Читать книгу The Scandalous Collection - Кейт Хьюит, Пенни Джордан - Страница 59

‘I HAVE a favour to ask of you.’

Natalia glanced up from the net bag of footballs she’d been collecting. It was the end of the third day of camp, and she felt as limp as a wet rag. She’d always worked out, but being on a football pitch for eight hours a day promised a whole new level of fitness.

‘A favour?’ she said, arching her eyebrows. It was the second week of camp, and she hadn’t talked to Ben much outside of working hours. When she did she kept it light and mocking. Safe. ‘I bet you don’t like that.’

‘Why wouldn’t I?’

‘I doubt you like asking favours of anyone.’

He frowned, considering this. It was one thing Natalia had learned and liked about him: he thought about things. Seriously. He wasn’t dismissive. Except, perhaps, of her. ‘I don’t suppose I do,’ he finally admitted.

‘Especially of me.’

‘Don’t put yourself down, Princess.’

‘Actually,’ she said tartly, ‘I was putting you down.’ She drew the drawstring closed on the bag and tossed it with the others. The pitch was empty, the other volunteers having trickled away. She was conscious of the looming space all around them, the emptiness.

‘Seriously,’ Ben said. ‘A favour.’

Natalia folded her arms. ‘Okay. Tell me.’

‘I have a client dinner on Friday,’ Ben said. He sounded hesitant, which was a first. Natalia wasn’t used to seeing him anything but arrogantly assured. ‘They’re interested in supporting these camps, making it more of a joint effort.’

‘That’s good, isn’t it?’

Ben nodded. ‘Their support would help to take the camps to the next level. Expand across Europe, maybe South America and Asia.’

‘I always knew you were ambitious.’

‘It would be great for the kids,’ Ben said, and she saw a shadow of vulnerability in his eyes. This meant something to him, she realised. It meant a lot. ‘All right,’ she said quietly. ‘What do you want me to do?’

‘Come to the dinner with me. My clients want to meet you, and it would be great publicity for the camp.’

Natalia knew she could make any number of quips about how Ben really did want publicity after all, but suddenly she didn’t feel like it. ‘Want to meet me?’ she echoed.

‘They’ve heard of you.’

‘Who hasn’t?’ she said drily, but she felt a little knife-twist of disappointment. She didn’t want to play the princess to Ben’s starstruck clients. She didn’t want to play the princess at all. ‘You realise,’ she said after a moment, ‘you might not get the kind of publicity you’re looking for.’

‘I’m aware of that,’ Ben said evenly, and the knife twisted a little more. She knew he didn’t mean to judge her, but he still was. At least, it felt like he was.

‘Of course you are,’ she agreed, and Ben’s expression didn’t flicker.

‘I don’t like the press,’ he said quietly, a confession. ‘I never have. I’ve seen the cost of it on too many people in my family. Especially my mother, after my father—well, I’m sure you know what my father did.’ His mouth twisted, and Natalia knew how hard it was for him to admit this. Or anything.

‘I don’t know all he did, because I don’t read the tabloids as thoroughly as you clearly do,’ she said, keeping her voice light. ‘But I did hear that he wasn’t exactly faithful.’

‘Right.’ He let out a slow, shuddering breath. ‘And his philandering generated a great deal of press. That’s why I jumped to conclusions when they snapped a photo of us coming out of the restaurant—I’ve lived with that kind of thing all my life.’

‘So have I,’ Natalia returned quietly, and Ben frowned.

‘But you go after it. I’ve seen and know enough to realise that, Princess. You grant interviews, you pose for photographs, you attend all the parties and clubs where you know they’ll see you and assume the worst.’ He stared at her, hard, as if he was trying to strip away all her defenses and see right into her soul. ‘Why do you do it if you don’t like it?’

She said nothing, unwilling to be as honest as he’d been. She felt a pressure building in her chest and behind her eyes, and she was afraid what might happen if she gave in to it. If she said all the things she wanted to say. Because it’s the only way I know of being in control. Because I’ve been humiliated too many times and in too many ways and at least now it looks like I chose it. But I don’t want you to think I’m really like that … even if I am.

‘Natalia?’ Ben prompted, and she heard a thread of urgency in his voice. ‘Tell me.’

And she wondered if he knew what he was asking, if he sensed the truth. She shook her head, shrugged. ‘The press has its uses,’ she managed, and turned to pick up the bag of footballs, anything to keep her from revealing too much. Ben’s gaze alone was already far too knowing.

