eyebrow. ‘Let me guess... This is where you tell me all about how you’ve worked with far more demanding and difficult clients than me.’
‘Actually, I don’t see you as a client,’ she said crisply, her pulse flicking back and forth like a flame in a draught. ‘To me, you’re just a bully. A rich man without scruples. A man who uses his wealth and power to get what he wants.’
His pupils flared, turning his blue eyes into dark, fathomless pools. For a moment he didn’t reply. He just let the silence and the tension build between them, swallowing up the air so that she thought she might never breathe again.
‘NoteverythingI want,’ he said finally. ‘Or have you forgotten what happened in the war room?’
This time the silence was shorter—like a caught breath. Pulse stumbling, she stared back at him, her skin growing hotter and tighter as his gaze meandered slowly over her puffed-sleeve blouse and pencil skirt down to her towering nude court shoes, and her mind replaying the burning heat of his mouth and the hardness of his body against his.
No, she hadn’t forgotten—and she suspected that Gabriel knew that. And then his gaze dropped to her mouth, as though he too was reliving those frantic moments when his lips had fused with hers, and she felt heat bloom high in her pelvis, just as if he had reached out and touched her there.
She swallowed...shifted.
It would be so easy to lean in and clasp that beautiful face in her hands, to press her mouth to his and slide her fingers through his silky dark hair and pull him closer, then closer still, until there was no daylight between them. And then his hands would start to move with unimaginable freedom over her body, owning her, claiming her, making her ache inside—
