CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER THREE
A T SOME POINT during his militant march through his private quarters, Willow squeezed her eyes shut.
She told herself it was so she could regain her composure, but she silently conceded she needed to block out how infuriatingly captivating she found him. How watching those sensual lips, the vibrant skin of his throat where a pulse steadily throbbed, the way his silky hair caressed his nape as he walked, all colluded to drive further heat between her legs.
An unacceptable, inappropriate condition to be suffering right now so soon after reminding herself of what David had done to her. How his lies and her needy emotions had betrayed her into thinking that relationship, too, was worth salvaging until she’d learned how wrong she was.
She cringed as Jario’s steps slowed, then resolutely opened her eyes.
He’d brought her to his private kitchen.
From her long to-do list today, she knew the double-wide fridge, freezer, cupboards and bespoke wine cellar were stuffed full of every incredible food and drink item a pampered billionaire could crave.
Not that this man looked in any way pampered. Feeling his tensile strength, she cursed the heat rising into her cheeks. Luckily, he set her down at the ten-seater dining table and walked away before she grew fully flushed. It didn’t stop her traitorous eyes from dropping to his taut backside. To imagining—
Dear God, stop!
She wrenched her gaze away from his body, refocusing on her surroundings.
At this time of night, the sleek shutters usually parted to let in sunlight were drawn, inviting intimacy to the otherwise large space. Gleaming furniture and impeccable silverware created another masterpiece on a yacht that had repeatedly made her jaw drop at every turn.
Settled in one stylish chair she was sure cost more than a month’s pay, she watched Jario briskly set platters on the centre island in preparation of a meal.
Decadent, delicious smells attacked her neglected senses, and she cringed harder when her stomach let out an almighty growl. His gaze flicked to her but she busied herself straightening a piece of perfectly placed flatware.
Had she not feared another bout of dizziness striking, she would’ve gotten up and left. The plate he slid in front of her, piled high with an assortment of hand-rolled sushi, tomato and mozzarella tacos, slices of ham on focaccia bread drizzled with oil, and a tiny platter of golden Ossetra caviar with crackers, defused any attempted mutiny.
As hodgepodge gourmet food went, it was the most incredible and delicious combination she’d ever sampled, and heaven help her, she couldn’t stop her soft moans of appreciation as she devoured the food.
Only to feel an ominous tingling in her throat five minutes later.
Oh, God...oh, God... oh, no!
Her alarmed gaze flew over the food, attempting to identify the culprit for the oncoming reaction. Grabbing a napkin to spit out the mouthful before she worsened her situation, she shoved back from the table.
Jario jerked upright from where he’d been leaning against the island, hawklike eyes narrowing. ‘What’s wrong?’ He closed the gap between them in one second flat. When she didn’t respond fast enough, he gripped her arms, his face looming closer as the vise closed around her throat.
Oh, God...no.
‘Willow.’ The growled bite of her name forced words from her.
‘Mmm...a-aller-gic...sh-shomething...’ She waved a hand at the platter. ‘N-need ep-EpiPen.’
‘Que? Hijo de — ’ He cut himself off, released her and sprinted for the phone. ‘Send the doctor up here, right now! Tell him to bring something for anaphylaxis.’
Three seconds later he was sweeping her off her feet, laying her on a nearby sofa.
‘Mmm...fine—’
‘Stop talking and breathe,’ he grated, his hand on her cheek, eyes boring into her, his own breathing long and deep, as if directing her to follow.
She managed to squeeze one long, slow inhale, her lungs protesting at the time it took to replenish it. Willow knew from past, thankfully rare, episodes that as long as she didn’t panic, she’d be okay.
And weirdly, watching the rise and fall of his chest focused her.
When footsteps pounded into the room, Jario let out a quick exhale. ‘She’s having an allergic reaction. Hurry the hell up!’ he barked without taking his eyes off her.
Mere seconds passed before a sharp jab stung her thigh, efficient fingers testing her pulse.
‘It should start working soon, sir.’
