CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER TWO
‘Y OU LIED YOUR way onto my boat. True or false?’
The accusation rankled, especially considering her own emotive feelings about lies. Willow’s insides shook but her lips stayed shut, knowing any response would show weakness.
She’d thought she had time, that like all pampered rich people, Jario Tagarro would sleep until midday. It didn’t help that she wasn’t a morning person. That being summoned at 4 a.m. just to start preparing the mountain of chores involved in catering to one man’s needs had rubbed her circadian rhythm the wrong way.
She fought to stand her ground now as he ventured closer.
‘Answer me.’ His body pulsed with the force of his turbulent emotions as arctic-cold eyes froze the marrow in her bones.
‘No, I didn’t lie. I was always going to introduce myself to you properly and tell you how and why I was here. And to be fair, I did try to get in touch with you, but none of your people would even agree to get a message to you.’
‘Because believe it or not, they’re trained not to allow random strangers to gain access to me.’
She exhaled long and slow to ease the building tension. And failed. ‘Well, I didn’t board your boat without permission. I was interviewed and offered a job and I took it.’
‘With ulterior motives in mind. Or are you going to split hairs by suggesting withholding your true purpose didn’t count as deception?’
She returned his stare. ‘No, I’m not going to split hairs. I do have ulterior motives.’ It felt good to unburden herself of that heavy truth.
Then remembering what Jario had said to the assistant, Willow’s heart sank. ‘What did you mean, you’re going to deal with Ripley later?’
His eyes narrowed. ‘You’re concerned about him? Shouldn’t you save that worry for yourself?’
‘I can multitask,’ she quipped and forced a shrug, despite the vortex of emotions swirling through her belly as her gaze moved over him.
Last night she’d thought the circumstances of their meeting had been, rightly, supercharged and intense enough for her to exaggerate the sheer raw, primal beauty of the man.
Dear God, had she been wrong.
Half-naked and covered in slick sweat with his long hair loose and swinging an axe, he’d been intensely masculine, animalistic and primal.
Clad in designer black from head to toe this morning, his jet-black hair neatly styled back and stubble trimmed to perfection, he was magnificently entrancing in a way that completely, terrifyingly commanded her attention.
‘Believe me, even an endless supply of dexterity won’t be enough to deal with what you’re facing,’ he answered silkily, white-hot fury, the kind that was almost invisible to the naked eye, vibrating from him. ‘Tell me how you managed to get yourself an interview,’ he demanded.
It was the absolute wrong time to dwell on other vibrations, especially the ones his voice and his proximity had evoked last night.
The way he’d guided her in throwing that axe. The rough seduction of his voice.
If Willow had been warned she’d respond so earthily to such simple praise this time yesterday, she would’ve scoffed, then laughed hysterically.
Even now, she couldn’t entirely fathom why, last night, her body had heated up, then tingled with disarming intensity between her legs, making her clit throb and her core dampen so brazenly, she’d moaned into her pillow.
She locked her knees tighter as he prowled towards her, the memory of him doing just that last night washing over her with renewed ferocity.
Enough! She had no time for that now. She’d wanted an audience with Jario Tagarro for the sake of uncovering the truth.
Her wish, however precarious, had been granted.
‘I had a friend get me on the shortlist of the agency you use. And yes, I’ll take full responsibility for that if you want. But Mr Tagarro—’
‘You will remain silent, and you will listen. Interrupt me, and the authorities will be summoned, and you’ll be arrested for trespassing. Is that understood?’
Defiance whistled through her at his domineering tone. ‘Trespassing? Hardly,’ she snapped, then bit her lip. The last thing she could afford to do was compound her situation with attitude. At the very least, she needed to comply until she got Jario to define his relationship with her father.
‘What lies did you tell to weasel your way onto my yacht?’
Willow’s teeth gritted. ‘Everything I told Rebecca during the interview was true. But I do also want to talk to you, Mr Tagarro. About—’
The harsh slash of his hand through the air froze her speech. ‘As Ripley’s assistant you’ll be assigned to my private and working suites, correct?’ he enquired in a deceptively soft tone.
Her eyes darted to the file on his desk, wondering why he was questioning her when he probably had the information at his fingertips. Was he trying to catch her in a lie? ‘I haven’t yet discussed my full responsibilities with Rebecca or Ripley.’
‘I see.’
The borderline pleasant response sent eerie shivers down her nape as Jario sauntered back to his desk and pressed a button. The purser answered immediately.
