Chapter Five
Her pulse hitched. Now such an annoyingly frequent occurrence, it had become the norm in his presence.
She wanted to dissect that, endlessly, but she wasn’t sure how she could handle it if he dismissed it. So this time she would save herself the trouble, move on to more important things.
What’s more important than this.
She ignored that just as she ignored the continued racing of her heart when he led her to the sofa, pressed her into a seat and perched opposite, cupping her face with one hand.
She needed every scrap of strength to pull back from the finger exploring her lower lip.
From the shadows and light dancing through his eyes as he stared at her with a ferocity she wanted to embrace with every fibre of her being.
And when she managed it, she watched his hand drop back between his spread knees, much slower than she’d expected. As if he too was reluctant to break the connection.
No. She absolutely needed to stop ascribing sensations and emotions to him that weren’t present. Wishful thinking would be her downfall if she wasn’t careful.
Consciously clearing her throat, she opened her mouth, to say what she wasn’t exactly sure. Something, anything to dilute the thick need prowling through her blood.
‘Truce?’ he bit out. From his demeanour, it seemed the last thing he wanted. And yet.
She started to shake her head because of his confusing expressions, but when his eyes narrowed, she hurried to speak. ‘I’m not refusing the offer. I’m just curious. A truce from what exactly?’
The barest hint of a smile appeared before it was swallowed beneath his ferocity. ‘Perhaps it’s more of a reprieve than a truce. From continuously rubbing each other the wrong way?’
It was the last thing she expected. Probably the last thing a man with his power and position would offer.
Why that sent warmth and apprehension through her, she couldn’t quite put her finger on.
But she accepted that the release from always being on edge would make this process so much easier. So she nodded.
‘Say the words, Lotte. Just so we understand one another.’
‘Do you want to spit shake as well to seal the deal?’ she half joked, but when his eyes dropped to her hands braced on her thighs, her breath snagged yet again. The possibility of another touch, another stroke of his fingers over her skin made her breath stop completely.
‘Fine. Truce agreed. So what does this actually entail? Do we agree on a set time where we stay out of each other’s way?’
His eyes narrowed to silver slits. ‘Is that what you want?’
No. The vigour of the word almost hurt. She took a half beat so she wouldn’t appear too eager. Then forced a shrug. ‘Not necessarily. But I would like to not be cooped up in here every day until you deem it fit for me to stray three feet from the door without rugby tackling me into the snow.’
‘You make me sound like a cross between an ogre and a tyrant. Or what did you call me? The Hulk?’
Her lips curved into a smile independent of her will, and she was close enough to hear his sharp intake of breath as his gaze dropped to her mouth.
Slowly, the tension eroded her smile and his fleeting humour. She had time to miss that ephemeral light moment before he spoke.
‘Very well. A trip outside once a day if the weather permits.’
She nodded readily, half torn between relief and curious disappointment.
‘And just so we’re clear, that venture outside includes me.’
The swift disappearance of disappointment made it glaringly obvious that this response was what she’d hoped for. That for all her protestations she hadn’t truly wanted to be free of him. The revelation was at once stomach-hollowing and depressing.
It didn’t stop the next impossible thought that followed. She’d won a small but significant skirmish. Perhaps she could take on a bigger battle.
The hands on her thighs grew damp as anxiety pinched at her nerves. ‘I have a stipulation of my own then if we’re tossing them about.’
He stiffened. Her palms grew damper. She rubbed them over her leggings then stopped when his eyes dropped there.
Seriously, this conversation should be taking place with the width of the room between them just so his every move wouldn’t be so damn distracting. But her body refused to obey the suggestion.
‘Sí?’ he rasped tightly as if he suspected her motives.
In a way he was right. She was skirting the vault clearly labelled ‘keep out. Or else.’ ‘One question a day, during the walk. That’s my condition.’
His withdrawal was instant, his remote yet compelling expression an unscalable cliff face. Lotte held her breath and waited, fully expecting a cold dismissive refusal.
‘And these questions I assume aren’t going to be as benign as curiosity about my favourite colour?’ he mocked.
‘No, I already assumed it would be as black as your default mood?’ she tossed back.