Jario didn’t acknowledge the doctor. He seemed unable to take his eyes off her, his piercing gaze darting all over her face. The ferocity of it sent new needles stinging all over her body that had nothing to do with oxygen deprivation. The moment her breathing eased, she struggled up and tried to speak again.
‘Mmm...fine.’
He ignored her, rising to his full height before scooping her up into his arms. Another minute and they were in his stateroom. He laid her down, stopped long enough to tug off her flats before drawing back the covers.
Something wild lurched inside her. ‘Wha-ath are y-you doing?’
He pinned her with a vicious look. ‘I’m not in the mood right now, Miss Chatterton. For both our sakes, don’t test me.’
Dragging the covers over her body, he stared down at her for a taut second, then to her stunned surprise, he turned and walked out.
The doctor entered a minute later, asked a few probing questions.
There was no point telling him she was usually meticulous but she’d been severely distracted by her boss and hadn’t thought to do more than a visual inspection of her food before she consumed it.
That boss strode in a minute later after she’d thanked the doctor and he’d left. Jario still seemed on the very edge of his patience. Arms folded, he stared down at her again, a tinge of bafflement in his eyes.
‘You didn’t think to tell me you had food allergies?’
She shrugged. ‘I’m normally diligent...but I guess nothing about tonight has been...’ She stopped, realising she was about to admit that he’d upset her equilibrium. She was unwilling to hand him that power. He had far too much of it already.
He shoved his fingers in his hair, Spanish epithets erupting from him as he jerked into agitated pacing. ‘Are you blaming me?’
‘No. Yes. Maybe.’ Willow sighed. ‘Look, it happened, but it’s over now. I’m fine,’ she repeated for the umpteenth time, wondering if she was attempting to appease him because, examining him closer, she spotted grooves bracketing his mouth. Something kicked inside her at the thought that the almighty Jario may have had a moment or two of worry.
Over her.
It’d been a while since anyone had shown her that kind of concern. Her relationship with her parents had saddled her with emotional baggage she knew had altered her. She’d compounded that by making the mistake of looking for emotional support and connection from David.
But...was it wrong to want a selfish minute of connection with someone?
Even if it felt entirely inappropriate that that care should come from this man, who so effortlessly dripped warm feeling into her veins?
Yes!
She tried to push the feelings away before they found further vulnerable spots inside her.
‘The attacks are most often mild,’ she said, trying to play it down. ‘I can usually get to my pen before it gets serious—’
‘The crew cabin is almost five minutes away. A lot can happen in that time. What the hell were you thinking?’
As he paced closer, she saw his jaw was set, his skin a couple of shades paler. And his eyes...they held a haunted look that made her stomach and heart lurch.
This wasn’t the run-of-the-mill reaction she usually received. Hell, one time, her ex had implied she’d willed on an attack just for the attention!
Every instinct screamed that this was more. That her reaction had triggered something in Jario. Something unwelcome and unsettling.
‘You don’t need to worry,’ she murmured, that warm place heating further.
His mouth twisted. ‘If those words meant anything you would’ve taken better care to not let it happen in the first place.’
Her fingers tightened on the sheets, his agitation and irritation sparking bittersweet relief as that warm place cooled. She didn’t want to have anything in common with this man who’d tauntingly admitted he was responsible for her family’s excruciating slide into ruin. ‘Yeah, I get that my episode inconvenienced you but—’
‘But you’re the victim here and I’m being unreasonable?’ His sensual lips curled in derision.
‘If there’s one thing I hate more than anything, Mr Tagarro, it’s having words put in my mouth,’ she ground out. He froze, his incisive gaze fixing on her. After a moment’s silence, she continued. ‘I was about to say it was just an unfortunate accident and I’ll make sure it doesn’t happen again. I don’t even know what it was that triggered it.’
Fierce blue eyes flared for a second, then he strode to his bedside table. ‘Send up the chef and two crew members to my suite, please.’
Damn it .
Willow squeezed her eyes shut, abstractedly registering the lingering pain in her throat and eyes, the mild throbbing in her head. ‘Seriously, what are you doing? You’re overreacting.’