‘Rebecca, bring up today’s task sheet for Miss Chatterton, please.’
‘Right away, Mr Tagarro.’
Lifting his finger off the intercom, he perched on the corner of his desk, arms folded. He stared at her, not a sliver of warmth from last night visible in his blue gaze.
Willow considered speaking a handful of times in the frosty silence, but the animosity bristling from him stayed her tongue. When the knock came, he barked an order to enter.
Rebecca barely glanced at her, her brisk strides crossing the room to hand her boss a sheet of paper.
‘Will there be anything else, sir?’
Jario didn’t answer for several seconds. Lifting his head after perusing the sheet, he said, ‘Yes. I’d like you to give the deckhands the day off. Miss Chatterton will be scrubbing decks two and three by herself today. You’ll let me know when she’s done and I’ll personally inspect it. Are we clear?’
‘What? Are you serious?’ Willow’s vexed demand was ignored by Jario.
For her part, Rebecca quickly masked her surprise. ‘Yes, sir.’
‘Oh, and have security watch her at all times. If she attempts anything...untoward, inform me immediately.’
This time Rebecca’s puzzled gaze slid to her, but it didn’t stop her from nodding. ‘Of course, sir.’
Jario rose. ‘That will be all. You’re dismissed, too, Miss Chatterton.’
She stayed put, fighting the volley of protests she wanted to launch at him. Because with a click of his fingers, this man could have her tossed off his yacht. So she took a deep breath. ‘Mr Tagarro, I really need to talk to—’
‘No. Your task awaits. Or would you like to resolve this another way?’
Navigating the twin paths of a relationship with her father and pursuing her love of playing the violin had taught her the arduous tasks of dealing with overblown but fragile egos while suppressing her own emotions for the greater good. And yes, while she’d lately realised that that particular bough was in serious risk of breaking, she’d saved herself a lot of heartache in the past by simply letting time cool hot temperaments.
She was thankful for that discipline now when she accepted that reasoning with Jario in his current state was futile. Her only option was to let time lessen the impact of his mood.
Except time wasn’t on her side. The crossroads were drawing ever closer. But he was watching her with focus as deadly as the axe he’d taught her to throw last night, daring her to defy him. To give him the excuse he needed.
She sucked in a breath and accepted that she couldn’t risk it. Not until she got the answers she’d come for.
Turning from his icy contempt, she walked on shaky legs to the door where Rebecca waited. She hesitated there for a moment, a compulsion she couldn’t fight making her glance over her shoulder. His rigid expression was marred by a streak of bleakness that slashed through her. Before she could decipher it, Rebecca was shutting the door, her own gaze snapping with questions.
‘You’ve been here barely twenty-four hours. What did you do?’
Willow shook her head. ‘It’s a long story I’d prefer not to share. This is between me and Mr Tagarro.’
Rebecca’s lips thinned. ‘That may be your view but whatever you’ve done doesn’t impact just you. I’ve been summoned by the captain.’
Willow’s belly clenched with regret. ‘I’m sorry. I’ll make this right.’
The other woman stared her down. ‘How?’
Willow shrugged. ‘Guess I’ll start by scrubbing that deck?’ Her attempt at levity fell flatter than a pancake.
‘This may be a joke to you, but it’s our livelihood you’re messing with.’
Willow’s forced humour dried up. ‘It’s not a joke. Trust me on that.’ She waved the irate woman on. ‘Now, if you don’t mind, I’d rather get started sooner than later.’
She wasn’t helping her cause by not divulging her motives but in her short time on board, she’d noticed how fast gossip travelled. The last thing she wanted was to become ship gossip. Especially when she feared the bombshell she suspected Jario would reveal might annihilate her anyway.
The memory of Jario’s anger echoing unpleasantly, she arrived on the designated deck to find three deckhands waiting. Their blatant surprise at being informed they had the day off turned to wild speculation when Rebecca asked them to show her where the cleaning supplies were kept.
Five minutes later, with a burly guard standing watch, Willow was elbow deep in cleaning solution.
The blazing sun beat down on her back as she swiped the soft brush over the expensive polished white oak. Curiously, while she’d had every intention of despising the grunt work, especially its effect on the hands she needed to safeguard for her violin and piano playing, her resentment lessened beneath the repetitiveness of cleaning the polished wood, her rioting mind calming as she settled into her task.
She could do this. For the sake of rescuing whatever remained of her relationship with her father, she couldn’t fail.
Good news was, Jario Tagarro hadn’t thrown her off his yacht. Yet . As long as that didn’t change, she had a shot.