He didn’t speak for a long moment. Finally, her back still turned, she heard him say, ‘In any case this is just a quiet dinner at a discreet restaurant.’

‘Fine.’ Natalia turned back to him and forced a smile. She’d really enjoyed these past few days, getting dirty, playing with the kids, making Gabriella smile. Being real … and not being a princess. ‘I suppose I could dust off my tiara. This Friday, you said?’

Ben nodded. ‘I’ll pick you up at five.’

Ben watched as Natalia walked away from him, her chin tilted at that haughty angle, her back ramrod straight. Her defensive position. He knew it well. He went over the exchange they’d just had, wondering how he’d hurt her, for she surely was hurt, even if she’d never admit it.

She was a woman of secrets, he knew, secrets she had no intention of telling him or anyone else. He could tell when she wasn’t telling the truth, but he didn’t know what the truth was. And he wanted to.

This was dangerous, Ben knew. He was drawing closer to her even though he’d told himself not to. Swaying with her on the dance floor had been enough of a test of his self-control, but this was more. Worse. Seeing her trying her best on the football pitch, getting dirty, making the kids smile, giving him one of her mocking looks … all of it made him seek her out more and more.

This dinner was really just a pretext to spend time with her outside of camp, he knew. At least he was honest with himself about that. His clients might have mentioned wanting to meet the princess, but he could have deflected them, or brought them to the camp one day when everyone was there. He wanted her to come out with him. He wanted her, full stop.

And he didn’t know what to do about it. The wise and safe choice was to keep his distance, take her at face value, and let nothing shake his resolve or shatter his control.

Yet Ben didn’t feel like being safe any more. Or wise. He’d always lived a life of admirable and consistent restraint, and he was tired of it. He wanted Natalia with a fierceness he’d never felt before, a fierceness that felt right even though it terrified him.

This he could not control.

At five o’clock on Friday Natalia stood in front of the ornate full-length mirror in her room and gazed at her reflection. She’d toyed with the idea of wearing something like her silver spangled dress, short and outrageous, and then decided against it. She was tired of titillation. It had been her cover for so long, her way of keeping people from getting too close and guessing all of her deficiencies, but she didn’t want to do it tonight. She wasn’t sure she wanted to ever again.

And where, Natalia wondered, did that leave her? Who then could she be? She didn’t really have an answer. Sighing, she reached for a stunning diamond and emerald necklace that was part of her mother’s crown jewels. Made of twenty-four emeralds, each one surrounded by diamonds, the largest one at the center, nestling between her breasts, it was a magnificent piece of jewelry. Natalia had always thought it a bit ostentatious, not to mention heavy to wear, but she felt, for the sake of Ben’s clients, she’d better look every inch the princess tonight.

She paired the necklace with a starkly elegant cocktail dress in black silk that skimmed her curves and then flared out around her knees. The dress was elegant yet simple, making it a perfect backdrop for the necklace. She picked a pair of skyscraper heels with diamante straps to make the outfit a little less severe. A girl still had to have a little fun.

A knock sounded on her bedroom door, and her personal maid peeked in. ‘Mr Jackson is downstairs, Your Highness.’

‘Thank you, Ana.’ Natalia gave her reflection one more glance and, satisfied, reached for the silk fringed shawl and beaded clutch that matched her dress and headed downstairs.

Her breath dried in her throat at the sight of Ben in the palazzo’s soaring entrance hall. He wore a suit, just as he had at the engagement party and every day at the office, so there was no reason for him to look any different than before. Or for her to feel any different, and yet she did. Maybe it was the shared history they had now, or perhaps just this attraction she could no longer pretend to deny. Her gaze was helplessly drawn to his long, lithe body, the suit expertly tailored to showcase muscular legs, trim hips and powerful shoulders. The crisp white shirt and cobalt-blue silk tie emphasised the lean planes of his jaw and cheek, the steely blue of his eyes. He looked elegant and powerful, and it was an intoxicating combination.

Her legs felt a little trembly as she came down the marble staircase, Ben’s gaze intent upon her. He stretched out one hand towards her as she came to the last stair.

‘Good evening, Princess.’ For the first time her title didn’t feel like a mockery or sneer. It felt almost like an endearment. She smiled and took his hand.

‘Good evening.’

