The Debt
Author: Jackie Ashenden
Date: 2019-06-26T17:04:48+00:00
Description: Ruthless billionaire Ash Evans finds the sexiest way to collect on a debt in the first installment in The Billionaire’s Club quartet! Notoriously ruthless property developer Ash Evans never forgives a debt. And I have two days to convince the former street fighter not to pull his investment in my father’s company. Taking a job as his chauffeur in Paris is the only way to get close enough to ask the bad-tempered billionaire for a favor. With his sexy tattoo, scars and magnificently cut body, he’s as powerful, sleek and difficult to manage as the sports cars my family designs. And after meeting
Publisher: HarperCollinsPublishers

Ruthless billionaire Ash Evans finds the sexiest way to collect on a debt in the first installment in The Billionaire’s Club quartet!

Notoriously ruthless property developer Ash Evans never forgives a debt. And I have two days to convince the former street fighter not to pull his investment in my father’s company. Taking a job as his chauffeur in Paris is the only way to get close enough to ask the bad-tempered billionaire for a favor.

With his sexy tattoo, scars and magnificently cut body, he’s as powerful, sleek and difficult to manage as the sports cars my family designs. And after meeting his electric-blue eyes in the rearview mirror all night, I’m more than happy to rev his engine and take the boss for a ride!

But now Ash thinks I’m just using him to get what I want. And he’ll give me what I need, but there is a price—posing as his girlfriend to help him exact vengeance on his half brother. Pretending to love Ash is the easiest job I’ve ever had...and soon my heart is racing into danger. Will a man so full of anger ever be capable of loving me back?

Harlequin DARE publishes sexy romances featuring powerful alpha heroes and bold, fearless heroines exploring their deepest fantasies.

Four new Harlequin DARE titles are available each month, wherever ebooks are sold!

JACKIE ASHENDEN dark, emotional stories with alpha heroes who’ve just got the world to their liking only to have it blown wide apart by their kick-ass heroines. She lives in Auckland, New Zealand, with her husband, the inimitable Dr Jax, two kids and two rats. When she’s not torturing alpha males and their gutsy heroines she can be found drinking chocolate martinis, reading anything she can lay her hands on, wasting time on social media or being forced to go mountain biking with her husband. To keep up to date with Jackie’s new releases and other news sign up to her newsletter at jackieashenden.com.

The Debt is the first instalment of

The Billionaires Club series, which continues with

The Risk by Caitlin Crews

The Proposition by JC Harroway

The Deal by Clare Connelly

Join an exclusive, elite, exciting world and meet the

globe’s sexiest billionaires!

Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk

The Debt

Jackie Ashenden

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ISBN: 978-1-474-08709-4

THE DEBT

© 2019 Jackie Ashenden

Published in Great Britain 2019

by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF

All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.

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To Fra.

I wrote this book sitting in your bedroom.

Just thought you should know.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

About the Author

Booklist

Title Page

Copyright

Note to Readers

Dedication

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

CHAPTER TWENTY

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

EPILOGUE

About the Publisher

CHAPTER ONE

Ellie

I WIPED MY palms surreptitiously down my black trousers and adjusted my black suit jacket, briefly touching my head to make sure the chauffeur’s cap was in place. Mentally, I went over the address the chauffeur company had given me: The Gustave Eiffel Suite of the Shangri-La, Paris.

Yep. I was in the right place.

I took a deep breath.

Okay, here went nothing.

It had taken me a month of careful planning to get to this point—including relocating from Australia to England—but now I was here I wasn’t going to let the opportunity slip through my fingers.

I had two days to convince one of the UK’s most difficult billionaires to give my father more time before withdrawing the venture capital his firm had invested in our family’s company. It was capital we desperately needed in order to stay solvent. And it was not going to be easy.

Ash Evans, billionaire property developer, investor and slave driver, was as famous for his ruthlessness as he was for his temper, not to mention his unapologetic pride in the fact that he came from a poor background.

He was also notorious for never forgiving a debt.

Still, I liked a challenge and, apart from anything else, this was for Dad’s sake and for Australis, our super car company, and that was more important than any qualms I had about confronting some self-important rich guy.

Not that I had qualms. I was a Little, and Littles were tough. We could get through anything. The key was to put your head down, not make a fuss, and keep going.

Keeping my fuss-making to a minimum, I gave my jacket another tweak then raised my hand and knocked sharply on the suite door.

There was no response.

There was also no one around, which was unusual.

I’d been driving for the rich and famous for a couple of years now—a second job to supplement my position as a designer at Australis because I liked driving—and I knew they tended to be always surrounded by people. Assistants, bodyguards and all kinds of hangers-on.

Apparently not Mr Evans.

But then, given what I knew about him from the research I’d done, that wasn’t completely unexpected.

He was a self-made man who’d grown up in one of London’s most notorious council estates and who’d risen to the top through a combination of ruthlessness, hard-headed business sense and a fight-to-the-death attitude that people whispered had come from his days as a street fighter.

A scary dude by all accounts.

Took a lot to scare me, though—I had four brothers after all—and I was prepared to do what I had to do in order to keep the company solvent. Dad was counting on me since he didn’t want my brothers to know the true state of the company finances, and I was very conscious of the fact that I didn’t want to let him down.

Mine was a ropey plan, but it was the best I could come up with: sign myself on with the chauffeur company that Mr Evans used and hope that I would be assigned to him. It had taken a month for that to happen, but a combination of luck and the fact that he was enough of a prick that no one wanted to drive for him had worked in my favour and I’d been given the assignment of driving him in Paris for two days.

It was a sneaky move, but I’d run out of options, not to mention patience. I’d tried all the usual ways to get a meeting with him to talk about the investment face-to-face, but apparently that was impossible and all I’d managed to score were a couple of interviews with some minor flunkey who hadn’t given a shit about either me or my dad.

Driving for him was the only way I could think of to meet with him in person, to convince him somehow to give us more time before withdrawing his money, because, with the current state of Australis’s finances, we would go under the moment he withdrew.

Yeah, and you know whose fault that is.

I ignored that thought and glared at the shut door instead, raising my hand to knock again.

It was suddenly jerked open.

A man stood on the threshold, the height and breadth of him filling the entire doorway.

I blinked, getting a confused impression of an expanse of bare skin and hard-cut muscle. Then a pair of fierce blue eyes met mine and all the air in my lungs mysteriously vanished.

He stared at me suspiciously for a second and it occurred to me that every single aspect of me had just been observed, catalogued and filed away for future reference.

Then, just as suddenly as he’d opened the door, the man turned and strolled back into the suite, talking to someone on his phone as he went, his voice a deep, gritty rumble. He appeared to be wearing only a pair of worn blue jeans that sat low on his lean hips, leaving his massively muscled shoulders and back bare. A Chinese dragon had been inked into the smooth olive skin, the colours all brilliant blues, reds and greens.

I blinked again, staring, oddly shaken though I had no idea why. Because it wasn’t as if I hadn’t seen a shirtless man before. I’d also seen a fair number of tattoos in my time—my brothers all had them, plus I was involved in the car industry where it was practically de rigueur. Still, I hadn’t seen anything quite as beautiful as that one.

I swallowed, for a second unsure whether to follow him or wait. But since I wasn’t the waiting type I stepped into the suite, shutting the door behind me as I followed him into the lounge area.

He stood with his back to me, still talking on his phone and so I took a moment to study him.

Okay, so this was the scary Ash Evans.

I’d seen pictures of him—who hadn’t? He was built like a heavyweight boxer with the height of a basketball player, his face scarred all to hell from an encounter with the wrong end of a knife back when he’d been a teenager. He was an absolute beast of a man—at least according to one gushing female journalist who’d been granted the rare privilege of an interview and had obviously been bowled over by him.

I’d scoffed at all the over-the-top language in the article—honestly, the way some women got when it came to men, I couldn’t understand it. But being in his presence now, I could see what she was talking about.

Even though he had his back to me, he stood in the middle of the lavishly appointed room as if he owned it. No, more as if he owned all of Paris. A fierce kind of energy radiated from him, kinetic and masculine and utterly compelling.

I knew what it was. Two of my brothers were race car drivers and they both had it in spades: pure male confidence.

Luckily, I’d had plenty of practice in dealing with it and my solution was simply to be as confident and in-your-face as they were.

I waited patiently for Mr Evans to wrap up his conversation, staring at his beautiful Chinese tattoo until finally he’d finished and turned to face me.

Intense blue eyes met mine and my breath caught for the second time that day.

The pictures of him were one thing, but the reality was a whole different ball game. His features were blunt, but roughly handsome and somehow made even more compelling by the famous scars that bisected them. One scar narrowly missed his right eye, while another caught one end of his mouth and twisted it, making it look as if he was sneering. A third highlighted his hard, square-cut jaw. But it was those eyes that really dominated his rough-hewn face. They were so blue, electric almost, reminding me weirdly of lightning in a thunderstorm.

Hot.

The thought came out of nowhere, hitting me like a gut punch. Because he was, and I couldn’t remember the last time I’d even noticed a guy in that way.

Since the Mark incident I’d put my love life on hold because I simply couldn’t be bothered dealing with all the drama involved, and, so far, I hadn’t met anyone who’d made me want to change my stance.

Not that Ash Evans was even in my league.

I didn’t actually have a league.

Conscious that I’d been standing there, staring at him like an idiot, I shoved my momentary fluster away and I stuck out my hand. ‘G’day, Mr Evans,’ I said, going full Aussie. ‘I’m Ellie Little. I’m—’

‘What do you want?’ His voice was as rough and gritty as sandpaper, and his stare skewered me like a pin through a butterfly. ‘I told the hotel I wasn’t to be disturbed.’

Obviously I was getting a taste of Mr Evans’s famous rudeness. So far, so billionaire. And to be honest, nothing I hadn’t come across before either driving or in the Australis workshop.

‘I’m not from the hotel,’ I said cheerfully. ‘I’m your chauffeur.’

‘Chauffeur?’ He ignored the hand I was still holding out. ‘I usually have Bill.’

‘He wasn’t able to make it to Paris. One of your assistants okayed a replacement.’ I lowered my hand since it didn’t look as if he were going to shake it. ‘Don’t worry, sir. I’ve been given a full rundown of your—’

‘Don’t call me sir. I’m Mr Evans to you.’ He shoved his phone into the back pocket of his jeans. ‘And my assistant never mentioned this.’

With some dudes if you gave them an inch, they took a mile, and clearly Evans was in this camp. I’d found the best way to deal with it was to be as laid-back as possible, all the while making it clear that you were not there to be walked over.

‘I’m sorry you weren’t contacted, Mr Evans,’ I said easily, giving him a wide smile. ‘But that’s not really my problem. I’m just here to do my job.’ And to fix Dad’s little investment issue. But I couldn’t ask him about that now; I needed to build up a little rapport with him first.

There was a silence.

Clearly he did not like my answer, because his gaze became arctic, the electricity in his eyes taking on a bright, cold glint. A sense of threat gathered around him and I could suddenly see why people might be scared of him because that, combined with his height and scarred face, made him pretty damn intimidating.

I wasn’t intimidated, though. I’d dealt with plenty of difficult men in my time and not making things into a drama was the way to handle it.

So I simply stared back and kept my smile easy-going. Letting him know that I wasn’t a threat so he didn’t need to bristle at me the way he was doing now.

His eyes narrowed and I had the oddest feeling that his focus had shifted, zeroing in on me like a laser sight on a high-powered rifle.

It was unnerving since I didn’t much like being stared at, but I didn’t let my unease show. Keep it fuss-free, that was the Little way.

‘Do you speak to all your employers like that?’ he demanded.

‘Yes,’ I said, with absolute truth. ‘And they’ve all appreciated my laid-back attitude.’ I grinned wider. ‘That’s a direct quote by the way.’

A deep blue spark glinted in his eyes for a second and for some reason I felt an unfamiliar heat rise into my cheeks.

Weird. Why was I blushing? I kept my smile pasted firmly on and hoped the blush would go away.

‘Fair enough.’ He gave me a brief up and down glance then reached out to pick up the black T-shirt that had been draped over the back of a luxurious white couch. ‘Though if you speak to me like that again, you won’t last the night.’

I wasn’t listening. I was too busy being oddly mesmerised by the flex and release of the chiseled muscles of his chest and abs.

Which wasn’t like me at all. It was only that he was just so very...powerful. Like one of the Pythons, Dad’s latest model supercar. Super charged and sleek, with a big V8 engine. The most perfect design. Dangerous in the wrong hands, yet an adrenaline junkie’s dream in the right ones...

‘Do you understand?’

I nearly jumped as the edge in his voice caught me, making me realise I’d been standing there gawping at him with my mouth open.

Dude. Zoning out staring at his body? What is wrong with you?

Purely from a design perspective he was an impressive specimen. Built for strength and power, with not an ounce of fat on him. He could probably deliver the maximum amount of force with maximum efficiency too—

You’re not in the workshop now, idiot, and he’s not a bloody car.

Oh, hell. Of course he wasn’t. And now he’d caught me staring.

I struggled to find my normal chill, trying to think of a jokey way to defuse the situation.

‘Uh, yes,’ was all I could come up with.

His gaze narrowed further. ‘You’d better,’ he said, his upper-class British accent completely at odds with the roughness of his voice, his scarred face and worn jeans. ‘I’m not accustomed to repeating myself.’

Concentrate, fool! It’s like you’ve never seen a man before.

Well, to be fair, I hadn’t seen a man like him before.

‘Sorry, Mr Evans.’ I grinned like an idiot, pretending I wasn’t still blushing furiously. ‘I was thinking about something else.’

He stared at me with the same intense focus as when he’d opened the suite door earlier. ‘What did you say your name was?’

‘Ellie. Ellie Little.’

Would my surname mean anything to him? Probably not. Evans Investment, his venture capital firm, invested money in a lot of different projects so there was no reason he’d know about our company in particular.

Sure enough, there was no recognition in his eyes as he unexpectedly put out his hand. ‘Good to meet you, Miss Little.’

Now, he wanted to shake? A small, rebellious part of me was very tempted to refuse, which would have been stupid given the massive favour I had to ask of him at some point.

So I ignored the urge, reaching out to take his hand politely instead. Yet as his big palm and long fingers wrapped around mine, the weirdest thing happened.

A jolt of electricity shot straight up my arm, making me jerk my hand out of his before I could stop myself.

Good one, fool.

‘Sorry,’ I muttered. ‘Damn static.’

An odd expression I couldn’t quite decipher crossed his face, making the unsettled feeling inside me deepen.

My heart was beating fast and my skin was tingling where he’d touched me. It felt sensitive, as if I’d been scorched by his fingers.

It wasn’t static, you idiot.

But I didn’t want to think about what else it might have been so I shoved that thought away and put my hands behind my back instead. ‘Ready when you are, Mr Evans,’ I said, as if nothing had happened.

He gave me another of those intense searching looks, though what he was searching for I had no idea.

‘Go down and wait in the car,’ he said at last. ‘I’ll be down in a minute.’

With one last dismissive glance, he turned away, the colours of the tattoo on his back flashing, leaving me with no other option but to do as I was told.

CHAPTER TWO

Ash

I LOOKED OUT of the window of the limo, watching a string of couture-clad people file through the entrance into the elegant historic brick building, and allowed myself a certain sense of satisfaction.

Finally. Fucking finally.

Here I was, outside the door to the most exclusive private members’ club in the world: The Billionaires Club.

Joining was by invitation only—an invitation that only came once your bank balance reached a certain level. A cool billion, obviously.

Mine had come a week ago in the form of a hand-delivered black envelope with a simple gold seal on the back and my name, Mr Ash Evans, written in cursive on the front.

Inside was a heavy slice of black platinum the size of a credit card, embossed with the club insignia: an M with two bars over the top of it, the Roman numeral for billion.

An exclusive club for the rich and famous.

And here was I, the scum of the streets, with a key.

Dad would be turning in his fucking grave. He’d have hated the thought of his bastard son finally having access to everything he’d denied him over the years.

Correction. Dad wouldn’t hate the thought, because, even if he’d still been alive, he wouldn’t have thought of me at all. Not thinking of me was all he’d done from the moment I was born, the product of an illicit affair with one of his maids.

Still, I wasn’t going to let happy memories of my prick of a father ruin my evening, not tonight. I’d worked too long and too hard to get to this point and I had other, bigger fish to fry.

Fish like my half-brother and chief competitor, Sebastian Dumont. He was one of the reasons I’d decided that my first appearance at the club would be at their burlesque event in Paris. I knew he’d be attending and I wanted to shove my membership in his rich and privileged face. He wouldn’t be expecting it and seeing me, his undeserving, lower-class half-brother, showing up where he didn’t belong, would piss him off in the extreme.

Petty? Yes. Satisfying? Completely.

But that wasn’t the only reason. I was also hoping to sabotage his latest business deal, too, just for the hell of it.

John Delaney, a property investor who was looking to sell a couple of islands in the Caribbean that he owned, was also going to be attending the event tonight, and my plan was to corner him and make him an offer for those islands.

I had a luxury hotel business that I’d just got off the ground and the islands Delaney was selling were perfect sites for it.

They were also the same islands that Dumont just happened to be after for his luxury hotel business.

Oh, Dumont had tried to keep his intentions under wraps, but I had my ways of finding out things. And now my entire plan was to buy those islands out from under him.

Yes, we had a rivalry. And to say it was mild was like saying England and Germany were slightly at odds during World War II.

It had been going on for years and I had no plans to build bridges any time soon. Not after what he’d done to me.

I flicked a glance in the rear-view mirror of the limo and found my chauffeur for the evening, the sexy little Australian, staring back at me.

And for a second, all thoughts of my hated half-brother vanished.

When she’d come to the door of my hotel, I’d been expecting Bill, white-haired and grizzled and pushing sixty-five. Instead, what I’d got was brunette and fresh-faced, and pushing twenty-five, if that.

Not to mention small and curvy, with a pretty, freshly scrubbed face, glossy brown hair in a no-nonsense ponytail, the usual chauffeur uniform of black trousers, white shirt and a black tie doing its best to hide the fact that she was unequivocally female.

Oh, yes, and she had a sunny attitude to match.

She hadn’t appeared to notice my scars or to be in the least bit intimidated by my manner, and she had looked me in the eye, which most people never did.

Then there had been that smile. That pretty smile like a bright burst of sunshine. As if she’d never heard of my reputation and had no idea what a bastard I was.

Those things shouldn’t have made her so immediately fascinating to me, because she was nothing like my normal type. I preferred them beautiful and expensive-looking, all the better to soil with my rough, dirty hands, not with a dusting of freckles, dressed in a chauffeur’s outfit, and telling me with a cheerful smile how my assistant not briefing me on her arrival wasn’t her problem.

Not many of my employees would have dared say that to my face.

Correction, none of my employees would have dared say it.

What made her think she could?

She stared at me in the mirror, hints of gold and emerald glinting from beneath long, silky dark lashes, and there was no deference in her gaze. It was full of curiosity and a certain boldness that I found...exciting.

Been a long time since you had a worthy opponent.

Yes, it was true. A very long time. Not that I was into physical fights these days, at least not outside the gym and never with a woman. But it had been a while since I’d met anyone who could hold their own against me. And every fighter needed a challenge to improve their game.

If you didn’t get better you didn’t win, and if you didn’t win, all you got was your teeth kicked in.

I’d never been a fan of getting my teeth kicked in.

She grinned at me. ‘Are you ready to go, Mr Evans?’ Her tone was ridiculously chirpy, yet her voice had a soft, smoky edge that somehow made it sexy at the same time.

She could be your challenge.

Nice idea, but no.

I’d felt the chemistry between us the moment she’d taken my hand back in the hotel room, and when she’d jerked away, her skin pink, I knew she’d felt it too.

Normally that would be something I’d explore, since I never denied myself something when I wanted it, but fresh-faced, tomboyish little Australians who should know better than to smile at men like me were not worth the trouble of tangling with.

And besides, I had a golden rule: never screw the staff.

She might only be a substitute for Bill for a couple of nights, but she was still a staff member. Which made her out of bounds.

‘I’ll go when I’m good and ready, Miss Little,’ I growled, irritated for no good reason.

‘Of course,’ she replied with the same chirpiness, apparently impervious to my annoyance. ‘You can sit here as long as you like. I only asked so I could be ready to open your door for you.’

My irritation increased. She looked so bright-eyed and bushy-tailed and eager to please.

You could think of a few ways she could please you.

Yes, but again, not happening.

I stared hard at her, trying to put a dent in her insufferable cheerfulness, but she kept staring boldly back, apparently impervious to my game. And also, apparently, unaware of the blatant challenge she presented by doing so.

A certain tension began to gather in the car, one she also seemed blithely unaware of. At least until I noticed a hint of red glowing in her freshly scrubbed cheeks.

So. Maybe she wasn’t as unaware as she seemed. Not that I was going to be doing anything about it.

‘Then what are you waiting for?’ I said, unaccountably irritated with the direction of my thoughts. ‘I’m ready now.’

Once again, she didn’t bat an eye at my tone, immediately getting out of the car, coming around to my door, and pulling it open for me with a little flourish.

Normally I didn’t bother with that kind of theatre, but tonight I was making an exception.

I glowered as I got out, unfolding myself to my full height, looming over her like the hulking, scarred beast that I was.

She was very small, her head tilting back as she gave me a searching look. Her forehead creased, her smile turning sympathetic. ‘Don’t worry, Mr Evans. You’ll have a great night, I’m sure of it.’

The comment was so unexpected that for a second I had no idea what she was talking about.

‘Do I look fucking worried?’ I said.

Either she didn’t hear my sarcasm or ignored it, because she gave me another thorough scan, her expression becoming serious. ‘Actually, on second thought, you don’t. You just look really grumpy.’

No one made casual observations about me quite like that. Certainly no one said them out loud. To my face.

I opened my mouth to give her another lesson in driver etiquette, but she charged on, giving me another sunny smile before reaching out to pat my arm. ‘Don’t let the bastards grind you down, eh?’

People didn’t touch me, not these days. In fact, the only people who did were the women I took to bed.

No one ever patted me sympathetically on the arm.

No one would dare.

To make matters worse, the brief touch sent a ghost of the same electricity I’d felt back in the hotel sparking through the leather of my jacket and straight into me.

Christ. That was all I needed.

My temper, already mean, took a feral turn.

I glanced pointedly down at her hand on my arm. ‘I’m not a dog, Miss Little.’

Colour bloomed in her cheeks. ‘Oh. Sorry.’ She dropped her hand, her cheerful smile returning. ‘No worries.’

For some reason that didn’t make me feel any less irritated.

Trying to ignore my inexplicable annoyance, I turned away without another word, starting towards the entrance of the hotel and pushing her out of my mind.

The pretty, rich people in their glittering couture gowns and perfect tuxes were gathered around the doors and they all stared at me as I approached.

I scowled, staring them down in turn.

I didn’t miss their looks of disdain and the whispers, their glances at the limo and then at me in my jeans and black T-shirt, leather jacket thrown over the top. I knew what they were thinking. They were thinking that I couldn’t possibly belong in their rarefied circles. I wasn’t handsome enough, glittering enough, rich enough.

Poor bastards. They were in for one hell of a shock.

The thought mollified me and I was cheered still further by how they all rushed to get out of my way like antelopes before a lion as I strode for the door.

The impressive-looking doorman, though, was not an antelope and there was not a whiff of disdain from him. He gave me a nod and pulled open the door as soon as I approached, ushering me into the foyer with a simple, ‘Welcome to The Billionaires Club, Mr Evans.’

I hadn’t been expecting to be treated with respect and it took the wind out of my sails slightly.

The foyer was a huge space with an impressive staircase leading to the upper stories and a massive chandelier that dripped jewelled light into the vaulted space.

Directly in front of me was an ornate and obviously antique table with a huge spray of white orchids in a glass vase on top. The simplicity of the arrangement was in direct contrast to the chandelier and the table it sat on, and the floor of horrifically expensive Italian black marble. A few chaises longues were strategically placed for people to sit on, covered in luxuriously ostentatious gold silk.

The whole place reeked of money, the scent of the elite, the entitled, the privileged. The lucky, lucky few.

Of which I was now one, despite my father’s best efforts to keep me in my place, and my own half-brother’s betrayal.

Fuck you, old man. And fuck you too, Seb.

I smiled savagely at the thought.

There was a woman waiting for me beside the table, tall and slim, with long blonde hair and the kind of perfectly groomed appearance that only the very wealthy could achieve.

She ignored my smile, didn’t blink at my scars, simply held out a hand and said, ‘Mr Evans, welcome to The Billionaires Club. I’m Imogen Carmichael. Pleased to meet you.’ Her accent was American, east coast.

I took her hand, reining in my temper, because I could be pleasant when I wanted to be. ‘Likewise.’

She gave me a cool smile in return. ‘I’m glad you could make it to Paris to join us. Would you like a drink to start with or would you prefer it after the tour?’

‘After. Since I received precisely nothing in the way of information, I want to know how this place works.’

A flicker of genuine amusement crossed her classically lovely face. ‘That’s intentional. Part of the mystique, you understand.’

‘Of course. It’s also pretentious as hell.’

She laughed. ‘You’re direct. I like it. In fact, if I’m not much mistaken, you’ll fit right in.’ Stepping back, she gestured towards a grand set of double doors opposite the main entrance. ‘Right, I’ll show you to the ballroom. We’re in the middle of a burlesque gala event right now, which will give you a taste for the kinds of things we do.’

The club was as exclusive as it got, with a million-dollar membership fee per year. It was an extortionate amount, but I’d already figured out that membership could only benefit me. Evans Construction and Development, my property development firm, was going from strength to strength as it was, but the club would open doors when it came to growing Evans International, my luxury hotel chain. Especially when it came to stealing my half-brother’s business from him the way he’d once stolen mine from me.

As Imogen showed me into the ornate ballroom, with high ceilings and yet more chandeliers, I took a glance around, scanning the glittering crowd for any sign of Dumont or my other quarry, Delaney. Suspended above the crowd by a pair of red, silken ribbons, a woman clad in nothing more than jewelled bikini bottoms and nipple pasties performed a sensual aerial act. Music with a heavy beat played while both men and women in risqué jewelled costumes circulated with trays of drinks.

‘We hold gala events like this one all over the world and throughout the year,’ Imogen murmured. ‘And all the proceeds go to various nominated charities, as does fifty per cent of each member’s buy-in.’

‘Of course,’ I said, listening with only half an ear as I searched the crowd. ‘You must need the tax breaks.’

Imogen clearly heard the cynicism in my voice, because she raised a brow. ‘It’s all completely genuine, Mr Evans, I assure you. And most of our members help out by attending each event, though you can come and go as you wish. Right now, I’m in the middle of arranging the Christmas ball that will take place in New York, the money from which will also go to a very good cause.’

From the expression on her face she believed every word that she said, and maybe it was true. Maybe my cynicism had more to do with me than with her and this club.

Whatever. I wasn’t here to debate charity and privilege, or to hear about parties. I was here to find Delaney and my brother.

As if sensing my impatience, Imogen gestured to another door. ‘Come with me, I’ll show you something else.’

We went through into another area, a series of plush interconnecting rooms full of subtle lighting, clusters of deep, velvet-covered armchairs and low tables. People were sitting either in groups or pairs, talking intently in low voices. It was all brandy balloons and Scotch glasses, expensive cigar smoke in the air, and the scent of money, of big deals being done.

My favourite hunting terrain.

‘Our quiet area,’ Imogen said as we passed through. ‘Where members can relax and talk business or whatever else they might like.’

‘Sounds like my kind of place,’ I murmured, finally spotting Delaney sitting in a corner chatting to a group of people.

Good. He was here. Now to figure out where Dumont was.

We came back out into the entrance hall and Imogen gestured to the magnificent staircase that led up to the upper levels. ‘And up there are our intimate suites, if you want to take a look.’

I raised an eyebrow, curious. ‘Intimate suites?’

Imogen’s smile turned secretive. ‘The club provides for anything our members and their guests might need or want, and that includes some private spaces for blowing off a little steam.’

She didn’t need to elaborate, I got the idea. And I approved.

‘Now,’ Imogen went on. ‘That concludes the tour. You’re free to join the other members in the ballroom or adjourn to the bar, whichever takes your fancy.’

The bar, obviously, since Sebastian was not in the ballroom. Besides, although I was very much into pretty girls dancing while wearing not a lot, I wasn’t keen on the pointless posturing that was happening in the ballroom. Give a person a billion and they thought they were God’s fucking gift. Half those arseholes hadn’t had to work for what they had, not like I’d had to, and I wasn’t going to stand around pretending I was as good as the rest of them.

I was better. And I saw no need to pretend.

The bar was off the main ballroom and was just as gilded and ornate, with quite a few people gathered at the tables and sitting in the gold-velvet-covered booth seats that ran down one wall. Light glittered and dripped from the chandeliers that hung from the ceiling, sparkling on jewelled necklaces and glinting off cufflinks. The low hum of voices filled the room along with the heavy beat from the ballroom.

People stared at me as I made my way to the bar and I let them look, enjoying the attention. Me, with my knife-fight scars, in my jeans and T-shirt amongst all the jewels and tuxes.

I didn’t need to imagine what they were thinking. I knew, since it was written all over their faces. They were thinking I didn’t belong. That I was scum from the streets, their reminder that, though they might be insulated from the hard cold realities of life by their wealth, hard cold reality was now also here amongst them.

It amused me. I also didn’t give a shit. They could think what they liked. I’d earned my place here and too bad if they didn’t like it.

Strolling up to the bar, enjoying the way the crowd rippled to give me space, I took another scan around before ordering a drink.

A pretty blonde in a red dress with diamonds sparkling around her neck sidled up to me smiling, her intent very clear.

She was just my type: rich, sophisticated and beautiful. Definitely the kind of woman who’d never let a guy like me, rough and blunt and scarred all to hell, touch her if I didn’t have a billion dollars in my bank account.

Definitely a potential cure for the burn of thwarted attraction and annoyance my little chauffeur had ignited inside me.

I bought her a drink and she put her hand on my chest, leaning in to whisper something filthy in my ear. And that was when I finally spotted him.

He was standing right down the other end, one elbow propped casually on the bar, his head bent to talk to a brunette in a tiny black dress.

A deep satisfaction pulsed through me.

Sebastian Fucking Dumont.

My half-brother and once my closest friend. We’d ruled the exclusive school my mother had forced my father to shell out for—the only money he’d ever given her for me—and we’d had plans. So many fucking plans.

Until he’d stolen those plans for himself.

They say you’re supposed to forgive and forget, but I wasn’t a forgiving kind of man. I never forgot a betrayal, either—and I hadn’t forgotten his.

His blue eyes—so like mine—widened as they saw me and I gave him a savage smile.

Yeah, you rich fuck. Here I am, despite what you did to me. Here, in your territory.

Shock gave way to anger, and he frowned. As I expected. He’d be wondering what I was doing here and why the club had let riff-raff like me into its elite halls. And then, no doubt, he’d be calling someone to have me thrown out for daring to gatecrash.

The bastard was in for a couple of big surprises. Especially when he eventually found out the islands he’d been angling for were already sold. To me.

I smiled wider and gave him a jaunty one-finger salute. I’m a member of your precious club, motherfucker, and what are you going to do about it?

He stiffened, turning away to say something to the brunette before pushing his way through the crowd towards me.

But I was done.

I’d showed my face. I’d proved my point.

Time to find Delaney and buy those fucking islands.

CHAPTER THREE

Ellie

I CHECKED THE rear-view mirror again to make sure the entrance to the fancy hotel Mr Evans had disappeared into was still clear and, again, it was.

I didn’t expect him to come back out so soon—not that I’d been given details of the event I’d dropped him off at—but I wanted to be ready when he did. Anything to make up for my little mistake earlier, when I’d attempted to defuse his mood by cheering him up.