What if he’s merely toying with you before he turns you over to the cops? Or worse?
She’d deal with that if and when it arose. For now...her gaze flicked across the very wide deck, satisfaction spiking through her.
She’d lost all sense of time and her knees were killing her, but she’d done one hell of a job, even if she said so herself. She dared the mighty Jario to find fault with—
A shadow fell over her. Shading her eyes, she looked up. ‘Umm, can I help you?’ she asked the stern-faced guard.
He held out a bottle of water and a tube of the eye-wateringly expensive sunscreen she’d only seen in the guests’ suites. Reserved for guests only .
‘No, thanks. I’m not thirsty.’ She winced inwardly at the blatant cutting-off-your-nose-to-spite-your-face reply. ‘And I’ve already used some...’ Her voice trailed off as her skin tingled and she raised her gaze.
One deck above her, Jario leaned against the railing, a crystal tumbler in his hand.
‘Orders of the boss,’ the guard said belatedly.
Stopping herself from rolling her eyes, Willow stared at Jario. He returned her gaze with all the time in the world. Slowly raising his glass to his sensual lips, he took a healthy sip, content to watch her from on high as she sat back on her knees.
Willow absently accepted the items from the guard, barely registering his retreat as she and Jario locked gazes in silent battle. Her neck grew uncomfortable but she refused to look away. To back down.
Almost inexorably, sensations from last night began to seep in.
First, the thickness in the air that made it hard for her to draw breath.
Then the tight furling of her nipples. The dampness at her core.
The blaze and tingling of her skin that had nothing to do with heat from the sun.
It should’ve been maddening the sensations he drew from her, but Willow was too busy being disarmed by them to be livid. She’d never experienced anything like it and...hell, it was entirely too fascinating to wish it away just yet.
So she risked a crick in her neck as he held her gaze captive. He lowered his glass and his voice rasped, ‘Drink. Now.’
The order was gruff, barely audible, but she heard every syllable as if he’d shouted it. ‘You can’t order me around,’ she snapped to counteract the mystifying melting occurring inside her. ‘Like I told your minder, I’m not—’
‘You haven’t hydrated in two hours. Inviting heat stroke or passing out won’t get you out of this. Drink.’
Her parched throat screamed at her not to be stubborn. Hell, she suspected he would revive her just so she could keep scrubbing his precious deck. Ensuring her defiance was patently visible, she snatched the top off the glass bottle and tilted it to her lips, fighting a relieved moan as the cold water slipped down her throat.
Maddeningly, watching him take another drink as she swallowed hers sparked another volley of intense awareness that drew goose bumps all over her body. Her senses were going haywire when she lowered the empty bottle and raised an eyebrow in a challenge she couldn’t seem to suppress.
‘There you go. Any more orders you’d like to throw my way?’
He drained his glass, the ice clinking as he lowered it, then pointed a slim finger behind her. ‘Yes. You missed a spot. Start again.’
She was Paul Chatterton’s daughter.
Hours later fury still simmered in his veins at the knowledge.
Jario knew the unsettling feeling stemmed from the not so brief lusty thoughts he’d had this morning. The ones that arrived during his shower.
He’d been caught off guard by the very carnal near-eagerness to see her again. Enough to consider throwing caution to the wind.
Discovering her identity had dredged up a ton more emotions, none of them of the soft, fluffy variety. And yes, he felt a fool. Because for a sliver of time, when he’d demanded to know the reason for her presence, a part of him had hoped it was pure, eerie coincidence. Something he could excuse because deep down he didn’t truly believe in visiting the sins of the father on the daughter?
Perhaps .
But no. Her motives were as he’d suspected.
And therefore, Jario had zero regret for the punishment he’d dished out.
Dios mio , the Chattertons deserved infinitely worse.
Rage galloped through him as he drew his hands down his face, the stress he’d marginally worked off last night back in full force, along with mild self-disgust for what he’d almost done. The pleasure he’d almost taken from the woman bearing the name of the man who’d decimated his family.
His father would be rolling in his grave!
Sorrow arrived hard on the heels of that thought, tightening his chest.
His father wouldn’t be in a grave in the first place if not for Paul Chatterton.
Shaking his head to dispel the searing grief, Jario activated the cameras, sat back and watched.
The sun had long set, but she was still at work. She’d finished the first two decks with surprising efficiency, her work annoyingly productive.