He nodded a farewell towards the liveried attendants standing sentry in the hall, and then led her out into the night. She felt a little bit like Cinderella, leaving the castle instead of going to it. And that was how she wanted it. As she breathed in the sultry night air she felt free. Free and maybe even happy, or at least something close to it.

‘So where are we going at such an unfashionably early hour?’ she asked as Ben opened the passenger door of his silver luxury model car.

‘Our dinner reservation is actually at eight. It’s going to take a little while to get there.’

‘A little while? You can drive the length of Santina in under two hours.’

Ben’s smile gleamed in the darkness as he started the car and drove smoothly down the palazzo’s curving drive and through the gates. ‘I never said we were going somewhere on Santina.’

His meaning was made clear when he pulled up to the island’s only airport fifteen minutes later. Natalia skidded to a halt in her stilettos as she stared at the tiny plane Ben had led her to in one remote corner of the airfield.

‘We’re going in that?’

‘My private jet,’ Ben said with just a touch of irony.

‘Let me tell you something, hotshot. For me, private jet means champagne, caviar and leather sofas. Not—’ She took a step forward so she could better inspect the plane. ‘A piece of cardboard and some chewing gum.’

‘I’ll have you know this is a Seabird Seeker 360, and it’s an amazing piece of equipment. It also cost four hundred thousand dollars.’

She folded her arms. ‘I’m sorry to say you got a very bad deal.’

‘Princess,’ Ben said with a thread of laughter in his voice, ‘are you scared?’

Natalia drew herself up and eyed the plane warily. ‘As a matter of fact,’ she told him, ‘yes. And not ashamed to admit it.’ For once.

Ben reached for one hand and lazily pulled her towards him. Natalia came reluctantly, more afraid to get so close to him than going up in that flimsy excuse for an airplane. ‘Come on, Natalia,’ he said softly. ‘I’ll keep you safe.’

And Natalia wondered if he was talking about flying in the Seabird, or something else entirely. Something far more important and frightening. Her heart thudded against her ribs and she managed a light laugh only with effort.

‘Let me see your pilot’s license.’

‘You don’t trust me?’ He was still holding her hand, the other hand resting lightly on her back, and he’d drawn her so close the hem of her dress brushed against his legs. She breathed in the now-familiar scent of his aftershave and felt, quite literally, dizzy.

‘Not an inch,’ she managed, and made herself draw back.

Ben let her go. ‘If you’re really scared, we can charter a bigger plane,’ he said, his tone turning serious. ‘I made sure there was one available.’

His thoughtfulness touched her, even though she didn’t want it to. She didn’t want this man to affect her, to slip under her defenses so easily, and yet right now, in the sultry darkness with him standing so close, she couldn’t quite summon one of her cutting remarks that had served her so well in the past. ‘Let me at least take a look at this thing,’ she said, and turned towards the plane.

It was very cozy. Two leather seats side by side in a cockpit, and glass all around. Flying in it would, Natalia thought, be amazing. If she let herself go. If she trusted Ben.

Why was that thought so scary, far more frightening than actually getting inside this piece of scrap metal?

‘Well?’ Ben asked. She’d clambered up so she was halfway into the cockpit, and she could sense Ben’s presence behind her, feel the heat of him.

‘I suppose it might be all right,’ she said grudgingly, and Ben let out a dry chuckle.

‘High praise from the princess. Get in.’ He put his hands on her hips and guided her into the low-slung seat, sending a flare of awareness and heat low through her pelvis. Yes, she thought, swallowing drily, this really was quite cozy.

Ben felt a jagged jolt of desire ricochet from his hands through his whole body. He couldn’t keep from touching her. He watched Natalia settle into her seat, and he could still feel the curve of her hips on his palms, imagine pulling her closer, fitting her to him.

He forced the thought away and slid into his own seat. ‘You sure you can fly this thing?’ she asked, and he slid her a knowing smile.

‘Watch me.’

‘Oh, I will.’

Was he imagining the wicked innuendo in her voice? He knew he felt it. Everything about this whole evening felt agonisingly charged, even more than the last time they’d been out together. For even with the ultimate distraction of Natalia sitting less than a foot away from him, her skin so smooth and golden, the dress hugging the curve of her breasts and the dip of her waist so lovingly, he realised something else. Something deeper.

He was happy.

When had he last felt this relaxed with a woman? When had he last enjoying just being with someone so much? He couldn’t remember. Maybe never. And even though the more rational part of his mind was insisting that this was Natalia, spoilt party princess whose exploits featured in nearly every tabloid, the rest of him wanted to drown out that nagging whine and just relax. Enjoy.