I’d thought he looked apprehensive when he’d stared at the crowd outside the doors, so I’d given him a pat and a rousing ‘don’t let the bastards grind you down’ talk the way I did with Jason, my oldest brother, when he was racing and feeling nervous.

Not a great plan in hindsight, because Mr Evans was not my brother, nor had he been feeling nervous, apparently, given his grumpy response.

Which meant that now I needed to be on my best behaviour, especially if I was going to be broaching the topic of Australis with him.

I’d hoped I would have made a good enough impression by this point that I could ask him about it tonight, but maybe that was too soon, especially given his temper.

Now that I’d been given a taste of his fearsome reputation, it seemed as if he’d come by it honestly, and the curious part of me wanted to know why. Was he genuinely a grumpy bastard all the time or did he just not like people? Did it have something to do with his scars? Or was there something else going on?

My research hadn’t given me any clues since he never talked about his private life. There were all kinds of rumours about how he’d made his initial start-up money, but the general consensus was that he’d earned it in illegal street fights, which naturally the media ate up with a big spoon.

They had quite a fascination with him and now I’d met him, I could see why.

He was quite...magnetic.

I frowned out of the front windscreen, reflecting again on when and how I needed to approach the question of his Australis investment.

It was important I get this right, since there wouldn’t be another opportunity to get close to him and if I didn’t succeed, the company was more than likely going to tank.

If only Mark hadn’t been drunk at the Christmas party and thought I was fair game. And if only I hadn’t got angry when he’d grabbed me and kneed him in the balls.

But I had. I’d committed the cardinal sin of turning something minor into a big deal, and Mark had complained to Dad about ‘assault’ and talked about lawsuits. Dad had had no choice but to pay him off, thus losing the best designer we’d ever had, not to mention a large portion of the investment capital we’d been given by Evans Investment.

I’d then compounded my error by showing Dad a potential answer to our financial worries—the design for an electric supercar that I’d been working on for the past five years or so.

But he wasn’t interested. He’d already been disapproving of how I’d handled Mark and he liked my electric car suggestion even less. He was an internal combustion engine man all the way and ‘fancy, newfangled’ ideas had no place at Australis.

There’d been no point making a fuss so I’d quietly shelved the supercar project, turning to other ideas to fix our money problems instead.

Some days I wondered if he would have liked me more if I hadn’t been born the spitting image of my pretty, womanly, passionate mother. If I’d been born a boy instead.

Mum had died of cancer when I was seven and Dad had been destroyed by her loss. He hadn’t even been able to look at me in the days following her funeral, so I’d put away my pretty dresses and swallowed my grief, and tried to act like my brothers instead.

But I couldn’t change the basic shape of my face. And of course, I had her eyes...

Dad had never treated me the same way since.

An old grief caught in my throat, but I forced the emotion down, distracting myself by glancing at the hotel entrance again.

This time I saw the doorman move to pull open the door and finally Mr Evans came striding out, his arm wrapped around a pretty blonde woman in a skintight red dress.

I only just suppressed a groan.

Bloody hell. There went any opportunity for a quiet word about Australis. If he was going to be entertaining women, I’d probably have to wait until tomorrow.

Annoyed and trying to ignore it, I got out of the car and hurried around the side to open the door, pasting on my usual smile.

The woman was tall and lovely, her dress beautiful, her make-up perfect. Just the kind of woman men liked. At least, she was definitely a woman my brothers would have liked.

She didn’t look at me as she got in and I was expecting Mr Evans to ignore me the way she had, but he didn’t. As I stood there holding the door, he glanced at me and those electric-blue eyes pinned me to the spot.

An intense, hot satisfaction glowed there and it was so at odds with the cold lightning that had been in them before that I could only stare, my breath catching.

But it was only a moment. The next second, he’d got into the car leaving me standing there staring into space, my heart beating unreasonably fast.

God, what was wrong with me? He was just a man. A rich man, yes, and powerful, but a man all the same. And I knew all about men. They were either stoic like my dad and my middle brother, Dev. Or they were cheeky and fun like my two older brothers, Jase and Justin. Or quiet like George, my youngest brother.

Or pretending to be nice and ending up a sleaze like Mark.

But Mr Evans didn’t fit into any of those categories. There was something burning inside him that none of the men I knew had, something that sparked and crackled like an arc welder melting metal.

I had no idea why that fascinated me or why I’d ended up standing there staring into space because he’d glanced at me...

It’s not static, remember?

But the thought was an uncomfortable one, so I pushed it away before it could settle, shutting the door and going around to the driver’s side, getting back behind the wheel.

I reached up to adjust the rear-view mirror, catching a glimpse of the pair of them as I did so.

Mr Evans’s dark head was bent and he was whispering in the woman’s ear. She was sitting very close, half turned towards him, her hand spread on the broad expanse of his chest, and she gave a soft giggle.

Ugh. Were they going to carry on like that the whole way? Not that it was any of my business what they did and not that I was at all bothered by it. I’d seen worse over the years I’d been driving.

Ignoring my strangely hot cheeks, I jerked my gaze away from the mirror and stared out of the front windscreen instead.

‘Back to your hotel, Mr Evans?’ I tried to sound cheerful and professional and completely relaxed about what was happening behind me.

‘Yes,’ Mr Evans said.

His voice had gone even deeper and grittier, a thread of heat curling through it, and, despite myself, I glanced into the mirror again, drawn inexplicably by the sound.

He was watching me, a hot blue flame glowing in the depths of his eyes.

My mouth dried and my heart kicked in my chest, which was totally ridiculous, because him looking at me shouldn’t affect me like that. Not after Mark and the way he used to stare at me from behind his computer in the workshop. Making me feel as if I’d had a bath in a tub full of grease.

So there shouldn’t have been any reason why I felt restless and hot. Why the expression in Mr Evans’s eyes connected to something hungry inside me. Something he saw that I hadn’t realised was there.

Something I didn’t understand.

I looked away before I could stop myself and then felt instantly annoyed. As if I’d retreated somehow, which was a mistake when dealing with a guy like him.

Get it together, Little. You shouldn’t be playing games anyway.

I definitely shouldn’t, not that I was a game player anyway. But there was a reason I’d managed to manoeuvre my way into driving for him and it wasn’t because he’d turned out to be hot shit on a stick.

I had a mission and I had to keep that in mind.

Determined not to look again, I started the limo and pulled away from the kerb, concentrating squarely on driving and not on the man behind me.

Except I found the low rumble of his voice distracting. There was a velvety texture to it, a kind of huskiness that made me feel shivery.

The engines of the Pythons sounded like that. A deep purr, like a giant cat. I loved the sound of those engines, loved those cars, sleek and dangerous and powerful.

Taking one of them for a spin around the track was a huge rush, an adrenaline hit I’d craved right from the first moment I’d sat behind the wheel and the engine had turned over, throbbing like a giant heartbeat.

The rush of speed had been the perfect way to deal with all the messy teenage emotions I hadn’t known how to handle, the emotions that Dad hadn’t known how to handle either, and so I’d taken to the track to drive whenever I was feeling upset or needing an emotional release.

Speed was better than crying and there was nothing like hitting the gas hard and throwing a powerful car around a few corners.

Ever since then, the revving purr of a V8 engine had made me feel good. Made me feel reckless and powerful. And listening to Mr Evans talk, his voice thrumming through me like one of those engines, a deep vibrating rumble that I could feel in my chest and lower, in my sex, made me feel that same way.

What would it be like to drive him?

What a stupid thought. He wasn’t a car. He was a man and probably wouldn’t appreciate being driven anywhere.

Yet try as I might to concentrate on the road ahead of me, the thought wouldn’t go away.

He was muscular and powerful, just like one of the Pythons. Would he take me on a wild ride if I put my hand on him? He probably wouldn’t be as easy to drive, but he’d certainly be as hot. And he’d be hard, too, and the rumble of his engine...

There was a throb between my legs, a hot, raw feeling that I wasn’t sure how to handle. I’d never felt this before, not for anyone, not even for my one lone high-school boyfriend.

Still think it’s static?

Okay, no. It wasn’t static. It was attraction. But that didn’t make things any easier, because I still didn’t know what to do about it.

Sex is what people usually do about it.

I glared out of the front windscreen as I manoeuvred the giant car through the narrow Parisian streets.

Sex was not happening. I’d had it a couple of times with that one single boyfriend and it had been nice but forgettable. Certainly not worth trying it with Mr Evans, even if he had been interested, which I was sure he wasn’t. Not given the woman he was with now.

Anyway, he was clearly a man who was used to being in charge and, after Mark and his handsy ways, I wasn’t keen on letting any guy take charge of me.

Apart from anything else, I was supposed to be asking him for more time on the Australis investment, not...anything else.

The lights were red at the intersection ahead of me so I stopped, irritatingly conscious of Mr Evans’s voice rumbling again, followed by more feminine laughter and then a soft gasp.

Don’t look. Don’t look.

I wasn’t going to look. I wasn’t curious. I didn’t need to see what was happening behind me.

Of course I looked.

And the way the rear-view mirror was positioned gave me the perfect view of one of his large hands cupping her breast over the fabric of her dress, his thumb moving lazily back and forth over her nipple.

I blinked, a weird flashback hitting me. Of how Mark had grabbed me from behind, squeezing me and pinching me, and how it had hurt. He’d been rough and I’d been taken by surprise, unable to jerk away until it was too late.

Yet the woman didn’t seem to find what Mr Evans was doing to her unpleasant. She was arching into his hand as if wanting more. And...it seemed as if he was holding her carefully, his thumb moving gently, lightly...

Unexpectedly, my own nipples hardened, pressing against the cotton of my bra, and I had to jerk my gaze away, my face flaming.

Bloody hell, what was I thinking? Staring at my clients wasn’t at all professional. And as for getting turned on by it...

No. Just no.

The light changed colour and I put my foot on the accelerator, determined to ignore what I’d just seen.

But Mr Evans made another of those deep, purring sounds and it shivered through me, making my mouth go dry and the throb in my sex even more intense.

Was it the blonde making him sound like that? And why? What was she doing?

Madness. I shouldn’t even want to look again, let alone be battling the sudden and intense desire to do just that.

Another set of lights was up ahead, turning red as soon as I approached.

I wasn’t going to look. I wasn’t.

But I couldn’t help myself. I did.

His hand had moved to her butt, curving around it possessively, while hers had shifted from his chest and down between his powerful thighs, her fingers spread as she cupped him through his jeans, her red nails standing out against the blue denim.

I swallowed, trying vainly to get some moisture into my bone-dry mouth.

Her fingers were lazily stroking up and down, tracing the outline of something very long and very thick, and his thighs were spread wide, giving her room, as if he was enjoying very much what she was doing to him.

A hungry feeling pulsed inside me, my palms sweaty as I gripped the steering wheel.

This time I couldn’t drag my gaze away. I was glued to the view in the mirror, mesmerised and not even sure why.

There was something hypnotic about the way her fingers moved on him, about the shape of his cock beneath the denim, that caught my attention, twisting my curiosity tight and refusing to let go.

What did he feel like? Was he hot? Was he as hard as he looked? Would he make that soft bass rumble for me if I touched him?

Need throbbed between my thighs, my hands itching to touch.

I loved driving, and chauffeuring satisfied that need in me, but I also loved design. There was nothing that gave me as much pleasure as the clean lines and curves of a beautifully designed car, form and function perfectly melded.

I wanted to see Mr Evans’s form. I wanted to see the lines and curves of him, and whether he’d be as beautifully designed for power and strength as he seemed to be. I already knew his torso was a work of art, but what about the rest of him?

My heartbeat accelerated like one of the Pythons, revving hard.

The mirror didn’t show his face and suddenly I wanted to see it. Wanted to know what his scarred features looked like when he was turned on and whether those intense blue eyes were still full of heat and not just lightning.

With a hand that shook only slightly, I reached up to adjust the mirror so I could see. Then froze as his gaze clashed with mine.

Electricity sizzled through me and this time there was no static to blame.

It was all him.

‘The light is green, Miss Little,’ he said in his deep, rough voice.

And it took me at least five seconds to process what he was saying. And then I did.

Oh, crap.

My face burned and I wrenched my gaze away, pressing my foot down hard on the accelerator. Too hard. Much to my shame the car bunny-hopped a couple of times before I managed to bring it under control again. I stuttered an apology, keeping my attention resolutely forward this time.

He didn’t answer, but I was just about combusting with embarrassment, angry with myself for staring when I knew I shouldn’t, and also at my own reaction. At the pulsing, insistent ache between my thighs.

I didn’t understand it. Australis’s continued existence was on the line and here I was, letting some stupid sex stuff distract me. And now he’d caught me watching him...

He’ll probably fire you.

Shit. The thought made my palms even more sweaty.

I tried to dismiss it, plaster my smile in place, get back into a more professional space, but I was still blushing furiously by the time I pulled the car up outside Mr Evans’s hotel.

‘Stay there, Miss Little,’ he growled as I reached to undo my seat belt.

Oh, great.

He said something to the woman that I didn’t catch, but I didn’t dare look this time to see what was going on.

Instead I waited, staring out of the widow, listening to the rear door open and then close with a thunk.

There was a long silence.

Eventually, I had to glance in the mirror, because the suspense was killing me.

The blonde had gone, but Mr Evans hadn’t.

He was still sitting in the back seat.

And he was staring straight at me.

CHAPTER FOUR

Ash

I HAD NO idea what Miss Ellie Little was playing at, but one thing I did know: she needed to stop.

Because I was finding that having my fresh-faced chauffeur steal little glances in the rear-view mirror, watching me while the blonde stroked my cock through my jeans, was surprisingly erotic. And that if she kept on doing it, she was going to find herself spread out on the back seat of the limo, naked, with me on top of her.

Which obviously could not happen.

I should be thinking about screwing my beautiful blonde friend instead, because she was sexy and experienced and definitely not working for me. Unlike Miss Little.

Which meant I should not be thinking about Miss Little’s sneaky glances in the mirror, watching us from her place in the driver’s seat, her gaze darkening as she realised what was happening. Colour flooding her clear skin, making her freckles stand out, and her lush red mouth open.

Or thinking about how watching the blonde and me was turning her on.

Or about the realisation that it wasn’t so much what the blonde was doing to me that was making me hard as it was Ellie’s reaction.

It was obvious she didn’t want to look and yet hadn’t been able to help herself, and I liked that very much.

Too much.

I’d got under her insufferably chirpy skin, flustered her; made her blush. And I found that incredibly satisfying, especially after she’d steadfastly refused to show any reaction to me or my temper.

Except there’s nothing you can do about it.

Irritation gnawed at me. Even though she was only driving for me temporarily, she was still an employee and that was a line I never crossed.

And it irritated me still further that the thought she was forbidden only made me harder, perverse bastard that I was.

The lights from outside illuminated Ellie’s face in the mirror and the deep blush still burning in her cheeks. I could even see the scattering of freckles across her nose. She was clearly embarrassed yet she didn’t look away. ‘Uh, so I guess I’m fired now, right?’ she said, that cheerful smile trying to make an appearance again, though it wasn’t as confident as it had been before. ‘Perving at the clients isn’t exactly a good look, I know, but—’

‘Want to tell me why you were staring at my dick?’ I demanded, not letting her finish, impatient with the attraction that burned in my blood and with the hard-on in my jeans that refused to subside no matter how unwanted it was.

Her smile faltered, green sparks of irritation flickering to life in her hazel eyes, and that didn’t help. Because I did not need further signs that I was getting to her. Not given the state I was in.

‘To be fair, I could hardly not stare at your dick,’ she pointed out. ‘Especially when it was in my face every time I had to check my rear-view mirror.’ She tried again with the smile, though it was even less convincing this time. ‘And hey, if you really didn’t want me to see, you should have put the partition up.’

She might have been trying to make a joke of it, but I heard the note of challenge in her husky voice and it hit me like a shot of adrenaline, making my cock even harder than it was already.

Fuck, she had guts confronting me like that.

Respect stirred inside me even as my anger deepened, mostly at myself for not simply getting out of the car and going after the blonde, whom I could at least have in my bed without all these moral quandaries.

And it didn’t help that she was right. I should have put the partition up. But I hadn’t. Because I liked her watching.

My jaw ached, tension crawling through my shoulders.

I’d come out of the club so pleased with myself, because my meeting with Delaney had gone extremely well. My price for the islands was significantly more than what Dumont had offered him and he’d been into the idea. Though not without a few unexpected caveats.

The islands had been in his family for years and he had a certain sentimental attachment to them, going on to tell me that he’d hoped to sell them to someone who was family-minded, too.

I wasn’t family-minded in the slightest, but to get those islands away from Dumont, I could pretend, so I’d muttered some nonsense about a girlfriend and how we were looking to get serious. Delaney had been surprised, but very positive, and told me he’d be in touch in a couple of days, likely with good news.

It had all been very satisfying. As had been the prospect of a couple of hours’ pleasure with the blonde.

But not now. Now the thought of the blonde left me cold.

Get out of the car, you stupid bastard.

I should get out of the car. Not sit here, hard and annoyed because I wanted a woman I shouldn’t touch.

But I didn’t.

And she was still looking at me in the rear-view mirror, gold glowing through the green in her eyes, like the sun through leaves on a hot summer’s day. Making me realise that I was cold and had been for quite some time.

Except the gold in her eyes now was different from the sunny cheerfulness of before. There was a smoky heat to it that was definitely not forced.

Where there’s heat, there’s fire.

Oh, yes, I could see hints of that fire now, glowing embers in her gaze that wouldn’t take much to ignite...

‘You shouldn’t look at me like that.’ My voice was rough and harsh in the dense silence of the car. ‘Not if you’re not ready to face the consequences.’

‘What consequences?’ Her hands were curled around the steering wheel, making me think of how it might feel to have those delicate fingers wrapped around my cock.

Did she really have no idea? Could she not feel this tension between us? Static, she’d said back at the hotel, a response that had seemed genuine. Which meant she was probably inexperienced.

Yet another reason for me to get the fuck out of the car and not sit here like a bloody fool, staring into her pretty gold eyes.

‘What consequences do you think?’ I snapped, my temper getting a mean edge. ‘I don’t want to fire you, Miss Little. I want to fuck you.’

Shock flickered over her face. ‘What?’

‘Don’t act so surprised. Did you really think those little glances you kept stealing wouldn’t get me as hard as a rock?’

She blinked rapidly. ‘Uh... Are you sure you’re not talking about the blonde chick? I mean, she was the one who had her hand on...um...you.’

Was she serious? Or was she playing with me? Some women liked that kind of game, but I didn’t. I preferred straight-up honesty, especially when it came to sex.

However, there was no doubting the surprise in Ellie’s eyes: she really had thought it was the blonde.

‘No, I’m not talking about the “blonde chick”,’ I said, increasingly annoyed at the hard-on in my jeans and my apparent inability to get the fuck out of the car and away from her. ‘You kept looking at me like you wanted to join in.’

Her cheeks turned an even deeper red. ‘I didn’t want to join in.’

‘No? Then why did you keep staring?’

‘I...’ She looked away. ‘I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have. That wasn’t very professional.’

‘Screw being professional. Just answer the bloody question. And look at me when I’m talking to you.’

She stiffened then abruptly twisted around in her seat so she was facing me, the dusting of freckles across her nose even more fascinating close up without the distancing effect of the mirror.

Gone was the cheerful smile. Green sparks of anger danced in her eyes instead and they were every bit as interesting as her freckles.

‘Look, you’re being a bit bloody rude,’ she said flatly. ‘I’d heard of your reputation, but seriously, mate, you need to tone it down. I’m just doing my job.’

Mate? She’d really just called me ‘mate’?

This pretty little thing in her chauffeur’s cap, who didn’t know what the hell she was getting into, thought she could talk to me like that? Because if so, she really did have no idea what she was doing.

I was a man who liked a fight, who was all about the challenge. And if that challenge was a pretty woman I could get down and dirty and sweaty and raw with? Who I could take apart with pleasure, make her beg, make her want all kinds of filthy things?

Fuck, yes.

Which made me too much for this sweet-faced girl, no matter how badly she called to the warrior in me.

The blonde would have been able to handle me. The blonde knew what she was getting into.

You don’t want the blonde.

And that was the problem. I didn’t.

‘Say that again, and there will be consequences.’ I didn’t disguise the naked threat in my voice. It was explicit.

She didn’t appear to hear it. ‘So you keep saying. What exactly are these consequences, then?’

‘You don’t want to know.’

‘If you’re too bloody afraid to say them out loud then maybe you shouldn’t go throwing vague threats around.’ Gold glittered briefly in her eyes. ‘Mate.’

If that wasn’t a gauntlet thrown down, I didn’t know what was.

Exhilaration pulsed through me and I leaned forward, getting in her face, giving her a taste of what it would be like to tangle with me and enjoying the way her breath caught in response.

‘You’re a pretty thing, Miss Little. And pretty things shouldn’t mess with men like me.’

‘Pretty thing?’ she echoed, incredulous. ‘Dude, seriously?’

‘You’re pretty and you’re a little thing.’ I leaned forward even more, getting closer. ‘And I eat pretty little things for breakfast.’

We were almost nose to nose, but she didn’t move away or back down. She was so close. Close enough for me to see the fine grain of her skin and the sparks of gold and green glowing in her eyes. To feel the heat of her body and smell the warm, musky scent of her.

Her pulse beat fast at the base of her throat and her mouth looked soft and kissable. Fuckable, too.

‘That’s not at all patronising.’ She glared at me. ‘How would you like it if I called you...big dick or something?’

Oh, yes, I was getting to her. I very definitely was.

Desire spiked in my blood, a hot, raw feeling. ‘I’d like it just fine,’ I said roughly, trying to resist the urge to grab her hand, draw it over my fly and hold it down so she could feel how big I actually was.

She went scarlet and I didn’t miss the way her gaze dropped to my groin, where my cock was pressing hard against the denim. ‘Of course you would,’ she muttered. ‘But firstly, I’m not pretty or a thing. And secondly, you’re not...uh...’ She stopped.

‘Big?’ I finished. ‘Are you sure about that?’

Her hazel gaze flicked up, the fire I’d sensed in her beginning to ignite. ‘What? You want me to check?’ She sounded defiant and angry, yet the heat in her eyes told a different story.

I went very still. ‘Be careful what you ask for, Miss Little. Because you might just get it.’

She stared at me, no trace of that sunny smile evident now. ‘You think I can’t handle you?’

‘I know you can’t handle me.’

‘Oh, yeah?’ Heat flared in her eyes. ‘Try me.’

I shouldn’t have goaded her, because I knew what her reaction would be. And I knew myself. I knew what I liked. And the fact that she was responding without fear, without being intimidated by me...

Christ, it was the biggest turn-on I’d had in years.

I wanted to see what she would do, whether she’d rise to the challenge. Whether I could get under her skin as deeply as she was getting under mine.

‘You want to touch me?’ I said it out loud so there could be no mistake. ‘You want to feel me for yourself?’

She didn’t blink this time. Not once. ‘Yes.’

The word was thick and breathed out, making my fucking cock ache, and I had to grit my teeth against the intense rush of desire.

‘Give me your hand, then.’ I tried not to make it an order.

Without hesitation, she held out her hand and I took it. Her palm was small, her fingers delicate, her skin very soft. Electricity bolted the length of my arm, a direct line straight to my dick.

And she must have felt it, too, because her breath caught, her eyes widening. But she didn’t pull away. If anything, her chin lifted higher.

So I slowly drew her hand to where I wanted it, over the front of my jeans, holding her gaze all the while. And she never once looked away, the fire in her eyes burning brighter, hotter.

I held her palm down, letting her feel how hard I was. Letting the heat of her hand seep through the fabric and into me.

Her pretty mouth became a perfect O of surprise as her fingers closed over my aching hard-on. Then, finally, she looked down. ‘Oh...uh...wow.’

I wasn’t sixteen any more. I didn’t need a woman to look in awe at my cock. So why I felt such pleasure at her reaction I had no idea and, like so many of my interactions with this fascinating woman, it irritated the hell out of me, even as it turned me on.

‘I did tell you,’ I bit out, my voice much rougher than it should have been.

The flush in her cheeks showed no sign of abating. ‘Sorry, that sounded dumb. But seriously...’ Her gaze rose to mine, searching. ‘Does that...uh...feel good? When I touch you, I mean?’

I should have stopped her. I should have taken her hand off me and got out of the car. Because I was crossing a line here and I knew it.

But I didn’t do either of those things.

‘Yes.’ I held her fascinated gaze. ‘It feels fucking good.’

Her mouth curved, as if she was pleased with the news. Then she bit her lower lip, her fingers moving hesitantly over me, tracing the line of my dick through the denim, watching my face intently as she did so.

I’d never been looked at like that before, not even when I’d been street fighting and an opponent was sizing me up. Sex for me was usually about making my partner come and come hard, that was how I got off. They generally didn’t pay me the same attention, mainly because I refused to let them.

So I didn’t know why I was letting her now. But, Christ, it was good. Too good. My muscles went tight, my jaw aching.

‘Wow,’ she murmured for the second time. ‘You’re really hot. Like an engine.’

An engine? What the hell?

But then her fingers spread out and she gave me an experimental squeeze, and all thoughts vanished from my head as a wave of pleasure rolled over me.

‘Fuck,’ I muttered hoarsely, my hands closing into fists to stop myself from reaching for her.

A crease deepened between her silky dark brows. ‘Sorry. Was that too hard?’

‘No.’ I could barely get the word out. ‘But you’re done.’

My control was good but it wasn’t limitless.

‘Oh?’ She frowned. ‘But I haven’t finished checking.’

I glowered, my prick throbbing, lust firing in my blood, my temper in no way helped by the firmness of her grip. ‘Yes, you have. I suggest you take your hand off me now, Miss Little. I’m not made of fucking stone.’

There was an intensity in her stare now, as if she was weighing something up in her head, and she didn’t take her hand away, the heat of her palm destroying me second by tantalising second. ‘Are you sure? I mean... I could do something about it, if you like.’

Oh, Christ.

There were so many fucking reasons not to. She was my employee and I didn’t want to cross that line as my bastard father had with my mother. She was also inexperienced and in no way ready to handle what I wanted from her.

Then again, it had been a long time since I’d been with a woman I’d actually wanted because of who she was and not because of what she represented. A long time since I’d been with a woman who looked at me the way Ellie Little was looking at me, as if she saw the dirty street fighter that still lurked inside me and wasn’t afraid.

So, why not? It would be the perfect ending to a perfect night.

‘Yes,’ I said, staring at her, noting how the dusky red in her skin made those little freckles stand out. How the pulse at the base of her throat was fast and getting faster. The way her white shirt pulled across the full curves of her breasts as she breathed. ‘I would very much like you to do something about it.’

CHAPTER FIVE

Ellie

I COULDN’T BREATHE. I literally couldn’t. Not while Mr Evans stared at me as if he wanted to eat me alive.

And I wanted him to.

Or rather, I wanted to climb into the back seat, crawl into his lap and put my hands on him. Discover the contours of his body, get his engine revving hard, experience the thrill of being at the wheel, handling all that raw power. Speeding down the track...

I had no idea how I’d gone from being embarrassed and expecting to be fired to having my hand on his cock, but it was probably to do with the way he’d goaded me.

I’d tried not to make a fuss about how he’d busted me staring at him in the mirror, tried to keep it jokey and light instead, but he hadn’t let me. He’d been all pissy and rude, and when I’d confronted him, he’d stared at me with those electric-blue eyes and told me bluntly that he wanted to fuck me.

I’d been as much shocked as I had been turned on.

Then I’d got angry at being turned on and things had somehow escalated from there until here I was with my hand on his cock, wanting to fuck him as badly as he apparently wanted to fuck me.

Thoughts of my father and Australis had vanished. The doubts I’d had about touching him, about the way he was looking at me, about memories of Mark had dissipated like smoke.

Because this was nothing like what had happened with Mark.

Mr Evans hadn’t made a grab for me, even though I’d put my hand on him. Even though I’d goaded him as much as he’d goaded me.

No, he’d just sat there and let me touch him, the hard set of his jaw and the fire in his eyes telling me exactly what my hand was doing to him.

It was intoxicating. He was a supercar in human form. Powerful, sleek, dangerous and difficult to manage. But, oh, how I wanted to manage him.

And why not? I knew how to drive a car. Driving a man wasn’t that different.

Are you sure that’s a good idea? This isn’t Davey and you’re not at school any more.

No, I was a grown woman and Mr Evans was definitely nothing like my high-school boyfriend.

He was more than that, he was a challenge I simply couldn’t resist, and wasn’t going to. Because who knew when I’d meet a man like this again?

I might not ever. In which case this would be my only chance to take him out for a spin...

Mr Evans was sitting sprawled out in the back seat, the whole car full of an intense, thrumming energy, like an engine at full rev.

And he was looking at me as if daring me to take him on.

God, he was mesmerising. Even sitting there apparently relaxed he looked dark and arrogant and powerful.

He wasn’t a beautiful man—he was too rugged, too rough and scarred, for beauty. Yet he was phenomenally attractive all the same. Blue eyes and a hard jaw, powerful chest and lean hips. A long, thick ridge behind the denim of his fly...

A thought suddenly occurred to me. ‘What about your blonde?’

‘What about her?’

‘She’s waiting for you.’

His glower intensified, but without a word he reached into his pocket and drew out his phone, looking down at the screen to type in a quick message. Then he threw the phone carelessly down on the seat next to him. ‘She’s not waiting any more. The hotel staff will make sure she’s looked after.’ The ferocity in his face grew impossibly fiercer. ‘Happy?’

I didn’t respond. Instead, with no grace at all, I launched myself out of the driver’s seat and into the back.

He reached for me before I’d completed the movement, catching me by my hips and pulling me into his lap so I sat facing him, my thighs spread on either side of his lean waist.

Right where I wanted to be.

For a moment all I could do was sit, my heartbeat thundering in my head as the reality of the situation began to form around me, a cage of heat, of sensation. Of need.

Sitting on him was exactly like sitting directly on top of a V8 engine.

Hard. Hot. And so powerful.

Excitement clogged my throat and I put my hands out to press against the wall of his chest and, sure enough, that was hard and hot, too, power thrumming through him.

God, he felt amazing.

‘Oh.’ I breathed out slowly, my palms pressing harder, lost for words. ‘Oh...wow... You’re...like...wow...’

His gaze burned up into mine, the rough lines of his face tight and fierce. His hands tightened and he shifted, flexing his hips, the ridge of his dick pressing against me in the most incredible way, sending a bolt of pleasure right through me and making me gasp aloud.

But Mr Evans wasn’t simply a machine waiting for me to turn the key. He was already running.

He lifted a hand, his fingers curling around my black tie, tugging on it at the same time as he leaned forward, catching my mouth with his.

Heat poured through me in an overwhelming wave.

I’d never had a kiss like it. Oh, I’d kissed my high-school boyfriend quite a bit, but comparing him to Mr Evans was like comparing a Mini Cooper to a Lamborghini. They were both men and both had mouths but, as far as similarities went, that was it.

Mr Evans took my mouth as if he owned it, his tongue pushing inside, exploring, demanding a response. He tasted rich and dark, like my favourite chocolate, with a sharp, spicy edge that took my hunger and amplified it somehow.

I leaned into him, my fingers spreading out on his chest, kissing him back with a desperation I couldn’t hide, unable to stop the moan that ripped from my throat.

His grip tightened on my tie in response, holding me still. Then he took the cap off my head and threw it on the seat next to him, before pulling my hair free of my ponytail and letting it spill over his free hand.

He made a soft, rumbling sound of approval before he took my mouth again in another hard kiss, nipping at my bottom lip, sending little electric shocks of pain jolting through me.

I groaned, the kiss intensifying the ache between my thighs.