‘Are you allergic to sesame seeds?’ he clipped out.
She nodded.
His jaw clenched. ‘You reacted to the sesame oil in the salad.’
Her breath whizzed past an aching throat as she exhaled. His eyes darkened as the sound echoed in the silence. Feeling her body surge with those volatile sensations, she lifted the covers. ‘Thanks for letting me know, and for helping. Good night—’
‘Stay where you are. I think you’ve caused enough upheaval for one day.’
She frowned. ‘It’s not my fault I was too tired from being overworked.’
‘So you are saying this is my fault.’
‘I’m saying you’re overreacting. Which is weird since you clearly don’t like me.’
He froze, his nostrils the only movement as he sucked in air. ‘We’re in the middle of the damn ocean. Do you know what could’ve happened if you couldn’t have accessed help in time?’
The shards of anguish in his voice stopped her midrise, his expression charged with so many more issues than the subject of her allergic reaction. Willow opened her mouth, but before she could demand to know what was really going on, a knock announced the arrival of his chef.
His eyes still firing enigmatic currents at her, he barked, ‘Come.’ Then as before, he turned and walked out.
Her first attempt to follow him resulted in her sagging back on the bed, her not fully recovered body resisting her will.
Willow gave herself a few minutes to recover—while listening to the brisk exchange between boss and chef and cringing at being the cause of it.
Attempting again and succeeding to hold herself upright, she slowly approached the kitchen. Her stomach sank at the scene before her.
The contents of the fridge and freezer were being examined by three galley staff.
‘This really isn’t necessary, you know,’ she said.
Jario approached, still in thundercloud mode. ‘You should be in bed.’ When she mutinously held his stare, he sighed. ‘They’re removing everything you told the doctor you’re allergic to.’
Surprise jolted her. ‘Why? I won’t be eating my meals in here.’
‘You’re part of my personal crew. You may need to assist Ripley in here from time to time.’ He closed the distance between them until he was blocking the doorway to the kitchen and its occupants. ‘Or don’t you care about suffering another episode?’
‘Of course I care,’ she replied tartly, a little bubble bursting at the query that sounded like the kind of accusation her ex would throw at her. And also because Jario wasn’t doing this entirely out of concern for her but because he didn’t want to be inconvenienced.
Enough already . ‘I could’ve done the sorting, you know, as part of my job?’
The chef flashed her a mildly amused look, clearly detecting her snark.
Jario’s jaw rippled. ‘It’s not your call. And as you’ve reminded me, you’re exhausted. I’d have to be a special kind of monster to watch you choke to death one minute then put you to work the next, no?’ The haunted expression lingering on his face stemmed any trite response. ‘And you should be in bed. If you wish to help, return there now, if you please.’
His imperious demeanour said he wasn’t joking, nor was he going to be baited by the challenging eyebrow she raised at that command.
But when her insides started to warm again at this latest skirmish and his flashes of concern, she took one bewildered step back. And another.
Yes, she hadn’t felt a caring warmth for a while but, come on, she couldn’t really be reacting like this to his high and mightiness?
Also, she was feeling better, so she should go to her own bed, not linger on why sliding back into Jario Tagarro’s bed elicited sensations beyond a recovery from her attack. For the first time, it struck her that she’d slid between sheets he slept in, and heat immediately pummelled her.
It didn’t help to recall that he’d suggested earlier that she was trying to seduce him. Her not so steady breathing juddered in her chest as they exchanged another charged look. Then, after just managing to drag her gaze free when she tried to peer past his mile-wide shoulders, he blatantly blocked her view. She pursed her lips, turned on her heel and marched away.
She was back in his room before she noticed he’d followed her. That he was poised in the doorway, watching as she slid back into his bed.