Now she was performing her initially assigned duties in Jario’s private deck. She’d cleaned his room and changed his sheets—three times under Ripley’s exacting standards until she got it right. As he watched, she wiped her hand on the apron and tucked a loose curl behind her ear. Then leaning forward onto her hands and knees once more, she went to work.
Jario’s gut tightened as his gaze dropped to her luscious behind, watched it sway back and forth with her exertions. When his mouth literally watered, he cursed and shoved back from his desk, his fingers spearing his hair as unwanted lust curled hot and hard through him.
Diavolo , was he so far gone that he was ogling the last woman he should be tempted by like some online creep?
No, he wasn’t.
Then end it now.
He growled under his breath, the urge to know why she’d gone to the lengths she had, digging like a burr beneath his skin.
Not yet.
Breathing deep, he clicked onto another screen, his gaze tracking the satisfying downward trajectory of his prey.
It had taken years to successfully put the pieces in place after vital years of ensuring he’d become powerful enough to exact the purest form of revenge. Years during which he’d lived every day with harrowing loss. Of his father’s last moments. Of his mother’s deteriorating mental state.
But the tormenting existence had fuelled his purpose.
Now he’d almost completed the circle. He was weeks, months at most, from delivering the final, deadly blow.
He didn’t need to hear Willow Chatterton out because her reasons weren’t necessary.
Nothing would sway him from his goals.
Purpose restored, Jario’s fingers flew over the keyboard, not resting until he’d dismantled yet another rung. An hour later he rose, ignoring his stirring senses as he made his way to his suite, then out onto the wide private deck.
Only to stop in his tracks.
She was fast asleep on his lounger, her knees drawn up halfway to her chest with her arms wrapped around them. The errant curl had escaped again, caressing her cheek and ruffling slightly with her breaths. It enraged him that even in sleep, this woman continued to be stunningly beautiful. That his fingers itched to tuck that curl back, trace her silky-smooth cheek.
Wake her in the most delightfully erotic way possible.
The diabolical thought jerked him forward to reach for her shoulder, shaking her awake.
Lush lashes fluttered then opened. Liquid brown eyes locked with his one moment before she hissed in surprised irritation like a scalded cat, surging up and away from him with innate grace that vexed and fascinated.
Unfortunately, the act sent her dangerously close to the railing.
He lunged for her, his heart leaping into his throat as he grabbed her waist and drew her against him.
‘What are you doing?’ she shrieked, outrage heating her cheeks.
His grip tightened as she struggled. ‘What do you think? And stop acting like you’re under attack.’
‘I don’t know that I’m not. I woke up to find you looming over me, startling the hell out of me! It’s a natural reaction.’
‘And sleeping on the job? Is that a natural reaction for you, too?’
Her nostrils fluttered with her aggrieved breathing. ‘I’ve been scrubbing your damn boat all damn day. So I took a break for five minutes. Big deal.’
‘It was more like thirty minutes. And scrubbing my boat is one of your assignments. If you don’t like it, I’m happy to fire you.’
‘There are labour laws against what you’re doing, you know.’
‘Feel free to call the authorities, then,’ he taunted. ‘Oh, wait, we’re on international waters so I guess you’re out of options, Miss Chatterton. Whereas I’m not.’
Her eyes sparked in anger, then chanced a glance behind her into the inky waters of the Pacific. ‘What are you going to do? Are you going to save yourself the trouble of dealing with me by throwing me overboard?’
‘Don’t tempt me,’ he rasped.
Willow inhaled sharply. Then she corralled every ounce of her composure. ‘Look, Mr Tagarro, I know the circumstances of my presence on board don’t thrill you. Trust me, this is the last place I want to be myself. But surely we can get this over with if you’ll only hear me out?’
‘No.’
She clenched her jaw to stifle a frustrated scream before she loosened it. ‘For God’s sake, just—’
‘You can keep doing the job you signed up to do, plus whatever else I deem necessary, or you get fired, in which case Rebecca and Ripley get fired along with you for allowing you on board my yacht. That’ll be a shame and put me in a worse mood because until very recently, I appreciated their work ethic. But you should know they’ll probably sue the pants off you the moment you set foot on dry land.’ He shrugged lazily and the movement reminded her that he still held her captive. That she could feel the imprint of his hands on her waist. ‘I might even pay for their legal representation.’
Her jaw sagged at the cool, indolent way he outlined her less than ideal fate. She managed to hang on to her dwindling composure by the skin of her teeth, her heart pounding harder at the thought of any of what he’d threatened reaching the outside world.