Unable to keep still, I curled my fingers into the cotton of his T-shirt, tugging at it, desperate to touch him as I kissed him back, to feel his skin and the hard muscle beneath under my hands.

He didn’t move, ravaging my mouth, his grip keeping me right where I was. But I was in the driver’s seat and I wanted to drive.

Acting on an instinct I hadn’t known I’d possessed, I ground myself down on his lap, twisting so the hard ridge of his cock was pushing against my throbbing clit, sending hard, sharp pulses of pleasure spiralling through my veins.

A growling sound escaped him, the vibration of it echoing through my entire body, thrilling me, making me so aware of him and his power, his strength.

I’d never felt so hungry for something in my entire life. Hadn’t known I could even feel this hungry, as if it had been inside me all this time just waiting for the right man to release it.

My hands shook as I clawed at his T-shirt, dragging it up, and then the hot, oiled silk of his chest was bare and I was touching him, prickles of hair a delightful abrasion against my skin, the rock-hard feel of his muscles a glory.

Oh, yes, he was just like one of those cars, smooth and sleek, the bass rumble of his engine a delicious thrum as I touched him.

I could handle this. Oh, I could more than handle this.

I opened my mouth, kissing him harder, shifting my hips impatiently, being demanding.

He bit me, a firm nip on my bottom lip that made me gasp, then let go of my tie and took his hand from my hair...before jerking my shirt open with one hard, sharp movement.

I trembled, the air cool on my heated skin, and then he was pulling aside the cups of my bra, his big, warm hands cupping my breasts, long fingers pinching my nipples.

I shuddered as sparks of pleasure and delicious points of pain electrified every nerve ending I had. It felt so good, I could hardly believe it. I had the distant thought that after Mark, having someone touching me should have been uncomfortable, but it wasn’t. This made the throb between my legs more intense, the pleasure more acute. No wonder the blonde had been leaning into him.

‘Oh, my God,’ I whispered in amazement, arching into his hands as he flicked his thumbs over my achingly hard nipples.

‘Yes, you like that, don’t you?’ His voice was as deep and dark as it could possibly get. ‘Now who’s boss, pretty thing?’

‘Me,’ I replied, gasping as he pinched me again. ‘I’m the one driving.’

‘Are you, now?’ His thumbs circled around each nipple, gentle now, teasing me mercilessly. ‘Then by all means, take the wheel.’

So I did, spreading my hands out on his chest and pushing him firmly against the back of the seat. Then I reached down to the button on his jeans, pulling at it, trying to get it open.

He was so hot and he smelled musky, with the bite of some dark spice that had me nuzzling down the side of his neck, biting it so I could taste his skin, kissing his collarbones and nipping at him.

He cursed, his powerful body tightening, and I clamped my thighs around his waist to let him know that I had no intention of moving and that I didn’t want him to, either.

But his hands were moving too, finding the button on my trousers and deftly flicking it open as I fumbled with his jeans, then he was pushing beneath the cotton of my knickers, his fingers sliding against my slick flesh.

Stars burst behind my eyes as a whip of pure pleasure licked across me, tearing another gasp from my throat. His other hand settled on the small of my back, urging me forward and against his stroking fingers.

‘Oh...’ I gasped. ‘I... God...’

‘Still driving, hmmm?’ he purred in my ear, all arrogant male satisfaction.

I tried to pull myself together, tugging at his jeans, desperate to get them open and my hands on him so I could stay in charge, but he’d already found my clit and, for all his brute strength, his touch was so gentle, so light that, much to my horror, I felt the prick of tears.

No. How was this happening? I hadn’t cried for years, not since my mother’s funeral, so why was I crying now? Why was having someone else touch me so much more intense than when I touched myself? Because it was. And I had no idea why.

I shuddered helplessly, all thoughts about fighting him for control fading away, crushed by the weight of pleasure building inside me.

‘Why don’t you let me drive for a change?’ His voice was a low, dark rumble, his finger stroking gently, making me rock against him, desperate for more.

‘Yes,’ I panted, barely aware of what I was saying, turning my face into his neck as pleasure gathered tight as a fist inside me. ‘Yes, okay...please.’

There was something to this, to simply letting him do what he wanted. Like giving myself up to the machine carrying me, to the speed of it. Trusting that it wouldn’t crash somehow.

Strange to give that trust to a man I didn’t know.

But I did it all the same, shifting my hips against his hand as his finger slipped and slid around my clit, his other hand pressing hard against the small of my back. ‘Oh, Mr Evans...’

‘That’s sexy, pretty thing. But I think you can call me Ash now.’

I shuddered as his finger eased inside me, testing me. ‘A-Ash...’

‘Better,’ he growled. ‘I like the way you say my name when my fingers are in your pussy.’ And he pushed another in, stretching me.

I moaned, pleasure breaking over me in waves as his fingers slid in deep. Then out. Then in.

My fingers curled on his chest, digging into the heavy muscle of his pecs as I tried to move against him, impatient now and increasingly desperate. ‘More,’ I whispered. ‘Faster.’

‘Patience.’ His fingers slowed. ‘Remember who’s driving.’

But I’d never been one for patience.

My hands were shaking as I made one last frustrated attempt to get his jeans open but this time I managed it. And then I was pushing beneath the denim and into his boxers, finding the huge, hard length of his cock.

He hissed as I wrapped my fingers around him and for a second I forgot what he was doing to me, the velvety feel of his skin so unexpected. But the heat was there—oh, God, so much of it.

I tightened my fingers, relishing the way he jerked in my grip.

But that was where I miscalculated.

One minute he was sitting there like a car before a race, engine rumbling, my foot on the gas and my hands on the wheel. The next he surged beneath me as if the flag had dropped.

With effortless strength, he pushed me back, holding me as he somehow stripped my trousers off, taking my underwear with them. I thought he was going to put me on my back and I opened my mouth to protest, wanting to stay in his lap, but before I could say a word he settled me back where I was, my thighs spread over him, the denim of his jeans rubbing against my tender skin.

Panting, I stared at him, for a second unable to move.

His blue eyes met mine with so much ferocity I couldn’t breathe, and he didn’t look away as he reached behind him, shifting to get something out of his pocket. His wallet. Then he took a small foil packet out of it. A condom.

‘Still with me?’ he demanded as he ripped open the packet, his gaze searching.

‘Yes.’ My voice was little more than a croak. ‘Can I...?’ I reached for the condom, wanting to put it on him, touch him, feel the rock-hard length of him for myself.

‘Hell, no.’ He ignored my hands. ‘Not this time.’

And I didn’t have time to be disappointed, because he’d rolled down the condom and lifted me before I could protest, setting me back down, something long and hard and thick easing into me.

I gasped as he put his hands on my hips, pushing me down at the same time as he thrust up, impaling me.

The pleasure was almost agonising and I cried out, overwhelmed by an intense feeling of fullness, as if he were taking up all the air in my body and there were no room for me.

I shuddered, the unexpected sensation making me feel strangely panicky, my eyes prickling again.

But he must have sensed my distress, because his hands were stroking down my back, soothing me. ‘Easy,’ he murmured. ‘Take it slow.’

His blue gaze was a lifeline I could hold on to and I did, staring back, my hands on his shoulders, shivering as he began to move, surging up into me, his fingers shifting to my hips and moving me with him, showing me the way to go.

The panicky feeling receded, leaving me with the same breathless hunger I’d felt before and a pleasure that pushed at my boundaries, making me gasp and shake.

He kept moving, thrusting up into me, hard and deep, pulling away from me, like those big cars. Taking control.

And I let myself go, let myself feel the speed, moving with him faster and faster, the power of his hot, hard body pushing into mine, taking me with him, a race to the finish.

I could have raced for ever.

But then he took my hand and brought it down between us, putting my fingers against my own wet flesh and holding them down as he thrust, deeper, harder.

Then there was lightning behind my eyes, an explosion of heat inside me, petrol igniting and pleasure cascading through my body. So much pleasure...

I opened my mouth to scream but he covered it with his own, drinking down my release as he moved, faster and out of control, chasing his own ending.

Afterwards there was nothing but silence, the car full of the desperate sounds of our breathing. I couldn’t move, my body heavy and sated, happy to rest against his strength and immense heat.

Then the aftershocks of the orgasm began to recede and I began to feel cold and shaky. And somehow he must’ve sensed it, because he slid his hands from my hips and up my back, then down again, stroking me slowly, lightly, like a cat.

My family wasn’t physical. A back slap here, a handshake there, and that was it. We didn’t hug. Dad wasn’t much for displays of affection. And since my mother had died, no one had ever touched me like this, gently, as if I needed soothing or comfort.

Again, I was horrified by the prickling of yet more tears, my throat getting tight and my chest sore as another weird emotional tide rushed in where the pleasure had been not moments before.

I didn’t understand it. I’d never cried the few times I’d had sex. It had been nice, sure, but afterwards I’d only felt a bit awkward. Certainly not...whatever this was.

Maybe it was a girl thing. Either way, I did not want it, especially not in front of Mr Evans.

Moving quickly, I pushed myself away, wriggling out of his grip before he could stop me.

‘Hey,’ he said. ‘Where are you going?’

I kept my face turned away as I frantically grabbed my trousers and underwear, inelegantly shifting around on the back seat as I pulled them back on again. ‘Uh...gotta get back. You know, things to do.’

Thank God I sounded okay and not all husky and thick.

There was a moment’s silence as I hunted around for my cap, blinking furiously against the tears that threatened.

‘Are you okay?’ The edge of command was in his voice, leaving me in no doubt he wanted a response.

Dammit.

Forcing away the thickness in my throat and ignoring the pricking behind my eyes, I made myself turn around and meet his gaze.

It was sharp, the expression on his scarred face fierce as he scanned me like a quality inspector looking for faults.

I forced myself to hold his stare. ‘I’m fine.’

His eyes narrowed. ‘Why don’t you come up to my hotel room? I’ll order dinner and run you a bath.’

The heavy emotion in my chest gathered tighter. ‘Um, no, thank you,’ I said quickly, ignoring the part of me that very much wanted to do just that. ‘Like I said, things to do.’

‘Miss Little—’

I leaned forward and kissed him before he could finish. ‘Thanks for that, it was really fun.’ I turned around, pulling the door handle so I could get out.

It would have been better if I could have walked away, but sadly, I had to deal with the limo, which meant waiting until he was ready to leave.

So I got in the driver’s side, determinedly checking over my clothing to make sure everything was all buttoned up, resolutely not looking at him.

There was a silence in the back of the car. Then eventually, his voice curt, he said, ‘Tomorrow. 9:00 a.m. Don’t be late.’

I risked a glance in the mirror and found his searing blue gaze on mine again. It took effort to give him my usual smile, but I managed it. ‘See you then, Mr Evans,’ I said jauntily.

I waited until he’d got out of the car.

Then I burst into tears.

CHAPTER SIX

Ash

‘WHAT DO YOU MEAN, you’re rethinking the deal?’ I demanded, staring sightlessly at the view of the Eiffel Tower from the hotel suite.

Delaney sighed down the other end of the phone. ‘I told you yesterday that the islands have a certain...sentimental value. And I was very much hoping they would go to someone who has the same family values as I do.’

I scowled at the street outside, trying to get a handle on my already touchy temper. I didn’t much care about other people’s feelings in the normal scheme of things, but alienating Delaney would be stupid. ‘If you’re expecting Dumont to have the values you’re looking for, you’re sadly mistaken.’

‘Actually, Mr Dumont told me that he’s thinking of settling down and is looking for a place to raise a family.’

Like hell he was. My half-brother was a playboy extraordinaire and settling down was the very last thing he’d ever do.

The bastard.

If I wasn’t careful, my little plan to buy his precious islands out from under him was going to go tits up. Not that it was just my petty-yet-satisfying revenge that was at stake. There was also the success of Evans International, my luxury hotel business, to consider.

It was my first foray into the market and I wanted it to work, especially since all profits were to go into the charitable foundation I’d set up especially for the purpose.

A foundation for business scholarships, leadership programmes and mentorships for kids from poor areas who didn’t have access to the kinds of education and contacts that rich kids did.

All the things that I could have had if my own father hadn’t washed his hands of my mother and me, relegating us both to a hand-to-mouth existence on a council estate.

I’d made it my mission to succeed despite him. To be better than him in every way. To help people who needed it and never deny them.

And if I got a bit of private satisfaction out of privileged arseholes paying an arm and a leg to stay on some island so that the money could go to helping the very people those privileged arseholes looked down on, then that was just icing on the cake.

Another one in the eye for the old man.

‘I’ll be settling down too,’ I said. ‘Eventually.’

There was a pause down the other end of the phone. ‘You mentioned a girlfriend...?’

‘Yes.’ My gaze dropped from the famous view to the street below, tracking a long black car moving down it and drawing up outside the hotel. ‘What about her?’

‘You said yesterday that you were serious about her.’

The door of the car opened and someone got out. Small and curvy and female in black trousers and a white shirt, a chauffeur’s cap on her head. She moved to the front of the limo and pulled something out of the back pocket of her trousers: a piece of cloth. Then she leaned down and buffed the shiny black metal with it.

Everything in me drew tight.

Ellie.

My heartbeat began to accelerate, my jeans to feel a little snug, reminding me of why I’d had such a bloody terrible sleep the night before.

I hadn’t been able to stop thinking about her.

How she’d come apart so beautifully in my arms. How she’d screamed as I’d made her come. How soft and silky her skin had felt, and how tight and hot her little pussy had been.

How she’d tried to take control, only to give it up to me in the end without hesitation. Trusting me despite my reputation for being the biggest bastard in England. Even though she’d only just met me.

Even though I’d not done a thing to deserve it.

Which either made her a fool or very calculated and I couldn’t decide which.

What I did know was that I’d wanted to scoop her up in my arms and carry her upstairs to my room. Peel her completely out of her clothes and lay her across the bed, do lots of dirty, dirty things to her just so I could hear her scream my name again.

Except she’d very firmly refused.

I hated being denied anything and I couldn’t pretend I hadn’t been royally pissed off by it. But maybe I wouldn’t have been quite so annoyed if I’d suspected that something had upset her. She’d determinedly avoided my gaze as she’d pulled on her clothing, giving me that incredibly fake smile again.

I should have pushed the issue, but had decided that, since I’d be seeing her the next day, I’d broach the topic then, meanwhile giving her the space she so clearly wanted.

‘Evans?’ Delaney’s voice was sharp. ‘Are you still there?’

‘Yes.’ I followed every one of Ellie’s movements as she inspected the limo, giving the black metal small polishes here and there.

Something had been wrong after we’d had sex. Something had upset her. Had it been me? Something I’d done? I’d been rough, but she’d seemed to enjoy it and I’d given her plenty of opportunities to call a halt to the proceedings if she’d wanted to.

Then again, I was, after all, still me. And plenty of women couldn’t handle my particular brand of rough dirtiness.

‘Well, how about it, then?’

Shit. I’d missed something, hadn’t I? I’d been too busy staring at my chauffeur. ‘Sorry, had a call on another line,’ I lied, still watching Ellie from the window. ‘What did you say?’

‘I said, why don’t you bring your girlfriend to the club event in Dubai in a couple of weeks? I’d like to meet her. Then perhaps we can talk more about the islands.’

Oh, fuck.

I gritted my teeth, annoyed that I’d let myself get so distracted.

‘Of course,’ I said, left with no other option but to agree. ‘That sounds like a great idea. I’ll bring her along.’

‘Excellent. I’ll look forward to it.’

I disconnected the call and shoved the phone into my back pocket, my already foul mood turning even fouler.

Wonderful. What the fuck was I going to do now? I didn’t have a girlfriend, let alone a serious one, and I didn’t want one, either. Wives and kids were for other men. I was too busy and too damn selfish for either, and people had to take me as I came or not at all.

Except Delaney wasn’t taking me as I came. He wanted me to bring my non-existent serious girlfriend to meet him and I’d agreed purely so I could buy his fucking islands.

My plan to sabotage Dumont was getting more and more complicated by the second.

Down in the street outside, Ellie had shoved the cloth into her pocket and was now moving to the driver’s door. She glanced up at the hotel briefly but I couldn’t see her face. She must not have seen me, either, because she looked away, getting into the car once more.

I had a day full of meetings before I flew back to London that evening, and no time to talk to a temporary staff member about the sexual encounter we’d had the day before. Certainly no time to obsess about it the way I was doing now.

Christ, it was ridiculous. I’d double-check she was fine when I went downstairs, but then I’d ignore her the way I should have done the day before.

She’d be gone by tomorrow anyway.

I turned away, grabbed my jacket, laptop and the duffel bag that was the only item of luggage I’d brought with me, then went downstairs to check out.

Ten minutes later I strode out of the hotel and, sure enough, Ellie was already out of the car, hurrying around to open my door for me.

I’d planned to simply walk past her and get in, but for some reason I paused, looking down into her pretty face, searching for I didn’t know what.

‘Good morning, Mr Evans,’ she said chirpily, giving me the same jaunty smile as the day before.

And it irritated me just as much.

Because there was no trace of the husk in her voice that I’d heard when I’d touched her. No sign of the blush in her cheeks and the gold flames in her eyes that I’d seen as I’d slid my hands between her thighs, the wet heat of her pussy against my fingers.

‘Good morning, Miss Little.’ I narrowed my gaze, scanning her for any signs of the upset I was sure I’d sensed the day before. For any sign of acknowledgement of what had happened between us at all. ‘How are you feeling?’

‘Box of birds, thanks.’ Her expression was resolutely cheerful.

I tried not to scowl. ‘You slept well?’

‘Fantastically.’

Damn woman.

It was ridiculous to be annoyed at her cheeriness, though. Because it was good she wasn’t upset. I didn’t want her to be, after all.

But you don’t want her to act as if nothing happened between you, either, right?

Bullshit. What did I care? The sex between us had been good, yet nothing more was going to come of it. I was flying back to London tonight and she would be driving for someone else and that would be that.

I’d have Bill back at the wheel by tomorrow.

‘And you?’ A small crease appeared between her brows as she studied me. ‘Did you sleep well?’

I lost the battle against irritation and scowled. ‘I don’t appreciate small talk, Miss Little. Keep it to a minimum, please.’

Her mouth opened, but I’d already turned away, getting into the car before she could speak.

It was churlish of me to take my temper out on her, but too bad. I was churlish, and petty, too. Selfish to boot. I embraced my faults honestly at least, unlike others who pretended they were better, all the while being just as deeply flawed as I was.

Whatever. She’d be glad she only had one more day of putting up with me.

After she’d shut the door, I got out my laptop and fired it up, hoping to distract myself by dealing with the mountain of emails I got every day.

It turned out to be pretty effective and I’d been working a good five minutes before I realised that the car wasn’t moving.

I looked up from the screen and, sure enough, we were still sitting right outside my hotel, while Ellie stared at me in the rear-view mirror.

‘You do know I have a meeting in twenty minutes I have to get to, don’t you?’ I snapped.

Her small, pointed chin lifted, green gleaming in her eyes. ‘You do know that you don’t have to be an arsehole, don’t you?’

People didn’t call me on my behaviour normally; I was too rich, too powerful. Certainly they never called me on it the way Ellie was doing right now.

I didn’t like it.

Perhaps because you know already that you’re acting like a prick?

My temper pulled on the leash I kept it on, growling and snapping like a beast. Of course I was acting like a prick. I always acted like a prick. Did she really expect anything different from me just because we’d had sex?

She probably expects you to act like a human being and not a petty bastard.

I gritted my teeth, glowering at her. ‘What? You don’t like me snapping at you? Too bad. I snap at everyone. Don’t take it personally.’

Her jaunty smile had vanished and I was bastard enough to be happy about it. ‘Would it kill you to be nice? Even for a second?’

‘Yes,’ I growled.

There was a very disapproving silence.

‘What?’ I grumbled bad-temperedly, not sure why I was conceding this to her. ‘You want an apology?’

The expression on her face was uncompromising; of course she wanted a fucking apology.

I let out a breath. I never apologised, not to anyone, not after spending most of my childhood feeling as if I had to apologise for my very existence. And certainly not after I’d discovered how much power anger and not giving a shit gave me.

But for some reason, I gave a shit now.

‘I’m sorry for snapping at you,’ I said, graceless and brusque. ‘There. Happy?’

She frowned at me. ‘Are you angry because I didn’t come up to your room last night?’

The question was unexpected and abrupt, making something hot flash through me. I definitely wasn’t angry about that. Was I?

‘No,’ I lied, very conscious of the tension gathering in my shoulders and the sullen burn of my temper.

She ignored my denial as if I hadn’t spoken. ‘Look, I’m sorry about yesterday, but I—’

‘Couldn’t get away from me fast enough?’ The words came out before I could stop them and as soon as I’d spoken I wished I hadn’t. Christ, I sounded pathetic. Like a hurt child.

But to my surprise, Ellie glanced away, colour creeping into her cheeks. ‘I thought it would be easier if I didn’t.’

‘Easier for whom? Certainly easier for you.’

The long, dark lashes veiling her gaze were streaked with gold in the sunlight coming through the windscreen. ‘I didn’t think you’d care. It was only sex. No big deal, right?’

Good point. It was only sex and very much not a big deal. And yet, here I was, turning it into one. Great sex, sure, but ultimately sex I could get from someone else.

She wasn’t special. I could get hunger and fire and desperation from any woman, it didn’t have to be her.

But the kind of instinctive trust she gave you?

I shoved that thought away before it could take root.

‘No big deal,’ I echoed flatly.

An expression I couldn’t decipher flickered across her face. ‘Well, I guess you’re ready to go, then?’

‘I am.’

She turned the key and we pulled away from the kerb at last.

And I directed my attention back to my laptop, curiously unsatisfied and not sure why.

CHAPTER SEVEN

Ellie

THE DAY PROVED to be long and not only due to the driving I had to do in the interminable Parisian traffic.

It was also due to the presence of the man sitting in the limo behind me.

I tried very hard to pretend he didn’t exist, but it was difficult when every time I looked in my rear-view mirror, I caught a glimpse of him.

Sometimes he had his attention on his laptop and sometimes he was looking out of the window as he talked on his phone. And then there were also times I found his gaze on mine, a burning look in it, as if he were waiting impatiently for some kind of response from me.

Except I didn’t know what response he wanted.

I’d lied when I’d told him I’d slept perfectly well. I hadn’t. I’d spent all night going over what had happened in the limo and why I’d stupidly burst into emotional tears afterwards like a silly virgin.

Had it been the way he’d stroked me at the end? Or had it been due to the sheer power of the physical release? Either way, I’d hated it and I definitely didn’t want it to happen again.

Pleasure I could handle, but a big no to all that emotional bullshit. It only reminded me of how I’d felt after the Mark incident and how pissed off Dad had been at me at the way I’d handled it. Sure, kneeing Mark in the balls had been an instinctive reaction, but that had caused a whole lot of extra drama that had ended up with him making all sorts of extortionate demands.

No fuss, that was key, and yet here I was, making a fuss about the sex by crying, not to mention giving Mr Evans a piece of my mind for being rude to me.

I didn’t know what was happening, especially considering I still needed to ask him about Australis and our debt.

Finding the right moment to broach the topic proved difficult, however.

When he wasn’t in a meeting, he was on his phone, and it wasn’t until I’d picked him up from his last appointment and was taking him to the airport that he finally put the phone away, directing his attention to the laptop.

Ideally I would have liked to pull the car over, but he was pressed for time since the meeting had dragged on, and the traffic to Charles de Gaulle was a nightmare, so there was no time to stop.

I was just going to have to ask flat out.

Trying to ignore the fact that I’d complicated matters first by having sex with him and then letting my anger get the better of me and calling him out for being rude, I swallowed my nerves and checked him in the rear-view mirror.

He had his attention on his laptop, his face set in lines of fierce concentration.

Bloody hell, this wasn’t a good time, either. But what else could I do? He’d be flying out in a couple of hours and then my opportunity would be gone completely.

It was now or never.

‘Can I ask you something, Mr Evans?’ I asked, straight out.

He didn’t look up. ‘What did I say about small talk?’

‘It’s not small talk.’

‘Bill doesn’t talk at all.’

Well, this was off to a great start. Go me.

I gripped the wheel tightly, trying to hang on to my determination to keep this low-key and not a big deal. ‘I’m not Bill.’

‘No,’ he said flatly, his attention still on the screen. ‘You’re not.’

Okay, well, I was just going to have to go for it. I didn’t want to let Dad down, not again.

‘I need a favour,’ I said, throwing caution to the winds. ‘I need to talk to you about an investment.’

That caught his attention.

His head lifted, electric gaze coming straight to mine. ‘What?’

Time for my spiel.

‘So, my family makes supercars, all built by hand in our workshop in Sydney, and we were lucky enough to get a cash injection from your venture capital firm a few years ago. But, business hasn’t been great and we’re not able to make the returns that were expected.’ Shit, I was talking too fast; I needed to slow down. ‘So, we tried contacting Evans Investment to give us some more time before the investment was withdrawn, but they weren’t very receptive. I thought that if I spoke to you directly—’

‘That I would automatically be fine with potentially losing my investment?’ he interrupted, his voice sharp, hard, the look in his eyes cutting me to shreds. ‘Is that why you had sex with me?’

A cold shock pulsed down my spine.

Did he really think that?

But there was no mistaking the icy blue light glittering in his eyes. Not just annoyance or irritation, but genuine anger.

Yes, he really did think that.

We’d come to a red light so I was able to give him my full attention. ‘No,’ I said fiercely, forgetting all about the need to keep things light and no drama. ‘I had sex with you because I wanted to. Not for any other reason.’

But there were storms in his eyes, electric tension gathering in the air inside the car. ‘Are you sure? It’s been done before.’

Anger gnawed at me. How dare he think that? I would never use sex to get what I wanted and certainly not after Mark. ‘No,’ I repeated, with more force this time. ‘That’s...oh, my God, that’s the last thing I would ever do.’

He ignored that. ‘Do you know how many people have tried to use me to get what they want over the years?’ His voice was cold and gritty as sleet, his accent even more cut-glass than normal. ‘Many, many people, Miss Little. Believe me, you’re not the first.’

Heat surged through my cheeks. ‘I wasn’t intending to have sex with you. I just wanted to talk to you.’

‘But you didn’t, did you? You liked the idea of my cock instead.’

I struggled to get a handle on my anger. ‘So? It’s just sex, mate. Like you said, no big deal. So, could we talk about the investment that Dad—?’

‘No,’ he cut me off, the word cold as an arctic frost. ‘We will not talk about the investment. We will not talk about anything at all. This conversation, Miss Little, is done.’

Behind me someone honked their horn and I realised the light had turned green, leaving me no choice but to begin driving again.

I slammed my foot on the gas, trying to get a grip on my boiling emotions, very conscious that if I let rip the way I wanted to, I was in danger of screwing this up completely.

I couldn’t do what I’d done with Mark and let my anger get the better of me. Certainly kneeing Mr Evans in the balls wouldn’t help, which meant I needed to try something else, think of another angle that might interest him.

There is something else.

No, I couldn’t tell him about my personal project, not after Dad had poured scorn on it. It wouldn’t work and was going to end up being a huge waste of money, that was what Dad had said.

Still, I didn’t have that many options. And besides, I had to fix this. Especially since it was my fault that this was a problem in the first place.

‘I have my own project,’ I said into the silence, ignoring the nervous tension in my gut. ‘I’m designing an electric supercar. I think it could be a game changer, but Dad won’t fund it because he doesn’t approve. Not that he has the money, anyway, but if I could just get some backing for a prototype, it could turn Australis around, I’m sure of it.’

Silence from the back seat.

I didn’t want to look in the rear-view mirror. I didn’t want to meet his fascinating blue eyes, not again. ‘I know you’ve got every right to withdraw your money,’ I went on doggedly, ‘but I’m asking you personally at least to put it on hold. If I get funding for my project, it has the potential to do really well and then I could pay you back with a ton of interest.’

Again, silence.

Dammit. I’d bloody well screwed this up, hadn’t I? Sex had ruined it and then mentioning my stupid project probably hadn’t helped.

There was pressure at the back of my throat, a heaviness in my chest. Shit, that was pathetic. Dad would be appalled. He’d tell me to pull myself together, that it was my mess and crying about it wasn’t going to help anyone. I just had to suck it up and deal with it. That was the Little way.

The airport was coming up and soon I’d have to stop and let Mr Evans out. He’d walk away from me and that would be my opportunity gone.

‘I can show you pictures,’ I said uselessly. ‘My design is pretty unique, so if you want to see an example of—’

‘No.’ The word was flat, unequivocal.

‘Mr Evans—’

‘I said no.’ The was no mistaking the note of absolute authority in his cold, gritty voice.

The discussion was over.

Hot, angry words filled my mouth, but I kept it closed, my jaw aching with the strain.

Don’t make a fuss.

‘Hey, no worries.’ I forced my mouth into a smile. ‘Can’t blame a girl for trying though, eh?’

He said nothing, the silence in the car becoming thick and suffocating. Full of his anger and something else I didn’t understand.

I pulled the limo up in the drop-off area outside the airport and only then, gathering my courage, did I glance into the mirror.

But he was putting his laptop away and not looking at me.

I stared at him, unable to help myself. His face was guarded, the white seams of his scars stark against his olive skin. A muscle flickered in his hard, strong jaw. And I couldn’t help noticing that he had the longest, darkest lashes I’d ever seen on a man.

My fingers itched to touch him, a throb between my thighs reminding me of what he’d felt like inside me, surging into me, taking me hard and fast, the wild thrill of having a man like that under my hands...

Abruptly he looked and the vivid colour of his eyes caught me, held me.

‘Goodbye, Miss Little,’ he said expressionlessly.

And then he was gone.

CHAPTER EIGHT

Ash

I STARED OUT from the empty floor of the tower building my company was in the process of constructing in Southwark, the Thames looking black and sluggish in the early afternoon light. Wind blew through the big empty space where the windows were going to go, while the site manager went through a list of excuses as to why the project had been delayed by several months.

I was only half listening. Despite the delays, the construction was going according to plan and I didn’t care about the man’s excuses. What I was concerned about was the upcoming trip to Dubai that I’d promised Delaney, and how I still hadn’t sorted out the issue of the ‘serious girlfriend.’

The solution, of course, was to bring someone with me and have her act the part. I had no shortage of women who’d be only too happy to pretend to be my ‘serious girlfriend’, but my real problem was that I couldn’t act to save my life.

I’d never pretended to be anything but what I was, a former street fighter turned property developer, and I seriously doubted my abilities to pretend to be ‘serious’ about a woman, no matter how lovely she was.

And I didn’t see why I had to bother with this nonsense just to get those islands. But Delaney wasn’t budging, which meant that if I wanted them, I had no other option. My only consolation was that he’d no doubt be doing the same thing to Dumont.

‘Excuse me, Mr Evans?’

A female voice floated through the empty floor and I gritted my teeth, trying to ignore the lightning bolt that hit me every time a woman said ‘Mr Evans.’

Christ, after a week, you’d think I’d have forgotten about one encounter in the back of a limo with a sexy Australian chauffeur.

Apparently not.

I turned from the site manager to see my chief assistant, Petra, exit the construction elevator and make her way towards me, adroitly skirting the piles of wood and steel offcuts, metal shavings and concrete dust that littered the floor, despite the skyscraper heels she wore.

‘What is it?’ I snapped, deciding my irritation had nothing to do with being reminded of my one-time chauffeur and everything to do with being interrupted.

Petra ignored my temper the way she always did, peering at me from underneath her hard hat. ‘You wanted to know the moment I had that dossier ready. Shall I email it to you?’

Instantly the single lightning bolt down my spine became a storm, igniting me for no fucking reason that I could see.

It was just a dossier on a supercar company called Australis. Nothing major. And only for my interest’s sake. It certainly didn’t require me being interrupted in the middle of an important meeting with a site manager.