Willow pulled up the sheets to hide his effect on her body, her senses heightening when he made no effort to speak, only observing her with those ferocious eyes. As a final act of defiance—because apparently, she couldn’t help herself—in what had been a monumentally challenging day, she turned her back to him, and when she was immediately attacked by his uniquely masculine scent, gritted her teeth and took smaller breaths. Promised herself she’d rest just until she felt a little stronger. Then they would get to the bottom of why he was fixated on her father.
She’d lost track of time, but she guessed it was sometime before midnight. If she got this resolved by morning, she could make plans to leave this yacht and its overwhelming, dangerously gorgeous owner as soon as possible.
Until then, she would ignore him and close her eyes.
Just for a minute...
Willow understood the true meaning of cringing in horror when she woke up and, even with her eyes shut, sensed the streaming sunlight.
Oh, God, no.
It didn’t help that the sumptuous bed and soft-as-butter Egyptian cotton sheets were the best she’d ever slept in. Or that his scent still lingered, wrapping around her, forcing her to inhale deeply, chase after the baffling intoxication of it.
The shameful fact was that she’d fallen asleep for hours in his bed. Had wrapped her arms around one pillow and somehow positioned another between her legs as was her sleeping habit. Cataloguing her list of sins, Willow also clocked that her skirt had ridden up and said pillow was firmly wedged against her—
‘You’re awake. Open your eyes.’
She flinched, not because of his rasped command tinged with mocking amusement, but because she wasn’t in the mood to see her embarrassment reflected in his eyes.
But short of stumbling out of here without opening her eyes, Willow had no choice but to blink them open. To the sight of Jario Tagarro reclined next to her, his eyes—dear God, did his eyes ever look anything but intensely predatory?—fixed squarely on her face. As she looked into them, she noticed that the blue was sparked through with midnight stripes. And slowly those stripes took over, darkening the depths as his bare chest rose and fell in a steady cadence.
‘You’ve stopped breathing, Willow. Do I need to call the doctor again?’
Willow jerked away, aware she was in full retreat mode and not caring one iota. ‘I didn’t mean to fall asleep. I’ll just—ah!’ One leg tangled within the sheet, and she tumbled backwards out of bed, landing hard on her backside.
Out of sight, she heard him curse under his breath, and her face flamed. Two seconds later he’d rounded the bed, hands on lean hips as he stared down at her.
She sighed in frustration. ‘Look, I know I sound like a broken record, but I just want some answers. Then we can be shot of each other. Surely you want that?’
One corner of his mouth twitched. ‘Do I?’
He was mocking her. But despite it being at her expense, she wanted to see a fuller smile. Willow shook her head and scrambled to her feet. ‘This might be amusing to you but I’m deadly serious.’
His face clenched tight, his humour evaporating in a flash. ‘I assure you, the last thing I am is amused. And you’ve no idea what deadly means.’
She mirrored his stance, hands on hips despite the swell of anxiety at his bleak tone. ‘Then enlighten me. Tell me what my father means to you.’
‘Less than nothing,’ he returned, his voice a lethal blade, warning her to tread very carefully.
Her disbelieving snort shot out before she could stop it. ‘Obviously that’s not true since you look incandescent every time I mention his name.’
The tautness in his body said he’d do anything but oblige her with an answer. That seeing how tortured she was by his withholding information was perhaps the response he was looking for.
But she couldn’t remain here. Couldn’t endure another day like yesterday. And now that she’d met him, felt the raw power and purpose steaming off him, she partly understood why her father winced every time she’d mentioned his name. ‘Please.’ The reluctant plea was part frustration, part exasperation.
A gleam passed through his eyes and the ferocity throttled back the tiniest fraction. ‘It’s a new day, Willow. Perhaps the sound of you begging might sway me. Let’s have more of it.’
Her heart lurched, a different sensation stealing through her body as she stepped towards him. ‘You think it debases me to beg? Good people are having to be let go because we can’t afford to keep them employed. But if it strokes that monumental ego of yours, then sure. Please. If you told me why I can...’
His eyes hardened. ‘You can what?’
She shrugged. ‘Give them a solution or even rehire them when things get better. Most of them didn’t want to leave, but we had no choice.’