While most things in her life had become tainted by indifference, lies and broken promises, the piano and violin had been her true, unwavering sustenance. Her way of bolstering herself and experiencing beauty when shades of grey closed in on her. She’d entered the competition to join the elusive, once-in-a-lifetime Mondia Symphony Orchestra on a whim, scarcely believing she would place.
Now she had a potentially life-defining acceptance email sitting in her inbox. An email she was avoiding because what would realising one dream mean if she walked away from her reality without a fight? If she cut ties with her father without discovering the root of their discord no matter how dire?
‘Tell me why you despise Paul Chatterton so much.’ She blurted the words out before she could stop herself, her belly twisting as his face instantly hardened.
‘You will not say his name in my presence.’ The words were guttural, wrenched from a dark, ominous place.
Earning both confirmation and denial in one breath zipped another bolt of frustration through her. ‘So I’m right? You know my father? Are you the reason behind Chatterton Financial’s recent troubles?’
Jario’s jaw clenched tight, then he released her abruptly, putting the distance of his deck between them, before spinning to face her. His fierce features made her take a step back. ‘Whatever this act you’re putting on is, I recommend you drop it while my last nerve is still intact.’
The unexpected response made her frown. ‘An act? I don’t have time for games, Mr Tagarro. As I’m sure you don’t. I want to know what’s going on. Now we’ve established you know my father, if you’d tell me why you’re so upset—’
‘Upset?’ he echoed gratingly, both eyebrows risen in incredulity. The air crackled with his seething emotions as he slowly approached, intense, livid disbelief etched deep into the chiselled perfection of his face. ‘Are you for real right now?’ The question was softly voiced but infinitely more deadly.
Willow glanced away from the mesmeric eyes but almost immediately she was compelled back. ‘Of course, I’m serious,’ she murmured, slicking her tongue over dry lips. Then, because she needed to be certain, she kept pushing. ‘So you admit you are behind this?’
His gaze openly derided her. ‘Your tone suggests you think I was trying to hide something. I was not. In fact, I was hoping your father would come out of hiding and openly face me.’ His eyes scoured her from head to toe, a sneer tainting his lips. ‘Instead, he’s proved he’s not just a coward but one who has no shame hiding behind his own child.’
She gasped at the excoriating tone, even as her belly hollowed out at the confirmation that she’d at least uncovered this truth—something desperately alarming had happened between these two men. ‘God, why do you hate him so much? What did he ever do to you?’
Eyes flaring in genuine shock, he let out a vicious laugh. ‘You’re serious, aren’t you? You really came here clueless as to why he sent you?’
Heat rushed into her face at his mockery. It took monumental effort to fold her arms and hold in her temper. Not to... dear God , slap his handsome face. That would most definitely get her thrown overboard!
And while she would probably welcome the oblivion for a nanosecond, the knot of determination that had grown and hardened to become unshakeable these past few months, insisted there was no other course but this.
She was tired of being lied to, taken advantage of, so no, she most definitely would not be going out like that!
With each second that passed, she knew this was the right stance. That digging for the truth to find whatever Jario was withholding from her would determine whether it was worth cutting her losses or staying and demanding better than the crumbs of care and devotion she’d been tossed thus far. Would determine how she lived the rest of her life.
‘For the record, he didn’t send me. I came here on my own. And you can insult me all you want. I still need to know why you’re coming after him.’
For an age he stared at her, eyes gleaming with emotions she couldn’t entirely decipher, although disbelief and suspicion remained while her heart sprinted around her chest like it’d been supercharged with the purest adrenaline.
Eventually, he shoved his hands into his pockets and rocked back on his heels, the move so suave he could’ve been at a cocktail party exchanging pleasantries with friends. If not for the volcano rumbling from his very essence.
‘No,’ he said eventually, a mirthless smile twisting his lips before it was snuffed out. ‘I don’t think I’ll give you the satisfaction. You can suffer along with your cowardly father or you can tell him to act like a man for once and admit his despicable past. Your choice.’
It was her turn to be stunned at his unexpected answer. ‘Really? I’m surprised. Ordinarily, villains froth at the mouth to boast about their conquests. I was fully prepared to endure a smug diatribe in return for information,’ she murmured, then tensed as she realised she’d said that aloud. But again, he surprised her by barely reacting.
‘Then you’ll find it refreshing that I’m no ordinary villain.’
Evidently done with her, he started to turn away.