Yet that didn’t stop me from saying, ‘Yes, of course, email it to me. Immediately.’

Petra tapped her phone’s screen and smiled sweetly at me. ‘Done. Shall I finish up with Doug?’

But I’d already turned away, getting out my phone and opening my mail app, leaving her to finish up the meeting with Doug, the site manager. It didn’t need me to be there, but I liked to visit a site at least a couple of times to get a feel for the building and the site itself, because you couldn’t get that sitting behind a desk.

My boots crunched on bits of concrete as I came to a stop, staring down at the screen as the files Petra had sent me loaded.

Australis Supercars, an Australian company that designed and hand-built luxury sports vehicles. It was owned by a guy called Oliver Little, who managed it along with his four sons and one daughter.

I flicked through the pictures of the cars themselves. The Python model was the one garnering the big interest, apparently giving Ferrari and Bugatti, and some of the other big names, a run for their money.

I didn’t keep track of every company I invested money in—I left that to my managers at Evans Investment—but according to the files we had invested quite a bit of money in this particular company.

Money that was not going to see the returns we’d anticipated.

So? Lots of companies don’t make it. Why does this one matter?

It didn’t matter, so why I was interested in it, I had no idea.

Yet I couldn’t seem to stop flicking through more images, pausing at one particular photo. It was of the Python and had the family clustered proudly around it. And right at the back, almost hidden, was a smaller figure, her hand possessively on the roof of the vehicle.

Ellie.

The lighting storm inside me sizzled against my nerve endings, igniting them, making me curse under my breath.

I generally never regretted anything in my life—I couldn’t, not if I didn’t want to spend it being paralysed by all the shitty things I’d done—and had always believed the only way was forward. So there was no reason for me to be looking back at what had happened with a woman over a week ago.

A woman I’d only known a couple of days.

A woman whose relatively simple request you refused because you were being petty.

I glared at the picture of Ellie on the screen, remembering the dogged way she’d continued despite the reception she’d got from me, talking about some electric car project she was working on.

And I’d ignored her, too caught up in the rush of anger that had overtaken me the moment she’d mentioned that she wanted a favour from me.

An anger that even now I didn’t understand.

Yes, the timing of her confession, right after we’d had a one-night stand, left a lot to be desired, but, still, that didn’t explain my furious reaction to her request.

You thought it was you she wanted.

The way she’d looked at me... Seeing the fighter inside me and not being afraid. Not being intimidated. Ready to take me on. And the sex had been incendiary...

But then she’d asked for money, just like all the others.

Not that all of them wanted money. Some of them wanted the cachet of having slept with the notorious bastard billionaire. It wasn’t actually me they wanted. But I’d thought Ellie was different.

Christ, why was I still obsessing about this? I wasn’t some sixteen-year-old kid hurt because some girl rejected him. I was thirty-two. I’d grown up on a grotty council estate with meth dealers in the stairwells and gangs roaming the hallways. My mother had spent her days constantly worried for me and my safety, grovelling to my father for money to at least send me to a private school—and he had.

But after that night when I’d realised how little he actually cared, I’d decided I was done apologising for myself. Done cowering with my mother, terrified she would get hurt.

I’d decided to make myself the biggest, baddest motherfucker out there. I’d have the drug dealers and gangs scared of me.

So that was what I’d done.

And then later, I’d had Seb. He hadn’t yet shown me his true colours and I’d thought he had my back to hell and beyond.

Sadly, hell had come sooner than I’d thought.

You think that excuses you being shitty to her?

My jaw ached. Behind me I could hear Petra and Doug talking, Petra flirting a little in the way that she did when she wanted to get someone on her side.

Fuck, I was shitty to everyone. Why should Ellie be exempt?

Yet all I could see was her face as she’d talked about her family’s company, genuine worry glittering in her eyes. Then she’d mentioned that special project, the one that pulling my investment dollars would put at risk.

It was important to her, wasn’t it?

I was supposed to help people when they needed it, not deny them the way I’d been denied. That was why I’d set up my charitable foundation in the first place. And yet, what had I done?

I’d refused her.

If my company had been small and in its infancy, it might have been a different story, but it wasn’t. Evans Investment was just one of a number of companies in my portfolio and giving someone some time before requiring promised returns would have absolutely no impact on my bottom line.

I shouldn’t have denied her.

On the other hand, business was business and if she wanted a favour...

Something clicked into place in my head like pieces of a perfectly constructed building.

I could give her what she wanted, while at the same time solving my own problem. Not that I couldn’t give her what she wanted without making it dependent on me, but I hadn’t got where I was today by being soft. Everything was a deal. Everything was give and take.

I’d give her something and she could give something to me.

Such as her presence as my serious girlfriend in Dubai, for example.

I wouldn’t have to act as if I was into her the way I would have struggled to with someone else. Our chemistry would take care of that. Certainly it should be convincing enough for Delaney.

Hell, I could even sweeten the deal by giving her access to The Billionaires Club and their contacts. There’d be plenty of people there who’d be interested in her electric car project.

In fact, the more I thought about it, the better an idea I found it.

All I needed to do was put the proposal to her.

I didn’t waste any time, putting through a few calls there and then. Bill was more than happy to take an evening off and the chauffeur company was more than happy to accept my exorbitant offer for one night of Ellie Little’s services. It was very late notice, but they could certainly accommodate me.

That sorted, I shoved my phone back into my pocket and turned to rejoin the meeting, trying to ignore the way the lightning in my veins had become hot, electric.

Nothing to do with the prospect of seeing Ellie again, definitely not. I was simply pleased to have solved the problem of how to get Delaney on my side.

Liar. You still want her.

No, I didn’t. Been there, done that, and I didn’t go back.

This was business. Nothing more.

CHAPTER NINE

Ellie

I WASN’T HAPPY when the job came through and I almost refused. I didn’t even want to see Ash Evans again, let alone drive for him.

But I couldn’t say no, not if I wanted to stay on the chauffeur company’s books, and I did want to, because my options for money were few and far between.

I’d spent the week since getting back from Paris trying to figure out what my next move should be. I couldn’t bear the thought of calling Dad to tell him I’d failed—not that I had failed. I just needed to...regroup.

Failure wasn’t an option anyway, not when I was the whole reason the company was having difficulty in the first place.

So I accepted the job and tried to ignore my own personal doubts about seeing him again. Tried not to think about why he’d asked for me, especially given how angry he’d been back in Paris.

Perhaps it was for another encounter in the back seat, though if that was the reason then he was shit out of luck. No way I wanted to have sex with him again, not given how emotional I’d been after the first time. And then there had been him getting so furious with me...

No, definitely not going back for that. I wasn’t a masochist.

Thoughts of what we’d done together that night in the limo wouldn’t leave me alone, though.

The whole week I’d tossed and turned in my uncomfortable single bed in the Shepherd’s Bush flat I shared with a few other Australians, my body aching. Unable to stop thinking about him. His hands on my skin, his cock inside me, pushing deep and hard. The weird sense of freedom as I’d given myself up to him...

And you crying like a fool afterwards.

Yes, there was that. I should have been able to put the experience behind me, and the fact that I couldn’t disturbed me.

So, by the time I reluctantly turned up for my shift as Mr Evans’s driver, I was already feeling restless and out of sorts.

The address for the pick-up point was odd into the bargain and I had to double-check it numerous times to make sure it was right, because it seemed very much not the kind of place from which to pick up a billionaire.

A large, featureless council estate tower block, it had a scraggly green lawn out the front with a couple of spindly-looking trees dotted here and there. A group of teenagers were hanging around outside, shouting and playing loud music, and being generally annoying.

There was a grim feel to the place, a kind of hopelessness that made me sad. I might have had a lonely upbringing after losing my mother, but at least I’d had a decent home and food on the table, and no drug dealers hanging around my front door.

I frowned out of the window. Surely Mr Evans wouldn’t be here?

A young woman pushing a small toddler in a stroller approached the entrance to the building, prompting a swirl of attention from the gathered teenagers.

Tension crawled over me and I reached for the door, ready to spring out and go at them if they started threatening the woman.

Except at that moment a tall, powerful figure came striding out. And instantly the teenagers swarmed, clustering around him instead, hooting and calling out greetings, their faces alight.

I stared in amazement as Mr Evans gave out high fives as demanded then paused to chat, the group hanging on his every word.

The woman waved at him as she passed, entering the building unmolested as the air filled with the sound of raucous teenage laughter.

Then Mr Evans extricated himself from the crowd of youths, striding on to where I sat waiting for him in the limo.

And all of a sudden my heartbeat accelerated, my pulse so loud it just about competed with the beats coming from the teenagers’ phones.

Somehow I’d reduced him in my mind. Made him not so large, not so muscular. Not so powerful. Not so compelling. Certainly I’d turned down the burn on the intense energy that trailed along in his wake like his own personal force field.

How could I have forgotten the sheer physical reality of him? How could I not have remembered how completely and utterly hot he was?

I stared dumbly, my mouth dry as he came up to the limo, pulled the door open and got in.

And when I looked in my rear-view mirror, there were those eyes. Those searing blue eyes.

‘You didn’t open the door for me,’ he said, his familiar, deep, gritty voice vibrating through me. ‘I really expected better service from you, Miss Little.’

Oh, hell. I’d forgotten about the stupid door. I’d been too busy staring at him.

I tried to find my usual laid-back, cheerful persona, but it had slipped away on me and all I managed to take hold of was anger. At him for being so ridiculously hot and at myself for being so susceptible.

‘Sorry, Mr Evans.’ I let a touch of acid tinge the words. ‘I wasn’t sure what temper you were going to be in this evening. Outright rude or merely mildly offensive.’

His eyes gleamed, as if with appreciation. ‘Tonight I thought I might try pleasant.’

‘Pleasant? You?’

‘Drive, Miss Little. There’s a bar I want you to take us to.’

Us?

I opened my mouth to ask what he meant by that, then decided against it.

Not my business. Just as it wasn’t my business to ask him why he’d chosen me to drive him for the night. Silence was probably the best response I could give.

It was a resolve that lasted all of two seconds.

‘Interesting pick-up address,’ I said, unable to contain my curiosity. ‘Not your usual billionaire hang-out.’

There was something about his expression in the mirror that fascinated me, similar to the savage satisfaction that had burned there the night after he’d come out of the club in Paris. The look of a man who’d beaten all comers to win.

‘Not usually,’ he said. ‘But it’s mine. I used to live there.’

I blinked in surprise.

So that was the dodgy council estate he’d grown up on. Interesting. Was that where he’d fought too? I could imagine that, him with his fists raised, blood on his face and on his knuckles, that savage look in his eyes...

Hot.

A shiver went through me. I had no idea why I found the idea of him as a street fighter so damn sexy, but I did.

I glanced in the mirror. ‘Really?’

‘Yes. My mother still does.’ His hard mouth quirked in something that looked very close to a smile, sending another shiver of heat chasing across my skin. ‘I renovated a perfectly nice place in Chelsea for her but she refuses to move. Says she likes it there.’

‘Why?’

‘No idea. She’s a stubborn woman, my mother.’ His gaze caught mine. ‘Perhaps that’s why I like stubborn women.’

Surely he wasn’t meaning...me?

Irritation needled at me. If he was trying to angle for another encounter in the back seat he needed to think again.

‘Is there any reason you asked for me in particular tonight?’ I asked, sounding more belligerent than I’d meant to. ‘Because if you’re hoping to get me in the back seat again—’

‘No,’ he said, before I could finish. ‘Rest assured, that’s not what I want from you tonight.’

‘Then why?’ I demanded, annoyed by the fact that I felt disappointed, which I totally shouldn’t have.

‘You’ll see.’

There was a hint of smugness to the words that needled me even further.

I knew I shouldn’t let him get to me, that I should be thinking of this as another opportunity to talk to him about Australis, but the irritation and disappointment sat inside me all the same. And by the time I’d pulled up outside the Covent Garden address he’d given me, it wasn’t so much him who was in a foul temper, but me.

The bar looked exactly like the kinds of bars he’d be used to, complete with a long line of beautifully dressed hopefuls outside, an ostentatious-looking bouncer, and a velvet rope to sort the aristocracy from the peasants.

‘Here we are,’ I said unnecessarily, trying to force my bad mood away with a cheerful smile. ‘Do you want me to get your door?’

‘No.’ Another gleam in those blue eyes. ‘I want you to come and have a drink with me.’

‘Excuse me?’ This time I actually turned around in my seat.

The impact of his direct gaze was like a physical blow.

‘One drink, Miss Little,’ he murmured. ‘I have a proposition I want to put to you.’

He sat there, dark and scarred and powerful, and so achingly compelling I couldn’t look anywhere but at him. And, God, he was incredible. I didn’t know how he managed to look so damn hot simply in a pair of jeans and a T-shirt—this time a dark blue one that somehow intensified the colour of his eyes—but he did.

‘A proposition?’ I echoed stupidly. ‘What proposition?’

‘Come and have a drink and you’ll find out.’

Fighting the pull of his charisma, I gave him a narrow stare. ‘You’d better not be rude again. I haven’t bloody got time for that kind of carry-on.’

Again, his hard mouth twitched. ‘I can’t guarantee there won’t be any “carry-on”. But I can guarantee it will be worth your time.’

I didn’t want to accept, not just like that. It felt like giving in.

‘I’m supposed to be working,’ I said, prevaricating.

‘You are working. For me. Think of it as a business meeting.’

Huh.

I gave him a suspicious look. ‘About what?’

‘Australis. I’ve been investigating your family’s company.’

Shock pulsed down my spine, my bad temper vanishing in an instant. ‘Seriously? In that case, yes. I’d love to have a bloody drink. Though it’ll have to be non-alcoholic. I’m still driving.’

I didn’t want to get my hopes up too high, but I couldn’t stop the excitement that gathered in my gut as we were ushered to the head of the queue outside the bar, the velvet rope being pulled aside so we could enter in front of everyone else.

Inside, the bar was dark, full of dimly lit alcoves and small rooms where people could sit and chat in complete privacy. Another room had a dance floor in it, but we passed it by, Mr Evans leading me to an out-of-the-way alcove furnished with a dark blue velvet couch and a low coffee table in dark wood. The lighting was atmospheric, the music low and seductive.

As we sat, a waitress came to take our drinks orders and I went with an orange juice while he had a Scotch.

I perched awkwardly on the couch while he sprawled out beside me, surveying me, the electricity in his eyes turning into something hotter and more potent, and I was very conscious of how close he was, his knee nearly brushing mine.

His proximity was insanely distracting, near enough to me to feel the heat pouring off his body. It made it hard to concentrate on anything else.

‘Okay, so what’s this proposition?’ I asked when the waitress had gone. ‘And why couldn’t you ask me in the car?’

‘Because I didn’t want you to be distracted by driving.’

‘Fair enough. This is about the investment money, yes? About what I asked you in Paris?’

‘Yes.’

My heartbeat got faster. ‘And?’

His gaze was very direct. ‘I don’t change my mind often, Miss Little. And when a thing is done, I consider it done. But I’ve had a week to think about what you asked me and I’ve decided that I was too hasty in refusing you.’

I swallowed, taken aback despite myself. I really hadn’t thought he’d reconsider. ‘You were?’

‘Yes. I had a chance to look at your family’s company personally this week and I’m willing to give Australis more time before we need to see some return on our initial investment.’

Yes!

Despite how I’d nearly screwed it up, my gamble in going from Paris to England to face Mr Evans personally had paid off. Dad was going to be so pleased.

Triumph glowed in the centre of my chest and I grinned like a lunatic. ‘That’s just fantastic, Mr Evans. I can’t tell you—’

‘But you’re going to have to do something for me in return,’ he went on, as if I hadn’t spoken.

The triumph glowed a little bit less bright.

‘If you’re wanting sex—’ I began.

‘Sex is not required,’ he said before I could finish, a spark of his usual bad temper glowing in his eyes. ‘You must know by now I’m not that kind of man.’

‘But I don’t know,’ I shot back. ‘All I know is your reputation and, to be honest, that’s pretty shitty.’

His gaze narrowed. ‘Fair point. But understand me, I don’t need a business deal in order to get sex and I certainly don’t blackmail people into it.’

I refused to feel ashamed about it. After Mark, who knew?

‘You can never tell,’ I said. ‘So what do you want from me, then?’

The scar pulling at his mouth was very white against his olive skin, his sneer pronounced. ‘What do I want?’ The scar twisted further as his mouth curved, making his smile seem savage. ‘I have an event I have to be at in Dubai in a week’s time. And what I want is for you to be my date.’

CHAPTER TEN

Ash

‘YOUR DATE?’ ELLIE ECHOED, her eyes wide. ‘For...what?’

She was sitting on the end of the couch with her arms crossed, her shoulders hunched, clearly trying to keep what distance there was between us.

Which was probably a good thing.

I hadn’t realised that seeing her in the flesh would be quite so problematic, though I should have.

She was in her chauffeur’s uniform as usual—white shirt, black trousers, black tie and hat. And her glossy brown hair was tied back. Again, she wore no make-up at all.

Again, she was the fucking sexiest thing I’d ever seen.

She was staring at me suspiciously, hazel eyes narrowed, yet all I could think about was how she’d looked straddling me, with that white shirt pulled open, her bare breasts pressing against my chest. The tight clasp of her pussy around my cock. She hadn’t been so suspicious then. No, she’d been full of hunger and demand, gripping onto me as if she couldn’t bear to let me go, warming up the cold places inside me with her heat.

But you’re not going to keep thinking that, are you?

Bloody hell, no. I wasn’t here for sex. And besides, I’d been there, done that, and I never went back.

Fighting down the relentless pull of our chemistry and the anger of thwarted desire, I tried not to snap at her. Because that wouldn’t get me what I wanted. Playing nice wasn’t in my nature, but I’d do it. I knew how to play the long game, too.

‘I’m a member of a very exclusive club that hosts a lot of charity events around the world,’ I said. ‘In fact, that event you took me to in Paris was one of them.’

‘But you didn’t need a date for Paris.’

‘No, but I do for Dubai.’

‘Why me?’ she asked bluntly. ‘You must have a hundred other women who’d jump at the chance. And why do you need a date anyway?’

I was conscious all of a sudden that I didn’t want to give her the details of my plan to dupe Delaney. She was very...blunt. And there was an honesty to her that made me certain she wouldn’t approve.

Then again, I had no idea why her approval mattered to me. ‘Okay, here’s the situation,’ I said, deciding on the full truth and to hell with my ridiculous qualms. ‘I have a luxury hotel chain that I want to get off the ground and I’m angling for a couple of islands in the Caribbean that would make for a perfect resort site. Unfortunately, the man I want to buy them from is getting cold feet about selling them to me. He wants someone more “family-minded” to have them.’

Ellie’s gaze sharpened. ‘And you’re not...family-minded.’

It wasn’t a question.

‘No,’ I agreed. ‘But I want those islands. Which means I need to convince this man that I’m as family-minded as he hopes I am.’

Her silky brows drew together. ‘How?’

I opened my mouth to tell her, but she’d already worked it out.

‘Oh, wait,’ she went on. ‘You want to use me, don’t you?’

She was quick, I’d give her that.

‘I promised Delaney I’d bring my “serious girlfriend” to the next club event,’ I said. ‘And that’s Dubai.’

‘So just to be clear—I’m your “serious girlfriend”, right?’

I leaned back against the couch, meeting the challenging look in her eyes with one of my own. ‘You have a problem with that?’

‘With essentially lying to someone to get your hands on their property? Kind of.’

Her disapproval was palpable and it irritated me, no matter that I’d already prepared myself for it. ‘It’s business, Miss Little, and people lie all the time in business. It’s not a big deal.’

She kept frowning at me. ‘But why not find some islands you don’t need to jump through so many hoops for?’

Damn. I didn’t want her asking questions, not when the answers involved Dumont. Because there was no way I was going to talk about him and how he’d not only broken my trust, but my mother’s too.

You had a hand in it, too, don’t forget.

Yes. And didn’t I know it?

‘Those specific islands are the best sites,’ I replied dismissively, glancing around at the dim bar. ‘Where the hell has that Scotch got to?’

But I should have known she wouldn’t be distracted.

‘There must be other good ones,’ she insisted. ‘It’s the Caribbean. Aren’t there hundreds of islands just lying around waiting to be bought by billionaires?’

Persistent little thing, wasn’t she?

My smile started to slip, the leash on my temper starting to fray. ‘I don’t want any other islands. I want those ones.’

‘But why?’ she asked, relentless.

‘Because I want them. That’s why.’

‘That’s not a good enough reason.’

‘That’s all the reason you’re going to get,’ I snapped, losing my temper. ‘Will you do it or not?’

‘No,’ she snapped back. ‘And don’t get shirty with me. It sounds dodgy and I’m not doing anything dodgy.’

Desire shot through me, thick and hot. She was rousing the warrior in me, making me want to fight. Take this to the bedroom where we could work out our disagreement in a more private and ultimately more satisfying way.

Mercifully, at that point the waitress delivered the drinks, giving me a moment to get my temper, not to mention my rapidly hardening cock, under control.

What I should not be doing was sitting here with her as though we were on a date, but that would be to admit she was getting to me and I wasn’t going to do that.

Besides, she hadn’t accepted my proposition yet and I wasn’t leaving until she had. It had become a matter of pride now and I never conceded a fight.

‘Not even if it meant saving your family’s company?’ I asked casually, playing my ace.

‘Oh, I see. So this is blackmail, then?’ Green sparks of anger glittered in her eyes, making my dick twitch in response.

Christ, the fire in her was sexy. The way she refused to back down got me hard as much as it irritated the shit out of me.

‘No, of course not.’ I gritted my teeth. ‘But I promise you there isn’t anything dodgy going on.’

‘Lying sounds pretty dodgy to me.’

You’re going to have to tell her about Dumont.

Because clearly she wasn’t going to agree to anything until I did. Fuck.

Lifting my glass, I downed the Scotch in one go, scowling.

I didn’t relish the idea of telling her about Dumont, but then not telling her made it seem as if I gave a damn about her opinion of me and I didn’t.

At all.

I put the empty Scotch tumbler down on the low table in front of the couch and met her gaze.

She had those pretty, slender fingers wrapped around her glass, and I had to drag my focus away from them, my brain helpfully replaying memories of how those fingers had felt stroking my cock through my jeans, then adding fantasies of how good they’d feel if there were no denim between us. If they were wrapped around my dick...

Focus, arsehole.

‘Fine, you want to know why I want those particular islands?’ I didn’t bother adjusting my surly tone. ‘Because my half-brother, Sebastian Dumont, also wants them and I don’t want him to have them.’

Ellie frowned, studying me over the rim of her glass. She still had her chauffeur’s cap on and there was something vaguely endearing about how she was sitting there so primly in her uniform in a dark club with thumping music.

‘Okay,’ she said slowly. ‘So why don’t you want him to have them? I mean, I have four brothers, so I sort of understand.’

Yes, she might. Then again, her family had a certain level of privilege. Her father built supercars, for fuck’s sake. You didn’t do that without money, regardless of his financial difficulties now.

She must have seen something in my face because suddenly sympathy flooded through her expression. ‘Oh, hell. Is this painful for you?’ She leaned forward and put one of those delicate hands on my arm. ‘I’m sorry. You don’t have to tell me, if you don’t want to. I just get curious. Tell me to piss off if it’s too much.’

The concern in her eyes jolted through me like an electric shock, the light touch of her bare skin against mine only deepening the sensation.

People never looked at me like that, as if my feelings mattered to them. Usually because I was too busy showing them how little theirs mattered to me.

Yet right here, right now, despite how grumpy and rude I’d been, Ellie was looking at me with sympathy and concern.

As if I mattered to her.

Which, given the way you’ve been treating her, is absolutely undeserved.

A muscle flickered in my jaw, my chest feeling suddenly tight. ‘You’d better not touch me like that, Miss Little,’ I said brusquely. ‘Not if you don’t want to be naked and on your back right here on this couch.’

That’s right, make it about sex.

I wasn’t making it about sex. It was about sex. Certainly it had nothing to do with the constriction in my chest, the ache in the vicinity of my heart.

Something flickered in her eyes, but then her lashes came down, veiling her gaze, and her hand dropped from my arm. And I couldn’t get rid of the sense that my response had hurt her in some way.

Unexpected shame crept through me.

She does matter.

I had no idea why or even how she’d managed it. But that didn’t change the feeling inside me. I didn’t like that I’d hurt her.

Ellie was looking down at her orange juice, fussing with her straw, and I noticed that her hand was shaking a little. ‘Okay, so anyway,’ she said quickly. ‘You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to. No worries at all.’

You bastard.

Well, technically, I was a bastard. And it had never bothered me before that I acted like a bastard, too, not when caring about other people’s feelings and what they thought of you was a vulnerability I could never allow.

Except, I was bothered now.

‘You want to know where I got these scars from?’ I asked abruptly, following an impulse I never normally listened to.

She looked up from her drink to the scars on my face. ‘I heard you were a street fighter or something.’

The media loved my background; the story that I’d been into illegal street fights to get my start-up money was great fodder for them. The reality was a hell of a lot less romantic.

‘I was. And one day my opponent brought a knife to what was supposed to be a fist fight.’

She looked aghast. ‘So...you fought him?’

‘Of course.’ I smiled, feeling the pull of the scar. Remembering the pain and the blood, and how everyone had roared my name afterwards. ‘I never backed down from a fight.’

Her gaze followed the lines of my scars, her hand twitching as if she wanted to touch them. And quite suddenly I wanted her to. Wanted to feel her cool fingers on my hot skin with a desperation that took my breath away.

The crease between her brows was deep. ‘But you could have been killed.’

Something pulled inside me, like a muscle that hadn’t been warmed up properly, and it hurt. I wanted to snap at her all of a sudden, the pain and the strange desperation for her touch making me angry.

But I didn’t want to hurt her, not again, so I bit back my retort. ‘Maybe,’ I said mildly enough. ‘But I was very good at fighting.’

‘So...’ Her gaze roamed over my scars again. ‘You won?’

‘Oh, yes, I won.’ A ghost of that familiar savage satisfaction echoed through me, the power I got from winning. From pitting myself against the odds and coming out on top. ‘I always won.’

‘You didn’t care about getting hurt? Or losing your life?’

I shrugged. ‘I needed the money. And that was more important.’

It always had been. For my mother’s sake.

‘My brothers like to win, too,’ she said quietly. ‘Which makes sense given that they’re racing car drivers.’

‘What about you?’ I watched her lovely face, shadowed by the brim of her cap. ‘Do you like to race cars and win as well?’

Slowly she shook her head. ‘I don’t race. I like driving, don’t get me wrong, but my talent is design.’ One corner of her mouth lifted in a shy kind of smile. ‘I do like speed, but I’m all about making things go faster more efficiently from the ground up. The whole machine rather than simply putting your foot down.’ There was a certain sparkle in her eyes as she spoke, an excitement that for some reason caught me by the throat and refused to let go.

‘Your electric car,’ I said, suddenly desperately curious. ‘Tell me about it.’

Her smile turned from shy into something a whole lot more forced and fake-looking. ‘No, you don’t want to hear about that. Anyway, you still haven’t told me why you want those islands.’

But I didn’t want to talk about me. I wanted to talk about her. Because it hadn’t hit me until now what a fascinating collection of contrasts she was. Direct in a way that was very masculine, yet she was sitting primly in a way that was very feminine. She called me mate, pointed out my rudeness, and yet she blushed. Looked horrified at the knife scars on my face and yet had seemed pleased when I’d told her that I’d won.

She was interesting. But getting interested in her was not at all what I should be doing.

Which was getting her to agree to be my date.

Which she still hadn’t.

‘Fine.’ I tried to mask my irritation at the change of topic and failed. ‘I took on those fights for a reason. I needed the money.’

‘Right. To start up your business.’

‘Partly. I also needed it to pay back a debt.’

She sipped at her drink, watching me. ‘What debt?’

‘I already had that start-up money. In fact, by the time I left school, I had a nice little nest egg stashed away. Money I’d saved over the years through jobs here and there.’ My chest tightened but I forced myself to say it. ‘But mostly the money came from my mother, from the retirement savings I convinced her to give me. I was going to invest it in property and by the time she actually had to retire, she’d have millions. At least, that’s what I promised her.’

She hadn’t wanted to give me that money, either, but I’d convinced her. I’d told her she’d get it back and with interest. And she’d believed me.

Ellie grimaced. ‘Oh, no. Don’t tell me...’

‘I lost it. I lost every penny.’ My jaw ached. Christ, this should not be so hard to say. ‘My half-brother took it all.’

‘Hell,’ she muttered. ‘What did he do?’

I wanted another Scotch, but I ignored the urge, concentrating instead on Ellie’s face. ‘About the only thing my bastard father did for me was to pay for a private school, the same school Sebastian went to. We became close friends and had plans to go into business together. He had money, plenty of it, but I didn’t and so I had to work hard to get my share of the cash together.’ My hands had closed into fists at my sides and I had to take a breath to unclench them. ‘There was a property we were aiming to buy and I thought we’d agreed on it, but soon after we left school, he decided on a different site that he thought would be more profitable. I told him the deal was shady—believe me, growing up on the estate, you get a sixth sense for that kind of thing. But he refused to listen. He went ahead and shelled out the cash without my agreement and, sure enough, the deal fell through and we lost everything.’

More sympathy flickered in her eyes, making something inside me ache. ‘Oh, that’s awful.’

‘I was furious.’ And I had been. I could still feel the rage coursing through my veins to this day, boiling me dry. The sheer betrayal of it. Seb had been my closest friend and he was supposed to have my back. He wasn’t supposed to completely ignore me, treat me like I was just a know-nothing kid from a shitty council estate. He’d been shocked when it had all fallen apart, as if he hadn’t been warned that something like this was going to happen. Warned by me.

After my father’s rejection of me, Seb’s refusal to listen had been too much.

You could have talked to him at any time over the years. You didn’t have to turn your back on him so completely. But you did, didn’t you?

‘If it had been only my money that had been lost, it wouldn’t have been so bad,’ I went on, shoving the thought of my own culpability in the destruction of our friendship aside. ‘But it wasn’t. It was all my mother’s savings, too. He told me to relax, that we could get more money from somewhere else, but he was rich. Of course he could get what he wanted, whenever he wanted it. He even offered to put in my share for next time, but I refused.’ The embers of that anger burned sullenly inside me, turning my voice into a growl. ‘I didn’t want his fucking money. I didn’t want to have to be beholden to someone who didn’t listen. Someone who should have been my friend.’ I stopped, trying to get a handle on myself. ‘Anyway, I swore I’d make it on my own from then on. So I went out and tried to raise as much cash as I could, doing what I could. Street fighting was lucrative, paid cash, and I could earn it relatively quickly.’

Plus, you enjoyed it.

Yes, there was that. The gangs and the dealers threatened and intimidated everyone on the estate, my mother and me included. And it had given me immense satisfaction when I’d finally grown into my height and build, and I’d earned a reputation for being a mean son-of-a-bitch, to pay back that intimidation in kind.

After that knife fight, no one had messed with me again.

‘What about your mother?’ Ellie asked. ‘She can’t have thought fighting was a good idea, surely?’

I bared my teeth, remembering Mum’s disapproving face. ‘No, she didn’t. She said the money didn’t matter, but she was wrong. She’s always been wrong about that. Money always matters.’

Especially when it had been money she’d worked hard for. Money that would have given her the kind of life she would have had if she hadn’t had me.

There was a brief silence, Ellie’s gaze uncomfortably sharp. Uncomfortably knowing.

Shit, I’d been too vehement, hadn’t I? Too angry. Betrayed too much.

‘Anyway, I got the money back,’ I went on, too quickly. ‘And I made my fortune. And I want those islands because Dumont wants them, too, and so I’m aiming to buy them out from under him.’

‘So...this is revenge or something?’

