Wicked Surrender: Ruthless Awakening / The Multi-Millionaire's Virgin Mistress / The Timber Baron's Virgin Bride

‘Yes, you look after her, my boy.’ Sir John turned to his wife. ‘Marjorie, my dear, I see Clement Jackson has arrived. He’s bound to want a word, so shall we leave these two to catch up with each other?’

Rhianna stood, clawed by a mixture of excitement and uncertainty, as she waited for Diaz to return with the dry white wine she’d requested. I shouldn’t be doing this, she whispered inwardly. I should be making an excuse and easing myself out. But I can’t—I can’t…

‘Apparently Lord Byron said he woke up one morning and found himself famous,’ Diaz remarked, as he handed her the glass. ‘Was it like that for you?’

‘Far from it,’ she said. ‘Although it’s got trickier since. You become public property. People see me in their living rooms and think they know me.’

‘How very optimistic of them,’ Diaz said silkily. ‘But it’s good that you’ve prospered, Rhianna, after your precipitate exit from Polkernick. I was afraid the sight of me might put you to flight again.’

But I didn’t jump—I was pushed…

Aloud, she said coolly, ‘I think I’m a little more resilient these days.’

Am I? she thought. Am I—when the memory of you saying ‘I don’t take sweets from babies’ still has the power to tear me apart? When just by standing here like this I know I could be setting up such trouble for myself?

She swallowed. ‘I think Sir John’s trying to attract your attention. He has someone he wants you to meet.’ She sent him a brilliant smile. ‘Enjoy your time in London.’

She walked away and didn’t look back, her heart hammering painfully against her ribcage.

I’ve met him, she thought. I’ve spoken to him. And that’s the end of it. There’s no point in hoping, or wishing things could be different. Because that’s never been possible.

She was halfway down the wide sweep of marble stairs that led to Apex Insurance’s main foyer and the street, when she heard him speak her name.

She paused, her hand clenched painfully on the polished brass rail, then turned reluctantly.

He said evenly, ‘Clearly we don’t share the same definition of resilience, Rhianna, because here you are—running away again.’

‘Not at all.’ She lifted her chin. ‘This evening was work, not social. So I’ve made my token appearance, kept the sponsors happy, and now I’m going home as planned. Job done.’

‘Then change the plan,’ he said softly. ‘Have dinner with me instead.’

Her heart seemed to stop. ‘Heavens,’ she said lightly. ‘What is this—some bridge-building exercise?’

‘It’s a man asking a beautiful woman to spend a couple of hours in his company,’ Diaz returned. ‘Do we really need to analyse it so closely or so soon? Why not simply see where it takes us.’

To disaster, she thought. There can be nothing else. So just utter a few polite words of regret and keep going. That’s the wise—the sensible course. The only one possible.

She said, ‘But you’re clearly the guest of honour for Sir John. Won’t he be upset if you disappear?’

‘No,’ he said. ‘Nor surprised either. So will you be my guest of honour instead?’

And she heard herself say, unbelievably, ‘Yes—I—I’d like that.’

Knowing, with mingled dread and anticipation, that she was speaking no more than the truth. That wisdom and common sense had counted for nothing the moment she’d seen him again. And that she was lost.

‘I saw you as soon as I walked in tonight,’ he said, as they faced each other across the candlelit table of the small Italian trattoria. ‘There’s only one head of hair like that in the entire universe. As soon as I’d finished being polite to my host I was going to come over to you.’

Rhianna put up a self-conscious hand. ‘It’s become almost a trademark,’ she said, grimacing. ‘I’m expected to wear it loose when I’m on show, like tonight. And my contract forbids me to cut it.’

‘Of course,’ he said. ‘It would be a crime against humanity.’ And his smile touched her like a caress.

She couldn’t remember to this day what they’d eaten, although she was sure it had been delicious. She’d simply yielded herself completely to the luxury of being with him, just for that brief time.

Much later, outside, as he’d signalled to a cab, she’d said huskily, knowing she was a fool and worse than a fool, yet unwilling, in spite of herself, to let him go, ‘Would you like some more coffee—a nightcap?’

And he said very quietly, ‘Thank you. That would be—good.’

People were just coming out of the theatres, so the streets and pavements were crowded. As the taxi nosed its way along, Rhianna sat beside him in silence, hands clenched in her lap. Waiting and wondering.

She did not have to wait for long. And when Diaz took her in his arms she yielded instantly, her lips parting under the urgency of his kiss, her body pressed against his.

As she clung to him, she rejoiced secretly that her erstwhile lodger was no longer with her, and her flat was her own again. That she would be alone with him there. Then remembered that her precious privacy had come at a price.

She thought, If Diaz ever finds out about Simon…

Then, as his kiss deepened, she stopped thinking altogether, her whole being possessed by the shock of desire. Because nothing mattered but the fact that she was with him—and the prospect, at last, of long-delayed surrender.

And she ignored the small warning voice in her mind that said, This is so dangerous, and allowed herself to be completely and passionately happy.

‘Señorita—señorita—you come here quickly, please.’ It was Juan, grinning with delight. ‘Now, señorita.’

Startled back into the present, Rhianna got up from the lounger and followed him to the side of the boat, where Diaz was waiting.

‘What’s wrong?’ She spoke curtly, her memories having left her unnerved and uncomfortable. But at least he was wearing his shirt again.

‘Nothing at all.’ He glanced at her with faint surprise. ‘Look over there.’

Rhianna looked and gasped as a long silver body rose from the waves with a joyous twist, then disappeared again with a smack of its tail fin, to be followed by several more, their faces all set in that unmistakable half-moon smile as they jumped and soared.

‘Oh, how wonderful.’ She could not pretend sophisticated boredom when this amazing show was being performed as if for her exclusive benefit. She leaned on the rail, her face alight with pleasure, watching the dolphins cavort. ‘Have you ever seen anything so beautiful?’

‘Not often,’ Diaz said quietly. ‘Except in my dreams.’ And she realised with shock that he was looking at her.

Her throat closed. Oh, God, how can you say such things after everything that’s happened? What do you want from me? Haven’t I suffered enough?

She stared at the gleaming, leaping bodies until they blurred, then with one last triumphant ‘thwack’ they were gone, and there was only the faint glimmer of them through the water as they sped away.

‘The cabaret seems to be over,’ Diaz commented. ‘Conveniently, just in time for lunch.’

‘More food?’ Back in command of herself, she sent him a challenging look. ‘I shall need a week at a health farm after this.’

‘After this,’ he said, ‘the choice will be all yours.’

‘Tell me something,’ she said as they sat down. ‘How much longer will it take to get where we’re going?’

His brows rose. ‘Is it so important to get somewhere?’

‘Of course,’ she said coldly. ‘Because the faster we arrive, the sooner I can put this nonsense behind me and go home. Only we don’t seem to be travelling very fast at all.’