Be happy.

He started taxiing down the runway. Natalia gripped the leather armrest. ‘You’re not actually phobic, are you?’ he asked in genuine concern, and she gave him another one of her wicked looks.

‘A little late to ask me that, isn’t it?’

He let out a dry laugh. ‘I suppose so.’

‘Fortunately I’m not. I’m scared of plenty of things, but not flying. Although I’ve never flown in a tin can before, so I suppose I could nurture a bit of phobia if I put my mind to it.’

‘What are you afraid of then?’ Ben asked, genuinely curious.

Natalia shrugged. ‘The usual things. The dark, for one.’

‘The dark?’

She gave him an annoyed look. ‘I didn’t say I was completely phobic about it. I just don’t like being alone in a dark room.’

‘Do you have a night light?’ He spoke at least half teasingly, but she answered in seriousness.

‘I keep the bathroom light on.’

‘You’re not scared of the dark out there, are you?’ he said, nodding to the expanse of sky that was just starting to darken to violet.

Natalia let out a little hiss of breath. ‘No, of course not. I mean, the dark. Like a cupboard with no light at all.’

A cupboard? It sounded like she’d had some kind of bad experience. Ben decided not to press. He hadn’t meant to tease her; he just couldn’t imagine Natalia being afraid of anything. She seemed so fearless. ‘What else?’ he asked. The Seabird was gaining speed and Natalia didn’t answer as they took off into that endless stretch of sky, the horizon a vivid streak of magenta as the sun slid below the sea.

‘No, now it’s your turn,’ she said when the Seabird levelled out. ‘What are you afraid of?’

Ben flexed his hands on the controls and considered. ‘Something bad happening to someone in my family,’ he said at last.

Natalia rolled her eyes. ‘I could have told you that. You are a complete control freak. I’m sure you feel responsible for everyone in your family, even your parents.’

‘And that’s a bad thing?’ Ben asked drily, although in truth he felt a bit disconcerted by her perception.

‘I don’t know, I haven’t asked your family.’ She wiggled a little bit in her seat, getting comfortable, and Ben was momentarily distracted by the sight of her dress sliding around, that huge emerald swinging in the shadowy V between her breasts. ‘Anyway,’ she resumed, clearly more comfortable now, although Ben was decidedly not, ‘I mean, what are you really afraid of? Your deepest, darkest, most secret fear.’

He gave her an amused look, although he was definitely feeling uncomfortable in a whole variety of ways. ‘And why should I tell you that?’

She slid him a slyly challenging look from under her lashes. ‘Scared?’

‘No. I’m just not sure I want the next headline of the local rag to be Ben Jackson: The Truth About His Phobia of Spiders.’

She let out a little laugh, but it sounded brittle. He’d been teasing—sort of—but he had the feeling he’d hurt her with his deflective remark, bringing in the stupid press. Again. And all he’d been trying to do was take the glare of her scrutiny away from himself.

‘I don’t actually talk to the press that much,’ she said, staring out at the darkening sky. ‘Despite what you think. They make most of it up all on their own.’

‘I know they do.’ He didn’t really want to talk about her press coverage.

‘It’s just easier,’ she continued, a surprising tremble in her voice, ‘to try to control it. Or at least feel like you do. You know?’ She turned to face him, and he saw a new vulnerability shining in her eyes, making them glitter like sunlight off a puddle.

He stared at her, sifting her words, looking for truth. ‘Are you saying you seek that kind of publicity because it makes you feel better?’ he asked, and heard the blatant disbelief in his voice. As someone who had avoided that kind of attention forever, it seemed like an incredibly foolish thing to do.

She stared back at him, her eyes shadowed. Guarded. ‘That and I can’t get enough of seeing myself in the papers,’ she said lightly, and Ben knew she wasn’t telling the truth. She was hiding behind another cutting, self-deprecating remark because that was what she did. Everyone had their defense mechanisms, their ways to stay safe. Natalia’s just happened to be very different than his.

Her expression lightened and she gave him a challenging smile, all traces of vulnerability gone. ‘You know what I think you’re scared of?’

He eyed her in wary bemusement. ‘What?’

‘Of being scared.’

‘The only thing we have to fear is fear itself?’ he quoted drily.

‘Roosevelt said it better, I suppose, but it’s still true. You’re afraid of feeling weak and out of control and helpless.’