I smiled. ‘It’s a reminder. That I’m still here. And that I haven’t forgotten.’

She looked at me for a long time, not saying anything.

Then she put her glass down on the table and said, ‘If I do this, you’ll give Australis some more time, right?’

‘Yes. I’m a man of my word.’ That was the one good thing people could say of me. When I gave my word, I stood by it. ‘Plus, I can introduce you to a few key people at my club. You might find future sources of income for your own project.’

Strangely, colour rose in her skin and she looked away. ‘I need to get Australis back into the black before that happens.’

Her response wasn’t what I’d expected—given the sparkle in her eyes when she’d spoken about it before, I’d thought she’d be excited to talk about it. But again, this wasn’t about her as a person. This was about her as my date.

‘So, do we have a deal?’ I asked, leaving the subject of the car alone. ‘You’ll come to Dubai?’

She glanced back at me, her expression unreadable.

And a word escaped me, a word I never said to anyone. A word that I didn’t need to say to her, not given the power I had over her. Yet it came out all the same.

‘Please.’

Her expression softened. ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘Okay. We have a deal.’

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Ellie

THE FIRST THING I realised on accepting Mr Evans’s deal was that I had nothing to wear. Or at least nothing that a ‘serious girlfriend’ would wear to a billionaires event in Dubai.

I didn’t wear dresses or skirts or make-up—I hadn’t since my mother had died—and had never seen any reason to start. But even I knew that I was probably going to have to scrub myself up for this. Sadly, my chauffeur’s uniform—the nicest, most professional clothing I had—was probably not going to work.

Which meant I was going to have to buy something nicer.

However, that required a level of female know-how I did not have.

A couple of my flatmates could have helped, but I was reluctant to tell them what was going on. They knew me as Ellie the chauffeur and the thought of asking them to help me buy dresses made me feel strangely self-conscious.

Luckily, Mr Evans had an assistant called Petra, who soon took charge of Operation Get Ellie Ready for Dubai by taking me out on a shopping spree the Saturday before we were due to leave.

It took me all of two seconds to realise that the shops she was taking me to were so far out of my price range they might as well have been the sun to my poor, poverty-stricken Pluto, and that there was no way I could afford it. I quickly told her the situation but she informed me crisply that this was a business trip and that Mr Evans would cover any and all expenses. Then she ignored my protests, dragging me into yet another designer shop on Bond Street.

She was very good at getting her way. Some of the dresses and skirts she made me try on I protested about, uncomfortable at seeing myself in the mirror looking so...female. But again, she ignored me. She even got me into a gown—a green thing made out of some gossamer-like fabric that wrapped around me like a second skin—and then bought it, not even blinking at the outrageous price tag.

Business expenses. Bloody hell.

Eventually I gave up protesting. If Mr Evans wanted to pay for all that bullshit, who was I to argue? He could probably pass the dresses on to his next girlfriend anyway and, besides, I had bigger things to think about.

I called Dad that night with the good news that Mr Evans wouldn’t be pulling his investment from Australis any time soon, and he seemed pleased, though, as always, it was difficult to tell.

He didn’t thank me—both of us knew that if it hadn’t been for Mark we wouldn’t have been in the position of me having to go to Mr Evans to start with.

Yet, even though I’d expected it, Dad’s response sat in my gut like a small piece of glass, cold and sharp. He didn’t ask how I’d managed to get Mr Evans to listen and I didn’t tell him.

He didn’t need to know that in return for doing what I had for Australis, I had to promise to go as Mr Evans’s date to some billionaire event in Dubai.

I still didn’t know why I’d agreed. I’d demanded at least that Mr Evans tell me his reasons for lying to some guy so he could get a bunch of islands and also get one over on his half-brother.

I hadn’t expected him to tell me, but he had. And it was clear that as much as he was angry with his half-brother for losing the money his mother had invested, he was also angry at himself, too.

The blame game was something I was familiar with myself, and I couldn’t help feeling for him. But that wasn’t why I’d agreed in the end.

It was the way he’d said ‘please.’ As if the word was foreign to him and he didn’t know its power, but had said it anyway.

And because he’d needed something from me and it had been far too long since someone had needed anything from me.

Still, I couldn’t help but feel a little bit of trepidation.

Being his girlfriend would probably involve some...physical closeness. And I wasn’t sure I was ready for that.

Watching him talk about his fights, knowing the reasons for his scars, seeing the ferocity in his face as he’d mentioned how he’d won...

The man had a chip on his shoulder the size of a redwood and I don’t know why that fury fascinated me so much, but it did. Like a moth drawn to a burning bonfire, I was compelled towards him.

He was so fierce and passionate. So unlike the reserved, laconic men I’d been brought up with and worked with at Australis.

Sex might not be part of the girlfriend deal but there was a part of me that hoped it would be.

A few days after the shopping trip, my bags packed and ready, I was in the weird position of being the one picked up for a change.

Mr Evans insisted that we go to the airport together—and since we were supposed to be a couple, he had a point.

He drove his own car this time, a massive Land Rover that seemed appropriate given he was a property developer and into construction.

Automatically and by instinct, I headed towards the driver’s side only to have him give me a narrow look. ‘I’m driving, remember?’ he reminded me. ‘It’s my car.’

‘Oh, right. Sure.’ I gave him a sheepish grin.

It felt strange not having the wheel in front of me and I didn’t know what to do with my hands. So I gripped onto my seat belt as he took us to London City Airport, where we’d catch his company’s jet to Dubai.

He drove with the kind of aggressive confidence I’d expected of him, talking via speakerphone the whole time, dealing with site issues, property concerns, something legal to do with a contract and then some kind of staffing problem. He dealt with it all with authority and a bluntness that probably added to his fearsome reputation, yet I found myself admiring it.

No wonder people didn’t know how to deal with him in the UK. He wasn’t polite and he didn’t play by the normal rules, and I found that incredibly attractive. That he didn’t care what other people thought of him was also apparent, and, as someone who did care, I found the fact that he didn’t fascinating.

Dad would have been appalled.

We got to the airport, boarded the jet, and were in the air within a couple of hours and even then Mr Evans was still dealing with calls.

He paced impatiently around the cabin, filling the space with his own particular brand of vibrant electricity, and even though I sat in one of the plush leather seats, ostensibly looking through a magazine, I couldn’t help but watch him instead.

That energy was anger. I knew that now.

Given how he’d been totally shafted by his half-brother and how responsible he felt for the loss of his mother’s money, I understood how driven he was.

I was curious, though, as to why she was still living in the council estate, not to mention why he was still feuding with his half-brother, when all of that had happened so many years ago. Also, the few times he’d spoken of his father it was with nothing but contempt, and I wondered what the story was there.

Being curious about him was probably a bad thing, but I was all the same.

It was a good half hour into the flight before Mr Evans finally finished up his calls and threw himself down into the leather seat opposite mine, his blue gaze like a slap of ice water across my hot skin.

He stared at me for a full minute at least, then said, ‘So, tell me how Australis got into trouble.’

Every muscle in my body gathered tight. ‘Wh-what?’

‘I’ve been looking over the financials and it does seem as though there are some issues.’ His stare became sharper. ‘Which is odd because it seemed like a good bet when we made our initial investment. You want to tell me what the problem is?’

I should have expected him to ask, especially considering it was his money he’d invested, but that didn’t change the sudden and intense need to change the subject. Because I really did not want to have to explain to him about how my mismanagement of the Mark incident had turned what should have been a minor problem into a giant mistake.

‘There was a...staff issue,’ I said, deliberately vague. ‘We lost one of our best designers.’

‘And why was that?’

‘He had to be let go for...certain reasons.’ My hands had crept into my lap, my fists clenched.

Mr Evans frowned. ‘What reasons?’

It was stupid to feel so tense about confessing the truth to him. So I’d made a mistake in my handling of it. So what? Anyway, I didn’t have to say it was me, did I?

I swallowed. ‘He harassed a staff member. There was a fuss so Dad paid him to keep quiet and go away. It was a lot of money.’ Too much money. But Dad hadn’t wanted it to become public. He’d met Mark’s demands without protest and hadn’t said a word to me about it. But I knew he was angry at how I’d handled it. If I hadn’t gone and hurt Mark, it wouldn’t have been such an issue.

Mr Evans’s gaze had got very narrow, sapphire glinting from beneath his thick black lashes. ‘And Australis struggled after that?’

‘We couldn’t get another designer that good. I tried to fill in, but...’ I trailed off. No need to tell him that Dad had never been satisfied with my work after that, no matter how hard I’d tried.

A silence fell and it wasn’t a comfortable one, not with Mr Evans’s gaze on me, concentrated as an X-ray.

‘It was you,’ he said suddenly. ‘You were the person who got harassed.’

Of course he’d guess. He wasn’t a stupid man by any stretch.

Who cares that he knows? You shouldn’t. It was nothing, remember? Nothing at all.

I forced myself to look at him. Forced myself to smile. ‘Yeah, but it was no big deal.’

Mr Evans didn’t smile. He went very still instead, a feral light glowing in his eyes. ‘Did he hurt you?’

But I didn’t want to go into it. ‘It wasn’t a drama, honestly.’

‘Did. He. Hurt. You?’ Each word was bitten off, a rough thread of anger running through his voice.

I wanted to ask him why he cared so much, but I was afraid of the answer for some reason, so I didn’t. ‘Not physically.’

‘And your father paid him off? Why? He didn’t defend you? Get the police involved?’

‘No,’ I snapped, feeling defensive. ‘Dad didn’t want any fusses made. And I’d made it into this big deal already.’

Mr Evans’s expression settled into forbidding lines. ‘And how exactly did you make it a big deal?’

‘Mark grabbed me, so I... I kind of...kneed him in the balls.’

An electric-blue flame leapt in Mr Evans’s eyes and it looked suspiciously like approval. ‘Good,’ he said fiercely.

‘No, it wasn’t good.’ I tried to ignore the warmth that approval had ignited inside me. ‘I shouldn’t have done anything. I should have just...handled it. But Mark told everyone that I’d assaulted him and Dad didn’t want to deal with it. So he paid Mark to be quiet and leave.’

‘He shouldn’t have.’ Mr Evans leaned forward abruptly in his seat, his voice low and savage. ‘He should have hauled that motherfucker down to the station and booked him.’

I blinked at his vehemence and the ferocity in his gaze. ‘Well, he didn’t. Why does it matter to you, anyway?’

‘My mother was my father’s maid. He seduced her and she ended up living hand to mouth in a council estate with a child she got no support for.’ Bitterness edged each word. ‘I know what workplace harassment can do to a woman. And yes, I care about it.’

His ferocity was a physical force. A shock wave pushing against me. ‘Apart from anything else, I don’t like people taking advantage of others more vulnerable than they are.’ He put a hand on each of the armrests on either side of my seat, a wall of hot male anger. ‘In fact, you’re damn lucky I wasn’t anywhere around this Mark bastard when he grabbed you. Because if I had been, he wouldn’t have had any balls left for you to knee.’

He was threatening like this, his anger not directed at me but for me. A protective anger. An anger that Dad had never displayed, not once. No, his had always been at me. As if Mark grabbing me had been my fault.

I didn’t know why desire hit me so hard in that moment, a surge of it spiking in my blood. Because it shouldn’t have. I didn’t need a man getting protective of me—hell, I’d kicked bloody Mark straight in the family jewels, hadn’t I? I could protect myself.

But some part of me liked that Mr Evans was angry on my behalf. I could imagine him at the Australis Christmas party, standing behind me, big and scarred and dangerous. Scowling that famous scowl. A wordless threat to anyone who thought touching me was a good idea.

And he wouldn’t have cared about making a fuss as Dad had.

No, he wouldn’t have cared about that one single iota.

He would have been on my side.

I wanted him suddenly and very, very badly.

And he must have seen it, because his gaze became very focused. ‘You like that idea, don’t you?’ His voice dropped almost an entire octave.

‘Yes.’ Very purposefully, I put my hands over his where they rested on the armrests of my seat, his skin searing my palms. ‘I do.’

‘That’s very bloodthirsty.’

‘You have a problem with a woman being bloodthirsty?’

‘Fuck, no. But fair warning, pretty thing. It turns me on.’

I shivered. I shouldn’t goad him and yet I couldn’t stop. ‘I don’t mind if you’re turned on.’

The expression on his face got taut. ‘You might. Because if you keep touching me like that, we’re having sex. Understand?’

Oh, I understood. I was very clear. And the more I stared into his eyes, the more I wanted him and the less my doubts about it seemed to matter.

I couldn’t even remember why I hadn’t wanted to have sex with him again in the first place. It was only sex. Not a big deal.

‘That’s going to be difficult in Dubai,’ I said huskily. ‘I mean, presumably couples who are serious have to touch each other. And it’ll look weird if we don’t.’

The look in his eyes became scorching. ‘You want to get in some practice, then?’

If I thought about this too long I’d get cold feet.

I needed to stop thinking.

I leaned forward, running my hands up his strong forearms, trailing my fingers over hot skin and powerful muscle.

And kissed him. Hard.

CHAPTER TWELVE

Ash

ELLIE’S MOUTH WAS HOT, her delicate touch against my bare skin making my breath catch.

I shouldn’t have responded. I should have pulled away, especially given what she’d just told me about the prick who’d touched her, who’d hurt her no matter how she’d downplayed it.

Because I was just another prick who would hurt her.

Because that was what I did. I hurt people.

But I couldn’t have pulled away from her in that moment if my life had depended on it.

I’d warned her, though. I’d warned her that if she was going to touch me like this, we’d be having sex. And I was a man of my word.

Despite numerous invitations, I’d never had sex in the company jet—I preferred to keep the line between my company and my pleasure very separate.

Today, I didn’t give a shit about that line.

Her tongue was tentatively exploring me, her nails beginning to dig into my biceps. She tasted so sweet, strawberries on a summer day, and the heat of her body was temptation incarnate.

She was wearing shorts today, instead of her uniform. Just a simple pair of blue denim shorts, with a green T-shirt. Nothing spectacular.

Yet I hadn’t been able to take my eyes off her.

I’d had to busy myself with a whole lot of business just to stop myself from gaping at her like a love-struck teenager. I’d thought I’d had myself well in hand. But when she’d started talking about her family’s company, about the situation with the harassment and some motherfucker who thought he could touch her; about how her father had paid that prick off instead of supporting his daughter...

I’d wanted to kill someone over that.

If either her father or the prick who’d touched her had been there I think I would have literally strangled them.

But since they weren’t, I’d have to take the sex.

What a fucking hardship.

I shouldn’t touch her again, but she was kissing me quite desperately and I couldn’t refuse her. I didn’t want to refuse her.

I lifted my hands to her face, sliding my fingers along her delicate jaw, her skin silky and soft beneath my fingertips.

A kiss was great. But her mouth wasn’t where I wanted to kiss her.

Holding her carefully, I pulled away.

She blinked, her eyes a pure dark gold, looking at me as if she’d never wanted anything so badly.

My cock, already hard, ached like a bastard.

‘Lie back,’ I ordered. ‘Let me give you something.’

‘But I—’

‘I’m not asking.’

As I expected, the order ignited her fighting spirit. ‘Oh? You think you’re driving again?’

‘Yes.’ I dropped my hands to her bare thighs, stroking, her skin just as silky and warm as her jaw had been. ‘And as I recall, you very much enjoyed it when I drove the last time.’

She was already a very pretty shade of pink, and when I stroked her again she went even pinker. ‘But I’m always the driver.’

‘I know. So let me do the work for once.’ I kept my gaze on hers as I reached for the buttons of her shorts, watching her reaction. ‘All you need to do is lie back and enjoy the ride.’

‘Oh.’ She chewed on her bottom lip a moment as if considering it. Then she let out a breath. ‘Well, I guess when you put it like that.’ Slowly she sat back in her seat.

Raw triumph flooded through me, along with something a little more uncomfortable. Because she wasn’t one of my socialites, or an aristocrat I could sully. She was different. She was a fighter who was conceding me the advantage by choice. Because she trusted me. Even after that arsehole had hurt her, she trusted me.

The heady eroticism of the knowledge caught me by the throat at the same time as it unsettled me.

I had no idea why she would trust me, even why she had the night in the limo in Paris, especially given what kind of man I was.

You’re not good enough for her. You’re not good enough for anyone.

I shoved that thought away. This wasn’t about me. This was about her. About giving her pleasure and making sure she’d never regret the trust she put in me.

I undid the button of her shorts and pulled down the zip. Then I slid my hands into the waistband and began to ease the denim down, taking her underwear with it, watching her face the whole time.

Her gaze had darkened, but I didn’t miss the hint of uncertainty in it.

I stopped. ‘What? Changed your mind?’

‘No.’ She sounded sure, at least. ‘I haven’t changed my mind. But...’ She glanced at the door that led to the galley and cockpit. ‘No one’s going to interrupt?’

My tense muscles relaxed. Thank fuck for that. Shyness I could deal with.

‘My staff know better than that,’ I said. ‘I like to do work when I fly long distance so they leave me alone. No one’s even going to knock for another couple of hours.’

‘Oh, good.’ She gave me a small smile, her flush deepening beautifully. ‘I didn’t much care about it in the limo, but this is... I don’t know, different.’

She was right. This was different. Because this wasn’t us being at the mercy of our chemistry. This was us being very purposeful.

This was me doing something for her.

I wasn’t used to reassuring people, but I tried. ‘Don’t worry. I would have told the stewardess to stay put if I thought it would be a problem.’

Her uncertainty melted away entirely. ‘Okay, good. Well...’ She lifted her hips. ‘Come on. Get going.’

Impatient girl.

I was generally a selfish man but not sexually, and especially not now, with her. This was about what Ellie wanted. And I was going to give it to her. Slowly.

I tightened my grip on the fabric still covering her and tugged it down, easing it over her butt, down her thighs and off, before discarding it onto the floor of the cabin.

She’d gone the loveliest shade of pink and I put my hands on the armrests of her seat, taking a moment to look at her, because she was a fucking gorgeous sight. All silky pale skin and the dark nest of curls between her thighs.

The pink became scarlet as a tide of red washed over her skin and her hands lifted as if to cover herself, but I caught her wrists before she could, gripping and holding them lightly. ‘You don’t want me to look?’

She shifted uncomfortably but didn’t pull away. ‘No... I just... Mark used to look at me and I didn’t like it.’

‘I’m not Mark.’

‘No, I know, but I—’

I released one wrist and caught her chin in my fingers, holding her so she had no choice but to meet my gaze. ‘I’m not Mark,’ I repeated. ‘And this is different, understand? Yes, I like to be in charge, but the only reason I am is because you’re letting me.’ I tightened my grip, because this was important. No, this was vital. ‘You have the power here, pretty thing. And you have it because your pleasure matters. It didn’t matter to him, not one fucking iota. But it matters to me.’

She didn’t say anything, her attention focused on me as if she’d never seen me before in her entire life. And that made my cock even harder, my body liking the way she was staring at me very much indeed.

‘Let me look,’ I went on, letting her see the desire in my gaze. ‘Because you’re beautiful and I like looking at you. And I think there’s a part of you that likes me looking at you, too. A part that you don’t want to let yourself acknowledge.’

Emotions flickered through her expressive face, gone so fast that I couldn’t decipher them. But then I felt the slight resistance drain from her arms, her wrist going lax in my grip. And she eased herself back in the seat, her chin lifting, the expression glowing in her eyes very clear now. A challenge. Because of course, she was a fighter.

‘Shall I show you how much you like it, then?’ I asked, to be certain.

She lifted a shoulder, as if she didn’t much care. But the gold flames in her eyes told a different story.

So I let go of her wrists and reached for the hem of her T-shirt, tugging gently on the fabric to indicate what I wanted, keeping my attention on her face.

Another flicker of uncertainty, but then she leaned forward and slowly raised her arms, letting me pull the cotton up and over her head, taking her bra with it, so at last she was sitting in her seat completely naked.

Then I put my hands on the armrests again and I looked, taking my time, letting my gaze track down, over the slight, sweet curves of her perfect tits with their pretty pink and rapidly hardening nipples. Then the graceful indentation of her waist and the curving plane of her stomach. Down further to the flare of her hips and her rounded thighs.

Beautiful. Absolutely fucking beautiful.

She trembled, but didn’t move. Didn’t cover herself. She’d gone bright red, but she didn’t look away, either.

Brave girl.

But I wanted to see more.

I put my hands on her knees, spreading them apart, watching for any sign of resistance, but there was none. So I pushed them wider, my gaze falling hungrily to the tantalising nest of dark curls and pink flesh.

So fucking pretty. And she was wet, too, I could see the slick gleam of moisture on her skin.

Desire pulsed through me, thick and hot, the ache in my groin becoming demanding.

‘Yes,’ I said roughly. ‘You like me looking at you, don’t you?’

She shifted on the seat, her chin lifting higher. ‘Maybe. And so?’

‘So?’ I let the hunger show in my voice, throwing the challenge right back at her. ‘Show me more. Show me that pretty little pussy of yours.’ I rested my weight on my hands and leaned in, the scent of her arousal sweet and musky in the air, the heat of her body making me ache to touch her. ‘Show me how wet you are.’

Her skin was a fiery red, but her chin firmed, the gold in her gaze leaping higher.

Desire wrapped its hands around my throat, choking me, because if that wasn’t the look of a woman accepting a challenge, I didn’t know what was.

Christ, she had courage. And a backbone of pure steel.

She lifted her hands and then—little witch—put them on her hips, sliding them down slowly and watching me as she did so, as if gauging my response. I didn’t hold back, showing her what her sexy show was doing to me and she liked that. She liked that a lot, desire flickering over her face as she stared at me.

As if that was a goad, she slid her hands lower, between her spread thighs, her fingers firm on her own slick flesh as she gently eased apart the wet, pink folds of her pussy, holding them there.

My fingers dug into the leather of the armrests, the need to dive right in, put my mouth on her, my hands on her, almost all-consuming. I ached like a motherfucker and my mouth watered. But I stayed where I was, enjoying the view.

‘Beautiful.’ My voice had gone low and rough. ‘All pink and wet. You really like me looking, don’t you?’

She shivered, her breathing uneven, her gaze hot and focused on mine. ‘Yes. Seen enough, yet?’

‘No, not nearly enough.’ I glanced down at the lovely sight of her spread thighs, at the petal pink of her sex and the gleam of moisture on her skin, the sheen of it on her fingers. ‘Is this all for me?’

‘Y-yes,’ she said thickly.

My own heartbeat was loud in my head, a thudding, insistent rhythm. I was used to taking what I wanted when I wanted it. I never had to wait. But now, here with her, I wanted to.

If it added to her pleasure I’d wait till kingdom fucking come.

I met her hazel eyes. ‘And what would you like me to do about it?’

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Ellie

MY HEART WAS beating so loudly I could hardly hear anything, and I was shaking, hardly able to breathe through the intense hunger that had me in its grip.

Mr Evans was kneeling in front of my seat, gripping onto the arms, his knuckles white. His scarred face was fierce with the same hunger that was rising in me, his eyes electric on mine.

Sitting there with my legs spread, holding myself open for him, I’d never felt so vulnerable and yet so weirdly powerful in all my life.

Doing this was pushing him hard and I knew it. In fact, I could see how close to the edge he was—he didn’t hide it. Yet he wasn’t moving.

He had all the strength and yet, strangely, I had all the power.

I’d been hesitant about him looking at me at first, and, to be honest, uncomfortable and a bit scared. Because I’d hated how Mark had done the same thing, staring at me as if I was something he wanted to eat.

But I didn’t hate Mr Evans looking at me.

I didn’t hate it at all.

Not when I could see how hard he was holding himself back. All that strength was tightly leashed, the power of him humming in the air around him like a force field, yet he didn’t release it. He kept it in check.

Kept himself in check.

He’d said this was different, but I hadn’t realised how different until now. I hadn’t realised how much I liked him looking at me until now either.

Being desired wasn’t something I’d wanted, and yet... I wanted to be desired by him. More, I wanted to keep pushing him, to see how far I could go, where his boundaries were, because he must have them.

A dangerous game, perhaps?

Maybe, but then I’d always been a fan of danger and the adrenaline rush.

‘Well?’ he demanded, the rough edge in his voice making me shiver in delight. ‘Tell me what you want.’

‘I want you to keep looking.’ I sounded just as rough as he did. ‘Keep watching.’

A muscle flickered in his impressive jaw. ‘What are you going to do, pretty?’

‘I’ll show you.’ And without taking my gaze from his, I shifted one of my hands, sliding my finger over my clit, sending electricity firing through my body like a switch being thrown.

Instantly his attention dropped to my hand and what I was doing, that muscle in his jaw jumping again as I slid my finger around my clit once more, rubbing gently.

Pleasure uncurled inside me, a sweet ache made all the more intense by the way he followed every move I made.

I’d done this in bed at night, when I couldn’t sleep, when I was feeling restless. Before Mark it had been for fun, but after, I’d done it to try and make myself feel better, to reclaim my feelings for myself.

I thought it had worked, but right now, with Mr Evans watching me, I knew it hadn’t. This was better than anything I could give myself. Because Mr Evans’s electric gaze didn’t simply blaze over memories of Mark staring at me fixedly during that horrible Christmas party, it replaced those memories entirely.

Instead of powerlessness and an oily, sick feeling, I felt strong, pleasure humming in my veins. Making me want to keep going, push him even more, wipe out those memories so I’d never think of Mark again.

I’d never backed down from a challenge, so I kept going.

I slid one finger inside, going slowly, making sure he watched as I did, lifting my hips and spreading my thighs wider so he got a good view. It felt incredible, pleasure licking up my spine as I watched the flames in his eyes leap high.

His expression was taut, his jaw hard, and I could almost feel the tension in his body myself. He was still holding himself back and yet it was getting difficult for him.

Satisfaction unwound inside me and I slid my finger out then back in again, feeling my own wetness and heat, allowing myself to give in to the sheer pleasure of it. To having this powerful man watch me as I touched myself, taut and hungry and not able to touch me. Because I had said so.

I arched back in my seat, moaning as I moved my finger faster, rubbing at my clit with my other hand, watching him from beneath my lashes, his gaze fixed between my legs.

I added another finger and he growled, a rumble coming from deep in his chest, a rough, hungry sound. ‘You like to push, don’t you?’

‘No fun otherwise.’ I panted, shifting again, moving my hips in time with my hand, electric ripples of pleasure moving through me and making me gasp.

The blunt, scarred lines of his face became set, his knuckles white where he gripped the armrests. His nostrils flared as if he’d scented me, his focus intensifying.

Was he near the edge? Was he going to go over like I was? Because I would and very quickly if I wasn’t careful. Watching him watch me was unbelievably erotic and it wouldn’t take much to send me flying.

But I wanted to see him break first.

I lifted one leg, hooking it over the armrest, brushing the back of his hand, opening myself up wider so he could get an even better view. And he growled again, a low, rough warning, flashing me a brief, electric glance that told me he was hanging by a thread.

Exhilaration gripped me, like throwing a car around the track, foot to the floor, seeing how fast you could go and still stay in control. Stay in command.

Go faster.

I arched in my seat, sinking both fingers deep inside, moaning softly at the pleasure that rolled through me, letting my thigh rest heavily against the back of his hand.

He cursed, filthy and low. ‘Miss Little, keep playing with fire and you’re going to get burned.’

‘Why?’ I panted. ‘Am I too much for you?’

And just like that, the warning in his eyes blazed into intent. He shifted, reaching for the hand between my thighs and pulling it away. Then he lifted my slick fingers and drew them into his mouth.

The suddenness of the movement and the heat of his tongue around my fingers stole every breath I had.

I gasped as he began to slowly and methodically suck, his gaze on mine. The pressure was gentle and yet I felt it intensely, as if he were sucking on something else. Something far more sensitive.

I shuddered, my breathing getting faster, the unfulfilled ache between my thighs acute. I wanted to come but suddenly I didn’t want to make myself do it. I wanted him to do it for me.

And he must have known that, must have read it in my gaze, because he took my hand from his mouth and placed it down on one of the armrests. ‘Hold on,’ he ordered. ‘Don’t let go.’

Excitement wound through me and part of me wanted to argue with him. But I wanted his touch more, so I obeyed, shivering as he did the same with my other hand, before holding both hands down by covering them with his own. Then he gave me one blazing glance, before he leaned forward and buried his head between my spread thighs.

Fire burst along every nerve ending I had.

I arched in the seat, crying out as he pushed his tongue into me, a hard thrust that nearly tipped me over the edge. But not quite. I groaned, shivering all over, the pleasure of it indescribable.

I’d never had a man do this to me, had never felt the rough prickle of his stubble against my inner thighs, or the pressure of his tongue in my pussy. It was incredible, the pleasure almost painful in its intensity.

Then he pulled back, his tongue beginning to explore me, licking me with broad, flat strokes, before finding my clit and teasing.

He seemed to know exactly how far to push without giving me exactly what I wanted, stopping before I fell over the edge, pushing me every bit as badly as I’d pushed him.

It was payback, I got that. But it was the kind of payback I was more than happy with. Well, if I hadn’t been so impatient, that was.

‘Please...’ I gasped as he flicked my clit with his tongue. ‘Oh, Mr Evans, please...’

His voice was a low vibration against my inner thigh. ‘Ash, pretty thing. You’re going to have to start calling me Ash, because no one calls their boyfriend Mr.’ A blaze of blue met mine. ‘Unless it’s in bed.’

Through the haze of pleasure, I understood. Just. ‘A-Ash,’ I managed, trying it out as I squirmed and shifted beneath the pressure of his tongue. ‘Please...’ I tried to lift my hands but he was holding them down and didn’t let me.

‘Please what? You have to tell me what you want.’

‘Please make me come. Oh, please...’

He didn’t reply, merely turned his attention back between my thighs, covering my pussy with his mouth. Then he went to work on my clit, teasing and licking, nipping too, just a little, the pain slight and yet so sweet I couldn’t stop the cry of pleasure it dragged from me.

And then one more flick of his tongue and I was gone, bucking in my seat, arching and shifting as the pleasure rocketed through me, turning me into a human firework, bursting me into flames right where I sat.

I didn’t know how long it was before I came down from the high, my body pulsing, my heartbeat roaring in my ears, my breathing wild.

But then his hands were on me and I was being gathered up from the seat and into his arms, taken over to the low couch on the opposite side of the cabin. He bent and laid me carefully down onto it before putting one hand on either side of my head and leaning over me, staring down into my eyes. The expression on his face stole my breath, the hunger for me burning bright in his gaze.

Yes, I’d pushed him. I’d pushed him right to the edge and over it. He’d broken. He’d touched me and I couldn’t help feeling as if, somehow, I’d won this round.

It made me want to test him again.

‘I want you,’ he said roughly, without any preliminaries. ‘In fact, I don’t think I’ve ever wanted to fuck anyone as badly as I want to fuck you right now. But this is about you, not me. Your pleasure, not mine. So if you don’t want—’

I reached up and put a finger across his hard mouth, silencing him. Then I said huskily, ‘Fuck me, Mr Evans.’

Wildfire blazed in his eyes and for a second I thought he was going to take me there and then. But he pushed himself away and straightened to his full height. Then he began to get rid of his clothing, watching me all the while, stripping his T-shirt off and dropping it to the floor, his hand dropping to the buttons of his jeans.

I couldn’t drag my gaze from him, running over the wide, powerful planes of his bare chest, the hard, cut muscle of his abs, the flex and release of his biceps as he undid his jeans.

He was a beautiful man and I couldn’t stop looking as he took his time undoing his fly, teasing me as I’d teased him.

‘This is payback, right?’ I asked thickly as he shoved his jeans down and off.

‘It might be.’ He straightened, naked now and totally magnificent, the whole cabin full of his fierce hunger and electrical presence.