‘Dammit, just tell me! Then maybe I can convince you—’
‘You can’t. In fact, you’ve arrived in time to have a ringside seat to things kicking up a notch. Now that I know he intends to keep hiding like a coward, perhaps I need to finish this once and for all.’
She rushed forward, alarm quickening her feet. ‘Wait! Can we not talk about this?’ Her plea was husky, the weight of her own destiny pressing down on her. She licked her lower lip as she struggled for something...anything to slip beneath his armour. Even if it meant she was hastening her own heartache.
At this point, anything was better than enduring the despair she’d felt for years now.
She was so caught up in her scrambling that it took a moment to realise his gaze had fallen to her mouth, a darker gleam meandering through his stare that triggered a different seismic sensation within her.
For several charged seconds they shifted into a different space, existed in a fraught little bubble outside the circumstances that had brought her here. In those moments, Willow became viscerally aware that she was a flesh-and-blood woman squaring off with a rampantly virile male. One whose pheromones were triggering an unmistakable reaction that drove her a panicked step back. But it was too late.
The predator before her had latched on to the scent. On to the weakness she’d just revealed. Jario’s nostrils flared in blatant victory even as his disdain grew.
‘Is this why he sent you here?’ His voice was a deadly, hypnotising rasp, flaring delicious electricity all over her body.
‘I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ she tossed back, despite the far too pleasurable sensation bombarding her.
His face hardened. ‘Your mother is still alive, is she not?’ At her puzzled nod, he continued. ‘As are a few uncles and a smattering of the senior staff who haven’t yet abandoned his rapidly sinking ship. And yet, here you are, his only offspring, served up like a sacrificial lamb. Or did you concoct this scheme together?’
She fought to shake off the sorcery of his proximity. ‘What scheme? Seriously, you’re not making any sense. My father knows I’m here but it was my idea to come talk to you, not...’ She trailed off as his meaning belatedly registered. She snorted, then stunned laughter tinged with bitter memories burst past her guard, tumbling free and weirdly lightening the knots of tension within her. ‘You think he sent me here to seduce you? Me?’ Her hand went to her chest, shocked beyond belief.
This couldn’t be happening again. She pushed David and his gaslighting and traitorous accusations aside as Jario’s eyes narrowed.
And just like that, the atmosphere was snapping with live electric currents once more. ‘You’re either very clever or absurdly naive.’
He could’ve held one of those electric conductors to her chest and she wouldn’t have jolted as hard as she did at his guttural observation. Her body was aflame in a way she’d never experienced before.
Fatal attraction.
She’d thought it was the stuff of fiction or OTT Hollywood movies. Somewhere in the middle of the North Pacific Ocean, Willow Chatterton discovered that it was a real and visceral thing, currently tearing mercilessly into her as Jario leaned in closer, his gaze pinning her in place.
‘Which is it, Willow?’
Hell, no. She wasn’t doing this.
‘Neither. And I’m sick of men with overblown opinions of their hotness accusing me of throwing rampant temptation around like candy at a kid’s birthday party, okay?’
She froze the second the words tumbled out, then squeezed her eyes shut and silently cursed the ex whose rampant jealousy, gaslighting and ultimate betrayal had made their six-month relationship a living hell she’d thankfully escaped, even though it’d shattered even more of her heart and trust.
Swallowing the bitter memories, she raised her hand to a suddenly throbbing head, the corners of her vision blurring slightly as she stumbled forward. ‘Look, all I want are answers to a few questions, then...’ She sucked in a sharp breath as she grew dizzier.
‘What’s wrong with you?’ he demanded sharply.
‘Nothing. Well, nothing some food won’t resolve. I get a little hypoglycaemic when I—’
‘I know what hypoglycaemia is,’ he interrupted sharply. ‘When was the last time you ate?’
‘You mean in between scrubbing three hundred miles of decking? I don’t know, I can’t remember.’ Unfortunately, her smart retort came with another wave of dizziness.
Her hand shot out, hoping for something solid to steady herself. It connected with a hard-packed torso. Warm muscles jumped beneath her touch as her fingers reflexively dug in.
With a sharp inhale, Willow went to snatch her hand away.
But Jario, cursing under his breath, locked his fingers around her wrist, yanked her close once more, then swept her up into his arms.
If she’d hoped her diminished position would’ve softened him one iota as he marched towards his stateroom, she was wrong.
He stared down at her, a mountain of affront and testosterone and chiselled masculine perfection sending indecent and confusing fireworks shooting through her system.
‘You think you’re going to get out of this that easily? Think again, querida .’