Ben’s hand tightened on the controls. He felt as if she’d just flayed him alive with her words, her perception. ‘I didn’t know you were such a history buff,’ he finally said, and she laughed softly.

‘I’m not the only one who likes to deflect personal questions, I see.’

‘Well, that was really quite personal.’

‘And true.’

‘So why are you scared of the dark?’ he asked, and felt Natalia tense. Amazed at how attuned he was to her moods and her body. He glanced at her, saw the strap of her dress had fallen a little down one golden shoulder. Yes, definitely her body.

‘Does there have to be a reason?’

‘There usually is.’

‘Why are you scared of being scared?’ she shot back, and suddenly Ben burst out laughing.

‘Oh, Princess,’ he said, ‘maybe we should change the subject. Two guarded people asking each other invasive questions is surely a recipe for disaster.’

‘Or at least a few awkward pauses,’ Natalia agreed with a little laugh of her own. ‘Fine. How long have you had your pilot’s license?’

‘I never actually said I had my pilot’s license.’

She widened her eyes in mock horror. ‘You lied to me?’

‘Five years.’

‘Why do you like flying?’

‘This is starting to get personal, Princess.’

‘Really? That’s personal? You are quite the closed book.’

‘So are you.’ He slid her a thoughtful look. ‘A lot more closed than I thought.’ With more secrets and depths than he’d realised. Or even wanted.

She turned away from him and he could see the curve of her cheek, the angle of her jaw. In profile she seemed softer somehow. Vulnerable. He felt that protective tug again and resented it. They should stop this conversation. He didn’t actually want to get close with someone like Natalia.

Did he?

Yet as the darkness of the sky and sea stretched out in front of them, Ben realised he didn’t know what he wanted any more.

Natalia stared out at the darkness dropping like a velvet curtain all around them. Far below she could see a few twinkling lights, perhaps from a pleasure yacht cruising on the Mediterranean. She felt bizarrely unsettled and excited at the same time. Talking to Ben had energised her in a way nothing else had or could. Scared her too. She wasn’t used to telling anybody … well, anything. At least, anything important.

And yet in the space of a few minutes she’d told Ben secrets no one else knew, like her fear of the dark. Why she courted the press. What was it about this man, Natalia wondered, that made her want to spill her secrets? Be known?

‘You didn’t actually tell me where we’re going,’ she said, determined to keep the conversation light. Impersonal. Surely that was what Ben wanted too.

‘Rome.’

‘Very nice. What restaurant?’

‘Il Pagliaccio, on via dei Banchi.’

Natalia nodded. She knew it to be sophisticated, elegant and discreet. She leaned forward to gaze out at the sweep of sea below them, now barely visible in the darkness of night. ‘So you keep a plane on the island? Is that how you get back and forth from London?’

‘Gene rally.’

‘How long are you going to stay on Santina? It must be difficult to be away from work for so long.’

‘I telecommute, but no, it’s not ideal. I’ll stay till the end of the camp, wrap a few things up and then head back to London.’

So a couple of more weeks at most. Natalia felt an icy plunging sensation in her stomach, and realised it was disappointment. How ridiculous. She didn’t even like Ben Jackson … except she couldn’t really say that any more, could she? She was certainly attracted to him. And she was afraid she might feel even more than that. There was something so steady about Ben, so strong and true. She trusted him … perhaps even with her secrets.

She glanced over at him, his gaze steady on the sky, his hands relaxed on the controls. She let her gaze wander over the strong line of his jaw, the powerful curve of his shoulder, the crisp whiteness of his shirt emphasising the tanned column of his throat. He was a beautiful man, she thought with a throb of desire. She wanted to run her fingers along his jaw, loosen that tie and undo the buttons of his shirt, spread her hands along the taut, warm skin of his bare chest… ?.

With a gulp Natalia turned away to stare blindly out the window. How was she going to get through this evening without touching him?

‘Just a few more minutes,’ Ben said, jerking her from her dazed thoughts, and she managed a smile and a stiff nod.

‘Wonderful.’

A chauffeured limousine was waiting for them at the airport. Ben placed a hand low on Natalia’s back as he guided her into the car. She could feel the heat of his fingers through the thin fabric of her dress, felt her body’s basic and instinctive response to that gentle pressure. This was, she thought with a flutter of panic, going to be a very long evening.

