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Her face was impassive but, watching her small, swift nod, he felt a rush of satisfaction.
‘That’s sorted, then. No, really,’ he added as Alistair started to protest again. ‘It’s not often that I get the opportunity to mix business with pleasure, so you’ll be doing me a favour, Alistair.’ He glanced over to the bottles of still and sparkling water on the table. ‘Perhaps we might have some coffee—’
As the door closed the room fell silent, and just like that they were alone.
His heart was suddenly hammering inside his chest.So this was it.He had imagined this moment so many times inside his head. Had thought of all the clever, caustic things he’d say. Only now his mind was blank.
Stalling, he moved past her, taking his time, walking with slow, deliberate steps, sensing her gaze on him. And that—her need to track his progress—calmed him, for it meant that she was feeling this too.
He stopped in front of some portraits, tilting his head to read the small brass plaques beneath them, then turned slowly to where Dove stood motionless, her grey eyes fixed on a point past his shoulder. Not that it mattered, he thought, anger pulsing over his skin. Sooner or later she was going to realise that he wasn’t going to disappear this time.
Not until he’d got what he came for.
‘Beautiful view.’ He nodded to the tree-lined cruciform-shaped gardens outside the windows. ‘And not just beautiful... Apparently green encourages elevated levels of alertness and vitality.’
Her eyes locked with his. Grey, on the other hand, he thought, was a cloaking colour, designed to hide and obscure. He felt his heart tighten around the shard of ice that had been lodged there ever since Dove had cast him into the wilderness. If only he’d known that six years ago.
She was staring at him in silence, and he waited just as he had waited in that hotel bar. Only this time she was the one who didn’t know what was happening. Didn’t know that she was about to be chewed up and spat out. But she would...soon enough.
‘What are you doing here, Gabriel?’ Her voice was husky, but it was hearing her say his name that made his breathing jerk.
‘I’ve told you what I’m doing,’ he said softly. Up close, he could see the dilation of her pupils and the flecks of gold in her irises and, unable to resist the cool fury in her eyes, he took a step closer. ‘I’m buying Fairlight Holdings.’
Their eyes met. ‘And what? You just randomly picked Cavendish and Cox to act on your behalf?’
No, he thought. There had been nothing random about it. It had been a deliberate choice. It had to be that particular law firm.
He stared down at her as the silence between them lengthened. Her cheeks were flushed and the morning sun looked like glitter in her hair. His breath stalled, his groin hardening as he remembered how it had felt to tangle his fingers through its silken weight, to wrap it around her throat and draw back her head to meet his mouth—
Redirecting his thoughts to the matter in hand, he shrugged. ‘I was told that Cavendish and Cox were meticulous, diligent and reliable.’ He glanced pointedly around the empty war room and frowned. ‘But I’m starting to wonder if I was upsold—’
Her chin jutted forward, just as if she was wanting to be kissed, but her eyes were the colour of storm clouds and he could practically see lightning forking across the irises.
‘Alistair is the best corporate lawyer in London.’
He had never heard her speak with such vehemence before, and he didn’t like the tightness in his chest that it provoked. Maybe that was why he couldn’t quite keep the taunting inflection from his voice when he said, ‘I could almost believe you mean that—which is surprising, given that loyalty isn’t one of your strong points. What, I wonder, did the estimable Alistair Cox do to earn such devotion?’
‘He doesn’t lie.’ She took a step backwards. ‘I want you to leave.’
The pulse at the base of her throat was leaping against the pale skin and he felt something pinch inside him, but he shook his head slowly. ‘That’s not going to happen.’
‘Then I’ll leave.’ Her voice was faint, but firm, in the vast, sunlit room, and he could hear the anger rippling underneath the clipped consonants.
Hear it and feel it in all the wrong places.
His teeth on edge, his eyes held hers. She wasn’t going anywhere. And yet part of him—a very specific part—almost wanted her to walk away, so he could see her move again on those teetering red-soled heels that added another four inches to her memorably endless legs. Watch her hips sway in the fitted blue pencil skirt that skimmed her delicate curves.
As she made to move past him he stepped in front of her. ‘That’s not going to happen either.’
She glared at him, her glossy blonde ponytail quivering like a cat’s tail. ‘You know, this whole big-shot, ruthless tycoon schtick is starting to wear a little thin. I don’t take orders from you.’
You will, he thought, feeling his body respond to the challenge in her words and the small upward tilt of her chin.
Holding her gaze, he shrugged. ‘Your surname might be above the door, Ms Cavendish, but you’re just a cog in a wheel.’
There was a second of absolute silence.
‘And you’re an imposter.’