He laughed. The damned infernal devil laughed . ‘Did you bother to find out why they were leaving in droves?’
She frowned. ‘What?’
‘Tell me how many you’ve checked up on since you had no choice but to let them go.’ His chest rippled with the mocking air quotes of her words.
She dragged her gaze from the distracting play of muscles to focus on his response.
‘Why does that matter? The bottom line is that we couldn’t keep them on.’ To battle the shame for letting the employees down and anger at her father for blatantly lying that their problems weren’t as devastating as everyone feared, she’d buried her hurt and despair in her music.
Should she have been doing something else?
‘You seem concerned with the people you haven’t bothered to check up on. Not so selfless as you like to project, are you?’
‘I’m not sure...’ Her eyes widened as the penny dropped. ‘You’re the one who’s been luring them away?’
A hard smile twitched his lips. ‘It takes very little effort when your leader doesn’t give a single damn about you.’
‘Because you’re destroying him! Tell me why!’
He didn’t answer. Instead, his gaze dragged leisurely over her, making her acutely aware of her dishevelled state. That she’d wandered far too close to him in her agitation. She caught his delicious scent once more and her belly clenched in visceral reaction. Heat arrowed through her, concentrating between her thighs as her face flamed at her body’s shameless response.
And somehow he knew. With another maddening twitch of his lips, he breached the gap between them. ‘That’s enough for today, I think. Let’s pick it up again tomorrow.’
Frustration bunched her fists. ‘For God’s sake! What’s it going to take?’
He didn’t speak for the longest time. Then, ‘You look better. Breakfast is ready for you in the dining room. Then I believe you have a work schedule to be getting on with.’
‘I’m not scrubbing any more decks if that’s what you’ve got in mind for me. I’d rather—’ She bit her tongue to stop the inflamed words she sensed she might regret.
‘You’d rather what? Quit?’ he taunted.
For the first time in her life Willow contemplated bodily harm. Such was the intense, unrefined emotions he triggered in her. Shocked by it, she stumbled back one step. Then another.
Through it all, he watched with single-minded focus. Cataloguing everything for his sadistic pleasure?
‘I’d rather do the job I signed up for,’ she amended tartly, then gestured out the nearest window. ‘Like you said, we’re in the middle of the ocean. Quitting or you firing me isn’t really efficient when I can be working. Besides, I don’t think you’d prefer to waste resources on feeding and housing me while I do nothing below decks?’
She was counting on his astute business sense although she accepted a billionaire probably would barely feel the impact of supporting one unimportant crew member.
Besides, she sensed that while he was revelling in withholding the information she needed from him, Jario Tagarro got a kick out of having her at his mercy.
Enough to keep her around...
After an age of narrow-eyed scrutiny, he caught her elbow in his loose grip and led her onto the sun-dappled deck she’d scrubbed only last night. There, on the pristine table that must’ve been set while she slept, laid a resplendent breakfast fit for the king of the vessel.
Fluffy, mouth-watering croissants she knew were made fresh because she’d watched the chef make a batch—God, was it only yesterday?—sat on an immaculate platter, next to a shallow tureen of golden scrambled eggs. Next to that a silver boat of black Ossetra caviar with a tiny spoon ready to sample. Rich smoked salmon sprinkled with shaved truffles were curled next to good old-fashioned plain bagels with not a sesame one in sight.
‘Sit down and eat something.’
She tugged her arm from him, at once affected and mildly disturbed that he was eating breakfast with her. She was swimming in agitation when he leaned close, his breath washing over her ear. ‘Get through one half-hour block without fainting, choking, or risking dehydration and you won’t be fired. How’s that?’
Pointing out he’d been directly or indirectly responsible for each of those incidents felt churlish, especially when in every single one he’d saved her.
The thought was bracing enough to silence her, to take the chair he held out for her, to ignore his piercing stare as she accepted the pile of food he placed before her one minute later.
Half an hour.
She could do it.
Then all she had to do was get through the next half hour.
Then the next.
Sweet heaven...
‘Are you kidding me?’