My mouth dried as I looked down his brutally powerful body to where his cock stood out, hard and huge, curving up to his corrugated stomach. I pushed myself up, my hands itching to touch him, but he must have known what I wanted because he gave one firm shake of his head. ‘Just lie there, pretty thing. No touching me quite yet, not if you want my cock.’ He bent to get his wallet out of his jeans, extracting a condom before tossing everything back down on the floor. Then he ripped open the packet with his teeth and rolled down the latex with a couple of powerful, efficient movements, before coming over to where I lay on the couch.

I was panting now, the ache between my thighs building once more, desperate to touch him, to feel him against me. I spread my legs as he got onto the couch, reaching up to him as he positioned himself over me, my hands sliding over the smooth skin of his powerful shoulders.

God, he was amazing. All that strength leashed and contained for me. All of that pleasure for me, too.

I didn’t know why I was important enough that my experience with Mark mattered to him, but I wasn’t going to question it, not now. The fact that it did matter was enough.

That what I wanted mattered enough. Because it had been a long time since that had happened, too.

I couldn’t read the look in his eyes as he slid his hands beneath my butt and lifted me, fitting the blunt head of his cock into my body. But something in it burned. He was so intense, almost too much to look at directly.

But I watched him as I felt him push inside me, thick, hot and hard, feeling my own flesh part before his, straining to accommodate him. I shuddered, gasping, digging my nails into the hard muscle of his shoulders.

He didn’t look away from me, not once, sinking deep and making me shudder and groan because he was big. But I’d taken him before and I took him now, tilting my hips so he could go deeper, wrapping my legs around his lean waist and arching up. My nipples scraped deliciously over his hard chest, the prickle of hair an added delight.

‘God,’ I whispered, looking up into his eyes. ‘You feel amazing...’

The ferocity in his expression stole my breath. He didn’t answer, only leaned down and covered my mouth with his, kissing me hard, an edge of desperation in it that I didn’t quite understand.

I could taste myself on his lips, but I didn’t care. It was like spice added to an already hot dish, building the heat even higher, and I kissed him back, hungry as he was.

He nipped on my bottom lip as he moved, lifting his hands to the arm of the couch behind my head and gripping it, then using it as leverage as he thrust hard, then harder still. Deep then deeper.

I could barely think now, the pleasure getting larger and larger inside me, the pressure of it becoming more and more intense.

Too much.

Dimly in some part of my brain I heard the warning. But I was too far gone to listen to it. The ecstasy of having him inside me, the furious pace he was setting too irresistible. I didn’t want to stop it.

I didn’t want it to end.

The heat of him was all around me, inside me. The heady musky scent of male arousal and clean sweat was an aphrodisiac that I’d never dreamt would turn me on as much as it was doing. And it was.

I slid my hands down his powerful back, feeling his hard body surge into me, digging my nails into his skin, holding on tight as he drove us both to the edge.

This is going to make you cry again.

I shut my eyes, kissing him hungrily, trying to lose myself in the taste of him and the feel of his cock thrusting into me, trying to lose myself in the pleasure and not think about the ache in my chest that was building as much as the pleasure was.

An ache I didn’t understand.

Just sex, huh?

I shoved the thought from my mind. ‘Harder,’ I whispered against his mouth. ‘Fuck me harder, Mr Evans.’

He made another of those low, sexy rumbling sounds, his rhythm intensifying until the cabin was full of the sounds of his flesh hitting mine, my gasps of pleasure and his own rough groans as we came closer and closer to the edge.

I dug my heels into the taut muscle of his butt, my nails scratching him as lights began to burst behind my eyes.

He moved harder, deeper, and something began to shift inside me, beginning to crack under the weight of all that pleasure. I felt tears begin to start behind my eyes, pinpricks of emotion stabbing through me.

I fought it, fought the release instinctively, not wanting to give away anything, but it was too late. He shifted his hand between my thighs and found my clit, stroking me as he thrust until I cracked apart completely and all the pleasure came flooding out.

I screamed into his mouth as it hit, my whole body arching and going rigid against his, electrified.

His grip tightened, holding me together as I fell apart in his arms, before getting even tighter as he slammed into me, chasing his own release. His thrusts got wilder, falling out of rhythm, before he tore his mouth from mine and turned his face into my hair, giving one last hard thrust, his body going rigid as he came.

I shut my eyes, blinking furiously to hold back inexplicable tears as he shuddered against me, my name whispered in a rough, dark voice against my skin.

God, what was wrong with me? Why was I getting so emotional again? It didn’t make any sense.

I felt good, so good. I shouldn’t want to cry about it.

Swallowing hard, I managed to keep the tide of emotion at bay, content to let his big, hard body anchor me to the couch, his breath hot in my ear.

Eventually, though, he lifted his head and his blue gaze pinned me. ‘Petra booked us a suite with adjoining rooms in Dubai, but I’m telling you now that the moment we land, I’ll be wanting to take you into that suite, spread you out across that bed, and keep you there the entire bloody night.’ He paused, searching my face. ‘If you don’t want that, you need to tell me now.’

What could I say? I’d crossed the line and I didn’t want to go back, no matter the raw feeling that stuck in my chest.

I could ignore that. It was just sex, right?

‘I want it,’ I said without hesitation.

And hoped I didn’t regret it.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Ash

THE FUCKING LIMO felt too goddamn small.

Ellie was sitting beside me, dressed in a green gown that appeared to be constructed out of nothing but tissue. It had a neckline that plunged almost to her belly button and fitted like a glove around her hips and thighs, the skirt falling silkily to her ankles, and I wanted to rip it off her body, and bury myself inside her.

Again.

I thought I’d be satisfied after our first night in Dubai, screwing each other senseless in the suite Petra had booked for us as soon as we got off the plane. But apparently not.

Apparently screwing her only made me want to screw her more, and now I felt nothing but hungry and possessive and feral, all of which were a bad combination.

Especially since we were on our way to the club event where I was supposed to be talking Delaney out of his precious islands. I was going to need my focus for that and couldn’t afford to be distracted by my lovely chauffeur.

Except she didn’t look like a chauffeur tonight. She looked like one of my expensive socialites, with her brown hair lying gleaming and glossy over her shoulders, her face newly adorned with make-up.

It was strange seeing her like this, but not at all unwelcome.

She looked gorgeous and I’d already decided I liked her just as much in a gown as I did in her uniform, though the shorts won because they showed more skin.

However, she was obviously nervous because when she wasn’t tugging up the neckline of her gown, she was touching her hair or straightening the fabric of her skirt. Small gestures that betrayed her.

‘You don’t need to be nervous,’ I said into the silence. ‘You look beautiful.’

She gave me a quick glance. ‘And you look hot in that tux.’

I grimaced and tried not to pull on my tie; I hated wearing a suit.

‘Anyway,’ she went on, ‘I’m not nervous.’

‘Yes, you are. If you pull at your gown one more time, you’re going to rip it.’ I reached out and took her hand from where it was tugging at her neckline for a fourth time, threading my fingers through hers and drawing it away from the gown to lie on my thigh instead.

Touching her was probably a bloody stupid thing to do, especially when the chemistry between us was so volatile, but I thought my touch might reassure her.

She stared at our linked hands for a long moment, her fingers looking small and delicate compared to mine.

‘Okay,’ she sighed. ‘Maybe I am. I’m not used to wearing dresses.’

‘Really? You don’t wear dresses at home?’

‘No. After Mum died I got out of the habit.’

There was a slight catch in her voice as she said the words and I found myself searching her face. ‘Why? You don’t like wearing them?’

‘Not really. But also I look like her.’ She hesitated. ‘Dad found that...difficult.’

Her father sounded like a piece of work—hell, he hadn’t protected his own daughter from someone who wanted to hurt her. But given her defensiveness about it in the plane yesterday, I kept that opinion to myself for now.

‘Difficult?’ I asked.

‘When I say I look like her, I mean I’m the spitting image of her.’ There was a certain sadness in her eyes that made me tighten my grip on her hand. ‘Mum also loved dresses and make-up and all kinds of girly things, and after she died, he was so upset that I just...thought it was easier if I didn’t look so much like a girl.’

‘You wanted to protect him.’

She sighed again. ‘He was so lost without her and he doesn’t do emotion. He couldn’t deal with losing her and I wanted to help him.’

‘And what about you?’

‘What about me?’

‘Did anyone help you?’ I didn’t know what made me ask. Maybe it was that sadness in her eyes, or the way her fingers had tightened around mine. The sense that I knew the answer to that question already: no one had.

The lights from the city outside glided over her face, a flash of something raw in her eyes, and I felt my chest constrict. ‘No,’ I said, annoyed with myself. ‘Forget I said anything. You don’t have to answer.’

She gave me a long look, then said eventually, ‘I had my brothers. But they were all older than me. And Dad had no idea what to do with a seven-year-old girl. So...no. I guess I didn’t have anyone.’ She smiled, but I’d never seen anything so forced. ‘Anyway, it was fine. I coped.’

Of course she had. Because she was tough—at least on the surface. But underneath she was vulnerable, I could see it in her eyes. Hell, I’d seen it up in the plane yesterday, too.

I stroked the back of her hand with my thumb, trying not to give in to the anger I felt on her behalf. She was loyal to her family, but it made me wonder if they were as loyal to her.

Certainly there were issues with her dad and his handling of the harassment problem. I got the feeling that he blamed her for it, which was so wrong I wanted to hit something. Hard.

‘It wasn’t fine,’ I said roughly, not liking how she dismissed herself and her own needs so easily. And with a smile that was in no way natural. ‘I’m sure you did cope, because you’re tough. But that doesn’t mean you didn’t need anyone to be there for you.’

Her forced smile faltered. ‘Dad didn’t like fusses. He didn’t know how to deal with them.’

‘Well, as you probably know by now, I don’t mind a fuss.’ With my free hand, I gently brushed a finger along her lower lip. ‘But what I really don’t like is pretence. You have a beautiful smile, pretty thing. You don’t need to fake it.’

She blinked and the smile slowly disappeared. Her hand tightened in mine. ‘What about you? Did you have anyone?’

I didn’t want to talk about me. But then, it was my own fault. I’d introduced the subject and this was where the conversation had ended up. And I couldn’t not tell her now, not after what she’d told me.

‘I had my mother,’ I said, somewhat reluctantly. ‘My father wasn’t part of my life in any way. He got rid of Mum once he found out she was pregnant and wouldn’t pay a cent towards helping her with anything. The only time was when she begged him to pay for my schooling.’ I stroked my thumb over Ellie’s skin. It was very soft against mine and very warm. ‘I tried once, when I was thirteen, to get something from him myself. Mum was having difficulty covering rent and I thought I might be able to convince him to help us. But...’ I didn’t know why I was telling her this story, not when it ended in nothing but humiliation. Nevertheless, I found myself going on. ‘I went and stood outside his house, and when someone eventually came to the door—I don’t know who it was, but not Dad—they told me he didn’t want to see me. That I wasn’t his problem.’ Even now, the anger of that moment burned inside me, no matter how many years went by. How I was dismissed. As if my mother and I meant nothing and were nothing to him.

The slight pressure of her fingers around mine made me realise that she was squeezing my hand. As if I was the one who needed reassurance this time.

It made me want to put some distance between us, but I couldn’t pull away. Not without hurting her and I didn’t want to hurt her.

‘It’s fine,’ I said brusquely. ‘It was a long time ago.’

She gave me a small, shy smile. ‘Now you sound like me.’

‘It’s not quite the same. You lost your mother. I still have mine.’

‘But you did lose your dad in a way, didn’t you?’

Something shifted inside me. An ache. I ignored it. ‘His loss. Anyway, you can’t lose something you never had.’

She gave me a searching look. ‘It’s the potential though, isn’t it? The potential for there to have been something more.’

The ache deepened into pain and I gritted my teeth hard. ‘There was never any potential for something more. I wasn’t good enough for Dad. I wasn’t his problem.’ The words sounded bitter, like something a petulant teenager would say, which was galling. ‘But like I said,’ I went on quickly, before she could say anything, ‘that was years ago. Anyway, we weren’t talking about me. We were talking about you.’

Ellie scowled. ‘I don’t want to talk about me. I’m bloody boring.’

The tight feeling in my chest eased at the grumpy expression on her face. ‘And now you sound like me,’ I said, amused.

That got a smile from her, an easy, natural one that seemed to light up the interior of the entire car.

‘That’s better, pretty thing,’ I murmured, watching her. ‘That’s the smile I’m talking about.’

She flushed. ‘How did you meet him?’

The question was so out of the blue that I didn’t quite understand what she was talking about for a second.

‘Him?’

‘Your half-brother. I mean, you didn’t have contact with your dad, so I’ve been wondering.’

My amusement vanished. Fuck. I didn’t want to talk about Dumont, either.

No, because then she’ll know what a petty bastard you are. How you destroyed the only friendship you had because you can’t let go of the past.

No. Maybe she should know what a petty bastard I was. I’d told her how Seb had lost my money, but I hadn’t told her how I’d spent the last twelve years competing for his business. Or how I’d preferred my anger to all the olive branches he’d tried to hold out.

‘I met him at school,’ I said at last. ‘My mother finally got Dad to pay for my schooling at a private prep school and I met him there.’ A memory floated through my head, of how I’d been shunned by the other boys, because I was poor, because at that stage I was skinny and short and I didn’t belong with them. Of how they all drew away from me as I sat that first day in the ancient hall where they ate. And how one lanky kid had dropped onto the bench opposite me and had given me a grin. ‘Hey,’ he’d said. ‘This seat taken?’

I’d glowered at him, wanting him to go away and leave me alone.

But he hadn’t. He’d simply stuck out his hand and introduced himself. Then he’d said, ‘Brothers have to stick together, right?’

‘He didn’t care that I didn’t belong,’ I said aloud. ‘He didn’t give a single shit where I’d come from. We were brothers and as far as he was concerned that was all he needed to know to be my friend.’

Ellie squeezed my hand again. ‘No wonder you were so angry with him when he lost your money,’ she murmured. ‘He broke your trust.’

She saw through me. She saw through me too well.

‘And so I went after his business.’ My voice was rough and I made no effort to hide it. ‘He tried to mend fences, but since he’d ignored me, I ignored him.’ I bared my teeth at her. ‘Don’t make the mistake of thinking I’m totally the wronged party here, pretty thing. I’m a petty bastard and I’m fully aware of that fact.’

She gave me a long look. ‘Is that supposed to be a warning?’

‘No. Just the truth.’

Her hazel gaze turned intent. ‘You’re very uncompromising about certain things. Why is that?’

Something shot down my spine, a bolt of heat. ‘Because I don’t apologise for who I am and I don’t hide it, either. You take me as I am or not at all. Understand?’ I didn’t know why it felt important to say to her. Perhaps because I didn’t want her thinking I was something I wasn’t.

Like, someone better?

I ignored that thought, holding her hazel gaze instead.

And slowly she gave me a nod. ‘I understand.’

I hoped she did. Because if she wanted me to be someone else, she was out of luck.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Ellie

IT WAS STRANGE being a passenger in a limo. Even stranger for the limo to pull up outside the venue we were going to and for the door to be held open for me the way I usually did for other people.

We’d pulled up outside some hotel that was the very epitome of an Arabian Nights fantasy, all arches and domes and gardens. The space in front of the entrance was full of other limos dropping off expensively clad guests, ladies in couture gowns and men in tuxes.

Mr Evans—no, Ash—had surprised me by wearing a tux tonight and I found it surprisingly difficult to look at him in it.

Because if he was gorgeous in jeans and a T-shirt, in a tux he was absolutely mesmerising.

With his height and his broad build, his scarred face and the electric blue of his eyes, the formality of the clothing seemed only to enhance the raw masculinity of him, a kind of untamed earthy energy that had made my breath catch the moment I’d seen him in it.

He held out his hand to me now as I got out of the limo, the warmth of his fingers closing around mine as I took it. The reassurance of that warmth made something I hadn’t realised was nervous inside me settle.

Back at the hotel, we’d talked a little about what our cover story as a couple would be and had decided that we’d go with meeting at a charity event a couple of months ago and keeping our relationship on the down-low to avoid any media nonsense. No, we hadn’t been dating long, but we already knew that it was going to be something that would last. Yes, we were contemplating marriage, and kids were a definite possibility.

His gaze was intense on mine as I stepped from the car, attention turning to us, the paparazzi already gathering.

Except I wasn’t thinking about the paparazzi. I was thinking about what he’d said earlier, about his father and Dumont, and about how he was a petty bastard. He’d flung that at me almost like a challenge, daring me to contradict him, and I’d wanted to.

Because the man who’d reached out and held my hand, who’d talked to me about how I should have had someone when my mother had died, who’d told me my father should have protected me against Mark, wasn’t petty in the slightest.

But I knew he’d argue if I tried to contradict him and it wasn’t the right moment for an argument. I didn’t understand what made me want to convince him he was wrong, anyway. After all, why did I care whether he thought he was a petty bastard or not?

He was certainly a grumpy one, that was for sure, though his temper didn’t bother me. It only made me curious as to why he was like that. Because he struck me very much like a bear with a sore paw, swiping at people who came too close.

Do you want to get close?

Maybe I did. I was curious about the bitterness in his voice when he’d mentioned his father. The throwaway line about him not being good enough.

But it wasn’t a throwaway line, was it? And it kind of explained why he was so driven to succeed and why he was so uncompromising that people had to take him as he was. Why he was so bluntly honest about himself.

He really was afraid he wasn’t good enough.

But I didn’t like that thought and I didn’t like how it hurt him, because it did hurt him. He just covered that hurt with anger.

It made me want to help him in some way, though how I didn’t know. It wasn’t my place to do so anyway.

Well, you are supposed to be his girlfriend, so...maybe it is tonight?

The emerald gown swirled around me as we walked towards the entrance, a reminder of my role: Ash Evans’s girlfriend.

I didn’t know how to be a girlfriend—hell, I was barely used to being a lover, and we’d only been lovers for a single night. Was I even going to be convincing? I could talk about cars for ever, but anything else? Plans for the future and weddings and perhaps a family?

I hadn’t thought about those things. I wasn’t really interested in those things. My life was all about Australis.

What about after this is over? What are you going to do about him?

That, at least, was easy. I would do nothing about him. He’d been a lovely and unexpected interlude while I’d been in Europe, but that was it.

In the meantime, I’d have to play the part I’d promised and hopefully do it well enough that he’d get his precious islands.

‘Don’t look so nervous,’ he murmured in my ear as we turned towards the entrance of the hotel, curling one arm possessively around my waist and drawing me close. ‘Just stick to our story and you’ll be fine.’

I leaned into the heat and hard muscle of his body. ‘I feel like an imposter,’ I murmured back. ‘I don’t know how to be anyone’s girlfriend, let alone yours.’

People stared at us as we entered the hotel, flashes going off as the paparazzi swarmed. Not used to it, I tried to ignore the attention.

‘You don’t have to know.’ He reached into his jacket pocket and brought out a matte black card that he flashed at the doorman. ‘All you have to do is act like you can’t wait to rip my clothes off. That should do it.’

My mouth went dry at the thought of ripping off his clothes. Or rather, of pulling open his white shirt and touching the warm skin of his chest, sliding my hands over all that hard muscle.

God...

‘Yes,’ he rumbled softly and approvingly as the doorman pulled open the door and we went inside. ‘That’s exactly the look I mean.’

I flushed. If that was all it took to look like a girlfriend then this was going to be a piece of cake.

A poised and beautiful blonde woman—Imogen Carmichael, apparently—greeted us at the hotel entrance, an American from the sounds of her accent, explaining about the various facilities in the hotel and giving directions. She greeted me without a flicker, her handshake firm and cool, just like her smile.

‘Right,’ Ash said, steering me down one high-arched hallway floored in white marble. ‘Time to find Delaney.’

A flutter of nervousness collected inside me, but I tried not to think about that or how out of my depth I felt in my dress.

Imogen had given us directions to the bar area—a big open space intended to give the feeling of a Bedouin tent, with lanterns of coloured glass hanging over ornate tables in heavy dark wood, and low divans covered in brightly coloured silk cushions. A fountain played in the centre, the splashing water in counterpoint to the murmur of voices and the low pulse of music.

Ash steered me in the direction of one of the tables, where an older man sat, his white hair expertly coiffed, his smile welcoming as he stood to greet us.

‘Evans,’ he said warmly, reaching out to take Ash’s hand. ‘Glad you could make it.’ His attention turned to me. ‘And this is...?’

‘Ellie Little,’ Ash said. ‘Ellie, this is John Delaney, a business associate of mine.’

I swallowed my nervousness and tried for a smile, shaking his hand. ‘G’day, Mr Delaney.’

Delaney smiled. ‘Oh, you’re Australian. How charming. Please, call me John.’

‘Good to meet you, John.’ I gave his hand a firm squeeze.

Ash’s arm stole around my waist again, pulling me close, his hand splayed on my hip, the heat of it seeping through my gown as if there were nothing between his palm and my skin.

It was a very possessive hold and obviously for Delaney’s benefit, though some part of me found it thrilling in a way I wasn’t expecting.

Was it weird to like the thought of being his? To enjoy the way he held me? As if he wanted the entire bar to know who I belonged to?

It’s fake, though.

Yes, it was. Which, in a way, made it okay for me to like it. If it wasn’t real, I could let myself enjoy the sensation of being protected, of having someone at my back in a way I hadn’t had before.

Delaney’s gaze lingered on the positioning of Ash’s hand on me. ‘Don’t worry, Evans. I’m not going to steal her from you, though...’ there was a sparkle in his eye ‘...maybe if I were twenty years younger I might.’

Ash’s smile was little more than bared teeth, the pressure on my hip increasing. ‘Try it.’

Delaney grinned. ‘Relax and have a seat. I want to know how you two met.’

We sat down on the divan, Ash not allowing an inch of space between us, the heat of his powerful thigh pressing against mine. ‘It was at a charity event in July,’ he said gruffly. ‘We got to talking, one thing led to another and the rest is history.’ He sounded impatient. ‘What else do you want to know?’

Delaney watched us from his seat opposite. ‘I must say, I was surprised to hear you had a serious girlfriend. I haven’t heard anything about it in the media.’

‘No, because I wanted Ellie to stay out of the spotlight.’

‘Which I prefer,’ I added, putting a casual hand on Ash’s hard thigh. He was hot there, too, powerful muscles tensing under my palm, making me want to squeeze them, test them.

Delaney leaned back in his seat. ‘So what brought you to London, Ellie?’

‘Work,’ I said truthfully. ‘I design luxury cars for my family’s company.’

Delaney’s eyes widened. ‘Do you indeed? Impressive.’

‘I thought so.’ Ash’s arm tightened around my waist, the muscles under my hand flexing yet again. ‘At least, she impressed the hell out of me.’

There was an element of certainty in the words that made me blush like a fool. As if he was telling the truth.

Delaney clearly saw my reaction because he smiled. ‘I can see that. So...forgive me for asking, but what are your plans together? I like to know these things,’ he added, clearly for my benefit, ‘because Evans here is wanting to buy some islands of mine that have sentimental value. I wanted them to go to someone who is family-minded. I hope you understand.’

‘Of course I understand.’ I gave Ash what I hoped was an adoring glance. ‘So, our plans? Well, at the moment I’m considering moving to London permanently.’

Something I didn’t recognise glinted in Ash’s blue eyes. ‘Perhaps I want to move to Sydney, pretty thing. Did you ever think of that?’

The use of his silly pet name in public jolted me, the teasing note in his deep voice making me blush harder, the blood flowing hotter in my veins. ‘No, I didn’t.’ I tried to pull myself together, flicking him a look from beneath my lashes. ‘But you know I don’t mind where we live as long as I’m with you.’

His gaze flared in a way that I was becoming familiar with, his competitive instinct rousing. ‘As long as there’s a bed, right?’

I could feel my cheeks get hot, but I wasn’t going to let him win so easily. ‘I wasn’t aware we needed a bed.’

There were flames in his eyes now, one corner of his hard mouth curving in acknowledgement.

Delaney cleared his throat. ‘Well, please don’t let me interrupt,’ he said, sounding amused. ‘But I think you might be pleased to hear this news, Evans.’

‘What news?’ Ash didn’t look at him, his gaze on mine.

The rest of the bar was beginning to fall away, the only thing in it the man sitting in front of me, staring at me with open hunger.

And I could feel myself beginning to respond, the ache between my thighs intensifying.

‘I’m going to sell you the islands,’ Delaney said.

‘Good.’ The curve of Ash’s mouth deepened.

‘It wasn’t a hard decision in the end,’ Delaney went on. ‘Not after Dumont withdrew his offer.’

Ash froze, the fire in his eyes dousing instantly. Then he turned his head sharply in Delaney’s direction. ‘Say that again,’ he ordered, his voice rough.

If Delaney was surprised at the change in Ash’s mood he didn’t show it. ‘Your half-brother called me a couple of days ago to tell me he was withdrawing the offer. Mainly because he knew you were keen on the property and he wanted to clear the field for you.’ Delaney smiled. ‘He said he owed you, which is such a generous gesture given how much he wanted to purchase them as well. But I thought, well, if that’s not family-minded, what is? And given that, plus your lovely Ellie here—’ he gestured at me ‘—I don’t think I could sell the islands to a better person.’

Ash had gone statue-still, tension gathering around him like a storm cloud. I could feel it crawling over me, too, tightening my muscles and making me catch my breath.

And I understood. The whole reason he’d come to Dubai, with me, was to steal those islands out from under Dumont. And now Dumont had just denied him. He’d conceded the fight.

The warrior in Ash would hate that.

Sure enough his blue eyes blazed like gas flames in his face, his scars vivid white against his olive skin. He didn’t just look angry. He looked furious.

But... I got the sense that something else was going on here.

His thigh under mine was like iron so I squeezed it, wanting to give him some kind of reassurance. But he stood, a sharp, jerky motion, then without a word he turned and strode away, leaving me sitting there with Delaney, both of us staring after him in shock.

‘What’s happened?’ Delaney turned to me, frowning. ‘I thought he’d be pleased.’

I shot to my feet, the urge to go after him, to find out what was wrong and whether he was okay, filling me. I should probably have stayed to smooth things over with Delaney, but I couldn’t. If Ash was a bear with a sore paw, then someone had just stomped on that paw, making him roar.

And I didn’t like that. I didn’t like it at all.

‘Sorry,’ I muttered. ‘I’ll just...uh...go see what the problem is.’

Before Delaney could speak, I picked up my emerald green skirts and rushed after Ash.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Ash

I STRODE THROUGH the ostentatious, overblown nonsense of the hotel, paying no attention to the people scattering in my path, fury pounding in my blood, feeling absolutely fucking feral.

I’d thought I’d won this petty little fight with Dumont. I’d thought I’d got one over on him, stolen those fucking islands out from under him, made life a little bit harder for him.

But no, apparently not.

Apparently he was the one who’d got one over on me. Because by simply handing those islands over to me, he’d won.

He owed me, so Delaney had said.

Over the years, he’d tried to pay me back the money he’d lost, but I hadn’t accepted it. Because he’d thought it was just about the money and it wasn’t. It was about the years of working hard, the long hours of all the various jobs I’d had in order to save that money. And my mother, the long hours she’d put in to earn her nest egg.

The nest egg she’d lost because of me.

Dumont couldn’t give me those hours back. He couldn’t give me back my mother’s broken trust, either.

It’s not just about Dumont, though, is it? You don’t deserve any of this and you never have.

My jaw ached, the pounding fury propelling me down another gleaming white marble corridor and up some stairs.

No, fuck that. Of course I deserved it. I’d worked for everything I had. Fucking everything. My whole business was literally based on the blood I’d shed. My blood.

I’d fought for it and I’d been expecting to fight for this too. Except he’d denied me. It wasn’t the money he owed me, it was the fucking battle.

I strode down yet another corridor, not knowing where I was going. I had to walk off this rage because I wasn’t fit for any kind of polite company right now.

The corridor was full of doors and I opened one at random, entering a lavishly appointed suite that had a huge canopied bed pushed against one wall, French doors opposite leading out to a balcony with lots of white marble fretwork.

The parquet floor was covered with silk rugs and cushions, curtains of brightly patterned fabric billowing in the breeze coming through the open French doors. Another door led off the bedroom, probably into a bathroom.

Obviously I’d stumbled into some of the Billionaires Club intimate suites.

I turned around, intending to stride out again, only to come face-to-face with a flushed Ellie.

She was standing in the doorway, one fist holding a bunch of green fabric out of the way, breathing hard, as if she’d been running to catch up with me.

‘What are you doing here?’ I snapped before she could speak, furious that she was here when I was angry and no doubt dangerous. ‘Have you been following me?’

‘Of course I’ve been following you,’ she said breathlessly. ‘You just upped and left without a word. I wanted to see if you were okay.’

‘As you can see, I’m fine.’ I took a couple of steps towards her, hoping she’d get out of my way, but she didn’t.

‘You’re not fine.’ She tilted her head back to look up at me. ‘You’re furious.’

‘Move, Ellie,’ I growled, in no mood for her to argue. ‘You don’t want to be around me right now.’

She didn’t move. ‘What’s going on, Ash?’

No, I did not want to have this conversation with her. Not in any way, shape or form. I didn’t want to explain the rage that sat inside me, not when I could barely explain it to myself. And I certainly didn’t want her floating around in her gown with its plunging neckline and tight-fitting bodice, outlining the lovely shapes of her breasts and hips. How the green made her skin look creamy and her eyes glitter like emeralds.

How it made me want to get rid of this rage by ripping that dress from her body and taking her down on the silken rugs right here, right now; to unleash myself on her lovely body, hold her down while I fucked away the fury that I could never quite seem to escape.

But I didn’t want to do that. Not after what she’d been through with one man who’d hurt her already.

And besides, I wasn’t in any mood to hear the word ‘no’ from anyone.

I took another step towards her, making myself seem as big and as intimidating as possible, hoping to scare her into getting out of the way.

But she only frowned, coming into the room and shutting the door behind her.

Silly, silly girl.

‘What the fuck do you think you’re doing?’ I demanded, trying to get a handle on myself. ‘Get away from me.’

She sniffed. ‘I don’t think so. You’re really pissed off about Dumont and I want to know why.’

‘I’m not explaining myself to you.’

‘No, well, of course you don’t have to if you don’t want to.’ Her chin lifted. ‘But I’m not going anywhere until you do.’

‘You’re a fool. You don’t think I won’t just pick you up and move you out of my way?’

‘Come on, then.’ Challenge burned in her eyes. ‘I dare you.’

If she expected me to hesitate, she was wrong.

I strode up to her and put my hands on her hips, preparing to pick her up and move her out of my way physically.

But she only lifted her arms and wound them around my neck, her body leaning into mine. ‘Ash,’ she said softly. ‘Tell me what’s wrong.’

And I felt myself freeze in place as the warmth of her began to penetrate, making the fire inside me burn hotter, turning it from anger into something far hungrier and more volatile. A seething mass of desire that somehow was only encouraged by the soft note in her voice.

Her eyes were the most perfect blend of gold and green I’d ever seen and framed by long, thick, dark lashes. They were full of concern, and I wasn’t sure why. In fact, I wasn’t sure why I mattered to her at all.

‘You know what I want to do, don’t you?’ My voice had gone deep and guttural, my grip on her hips no doubt punishing.

She didn’t look away from me, nor did she try to escape. Her body was hot and pliant against mine as if she were exactly where she wanted to be. ‘No. Why don’t you tell me?’

‘I want to fuck you. Hard. On the floor. And I don’t want to be told no and I don’t want you to even attempt to take the wheel.’

There was no fear in her eyes, not even a flicker. ‘It’s the fight you want, isn’t it? You need it.’

I don’t know how she understood, but she did. ‘I’m going to be rough, Ellie,’ I growled. ‘I’m not going to hold back. So if that’s a problem for you, you need to leave now.’ Before her musky scent and the heat of her body stole what remained of my control.

