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‘How charming.’ She held his gaze as if she wasn’t the least bit shaken. ‘First threats and now a complete lack of empathy. No wonder you have to blackmail people to work for you.’
He took another step, and now his lean, muscular body was dangerously close to hers.
‘I don’t know how things are done at Cavendish and Cox, Dove. Maybe your surname means that people go easy on you. But let me be clear about how you and I are going to work—howthisis going to work.’
His eyes on hers were steady and cool, like deep ocean water...the kind that never felt the warmth of the sun’s rays.
‘I don’t have the time or the patience for theatrics. So if I say you’re eating dinner with me, all you need to ask is what time and where? It’s eight p.m., by the way, on the owner’s deck. The stewards will show you where to go.’ He paused, then, ‘A word of caution, Dove—of warning, even. I would advise against any pointless displays of temper or defiance. The stakes are too high.’
She watched mutely as he turned and walked back to the window.
‘Oh, and shut the door on your way out.’
CHAPTER FOUR
ONCEINHERSUITE, Dove sank down into a chair. There was a jug of iced water on the table beside her, and she poured a glass and drank it quickly.
She was used to confrontation...to conflict. Her parents’ marriage had not just been unhappy, it had been a war zone. Rows had punctuated every day, with the shelling starting over the breakfast table and often continuing long into the night.
They’d both wanted to leave, but Olivia had sunk her inheritance into the Cavendish estate and Oscar had been too lazy to divorce and so they’d stayed married—unhappily, bitterly married. And it had been up to Dove to negotiate the ceasefires between them and act as go-between.
In other words, this wasn’t the first time she’d had to grit her teeth and try to stay calm, neutral, unaffected...
Glancing down at her shaking hands, she breathed out unsteadily. Only she didn’t feel unaffected. She felt exhausted in the same way that a soldier returning from the trenches must feel. Felt relief, paired with the stifled horror of knowing that at some point in the not too near future she was going to have to go back and face the enemy again.
Only what kind of enemy made you want to lean in closer and touch, caress, kiss...?
She was just trying to think of an answer that wouldn’t make her sound mad or foolish or both when her mobile rang. Her bags had been brought to her room and it took her a moment to fish out her phone. She glanced at the screen. It was her mum.
‘Hi, Mum—what’s up?’
‘Nothing, darling. I just wanted to check that you’d got there all right.’
Dove sat down on the bed, toeing off her heels. ‘I messaged you yesterday.’
‘Yes—to say you were at the hotel. But you said you were flying out to the yacht today and I hadn’t heard anything. And I’ve never liked helicopters. Look at what happened to poor Roddy Conroy.’
‘That was a hang-glider, Mum, not a helicopter.’
There was a second of silence and then her mother’s laugh filled her ear. ‘Oh, yes, that’s right—it was.’
Dove laughed too then. It had been a long time since she’d heard Olivia sound upset, but she still got a buzz from hearing the happiness in her mother’s voice.
Picturing her father’s handsome, petulant face, she felt a pang of guilt. She’d loved both her parents, but her father had often been hard to like. When he could be bothered, Oscar had a great deal of charm, but in private that charm had rarely been visible. Scratch the surface and that beautiful glitter had revealed base metal.
Nobody knew that better than her mother, and the idea of her daughter losing her heart to a man like Oscar was what Olivia dreaded most.
It was why Dove had chosen to keep secret her short, harrowing relationship with Gabriel.
More importantly, it was why she had lied to Gabriel about her parents.
He hadn’t talked much about his family, but there had been a softness in his voice when he had, and he had shown her some photos on his phone. She’d been able to tell by their easy body language that his family dynamic was the polar opposite of hers.
She’d felt ashamed and scared. How could she possibly have explained to him her parents’ fraught marriage or her own role as referee-cum-counsellor? So she had lied. Just a small white lie at the beginning. But after that she hadn’t known how to backtrack to the truth. In the end, it hadn’t mattered anyway.
‘Everything’s fine,’ she said soothingly now.
And it wasn’t quite a lie, she thought, glancing round her beautiful, understated cabin, with its dazzling, uninterrupted view of the Mediterranean.