It was both irritatingly reassuring and unsettling to hear her husky voice had returned to normal after listening to her fight to catch her breath last night.
Was that the reason he’d sat in the chair next to his bed until sunrise, then, feeling that taunting compulsion, had allowed himself to be pulled to his own bed to sleep that puzzling but satisfying half hour before the demons had roused him?
Jario ignored the questions, his gaze riveted to her sparkling eyes as she glared at him one moment longer before redirecting her affront to the floor of his dressing room.
‘This is what you want me to do? Colour-code and pair up your socks? There must be over two hundred pairs here. Who even needs that many socks?’ Did she know her sexy mouth pouted just a tiny bit when she was riled?
He turned away as his body jolted to life. ‘Me. And that’s your first task. Your second is to pack away the left side of my closet. You’ll be informed of what comes next when you’re done.’
She glared harder. ‘Where’s Ripley? Shouldn’t I be doing something to assist him?’
Good question .
He was fast approaching chagrined levels for the way he couldn’t seem to distance himself from this woman. ‘He’s busy with other duties. Are you objecting to yours, Willow?’ Chalk up another objection to how much he liked her name on his tongue.
She spiked another glare at the socks, sparking unwanted amusement at her naked loathing of the task. ‘Guess it’s better than scrubbing,’ she begrudgingly offered. Then she slowly, defiantly, sank to her knees.
He didn’t want to consider why the thought of her in his bedroom made his blood sing faster through his veins.
Hell, he wasn’t going to think about Willow Chatterton or what the sight of her on her knees did to him. Not at all for the next several hours. Not when he had two urgent deals to close.
Yet, a ludicrously wasted half hour later, Jario tossed his stylus on the table. His concentration was shot to hell.
He was going insane. He was sure of it.
He should’ve sent her off to the opposite side of his yacht. Where he couldn’t see her. Smell her. Be reminded of that pulse of horror when he’d seen her choking, panic building in her eyes.
‘Hijo de—’ He bit off the curse as his gaze wandered back to the screen showing his dressing room.
He should head to the lower deck to his wave-powered swimming pool, where the only views were of the endless ocean, work out until he was too exhausted to think. But even as the thought teased him, his eyes remained on the screen.
She’d dealt with his socks in record time and was almost halfway through rearranging a closet that didn’t need it. Watching her touch his things, sometimes bringing his suits close to her body as she moved them, Jario shifted in his seat, the heat she’d ignited in him that first night when he hadn’t known her true identity, mocking his every effort to douse it.
It felt like some cruel cosmic joke for him to be this attracted to his enemy’s daughter, but he wasn’t laughing. There would be no amusement while the man responsible for his father’s not being here— and the stunning daughter whose motives remained unclear —remained unpunished.
And yes, it stuck in his craw that she was hard-working and diligent.
But watching her standing on his bed, her arm risen high above her head to reach the light fixture with her feather duster, the movement showing a few inches of golden skin, was the last straw.
With a growl drawn deep from a place he didn’t want to examine too closely, he launched from his desk, flames he told himself were born of irritation heating his blood as he headed for the last place he needed to go.
‘Enough of that. Time for a break.’
She whirled, her bare feet dancing on the covers, her mouth agape at his unannounced entrance. ‘It’s only eleven-thirty in the morning,’ she stated suspiciously.
‘And you’ve proved that you’re too frail for long stretches of hard work.’ Not entirely true but... ‘I won’t have you near collapse. Break. Now.’
‘Sugar versus vinegar. You’ve heard which one gains you better results, right?’ She walked on the balls of her feet to the edge of the bed.
Jario barely registered that he’d moved and was holding out his hand to help her down. A gesture she refused, one leg sliding down the side of his bed with absorbing poise, then the other, all as she glared warily at him.
‘One rots your teeth and lulls you into a false, temporary sense of pleasure. The other leaves no doubt as to your intentions. But if you insist, you can keep working.’
Liquid brown eyes examined him and he sensed what was coming before she spoke. ‘Trust me, I’m far from frail. But fine, I’ll take a break. On condition that you answer one question.’