Her arms around my neck tightened. ‘I’m fine with it.’

Something inside me pulsed hard.

‘You should be afraid of me.’ My voice was raw and rough. ‘You should be fucking scared.’

Her eyes widened in genuine surprise. ‘Why?’

I reached up and buried one hand in her hair, curling my hand into a fist, pulling her head back, and not gently.

She gave a gasp but I couldn’t see any fear in her eyes, only small sparks of green and gold. Her lips parted and she touched her tongue to the bottom one, her gaze drifting down to my mouth then back again. ‘Is that supposed to scare me? Because I have to tell you, it’s having the opposite effect.’

She didn’t know what she was taking on. She had no idea. Me in this mood? I was the baddest bet there ever was, though not if you were betting on me to win a fight. In this mood, I always won.

I held tight onto her hair, the strands silky and soft against my skin, and leaned in, my lips almost brushing hers. ‘I suggest you change your mind.’

She sighed, her breath minty and warm, the press of her tits against my chest making my head spin. ‘Are you kidding me?’ she murmured. ‘Not a chance.’

Of course she wouldn’t. She didn’t understand. So maybe it was time I showed her.

I tightened my grip and held her still as I closed the distance between us, devouring the sweetness of her mouth utterly.

She shivered, stilling as I thrust my tongue into her mouth, taking it, ravaging it as if it was mine to do what I wanted with.

But then her arms constricted like a vine around my neck and she was kissing me back, her tongue meeting mine, thrusting and devouring, twining and tasting. It was raw and desperate and I was down on the floor with her before I’d even realised what was happening.

Fabric tore as I put my hands on her, ripping away the tissue-fine silk of her gown, exposing golden skin. She didn’t stop me, her own hands struggling with the jacket of my tux, then giving up to find the buttons on my shirt, jerking at them in a frenzy.

But she wasn’t in charge of this now. I was.

With one last rip, I got rid of the remains of her gown, taking her underwear with it. Then when she was naked, I flipped her over onto her stomach and pulled her hands behind her back. She gasped, struggling against my hold. ‘Let me see you,’ she said thickly. ‘I want to touch you.’

‘No.’ I used my weight to keep her pinned, holding her hands at the base of her spine. ‘I told you that you weren’t in charge.’

‘What are you going to do?’

She didn’t sound afraid in the least, only curious.

‘This,’ I growled and grabbed at a length of the green fabric, tying it around her wrists to keep them where they were.

‘Oh...’ The word sighed out of her in a moan, her naked body soft and hot beneath mine.

Now her hands were tied, I put mine on the floor on either side of her head, grinding my aching cock against the soft curves of her bare arse. ‘And then,’ I snarled, hungry and feral, ‘I’m going to fuck you hard the way I told you I would.’

She moaned, shuddering, her hips rising to meet mine, pushing herself back against me like the little warrior she was.

And something inside me growled in deep satisfaction.

Of course she’d meet me in this. She wasn’t weak and she wasn’t a coward. And she enjoyed the fight as much as I did.

My hands were shaking as I got my trousers undone and it took longer than I would have liked to get the condom on, too, but then it was done and I put one hand beneath her, my palm on her stomach, raising her so she was perfectly positioned to take my cock.

Then I flexed my hips, rubbing the head of my dick through the slick folds of her delicious little pussy, the friction making me growl in pleasure.

She shuddered again, bucking her hips against mine, urging me on. ‘Ash, please...’ she panted.

I’d never managed to resist that throaty plea and I didn’t now, pushing hard and deep inside her. But then I had to pause, the tight clasp and the slick heat blanking my brain entirely. The pleasure was unbelievable and for a good few seconds I simply couldn’t move. I hadn’t been this close to coming prematurely since I’d been an overenthusiastic teenager.

She was trembling beneath me, her breathing wild and uncontrolled. ‘Oh...’ she moaned, her back flexing and arching as she tried to take me deeper. ‘Oh, God...’

Fuck. No. She wasn’t going to take control of me that easily. Not tonight. Not after fucking Dumont had taken my victory from me.

I shoved her hips down flat to the floor, letting my weight slowly rest on her so she was pinned. Then I gave her a couple of shallow thrusts, which was a little of what she wanted, but not everything.

She gave another moan. ‘Ash...please...’

I gripped her bound wrists, teasing her with a few more shallow thrusts, while I kept my other hand on one hip to stop her bucking up. She cried out in frustration but I ignored her, teasing myself as much as her with her heat and slickness.

Pleasure licked up my spine, twining with my rage to become something more intense, something stronger.

I snarled like an animal and pulled her up on her knees, thrusting hard into her, driving myself into her as deep as I could get. She was panting now, the feel of her beneath me mesmerising, the slap of her flesh against mine more arousing than any aphrodisiac.

I looked down at her writhing body trying to keep pace and then managing it, synchronising with me, her panting breaths matching the sound of my own. Then we were surging together, neither one of us trying to get the upper hand this time, but moving with one another, perfectly aligned, perfectly in time.

Travelling together to the same destination.

The edge of my anger became less raw, less ragged, and something powerful tightened in my chest. She’d come after me, she hadn’t let me frighten her away. No, she’d simply wrapped her arms around my neck and given herself to me as if I weren’t a bitter, angry man. As if I were more than that.

And for a moment I wanted to believe her. I wanted to be something more, something other than myself. The kid my dad hadn’t wanted. The teenager who’d broken my mother’s trust.

The man who’d burned a deep friendship on the altar of his pride.

I didn’t want to be any of those things.

I wanted to be someone who was worthy of the trust she’d placed in me and who could bring her pleasure.

So I curled my body over hers, thrusting deeper, reaching around to cup the softness of her tits, pinching her nipples, increasing the speed and rhythm. She began to shudder, writhing up against me, twisting around, her hungry mouth trying to find mine. So I let go of her breasts and grabbed her hair in one fist, tugging her head around so she could kiss me.

Her mouth was hungry and desperate, and I kissed her back hard, reaching down with my free hand, sliding down across the trembling plane of her stomach to the slick flesh of her pussy. Her clit was swollen and hard and she cried out as I stroked lightly over it, her whole body trembling in response.

‘Oh, Ash... I need you...please...please...’

All my aggression and anger fell away, all my focus on her and what she needed.

I rumbled my appreciation of her, stroking her clit in time with my thrusts, fighting the unbearable pleasure that was pulling at me, determined that she was going to come before I did. And sure enough, another touch and one deep thrust, and she gave a high, thin scream as the orgasm hit, the convulsion of her pussy around my cock unmistakable, releasing something feral inside me.

As she trembled and gasped beneath me, I unleashed myself, thrusting wildly and hard, driving myself inside her, until the climax hit me, too, like a bomb going off in the confines of my body, blasting me with pleasure so intense I couldn’t do anything but roar as lights burst behind my eyes.

It took a long time for me to come back to myself and when I did, I could hear some muffled sobs. A second later, I realised it was Ellie and she was crying.

My chest went so tight it was painful.

Jesus, was it something I’d done? Had I hurt her?

A cold feeling wound through me, the languid heat of the orgasm disappearing.

Pulling out of her, I dealt with the condom in a nearby and cleverly disguised bin, then bent and gathered her trembling body into my arms. She tried to push against me, turning her face away, but I ignored it, tightening my grip as I took her over to the bed and laid her down on it. Then I stripped off my clothes and climbed in beside her, drawing the thick, soft velvety quilt over us as I held her small body close to mine, using my touch to soothe her.

She pushed against my chest. ‘Don’t,’ she muttered even as more sobs caught in her throat. ‘I’m fine.’

‘You’re not fine.’ I held her tighter, not even sure what I was doing, something deep and instinctive inside me responding to her tears. ‘Did I hurt you? Because if I did—’

‘No,’ she said thickly. ‘You didn’t hurt me. It’s just... I don’t know what’s happening. That was just so...amazing. I can’t... I don’t know...’

I stroked her hair, wanting to give her some reassurance, the strands silky and soft against my palm. ‘What did I say about not minding a fuss? You can cry if you want. Tears don’t bother me.’ Although I was beginning to think that her tears in particular bothered me. As in, I didn’t like them if it meant she was in pain.

She sighed, some of her resistance receding. ‘It just makes...this seem like a big deal.’

‘This being the sex, you mean?’

Another soft sigh escaped her. ‘Yeah.’

I looked down at her pink face, the fierce protectiveness that had hit me earlier gripping me again. Her life seemed to be full of her being concerned for other people’s feelings, while no one was ever concerned with hers. Certainly her bloody father hadn’t been and I suspected her brothers weren’t overly involved either.

Perhaps today, right now, someone could show her that her feelings mattered. That they were important.

And that someone was going to be me.

‘It is a big deal.’ I ignored the warning that went off in my head as I spoke. ‘It’s a fucking huge deal.’

Her hazel eyes were wide and dark from beneath lashes glittering with moisture. ‘You think so?’

I stared back, letting her see the truth in my eyes. ‘It certainly doesn’t feel like any sex I’ve ever had before.’

A wave of colour washed through her skin. ‘But you’ve had a lot, haven’t you? A lot of sex, I mean.’

‘Yes, I’ve had a lot. And no, this is not the same. Not in any way.’

‘Oh.’ She blinked a couple of times, looking shocked.

I narrowed my gaze. ‘Just how often have you had sex?’ Obviously it wasn’t going to be much.

Her chin lifted, but the flush in her skin betrayed her. ‘A couple of times. With my high-school boyfriend. I mean, after Mark...’

She didn’t finish the sentence, but then she didn’t need to. I knew already. And I could understand. She hadn’t wanted to be with anyone after him. Except me.

I wouldn’t have been human if that hadn’t satisfied me on some level, while at the same time a small part of me was appalled.

Violent and angry and selfish. Yeah, you’re a great choice.

The cold threat inside me pulled tight through the heat of my triumph.

‘What?’ Ellie’s gaze sharpened on my face, her warm palm pressing against my chest.

It was disturbing how easily she could read me, though I should have expected that by now.

‘You shouldn’t be letting me touch you,’ I said gruffly, not in a position to be able to deny her anything, not when she was naked and locked in my arms, with tears on her cheeks. ‘You need someone patient and gentle. Someone kind. Christ, someone less angry at least.’

Her brow wrinkled. ‘I don’t want someone patient and kind. Sure, you have a few issues with your anger and you’ve snapped at me a few times, but you’ve never been violent. You’ve never made me feel afraid. Mark was supposed to be a nice guy and look what he did.’ She began to trace circles on my skin with her cool fingers. ‘You’re take-charge, Ash. A bit arrogant, but I kind of like that. I like that you’re passionate, too, and how you don’t care who knows it. How you don’t care what anyone thinks of you. I really admire that about you.’

I ached, a longing I didn’t know it was possible to feel tugging at my heart. She admired me... God help her.

‘Ellie,’ I began roughly.

‘Patient and kind, I’d eat for breakfast,’ she went on, totally ignoring me. ‘I like arrogant and bossy and grumpy. And I really like sexy and hot and tattooed.’ She shot a coy glance from beneath her lashes. ‘But you know what I’d like most of all? If you told me what pissed you off so much before.’

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Ellie

I COULD FEEL the tension gathering in Ash’s hard, muscled body. His scarred face was full of his usual ferocity, but there was something else burning in his eyes, something other than anger for a change.

If I hadn’t known any better I would have said it was longing, though why he’d be looking at me that way I had no idea.

Though it all vanished the instant I asked the question.

I shouldn’t have asked it, not when the post-sex warmth between us had been so wonderful, but I couldn’t let it go.

I had felt the force of his anger when he’d pinned me to the floor and taken me hard. My poor bear with his sore paw...

He didn’t want to tell me and he’d been trying to distract me ever since, but something had hurt him, and I had a feeling it wasn’t simply the fight he’d been denied. It was something more and I wanted to know what it was.

I was betting it had something to do with the strange thing he’d said to me, about how I needed someone patient and kind, which was such obvious bullshit, I didn’t even know what to say.

‘Come on,’ I said crisply, digging my nails into the hard muscle of his chest and meeting his glowering look without flinching. ‘Tell me.’

‘I don’t know,’ he said after a moment and with great reluctance. ‘I was expecting a fight. I wanted it. And then Seb just took it away.’

‘I think it’s more than that, though,’ I said, stroking him carefully.

For the first time, his gaze avoided mine, the tension in his body palpable now. ‘I’ve done nothing but burn bridges with him ever since I lost that money. And yet, he just gave up those islands. After twelve years of me making his life difficult. It doesn’t make any sense.’

‘Why is that such a bad thing?’ I asked carefully. ‘So you didn’t get your big fight. So what?’

His gaze came back to mine, fierce and hot. ‘Don’t you see? Mum didn’t want to give the money to me, but I convinced her. I told her it would make our lives easier. And it didn’t. I broke her trust, Ellie.’ A muscle flickered in his jaw. ‘Like Dad did.’

I saw it then, why he was so angry and so bloody driven. I reached up and touched his face gently. ‘You’re not like him, Ash.’ Because that was what he was afraid of, wasn’t it?

‘You don’t know him so you can’t tell me that.’

‘That’s true. But honestly? Your father sounds awful. He got a woman pregnant and then threw her out, not caring one bit what happened to her. And then turning away his own son? By telling you that you weren’t his problem?’ I stared right into his eyes. ‘You’re protective and possessive, Ash Evans. Are you seriously telling me that’s what you’d do to anyone you care about?’

That muscle jumped in his jaw again, the fierce blue glow in his eyes getting fiercer. ‘I did to Mum. And I did to Seb. He kept trying to pay that money back to me and I refused to take it. Hell, I refused to see him at all. And as for Mum...’ He paused. ‘We never spoke of it again.’

It didn’t surprise me in the slightest. And I thought I knew why.

‘You pushed them away, didn’t you?’ I brushed my fingertips over his cheekbone. ‘So they wouldn’t reject you like your dad did.’

He shifted beneath me, clearly uncomfortable. ‘I appreciate the psychology, Miss Little. But I assure you, it’s not necessary.’

So, he was back to being a grumpy bear again, was he?

I stilled my fingers on his face, pressing lightly. ‘The islands sound to me like an olive branch, Ash. And as for your mother, you should talk to her.’ I held his gaze. ‘It’s not too late. None of it is. If I still had my mother, that’s what I’d be doing.’

He blinked then turned his head so his mouth brushed over my fingertips instead. ‘That’s a low blow, pretty thing.’

It was, but too bad.

‘If you can’t handle it, don’t deal.’ I traced the line of his lower lip, revelling in the softness of it, then grazed over the stark line of his scar.

He stilled as I did so, watching me. ‘I was hard on you,’ he murmured after a moment. ‘Are you sure you’re okay?’ He lifted a hand and cupped my cheek gently, his big palm warm against my skin. ‘I shouldn’t have been so rough.’

I couldn’t help myself, leaning into that hand, loving the warmth of it. ‘No, I’m glad you were. I’m not made of glass, Ash.’ I gave him a level look. ‘I don’t want to be treated like a victim just because some dumb bastard thought he could put his hands on me. I mean, I might be a woman who cries after sex, but I’m tough.’

His thumb stroked the side of my cheek, his gaze unreadable. ‘Why do you trust me? I don’t understand it. Not when I haven’t done one fucking thing to deserve it.’

The question took me by surprise and for a second I didn’t quite know how to answer. ‘I trust you because...well, I just do. Maybe it’s an instinctive thing.’ I flushed, remembering. ‘That first night in the limo, well, I kind of thought you were like a car and as long as I was driving nothing bad would happen. And then I wasn’t driving any more and you were in charge and I just felt...’ I struggled to find the right word. ‘I suppose I felt free. There’s something quite liberating about giving yourself up to the speed, you know?’

An intense expression flickered across his face. ‘Ellie, you should know right now that I would never do anything to make you regret that trust, understand me? Not a single thing.’ He was absolutely serious, I could see it in his eyes. He meant this.

I put my hand over his where it rested against my cheek and gave him back a smile. ‘I know you won’t.’

He didn’t smile back. If anything, the look in his eyes intensified. ‘I don’t know what you want after tonight is over, but I think we should stay on in Dubai for a couple of days.’

Something bloomed inside me like a flower. ‘You mean, you want me to stay with you? And not to drive you around, I take it?’

His hard mouth relaxed, curving into one of the sexiest smiles I’d ever seen. ‘No, not to drive me around. I want you to stay with me as my lover.’

Heat pulsed through me. To stay with him, in that lovely hotel by the sea, as his lover...

I couldn’t think of a single reason why I shouldn’t. Not one.

Sure you can...

But I pushed the thought away before it could form. No, I could do with a couple of days in a nice hotel with a hot AF billionaire. I’d be returning to Australia pretty soon anyway, so why not take the chance while I could?

And apart from anything else, I hadn’t had a holiday for ages.

And when it comes to say goodbye?

Then I’d say goodbye. It wouldn’t be a problem.

‘I would love to.’ I ignored the strange ache in my chest. ‘I can call the company and tell them not to schedule any jobs for me for the next week.’

‘That means you won’t get paid, though.’

He was astute, I’d give him that. ‘No, but I’ve put some money aside to cover holidays and sick days.’

His thumb brushed over my skin again. ‘Just a few days, yes?’

I put my palm flat on his chest and reached up to kiss him. ‘That is an absolute, yes.’

We didn’t leave the room immediately after that.

I pushed him back onto the mattress and straddled him, indulging my need to touch him, and he let me. Then he found another condom from somewhere and made me ride him, and I loved the growls and curses I brought from him. Then, when we were sweaty and sated, I made him turn over so I could examine the beautiful Chinese tattoo that covered his back.

He’d got it done after his first fight, he told me. Because one of the people who’d bet on him was a tattoo artist who’d won a lot of money and was so pleased he’d offered Ash a free tattoo.

Luckily the artist was good and the tattoo amazing, and after I’d explored it thoroughly, as a reward for his patience, I made him turn over and lie there while I kissed my way down his body and turned the same attention I’d given his tattoo to his cock, taking it into my mouth and sucking him until he roared my name, his fingers clutching tight in my hair.

After that, we thought we’d better move, which turned out to be problematic when I remembered that he’d basically ripped my dress from me and now it was nothing but emerald green bits of fabric on the floor.

We solved the dilemma by Ash ripping down one of the silk curtains from the window and draping it sari-like around my naked body.

I didn’t care what it looked like. There was something wild running through me, the same kind of recklessness I’d felt when I was driving one of the Pythons, wanting to go faster and uncaring about the consequences.

The Little madness, my mother had called it once, slightly disapprovingly.

But she wasn’t wrong. It was a kind of madness. As we left the suites, people stared at us, me in my improvised dress, and Ash in his rumpled tux, and I didn’t care.

In fact, I enjoyed the attention, relishing it even more as Ash put his arm around my waist and pulled me tight against him, making no bones about the fact that I was his.

And this time it was almost real. For the next few days at least, I was his.

Ash took us back to the bar so he could firm up the deal with Delaney, acting as though him leaving abruptly and us both being away for a couple of hours hadn’t happened.

Delaney was delighted and after a handshake and the numbers of their respective lawyers had been exchanged, we left the bar and headed towards the exit, both of us eager to get back to our hotel and resume what we’d started up in the private suites upstairs.

Imogen stopped us as we left, murmuring something to Ash about the next club event that was supposed to be held at one of his new luxury hotels in Monte Carlo. Then she mentioned something about supercars, which made my ears prick up.

‘What do you mean the supplier fell through?’ Ash demanded.

Imogen was frowning, her poise not quite what it had been when we’d met her at the beginning. ‘There was some production issue. The cars had to be recalled and they won’t be ready in time.’

Ash flicked a glance at me. ‘I think I might know where to get some more.’

Something moved like lightning through my whole body. Imogen had turned to look at me expectantly. ‘You know someone?’ she asked.

‘Actually, I do,’ I said, the wild recklessness still burning inside me. ‘My family makes hand-built supercars.’

Imogen frowned. ‘We have a certain market—’

‘They meet the market,’ Ash interrupted flatly. ‘I’ve seen them. The club members will love them, I guarantee it.’

‘Well, we need them in a month in Monaco. That’s not a lot of time.’

I could feel my excitement deflating slightly. Of course it wasn’t. Not when the cars were built in Australia and we’d need to ship them.

‘Not a problem,’ Ash put in again. ‘We’ll get them to you.’ His gaze burned as he looked at me. ‘I can work it so we’ll meet the deadline.’

Imogen gazed at the pair of us sceptically. ‘I’m not so sure. But seeing as how I don’t have a lot of choice... Fine. I’ll need to be kept in the loop, though, since I’ll have to adjust the marketing.’

‘No problem. Give me a couple of days to sort a few things and I’ll get back to you with the details.’

This appeared to satisfy Imogen and a minute or two later, I found myself being tugged along as Ash pulled me towards the entrance.

‘What the hell are you doing?’ I asked worriedly as we walked.

‘Taking advantage of an opportunity.’ The blue of his eyes burned incandescent and not with anger this time, but with excitement. And I could suddenly see why his mother would have given him all her money—why many people did. When he was like this, he was mesmerising.

‘An opportunity? I can’t get a bunch of cars to Monaco in a month,’ I protested. ‘Not when we have to ship them from Aus.’

‘Don’t limit your thinking, Miss Little.’ He flashed me a grin as the limo came for us. ‘We don’t need to ship them from Australia, not when I have a factory in France. We can build them there and drive them to fucking Monaco.’

I stared at him in shock. ‘What? You just happen to have a factory vacant in France? Really?’

‘I have lots of different companies doing different things. And yes, one of those things is a factory in France that just happens to be vacant. Or rather, it produces automotive parts and I’m sure we can make a few adjustments for your Pythons.’ He frowned and I could almost see him sorting through all sorts of ideas and plans, weeding the wheat from the chaff. ‘I’m happy to fly your father and any engineers he might want to bring out. In fact, I’ll get Petra to contact him. No, scratch that, I’ll contact him myself.’ He had his phone out already, his thumb moving swiftly over the screen, obviously typing out some notes to himself.

I kept on staring, dumbfounded at how quickly he moved when he wanted to. ‘But I—’

‘Unless you want to call him?’ Ash suddenly lifted his gaze to mine. ‘After all, you were the one who came here to solve his debt problem. If this works out, he’ll be making some returns even sooner than we anticipated.’

It was true. But the thought of talking to Dad felt wrong. I would be excited and he wouldn’t. He’d try and damp it down somehow, turn a big deal into something small. And I didn’t want small. Not yet. Right now, I wanted to enjoy the excitement of it all.

‘You can tell him,’ I said. ‘He’ll like that you called him directly.’

Ash scowled. ‘He should be fucking grateful that I thought of him at all. And I only did because of you.’

I flushed, feeling a little disloyal at how pleased that made me, but feeling it anyway. ‘I think he will be,’ I said. ‘Anyway, I’ll be helping—’

‘No, you won’t.’ Ash’s eyes gleamed as he waved away the chauffeur, opening the door to the limo for me himself. ‘I’ve thought of something else that you’ll be doing.’

‘Oh? And what’s that?’

There was a hot, feral light gleaming in his eyes. ‘Get in the car, Miss Little. Monaco can wait, but my cock can’t.’

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Ash

IT TURNED OUT to be longer than a few days in Dubai.

It soon turned into a week.

Yes, we had stuff to organise but it wasn’t anything that couldn’t be managed via email and phone. The rest of the time we spent either lounging naked beside the suite’s private pool and sipping cocktails, or in the bedroom fucking each other senseless. Or sitting comfortably in the suite’s lounge, just talking.

A couple of times we went out into the city and I showed Ellie around since I’d been to Dubai a lot. She wasn’t at all fazed by the heat and loved the cultural differences, the markets, as well as the high-tech luxury playgrounds. We even spent a night in the desert, in a well-appointed tent, where I made her scream at the stars high above us.

There was only one issue: spending time with Ellie only made me want to spend even more time with Ellie.

Her honesty and directness I already knew about, but I soon got to know her dry sense of humour, too. She was ridiculously easy to tease and blushed adorably when I did, which meant I spent quite a lot of time teasing her. To which she responded in kind.

Apparently—or so she told me—I was easy to tease, too, though my response wasn’t to blush. It was to take her to the floor and have my way with her, which meant she ended up on the floor quite a lot, given how much she liked teasing me in return.

I also managed to slowly draw her out about her electric supercar project, which she was very reluctant to talk about. I soon found out why—her father thought it was nonsense. Which incensed me, since I thought it was brilliant. No, I thought it was visionary.

I made no bones about my opinion, too, and though it took a couple of days and several rounds of convincing in bed, soon she was telling me in intricate detail about the five-year design process she’d gone through to get the car to the prototype stage.

Her passion for it shone in her eyes, coming slowly but surely, like the sun rising.

‘I honestly don’t understand why your father wouldn’t even contemplate a prototype,’ I said on our last night as we watched the sunset from the pool area. ‘Why is that?’

She was lying on one of the sun loungers, her naked body gone a lovely deep gold after days in the sun, the sunset gilding her like a statue. She sighed, swirling the tall glass of lemon, lime and bitters she liked drinking in the evening. ‘He prefers internal combustion engines. He thought the technology wasn’t good enough to get the kinds of speeds people like these days.’

I’d already talked to Oliver Little at length, a laconic Australian who’d been pleased to hear the news I’d given him of the Australis coup in Monaco, though not overly effusive about it. He and a couple of his sons were already in France getting the factory I’d set aside as a Python workshop up and running.

He hadn’t mentioned Ellie once in any of the conversations I’d had with him, and I could imagine him not knowing how to deal with his ebullient and honest daughter, whose passions ran deep and yet bubbled up no matter how hard she tried to keep them down.

‘Yet you kept working on it,’ I said.

Her eyes gleamed. ‘Yes, of course. I wasn’t going to give it up just because he didn’t like it. Electricity is where the automotive industry is heading and he really needs to get with the programme.’

I liked how stubborn she was, rising to every challenge that was set to her.

No, I loved it.

The real challenge is going to be letting her go afterwards.

Sadly, it was. Because no matter how much I liked spending time with her, the days of our affair were numbered. I had other things to do and so did she, and there was no room in my life for more than what we had right now. There never had been. I wasn’t a man built for relationships. Not given how severely I’d mismanaged the few relationships I did have.

She’d told me it wasn’t too late, but she didn’t understand. Of course it was too late. The money I’d lost for Mum was gone and with it her trust in me. And as for Seb...twelve years of me being a bastard would be too much for anyone, let alone him.

It had been tempting to throw the gift of the islands back in his face, but Delaney had been so thrilled at selling them to me that I hadn’t been able to refuse.

Careful. You’re getting soft.

The rays of the setting sun slid over Ellie’s tanned and golden skin, bringing out the gold lights in her brown hair. It was damp and had dried with a slight wave to it, and lying there naked, toying with her glass, a smile playing around her lovely mouth, she looked like a goddess.

No, fuck, I wasn’t soft. I was hard. Especially looking at her.

Oh, really? And the surprise you organised for her in London isn’t soft?

No, it wasn’t. It was a parting gift, nothing more.

Tomorrow we would leave and I was absolutely fucking fine with that.

A strange feeling of pressure pushed against my heart, an ache that I couldn’t seem to get rid of.

I ignored it.

‘Speaking of the programme,’ I said, a part of me reluctant to broach the topic, but knowing I needed to. ‘We’re leaving tomorrow, remember?’

Instantly the light that had been in her eyes died and she looked away, fussing with her drink. ‘Oh, yes, of course.’

The pressure in my chest became painful. ‘We need to leave it here, Ellie.’

Her gaze came to mine then flicked away again. ‘What happens in Dubai stays in Dubai, you mean?’

‘Yes.’ The word sounded heavy and there was a part of me that hated the finality in it. ‘It was only ever meant to be a few days and it’s been a week already.’

She looked down at her drink again, her lashes lowered, the light catching in the small golden strands. ‘Sure.’ Her lashes lifted again and she looked at me. ‘No drama.’ Her mouth curved in a smile that for some reason made the twisting sensation in my chest twist tighter. It wasn’t forced. It was completely natural and somehow that made it worse. ‘It’s been great, Ash. I mean...really great.’

This was her brave face, wasn’t it? I knew. I could see the currents of pain in her green eyes. The currents she couldn’t quite hide. She was so laid-back and easy-going on the surface, but underneath there were passions in her that were vast and powerful.

Passions like mine.

I met her gaze, bearing her pain, ignoring the way it echoed inside me. ‘Better than great. Even sensational wouldn’t cover it.’ I let her see how much I meant it then went on, ‘But all good things must come to an end.’

She gave a small laugh that sounded less like amusement than any laugh I’d ever heard. ‘I guess they must.’ After a second she lifted her glass and drained it, putting it down on the little table next to her. ‘One question I’ve been meaning to ask you. Why do you talk the way you do? You don’t sound like a guy brought up on a council estate.’

My pretty little thing. She was always curious about me, wasn’t she? ‘It made school easier. And then I found out that it puts people off balance. I’m scarred and rough and yet I talk like an aristocrat. People find it very confronting.’

Her gaze was direct. ‘It must get boring confronting people all the time. Don’t you ever get tired of it?’

I felt something shift inside me. Something I didn’t particularly want to pay attention to. ‘What do you mean?’

‘Your whole life, Ash. It’s basically one big fight, isn’t it? Against your brother. Against your mother. Against your father. Against the entire world, really. Don’t you ever want to stop proving yourself to everyone all the time?’

I didn’t know why all the muscles in my body tightened, as if I’d just taken a blow. ‘I’m not proving myself to anyone,’ I snapped, scowling. ‘I’m being who I am. And if people can’t accept that then that’s their problem.’

Ellie rose gracefully from the lounger, and my cock, ever hungry for her, hardened.

She came over to me, glancing down at my unapologetic hard-on, then back up at me. ‘I accept you for who you are. Even when you’re being rigid and uncompromising and arrogant.’

‘You especially like me when I’m rigid.’ I reached out and grabbed her hand, guiding it down to my aching cock to prove my point. ‘Stop trying to pick a fight with me and do something else with that sassy mouth of yours.’

Her fingers closed around me and the combative light left her eyes and she smiled. But there was something wistful in her smile. Something painful.

She doesn’t want this to end.

No. Which made it even more imperative that we end it. Because the longer this went on, the worse it would be for her when it came to a close.

And for you, too.

Maybe. It would hurt a little. But I was good at bearing pain. It was like a gut punch. At first it would take the air from your lungs and you’d fight to breathe, and then, once you could, the pain would set in. But it never lasted. Pain never did.

Only anger, right?

No. I was starting to see another way. And so I used it on her and the pain she was trying to mask, pulling her down with me on the lounger.

And as the sun went down, I used pleasure to make her forget.

At least for a while.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Ellie

THE FLIGHT BACK to London was miserable, even though I tried to tell myself I was fine with it. That of course I was going to be feeling slightly sad about our affair ending, but it was only post-holiday blues. Soon it would pass.

I had lots to look forward to, after all: the unexpected thrill of the Monaco opportunity and the chance for a new market for Australis.

I was planning on going to France when I got back to London and visiting Dad at the new workshop Ash had set up. I wanted to check it out and see what Dad thought of the opportunity.

Apparently he was pleased with it, or so Ash said, but it was always difficult to tell with Dad.

You always want his approval. What do you hope he’ll say?

It wasn’t true, though. I didn’t always want his approval. I just...wanted to connect with him. And it wasn’t wrong. And as for what I hoped he’d say... ‘Well done, Ellie’ would be nice, though probably a bit much to hope for.

Ash spent most of the long flight on his computer or on the phone, and I could sense that he was purposefully putting distance between us. I didn’t mind. It was good he was putting that distance there. We were not, after all, an official couple.

We’d both agreed that once we’d got back to London, we’d wait for a month or so and then let word get out that we were no longer ‘officially’ together. Purely for Delaney’s benefit, of course.