A different kind of anxiety assailed her as they entered the elegant interior of Il Pagliaccio. What did these clients of Ben’s know about her? What had they read—and what had they believed? She swallowed drily, suddenly feeling sick. She didn’t want to be the party princess any more. She wanted to be someone else—someone she’d never dared let herself be.

Herself.

Yet did she really even know who that was any more? ‘Natalia?’ Ben touched her shoulder, his eyes shadowed with concern. ‘Are you all right?’

‘Yes, of course.’ She forced herself to give him one of her usual flirty smiles. ‘Why wouldn’t I be?’

‘Because you’re looking like you’re about to face your own execution,’ Ben said drily. ‘I thought this kind of thing was right up your alley.’

Of course he did. And it was. Hadn’t she made sure it was? Hadn’t she made that choice years ago, when she realised she could be enslaved to the press and their vicious mockery or embrace it? She’d had a choice. She’d made it. Surely it was far too late for regrets. It was far too late to want to be someone else—or want someone to believe you were someone else. Someone real.

‘I’m fine,’ Natalia said firmly, and with a coolly challenging smile she swept past Ben into the dining room. She hadn’t been sure what to expect of Ben’s clients, but they were all charming, urbane men who treated Natalia with both deference and respect. She saw one or two eye her speculatively on occasion, obviously wondering just how much of what they’d read was true. Natalia didn’t give them a chance to find out. She listened when they spoke, laughed when they told jokes and behaved with gracious aplomb throughout the entire evening. She played the princess, and it was exhausting.

Life had always been a performance; she understood and accepted that. Act like you know the answer. Act like you don’t care. Act like you think someone is interesting or attractive or funny. Act. Act. Act.

What happened when she didn’t want to act any more? When the curtain came down, and the mask came off? What happened, Natalia thought even as she smiled and listened and laughed, when she stopped acting?

She didn’t have an answer, and the not knowing exhausted her as much as anything else. Scared her too. As their main courses were cleared, she excused herself from the table and went to find a few minutes’ solitude in the ladies’.

The room was blessedly empty and Natalia powdered her nose and refreshed her lipstick, touching up her hair and makeup with easy expertise. She was adding some mascara to her eyelash when she caught an unguarded glimpse of herself in the mirror from the corner of her eye, and she felt as if she’d just seen a stranger, someone she’d never met. Herself.

Slowly she lowered the mascara wand and stared at her own face. On the surface it was, of course, completely recognisable. She looked good. Pretty, maybe even beautiful. Her eyes glinted and her mouth curved in her trademark, mocking smile. Princess Natalia. The Party Princess. Then she blinked, and her smile disappeared, and she was left with a face she didn’t know. A face with wide, sad eyes and a mouth that trembled with uncertainty. The face of the person she really was … whomever that woman turned out to be.

Did anyone really want to find out? Did she? Did Ben?

Two women, chatting loudly in Italian, came into the room and quickly Natalia capped her mascara, gave them a fleeting smile and hurried out.

In the narrow corridor that led back to the main restaurant a man was leaning against the wall. Natalia assumed he was talking on his mobile, and she murmured her excuse as she brushed past him. He grabbed her elbow.

She stiffened, turned and recognised one of the men from this evening. Brian, the one who had eyed her so speculatively. She felt a twist of disappointment; this evening wasn’t going to be any different. She wasn’t different. She couldn’t be.

‘Your Highness …’

She gave him a freezing stare. ‘Excuse me,’ she said with haughty politeness, ‘but I believe you are holding my elbow.’

He looked both startled and apologetic and to Natalia’s relief he let go, but he didn’t move and she couldn’t get by without squeezing past him. She stared him down as coldly as she could.

‘I just wondered, Your Highness …’ he slurred, clearly more than a little drunk. ‘I heard you like sailing and I have a sweet little yacht you might like to see … if you know what I mean.’

‘Don’t believe everything you read in the papers, Brian,’ Natalia said coolly. She knew he was referring to a ridiculous article about a three-day orgy she’d supposedly indulged in on a yacht last summer. The reality had been far tamer, and frankly rather boring.

‘I just thought …’ he mumbled, starting to blush. Natalia almost took pity on him.

‘Don’t embarrass yourself any further,’ she advised, and started to move past him. Her hip nudged his and yet something else caused a bolt of awareness to electrify her like lightning, rooting her to the spot, freezing her senses. She looked up and saw Ben blocking the entrance to the corridor, his expression completely and dangerously unreadable.