That twitch returned and disappeared just as quickly. ‘You’re so brazen playing with fire, litla,’ he mused, almost abstractedly. Except his eyes maintained that dangerous warning to keep her wits about her.
She waved at the frozen wind howling against the window. ‘A little fire doesn’t hurt. At the very least, it’ll help keep me warm out there.’ And because she couldn’t suffer the suspense one more second, she continued, ‘Deal or no deal?’
It wasn’t until his hand closed over hers that she realised she’d held hers out.
And just like that slow drift of his thumb over her lips, he took his time wrapping her small hand within his, his gaze never straying from hers as his fingers gripped firm.
Then firmer. Until she felt her pulse drumming between their heated flesh, completely drowning out the moment he answered. ‘Deal.’
‘Why is this taking so long? This weasel had the nerve to scatter his DNA and digital footprint all over her bedroom. So why has he managed to evade you for almost a week?’ Valenti snarled into his satellite phone.
A throb of uncomfortable silence pulsed through the still air of his cabin office. Then his most experienced operative cleared his throat. ‘The two locations we pinged turned out to be dead ends. We’re doing everything we can to find him, Your Highness.’
Por el amor de dios. ‘Do better!’
He ended the call with barely restrained patience. Then surged to his feet to prowl to the window.
The sun was almost up but it’d been white outside for several hours now. Not that it mattered to him one way or the other. He’d barely slept more than a half-hour stretch last night after Lotte headed upstairs to bed and he locked himself in his office.
What he was suffering from was more than cabin fever.
He snorted under his breath. It was a different sort of fever entirely.
The kind that seemed to push him into making curiously unwise decisions.
Like touching the softest skin he’d ever felt in his life.
Then compounding that forbidden temptation with striking deals he had no business making.
Willingly agreeing because his ward, a woman fourteen years younger, stared up at him with those…
breathtaking eyes? The plea to divulge information they both found painful, and him agreeing?
Eyes that reflected every emotion she was experiencing?
Was that all it really took? Or was it something else? Something even more disturbing. Dios, he could feel that emotional landmine he’d been avoiding inching ever closer. And it was imperative he stop it. Before he failed someone else.
He was almost relieved when his phone buzzed. He sensed who it might be before he swiped it off his desk.
Everything okay?
He gritted his teeth and his fingers tightened around his phone. For a brief time back in his teens, he’d mourned the sudden loss of the emotional connection he’d had with his twin.
In the trying years in the army and the different, harrowing path he’d had to take by decree of his father, the King, followed by the hell of loss and tragedy, he’d been secretly grateful to nature, the cosmos or whatever entity existed out there that he’d been given the tools to spare his brother the turbulent oceans that ran beneath his pretended calm.
Except recently, that connection had begun to regain strength, breaking through his resistance once again.
It’d started recently at Azar’s wedding, slowly, sensing a twinge of Teo’s anxiety here, a spark of his frustrated resentment there.
Then a flurry of elation when Teo had pulled his disappearing act and ended up on Morocco with Sabeen, his creative director and soon-to-be wife.
After that it’d tapered off for a while and Valenti had been ambivalent about it. On the one hand he was pleased for his twin, but he’d been grateful for the reprieve of being bombarded by hints of Teo’s bliss.
You know I’m going to keep asking until you answer, right? That or you stop bombarding me with these…interesting feelings.
Valenti squeezed his eyes shut. The last thing he needed was his well-meaning but incorrigible twin brother digging beneath the surface of emotions Valenti seemed unable to stop broadcasting.
Because not even one could be allowed to escape the forbidden darkness.
Because he couldn’t possibly find his ward insanely breathtaking enough to want to—
No.
He exhaled a harsh breath and punched in a swift response.
Nothing to worry about. Just dealing with persistent irritants.
He wasn’t surprised at all when his phone trilled to life almost immediately the text was sent.
‘Qué deseas?’ he demanded tersely.
‘Nice try, brother. We might do things differently, but if you don’t know I’m a stickler for details, then we’re not twins. So spit it out. What’s going on with your ward? I’m assuming you’re still in Reykland?’
‘Yes. And nothing is going on with her. Nothing that’s not under control, anyway.’
His twin’s laughter grated his last nerve. ‘You forget I can feel you lying to me?’