I felt bad for deceiving the old man, but since Dumont had basically given Ash the islands he’d wanted and Delaney had seemed to find that more convincing than me being Ash’s girlfriend, I was okay with it.

After a few hours in the air, I was feeling tired and, since I’d hardly had any sleep the night before, too busy drinking my fill of Ash before we ended it, I curled up on the couch with a blanket over me, trying not to remember how he’d taken me here.

He’d made me feel so good that day. So powerful...

I curled in on the ache in my heart and tried to pretend it wasn’t there, shutting my eyes determinedly.

I didn’t think I would sleep, but I did, only waking when Ash shook my shoulder lightly and told me we were coming in to land.

It didn’t take long and with customs formalities surprisingly quick, we were in Ash’s Land Rover and on the way back to my flat before I was ready.

A heavy silence had fallen between us and I didn’t know how to break it. I didn’t want this to become too heavy or too dramatic, because it shouldn’t be. This was only the end of an affair. A really wonderful affair, but only an affair nonetheless.

Certainly it had been about more than sex, yes, I’d admit to that. But nothing worth extending. Nothing worth making permanent.

Permanent? What the hell?

I swallowed, staring out of the window as the grey streets of London slid past the glass.

Why was I thinking that? I didn’t want permanent. I didn’t want deep and meaningful. My passion I kept for the cars, because machines were easy to love. They weren’t like people who could simply ignore you whenever they felt like it, who didn’t seem to care no matter how hard you tried to please them. They simply accepted whatever you wanted to give them.

Yet the silence settled around us, deeper and darker, and I tried desperately to think of a joke or some mundane comment that would ease the growing tension.

And then I noticed something.

This wasn’t the way back to my flat.

‘Where are we going?’ I asked, glancing at Ash.

‘You’ll see,’ he said shortly. ‘I wanted to show you something first.’

That something turned out to be an old brick warehouse in Hackney.

Ash drew up outside and turned off the engine.

His eyes had gone electric, the way they did when he was aroused or angry or excited. This time it was excitement. As if he had a secret he was desperate to share. ‘Come on. Time for one last surprise.’

‘What surprise?’

But he wouldn’t answer and I was left with no choice but to trail after him as he got out of the car and walked to the entrance of the building, pausing to tap a code into the keypad on the door.

The lock clicked and he pushed the door open, gesturing at me to go in, his eyes glowing.

Mystified, I took a hesitant step inside.

It was an open white space full of what looked like workshop benches. Computers were set up on various desks and there was a hydraulic jack for a car in the middle of it. A whiteboard stood in a corner, along with a stack of tyres. There were also rows of shelves full of boxes and tools and lots of other fascinating-looking bits and pieces. Familiar bits and pieces.

Car parts. And car tools.

I stared, suspicion clenching hard inside me.

Behind me Ash hit a switch and the lights came on, illuminating the workshop space.

Because it was clearly a workshop space. A car workshop space very like the ones I’d been around all my life. Except cleaner and newer.

The suspicion became certainty and my eyes filled with sudden, sharp tears that no amount of blinking would get rid of.

‘This is yours.’ Ash’s voice was a deep rumble behind me. ‘Your workshop, Ellie. You need to build your prototype. I took the liberty of getting a team together that will help you—I hope you don’t mind. I’ll give you the list of specialists and you can add to or subtract from it as you see fit. They’re good, though. And if everything goes smoothly, you might even have the prototype ready for Monaco.’

The tears overflowed, rolling down my cheeks, and I couldn’t stop them, my heart an aching ball in my chest.

My workshop. My team.

‘But I have no funding,’ I croaked, keeping my back firmly towards him, not wanting him to see what this meant to me. ‘Please don’t tell me you paid for this.’

‘You have the funding. Some of it is mine because I like your ideas and I want a stake in them. But the rest is from some other contacts in the club that I gathered over the past week. They liked your ideas, too, and your vision.’

I didn’t know what to do. For so long I’d put this passion of mine away; ignored it because it didn’t fit with Dad’s. And he’d thought it had no future and so I’d thought it didn’t either.

Of course that hadn’t stopped me playing with it, putting little touches on my plans here and there. Investigating workarounds with various engineers, drawing and redrawing designs. Always fiddling with it, always tinkering.

But I’d been realistic. There was no way my dream could ever be a reality and I’d told myself I was fine with that. I didn’t care. It wasn’t a big deal.

Except I did care and it was a big deal. And that was why I was standing there with tears rolling down my cheeks, feeling as if Ash had broken open a cage inside me and let the powerful, intense creature out.

He had done this for me. He had done this for me.

He believed in me in a way no one else had done since my mother died.

Not even my dad.

I turned suddenly and met his fierce gaze.

‘Is it all right?’ His stare flicked over my tears and for the first time I saw hints of uncertainty in his expression. ‘Ellie, if this isn’t right—’

‘No, it’s perfect,’ I interrupted hoarsely. ‘This is just what I wanted.’

He frowned, his hand coming up as if to wipe away the tears on my cheeks before checking himself. ‘You’re crying, though.’

‘I know. Because I can’t believe someone would do this for me. I can’t believe you think it’s worth putting the time and money into.’

Blue sparks leapt in his gaze. ‘Of course it is. I told your father I was going to be investing in your idea and if he knew what was good for him and his company, he would, too.’

My throat squeezed tight. ‘He thinks it’s no good.’

‘Who cares what he thinks?’ There was ferocity in his voice. ‘It’s what you think that matters. And this is important to you, I know it is. Anyway, he did help me put together your team, so I suspect he might have at least heard what I was saying.’ Ash stopped, looking at me. ‘I’m not trying to muscle in on your territory, Ellie. You understand that, don’t you? You’re the one who has to build it. I’m just providing you with the tools you need.’

I did know that. I knew exactly what he was trying to do. What he’d done ever since I’d met him: giving me a challenge and daring me to rise to it; daring me not to be afraid of what other people might think.

And just like that I felt something hot pulse through me. An acknowledgement of something I’d been too afraid to examine closely. Because I’d been afraid for a long time.

Afraid of my own feelings and the power of them. The strength of them that Dad had never been able to deal with. Not when I’d been a small girl grieving my mother and not as an adult, when I’d been hurt by a man who’d had no right to hurt me.

He didn’t know what to do with my grief or my excitement or my anger.

He didn’t know what to do with my love.

So I’d put all those feelings away in a cage and locked the door, pretended everything was fine.

But Ash had broken that cage wide open and I realised that I couldn’t deny it any more.

This was a big deal. He was a big deal.

He would never be a comfortable, easy-going, laid-back man. But that wasn’t what I wanted. I wanted fierce and hot. I wanted the burn, the speed. I wanted his merciless brand of angry protectiveness and his passionate, rough caring. And the moments of tenderness he showed in the gentle, light way he touched me.

I wanted him to be exactly as he was.

Because I’d fallen in love with him.

‘What?’ he demanded, intensity burning off him. ‘If you don’t like it—’

‘I love it, Ash.’ I stepped towards him, my heart full and aching in my chest, fear in my veins, but I was in the driver’s seat now and I was speeding along the track. There would be no stopping me. I was surrendering to the momentum. ‘And I think I love you, too.’

His expression froze and something bright burned in his eyes. So bright that for a second I could hardly look at him.

Then it went dark, his expression shuttering like a door to a furnace closing, cutting off all light and heat.

‘No.’ The chill in his voice was absolute. ‘No. That’s ridiculous. You can’t.’

Perversely, his coldness only made the fire burn brighter inside me, an anger that I’d been keeping inside for far too long. ‘Why can’t I?’ I demanded. ‘Give me one good reason.’

‘Christ, haven’t I given you enough reasons?’ He drew himself up, as if he were bracing himself, the lines of his face becoming set and hard. ‘I told you I wasn’t going to give you anything more. That this affair was only for a few days.’

‘Did I ask you for anything more?’ I took a step towards him, emotion flowing through me in a deep, hot flood, making me strong. Filling me with power. ‘I didn’t ask to feel this way about you. I didn’t want it. But I’m not going to lie about it, I’m not going to pretend I don’t feel it. It’s too important, Ash. Because it is a big deal.’

‘Why?’ Anger flared in his eyes, his usual go-to emotion. ‘Because I gave you a workshop? Because I’m funding your project?’

‘No.’ I closed the distance between us and put my hands up, cupping his face between them, watching as he flinched back from me as if my touch had burned him. ‘I love you because you’re arrogant and bossy and demanding. I love you because you’re uncompromising. I love you because you’re dangerous and passionate. I love you because you make me feel powerful and I haven’t felt that way for years.’

He dragged my wrists away from his face, his expression forbidding. The scars were white against his skin, a reminder of his violent past. A reminder of his drive and determination, his ferocity.

But that was not what I saw, not now. All I saw was his vulnerability. The pain of a thirteen-year-old boy being told he wasn’t his father’s problem. The anguish of a young man who’d thought he’d broken his mother’s trust.

A lonely man who pushed people away rather than risk his heart.

What makes you think he even wants you?

I didn’t think he did. But in a way, that didn’t matter. Because whether he returned it or not wasn’t going to change the feeling in my heart. Vast, powerful. My very own perpetual motion engine.

‘I don’t want anything from you,’ I said, before he could say anything. ‘I just wanted to tell you how I feel.’

‘Why?’ he demanded, fury glowing in his eyes and vibrating in his voice. ‘Why the fuck would you want to tell me that? Why the fuck do you think I would be interested?’ His hands were clenched into fists at his sides, his knuckles white. ‘Don’t you dare put that on me.’ His face was as white as his scars now. White with fury. ‘I don’t want your love, Ellie. And I certainly don’t fucking need it.’

I’d overstepped the mark and I knew it. I shouldn’t have said anything. I should have kept quiet. Because of course he wouldn’t know how to deal with this.

He didn’t know what to do with something he didn’t have to fight for.

My heart was nothing but a raw ball of pain, because even though I’d suspected that this would be his response, I couldn’t quite get rid of the stupid hope that perhaps it would be different.

But it wasn’t different. I couldn’t force him to feel something he didn’t. This was one thing I couldn’t fight for. If he didn’t feel the same, he didn’t feel it.

‘Okay,’ I said thickly. ‘It’s okay, Ash. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything.’

He stared at me and the expression on his face defeated me. I had no idea what he was thinking in that moment. His scars were vivid, his blue gaze even more so. ‘I’ll leave the car for you.’ He chucked the keys carelessly down on a nearby desk. ‘You can drive yourself home.’

And then he turned and walked out.

Leaving me standing in my brand-new workshop, my heart bleeding in my hands.

CHAPTER TWENTY

Ash

FURY PULSED IN MY VEINS as the cab I’d called delivered me straight to my mother’s council estate. A raw, hot feeling. A familiar feeling.

The same feeling as when Delaney had told me that Seb had given up his claim to the islands.

The feeling of being given something I wanted without having to fight for it.

Something I didn’t deserve.

Ellie, standing in the workshop I’d got ready for her, with tears streaming down her face. Telling me she loved me.

It was the workshop that had done it, that was what it was. It wasn’t me. Just like two weeks ago when we’d had sex in the limo in Paris, and the next day she’d told me about her father’s financial issues.

She’d told me she’d wanted to have sex with me, that it wasn’t anything to do with Australis, but I’d had my doubts then. And I had them still.

Of course it wasn’t me.

None of this was me.

And it didn’t fucking matter. I didn’t care what she thought of me. I didn’t care about the tears on her face or the way she’d said ‘I just wanted to tell you how I feel.’

I didn’t care about the fact that she loved me at all.

The usual group of disreputable teens were gathered around outside, bored and with nothing to do. Once, I’d been one of them.

Today, though, I stormed past them, ignoring their greetings, anger burning like a fire in my gut, beating at the walls of the cage I kept it in, clawing to get out.

I bypassed the shaky lift and headed straight for the stairs, virtually running up the fifteen flights to Mum’s floor without pause, working out my anger the way I preferred, with physical exertion.

Ellie had backed down in the end, so of course she hadn’t meant it. She’d gone ahead and told me she loved me, and when I’d shouted at her, she’d turned away without even a protest.

I’d told her I didn’t want it and she’d simply...accepted it.

And that was a good thing, wasn’t it? That was how it should be, because I wasn’t a man to be messed with when I was in this mood.

Her fault entirely.

She should have accepted my last gift to her, thanked me, and then walked out of my life. But no, she had to make everything so much harder by telling me she loved me.

Fucking love always ruined things.

I stormed down the hallway and up to Mum’s door, knocking on it as if I wanted to batter it down with my fists.

Mum opened the door and scowled. ‘Ash? What the hell do you think you’re doing breaking my door down?’

Without waiting for an invitation, I stepped into the tiny, dingy apartment I’d been brought up in. The apartment I couldn’t understand why my mother hadn’t left when given the opportunity. And then stood there as I realised I had no fucking idea why I was even here.

She shut the door behind me, still scowling. ‘What is it? You look upset.’

‘I’m not fucking upset,’ I said belligerently. ‘Why would I be upset?’

Mum folded her arms. ‘You tell me. You’re always pissed off about something.’

I glowered at her. ‘Are you surprised? After the kind of upbringing I had?’

For a second Mum didn’t say anything, only stared at me. Then she said, in a softer tone, ‘What is it, Ash?’

‘Why?’ I demanded, not realising I was going to say it until it came out. ‘Why do you not want anything I give you?’

She blinked then let out a sigh. ‘Why don’t you sit down? I’ll get you a cup of tea.’

‘I don’t want a fucking cup of tea. Just tell me. You refused the house, you refused any kind of money I wanted to give you. Why? I just wanted to give you back what I lost.’ My heart was beating furiously, the blood echoing loudly in my veins. I couldn’t understand myself, why I wanted to know this bullshit. I didn’t care about it, did I?

A strange expression crossed her face. ‘Ah, this.’

‘Yes, this.’ My hands were in fists, my fingers aching with the tension, a strange kind of fear pulsing in my veins along with the anger.

‘You worked hard for what you have,’ Mum said quietly. ‘And I know you blame yourself for what happened with the money. But...’ She let out another sigh. ‘I didn’t care about that. I cared about you.’

I stared at her. ‘I broke your trust, Mum. You never want to talk about it, so I—’

‘No, you didn’t want to talk about it. You were so angry and so betrayed. And so I decided to let it go.’

Shock echoed through me. ‘But—’

‘And as to why I’m here,’ Mum went on, ignoring me. ‘Well, it’s home. I have friends here, good friends.’ She smiled unexpectedly. ‘I belong here, love. And I don’t think you ever understood that, did you?’

‘No,’ I said automatically. ‘You should want more. It wasn’t your fault that you had me and had to settle for—’

‘I never settled for anything, love.’ Her expression became searching. ‘I accepted the situation. It was you who couldn’t accept it.’

Everything in me tightened. ‘Why should you have to accept it? You didn’t ask to be pregnant with me. I ruined your life.’

She snorted. ‘Don’t be so arrogant, Ash Evans. No one ruined my life. I made my own choices. No, they weren’t the best, but I stand by them.’ She gave me a penetrating look. ‘You were the best thing that ever happened to me, though.’

My chest felt sore and it ached at the look in her eyes. ‘I went to see Dad when I was thirteen,’ I said hoarsely. ‘We had no money and I thought—’

‘I know. I found out about that.’ An expression of sadness flickered through her grey eyes. ‘I’m sorry, love. But your father had his own issues and they had nothing to do with you.’ She crossed the distance suddenly and put a hand to my cheek, looking up into my eyes. ‘You know that, don’t you?’

‘Yes,’ I said. ‘Of course I do.’

‘Oh, Ash,’ my mother murmured, seeing straight through the lie. ‘It wasn’t you. He didn’t want anything to do with either of us and he never told me why. But I let go of him a long time ago. And so should you. He was a selfish man who didn’t deserve to have you as a son.’

I felt nothing but instant negation. ‘How am I any better?’ I demanded, my voice rough and raw. ‘I’m just like him, Mum. I’m just as selfish. I hurt people. I hurt you.’ Ellie’s white, tear-stained face loomed large in my memory. ‘And I hurt someone else I shouldn’t.’

My mother’s hand against my cheek was warm, her gaze searching. ‘Who?’

‘A woman. A woman who didn’t deserve it.’

She searched my face. ‘The girl you were with in Dubai?’

‘How did you know about her?’

‘I read the news like everyone else.’ She gave me a censorious look. ‘You should have told me you had a girlfriend.’

‘She’s not my girlfriend.’

‘There’s only one reason you’re here in a rage. And that’s because you’re hurt. You always get angry when someone hurts you.’ My mother’s gaze narrowed. ‘What did she do to you?’

That was Mum. She’d always been protective of me.

I gritted my teeth, a strange hot feeling running through me. ‘She told me she loved me. And I...walked away.’

Mum’s eyes widened. ‘That’s it? That’s why you’re so angry? Because she told you she loved you?’

‘Because she didn’t mean it.’ I lifted my hand and shoved it through my hair, restlessness and anger winding through me. ‘I did a few nice things for her, that’s all.’

My mother was silent a long time. Then she said, ‘Then why are you so mad?’

You know why. Stop being so fucking stupid.

Something was clawing at my chest, an intense, painful pressure. It felt like an animal wanting to get out of a cage.

‘I—’ I couldn’t finish, my breathing too fast, the words getting stuck in my throat.

An unbearably gentle look entered Mum’s eyes. She was a tough old bird—as she liked to call herself—and she didn’t do affection readily. But it was there in her face now. All the love she tried, in her own way, to show me. ‘Ash Evans, are you in love?’

I opened my mouth to say no, of course I wasn’t. But the lie wouldn’t come. Just goddamn wouldn’t.

The pain in my chest wouldn’t go away either or the sight of Ellie’s tears. Or the sound of my own voice, furious and loud, echoing off the walls of the workshop, telling her I didn’t want what she’d so bravely offered me.

You hurt her, you bastard. After you swore you wouldn’t.

A violent heat poured through me, closely followed by something icy, and I stood there unable to move. Unable to speak.

But I had to. I had to say it aloud because I wasn’t a fucking coward, even though everything in me wanted to hurl it away.

‘Yes.’ The word came out of me cracked and broken. ‘Yes, I think... I think I am.’

‘Of course you are.’ Mum snorted. ‘Only love messes with a person this badly.’

And the truth flooded through me then. The enormity of what I’d held in my hands and what I’d done with it.

‘She’s...too good for me,’ I said, the knowledge sudden and blinding. ‘She’s everything I’m not. She’s bright and beautiful, and I’m just a violent, selfish man who doesn’t want to change.’

Mum snorted again. ‘Oh, what bullshit. Those are excuses. You’re just scared. You’re scared of being hurt. And fair enough. You know what that’s like and so do I.’ Suddenly something burned in her eyes, something fierce. ‘But you have one thing I never got from your father. You know that she loves you.’

I froze, something deep inside me shifting, like an undersea earthquake. A crushing weight. A vast pain. A current that wouldn’t be denied.

Mum had never had that, but she’d loved Dad, I knew she had. Even though he’d kicked her to the kerb as soon as I was conceived. A love that, God knew, he didn’t deserve.

What made me any better?

She already told you.

That day in Dubai, in the club, in that bed. Her telling me what she saw in me. Things I’d never seen in myself.

She’d been so brave, my pretty thing. Telling me what she felt, opening her heart up to me like a fighter opening themselves up to take that last punch. And she had taken it, straight to the heart. Only it had been me she’d KO’d.

But I hadn’t taken it like a warrior.

I’d turned and run like a coward.

‘What do I do?’ My voice was a harsh scrape of sound as I tried to draw some air into my lungs. ‘I hurt her.’

Mum gave me a disbelieving look. ‘What do you think? Go and apologise, then kiss her and make it better.’

The weight was crushing. I wasn’t going to survive it.

But Mum was right. There was only one way to make this any easier.

I had to apologise. Kiss her, heal the hurt I’d given her.

And hope like hell she didn’t simply punch me in the face the way I so richly deserved.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

Ellie

I TOOK A flight to France that night. There was one seat left and, since my bags were packed already, it didn’t seem like the most insane thing to do.

I couldn’t bear the thought of going back to my flat and I couldn’t stay in London one second longer. For once in my life, I wanted my dad and his no-fuss, no-nonsense presence.

For once I wanted it to be no big deal.

It was late by the time I got to the little town near Nice where Dad and his team were located. Ash had even hired a house near his small factory for the duration of their stay.

I took an Uber from Nice airport and got dropped off at the house they were staying in, my heart racing as I raised my hand to knock on the door.

I hadn’t told Dad I was coming. In fact, I hadn’t spoken to him at all. I’d just left Ash to handle it.

I could see Dad’s shock in the way his white eyebrows rose into his hairline when he answered the door to find me standing on the doorstep. ‘Ellie? What the hell are you doing here?’

My chest ached and my throat was tight, but Dad wasn’t one for emotional displays so I swallowed it down and forced a smile. ‘Thought I’d come and check out what was happening with the Pythons. Hope that’s okay.’

It was okay, as it turned out, though, since it was late and he could see I was obviously tired, Dad told me that we’d talk in the morning, showing me to one of the unoccupied bedrooms.

I didn’t sleep well. I couldn’t stop thinking about Ash and his fury. About how he’d walked out. About how wrong I’d been to show him the contents of my heart.

I’d made a mistake in my comparisons of him to a car. Yes, he was large and powerful, but he wasn’t simply an engine. A machine I could drive wherever I wanted. He was a man with his own will, and that will didn’t include loving me.

Because no matter what I’d told him the day before about not wanting anything, the pain in my heart told me otherwise.

If I’d wanted nothing from him, I would have stayed in London. I would have been content to be near him—even if that meant just being in the same city.

But I didn’t want nothing.

I wanted everything.

The next day, after coffee and croissants, Dad took me to the makeshift Python workshop where we had a miniature family reunion with two of my brothers.

They were excited—not that you could really tell if you didn’t know them, but I could tell. There was a certain sparkle in their eyes as they showed me around and introduced me to some of the team helping them. Even Dad had the sparkle.

‘You did good, Ellie,’ Dad said at last, quietly, as we stood beside the first of the cars that were beginning to take shape, the chassis gleaming under the bright fluorescent lights. Men in overalls swarmed over the car like ants, while one of my brothers barked orders from his place near the computer.

The praise hit me hard, making more tears prick at me. ‘Aw, Dad,’ I said, going for jokey. ‘You’re going to make me cry with that mushy nonsense.’

But he didn’t respond as he normally did, with a smile and a nod. Instead, he said, ‘You saved the company. Don’t think I don’t know that.’

I didn’t look at him. I couldn’t. I shoved my hands into my pockets instead.

‘I know I haven’t been the best father.’ His voice was gravelly and gruff. ‘I should have stuck up for you with that...other business. But when your mother died... Well. I didn’t know how to deal with a girl.’ He cleared his throat, obviously uncomfortable. ‘That doesn’t excuse me, I understand that. But... I just wanted you to know that I’m grateful for what you did for the company.’

I swallowed, my throat thick, unable to speak. The bright lights of the workshop ran like paint in my vision. ‘Thanks, Dad,’ I forced out, my voice hoarse.

‘So, what’s happening with your project?’ he asked, as if he were asking me what I was doing for lunch. ‘Evans told me you were going to start building a prototype.’

But I couldn’t face that right now. I couldn’t even imagine going into the workshop that he’d bought for me. ‘Not right now,’ I said.

‘Look, I don’t know what’s going on with you and Evans—’

‘Nothing,’ I interrupted, the pain in my chest spreading like wildfire. ‘Nothing’s going on.’

‘Ah,’ Dad muttered, as if that answered a question. ‘Well, it’s only that he—’

‘Hey,’ Justin, my brother, said. ‘There’s some French guy on the doorstep wondering if you’re here, Ellie.’

I turned, blinking the tears away hard. ‘What French guy?’

Justin shrugged. ‘He’s at the door. You’d better go see.’

The guy turned out to be a man in a freshly pressed chauffeur’s uniform and behind him, waiting in the street, was a long black limo.

My heart gave one hard, painful beat.

Justin, who’d followed me, whistled. ‘Looks like someone important.’

The chauffeur gave me a professional smile. ‘A gentleman wishes to know if you’ll come for a ride with him, mademoiselle.’

My heartbeat picked up speed, my breathing coming shorter, faster. ‘What gentleman?’ I demanded, anger rising inside me, along with a ridiculous hope.

‘He did not want me to give you his name. He only said that if you want to know who he is, you’ll have to get in the car.’

But I already knew who it was and I’d stormed past the chauffeur before he’d finished speaking, heading straight towards the limo.

I was breathing fast by the time I reached it, anger becoming rage and hope and a thousand other things all rolled up into a big emotional storm that I had no hope of resisting.

So I didn’t.

I flung the door open.

A man sat in the interior. Tall and broad. Black hair and scars. Blue eyes the colour of my heart. The colour of the love and rage and hope and despair and everything in the entire world pulsing through my veins.

‘Don’t you know you shouldn’t get into a car with strange men, Miss Little?’ Ash said, his gaze intense on mine.

There was white lightning in my bloodstream, lighting me up, making me incandescent.

‘Why the hell would you think I’d get into a car with you?’ I said, my voice cracking, my body trembling. ‘After you walked away from me?’

‘I know.’ His voice was as cracked as mine. ‘And you have every reason not to get in. But I’m asking you to anyway.’

I didn’t want to. I wanted to.

And somehow my heart must have made a decision, because then I was inside the car and the door was shut. And I could feel the heat of him and his familiar electric energy. And there was relief in his eyes. As if he hadn’t thought I’d get in. But he didn’t reach for me. He stayed where he was.

‘I’m not sorry,’ I said fiercely before he could get a word in, every piece of me shaking. ‘For saying all those things to you back in London. I shouldn’t have said it was okay, that I was sorry I’d said it, because it’s not okay. And I’m not sorry. I meant every single word.’

He didn’t even blink. ‘I know you did. And that’s why I’m here. I’m here to apologise, Miss Little.’ He paused then shut his mouth as if he’d been going to go on and had thought better of it. ‘No,’ he said at last. ‘I’m not here to apologise. I’m here to grovel. I’m here to tell you that I was wrong to walk out. That I handled what you told me badly and I have no excuses for the way I spoke to you. None at all. But...you took me by surprise, Ellie. You...uncovered a vulnerability I wasn’t expecting. And I did what I normally do when an opponent finds their way under my guard. I attacked.’ He took a ragged breath, the fabric of his T-shirt stretching tight across his broad chest.

I didn’t know why I was still sitting there when every instinct I had was telling me to punch his stupid, handsome face. To show him how badly he’d hurt me. To demand why he was here telling me all of this when every second of his presence burned my skin as if it were being held over an open flame.

But I didn’t move. I wanted to hear what he had to say.

‘I hurt you,’ he went on, his gaze not moving from mine. ‘I was angry and I hurt you. Because the weakness you uncovered was one I’d been trying not to think about. One I’ve been trying to ignore since that night in Paris.’ He took another laboured breath like a runner forcing himself through the last, tough miles of a marathon. ‘You asked me once whether I ever got tired of proving myself and I told you that I never had to prove myself. But of course I was lying. I’ve been trying to prove myself my entire fucking life. Because the truth of it is that I’ve never felt good enough. Not for my father. Not for my mother. Not for Seb.’ His gaze burned. ‘And not for you. Never for you, pretty thing. In fact, I’ve been desperately trying to prove I’m not in love with you since that night in Paris. And failing. And then you told me that you loved me... Christ, Ellie! I know it’s not because of the workshop or the sex, you’re too honest and direct for that to be the truth. But I told you it was because—’ He stopped, his breathing faster, harder. ‘I’m fucking terrified. You scare the living shit out of me. Because no matter how hard I try to prove to myself I’m not in love with you, I am.’ He was so still, his body almost vibrating, as if he were trying to hold himself back. ‘And I don’t know what to do.’

I saw the bewilderment in his eyes and the shock. And my heart clenched hard in my chest.

Because he was here and he’d given me the truth. And he was afraid. A man like him, a warrior, a grizzly bear, didn’t show their underbelly to just anyone.

This was a gesture of trust, I understood that.

I was shaking. ‘You could just love me.’

His indrawn breath was sharp, the look in his eyes intensifying, narrowing. ‘You still want me? After the way I hurt you?’

‘Love doesn’t go away just like that, Ash. You’ll have to try harder if you want to get rid of me completely.’ I opened my mouth to say more, but then he surged suddenly towards me, his arms around me, dragging me into his lap and holding me hard against his chest. ‘I’m sorry, pretty thing,’ he said thickly, burying his face in my neck. ‘I should never have walked away from you. I was angry and I should know by now that anger isn’t the best way to handle things, but it’s just been my default for so long. And I’m going to try to be better. I want to change, to be different—’

‘No,’ I said fiercely, threading my hands through his thick black hair and tugging on it so his head lifted and his gaze met mine. ‘I don’t want you to change and you don’t have to be different. I love you as you are, Ash Evans. Sure, you might have difficulty with being nice and you’re a grumpy bear of a man, but your heart is in the right place. You want to do right by people, help them. All your charity work and investments in small companies... Hell, even your bloody revenge against your half-brother had a charitable purpose.’

He blinked at me. ‘Grumpy bear of a man?’

I growled. ‘Listen to me, idiot. I’m trying to tell you that you’re an amazing person. You don’t have to do anything but be yourself with me.’

The look in his eyes took my breath away. ‘You don’t either, understand me?’ His hands cupped my face, his big palms warm against my skin. ‘I love your honesty and your bluntness. I love your excitement and your smile. And I love your passion, Ellie Little. Because if there’s one thing you are it’s passionate and I don’t ever want that to change.’

There were more stupid tears in my eyes, but I didn’t do anything about them, just as I didn’t do anything about the ache in my heart, that was no less painful and yet had become sweeter somehow, an ache to cherish rather than fight against. ‘I don’t think I can change that, so you’re stuck with it.’

He smiled and the ache got sweeter still. ‘I won’t be an easy man to live with, pretty thing. But I’m yours if you’ll have me.’

‘I will have you.’ I reached up to kiss him. ‘You should know by now that I love a challenge.’

He laughed, a deep rumbling sound. ‘Then strap in, baby. I may not be easy, but I can guarantee one hell of a ride.’

That was the thing about Ash Evans. He was a man of his word.

And it ended up being the best ride I’d ever had.

EPILOGUE

Ash

SEB MET ME in The Billionaires Club London and we sat down for a drink. It wasn’t easy to apologise for being a complete bastard for twelve years, but I managed it.

I’d been practising with a certain ex-chauffeur, after all, and it turned out that she was right. It wasn’t too late. And sometimes when you’d burned a bridge, you could, if you were willing, find a way to rebuild it.

Seb and I talked long into the night and at the end, we shook hands. The bridge might have been built, but it was still a bit shaky and required some careful walking.

I stepped back out into the street, ready to get a cab home, only to find a long black car waiting at the kerb.

I smiled, my heart already starting to accelerate.

Without hesitation, I strode to the limo and got in, settling myself in my seat. Then I looked at the rear-view mirror to see a beautiful pair of hazel eyes staring at me from underneath the brim of a chauffeur’s cap.

She’d promised me a surprise tonight; clearly this was it.

It was almost a month we’d been together and my breath still caught whenever I saw her, the sense of wonder that she was mine filling me like sunlight.

Her prototype was nearly finished and soon, with luck, we’d be showing it off at the next club event in Monaco, along with the Pythons.

I knew nothing about cars, but I knew hers was fantastic.

As beautiful and as visionary as she was.

‘Where to, Mr Evans?’ she asked in her gorgeous husky voice, a thread of amusement running through it.

I held her gaze. ‘You choose, Miss Little.’

She smiled, the gold in her eyes beginning to glitter. ‘How about to heaven and back?’

‘That sounds perfect,’ I said.

But she didn’t need to take me to heaven.

With her, I was already there.

* * * * *

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