His heart thumped hard as he turned away from the sight of her maddeningly alluring body and walked to the door.
‘No. You’re in no position to request conditions.’
He wasn’t entirely sure why he was withholding the information. Because he wanted her to experience a fraction of the suffering he’d endured all these years? Or was it something else?
A visceral reluctance to catch even a sliver of pity in her eyes? Because wouldn’t he be opening his deepest wound? Laying it bloody and vulnerable to her judgement? Enduring the same pity he’d had no choice but to face when he’d first lost his father? When he’d been carted off to foster care because his mother had been too broken to care for him for months at a time? Jario didn’t want to recall the taunts from false friends who’d suddenly realised they had something to laud over him and viciously wielded it, nor did he want to relive the pity from their parents he’d received in those harrowing years.
Of course, none of them had lifted a finger to help the boy whose family had been shattered by one selfish man’s decision.
His stomach clenched hard in rejection at the thought at the same time as he was devising ways to make Willow pay if she so much as looked at him with any of those much-loathed emotions. Because Jario knew he would tell her sooner rather than later. Paul Chatterton had hidden in the dark long enough. His deplorable actions needed to be laid bare.
For now...he intended to enjoy this little game he was playing with his daughter.
‘Are you coming?’
Her elevated chin gave him a glimpse of her smooth skin, her delicate jaw. The pulse that continued to leap so frantically at her throat.
The throat that had attempted to close last night, spiking terror he hadn’t felt since—
Enough .
It wasn’t his fault that she’d failed to mention she had allergies.
‘You can stop with all the glaring. I’m very aware you hold the power. For now.’
Her taunt almost plucked a grin. He managed to kill it just in time. ‘For now? You expect the balance of power to change?’
She shrugged, approached him slowly, the roll of her hips far too entrancing as her fingers flicked between them. ‘I’m not going to do this with you forever. Besides, I’ve only been here a little over a day and you’ve confirmed there’s a connection between you and my father. If you don’t answer my questions, I’ll find out some other way. And this will end one way or another.’
Surprise—and a touch of unwanted disquiet—punched him hard in the gut, both at her continued defiance and the fact that for the first time since her arrival, his reaction didn’t come tinged with anger.
Instead, he was...intrigued. By her confidence and daring.
By how far he could push this woman.
By what it’d take to test her. To see if underneath all the bluster, she wasn’t as fickle and lily-livered as her father.
Is that all?
He ignored the snide query as he led them down one level, then another to the sea-level deck where some of his favourite toys were laid out, awaiting his pleasure. He considered then discarded the most obvious toys like his super jet ski and water skis.
Then he turned to her. ‘First things first. Can you swim?’
She frowned. ‘I thought I was taking a break?’
He let loose a smile he was sure didn’t look at all amiable. ‘From your duties, not from me. Answer the question.’
She eyed the equipment. ‘I grew up in Southern California. It’s a cardinal sin not to be able to handle yourself in water.’
‘Good. Pick one.’
Her eyes narrowed. ‘Why?’
Jario didn’t respond. He was well aware that his charged silences prodded most people into speech, were they minions or heads of states. And he wasn’t surprised when she held out long enough to make him wonder if he’d met the first person to challenge that gauntlet.
But eventually she wandered closer, that hip-skimming skirt and tiny waist spiking his temperature once more.
‘That one.’ She pointed to the e-Foil surfboard.
She hadn’t gone for his absolute favourite and he grittily dismissed the surge of disappointment. This game was just to prove his point. To keep his goal straight and true.
Nothing else.
‘We’ll race. If you win, I’ll allow you one question. If you fail—’
‘I won’t,’ she interjected, that defiant nose up in the air again.
‘ If you fail,’ he stressed the word, ignoring the sparks of excitement igniting in his belly at the thought of engaging with this woman, ‘you’ll forfeit all your questions. You will leave my yacht at the next port and we will never speak again.’
He said that with enough conviction to believe it.
Almost .