by Lucy King
God. He swore softly under his breath. He was famed for being decisive, intuitive, shrewd and for having a certain ruthlessness that had made him a billionaire by the time he was thirty. He’d built up a multimillion-pound business from scratch. He’d negotiated impossible deals and turned the most desperate of companies around. Now he was running a country with every problem going.
Yet he’d never understand women. They were completely unfathomable.
Even Alicia, who’d been so transparent and straightforward, had eventually become incomprehensible. Matt’s jaw tightened as the memory of his ex-fiancée filtered into his head. Her lack of guile had been one of the reasons he’d asked her to marry him. She hadn’t tried to wrap him up in complex emotional games. Their relationship had been easy, light and fun.
Until he’d started to get more caught up with his business. As it had grown he’d had to devote more and more time to it and less to her.
At first she’d been remarkably stoical, supportive even, but even the most understanding fiancée would have got fed up eventually.
Matt had been torn, and while the relationship limped on for a while it hadn’t survived. The end had been messy and painful. Hurtful accusations had flown all over the place. Guilt and blame had built and built, until things had finally erupted. The only thing that had kept him sane during and after their break-up had been his work.
Now he avoided relationships like the plague. They were perplexing, unpredictable and ultimately emotionally destructive, and he never wanted to go through all that again.
Matt set his jaw and put everything back into the hamper. Laura was perplexing, unpredictable and he had a horrible suspicion she could be pretty emotionally destructive.
So there’d be no more seeking her out, he thought, getting to his feet and heading back to the palace. No more lunches. No more conversation. And definitely no more wanting her in his bed.
When their paths crossed he’d be cool and distant. Because he was far better off alone. Always had been, always would be.
Staff, thought Laura for the billionth time that afternoon. Huh.
Disappointment and hurt scythed through her all over again and she threw down her chisel before she could do any permanent damage to the frieze she was working on.
God. How stupid could she be? If only she were wearing steel-capped boots she could have given herself the kicking she deserved. Because she was such an idiot.
She closed her eyes for a second and felt her cheeks burn as her mind hurtled back to the rose garden. There she’d been, going all soft and squidgy and mellowing with the wine and the sun and the heat of Matt’s gaze. Bizarrely she’d found herself enjoying the conversation despite it dredging up things she’d rather not think about. It had actually been a relief to talk about the old her, and she’d discovered she rather liked the person she was beginning to become.
Unfortunately there hadn’t been a hint of arrogance, nor a patronising glance in sight. And while Matt had been annoyingly persistent he hadn’t interrupted her and he hadn’t dismissed anything she’d said. In fact the way his body had tensed and his eyes had blazed when she’d told him about her ex had had her heart leaping with something she wasn’t sure she wanted to identify and desire whipping through her so fiercely that she’d begun to wonder why exactly business and pleasure shouldn’t mix.
And all the time he’d just been interrogating her as he would any employee.
Agh. Laura opened her eyes and scowled. The fact that she was still smarting over it two hours later was infuriating. And what was making things worse was the knowledge that she didn’t have any real reason to smart. Which irritated her even further.
Because Matt was right. She was staff.
So what was she getting so het up about?
Laura plonked herself on the floor and chewed her lip. Was it really the fact that he’d wangled so much personal information out of her without divulging even his age, which was what she’d been telling herself for the past hour or so?
Or was it actually the fact that she’d spent the entire conversation on the point of combusting while Matt had sat there, ice cool and controlled and totally indifferent?
As the heat and desire that were never far away flared to life and started zooming around her body, Laura swallowed. Well, that cleared that up, she thought, hauling herself out of denial and sticking her chin in her hands.
She might as well admit it. For all the decisions she’d made, all the self-analysis she’d done, all the stern talking-tos she’d given herself, she was finding it increasingly difficult to remember exactly why she wasn’t leaping into Matt’s arms and tumbling him into bed.
Whereas he, on the other hand, appeared to have forgotten that that mad passionate afternoon in his house had ever taken place.
Huh. Talk about unflattering.
Laura frowned and her mind raced. She’d had enough of constantly flailing around for control while Matt remained the epitome of cool. Wasn’t it about time she redressed the balance? Wouldn’t it be interesting to see if she couldn’t shake him up a bit and get him on the wrong foot for a change?
Her heart began to hammer and her stomach buzzed with adrenalin. Yes. Why the hell not? And tonight, at the party she’d heard Matt was hosting, would be the ideal occasion.
She hadn’t been invited. He wouldn’t be expecting her. She had a killer dress and shoes that made her feel a million dollars.
What could be more perfect?
CHAPTER EIGHT
MATT had had the event this evening arranged to evaluate the country’s entrepreneurial spirit and ascertain the existing barriers to business. He’d had invitations sent out to five hundred of Sassania’s most innovative and exciting entrepreneurs and the ballroom was now filled with a buzz that gave him more satisfaction than he’d have ever imagined.
So far the evening had been going splendidly. He’d had a number of extremely worthwhile conversations, and had gained a valuable insight into the way to kick-start the economy and stimulate growth.
After all the political problems he’d had to deal with recently, not to mention the unsettling effect Laura had on him, spending an evening within his comfort zone made a nice change.
As did the way he now felt, or rather didn’t feel, about Laura. After she’d left him in the rose garden, he’d gone back to his office, summoned up some of that famed ruthlessness and had simply told himself to get a grip and not to feel anything.
So he didn’t. When she crossed his mind, he felt absolutely nothing. Not a flicker of desire. Not a hammer of his pulse. Not a twitch of his body. The abrupt way in which she’d left him after lunch? Hah. Didn’t bother him one jot.
Laura, metaphorically speaking, was history, and he hadn’t been so relaxed in weeks.
Striding over to the podium and adjusting the microphone, Matt felt an exquisite sense of calm settle over him. Oh, yes. He was back on track and back in control. And nothing, but nothing, could upset it.
Laura hovered at the pair of giant doors that opened into the ballroom, her gaze zooming in on the man standing on the podium speaking to the assembled throng, and her breath caught.
Matt looked absolutely magnificent. Dark and dangerous and devastatingly gorgeous. His dinner suit fitted as if made for him and the snowy white of his shirt emphasised his tan. The aura he emanated and the magnetism he radiated were holding every one of his guests captivated.
God, she’d only just arrived and hadn’t heard any of his speech, yet she was captivated. Her eyes slid helplessly back to him and her blood began to heat. Who knew what he was talking about? She was far too distracted by the hint of a smile curving his mouth and the sexy raise of an eyebrow he gave every now and then. Every inch of him seemed to reach out to her and she was moments away from discarding all her intentions of lofty hauteur, and swooning.
A woman to her right let out a little sigh and Laura felt like going over and patting her arm in sympathy. And then batting everyone out of the way, stalki
ng over and staking her claim on him.
Her totally unfounded claim, she reminded herself, biting her tongue and forcing herself to focus.
‘Small businesses are the backbone to any economy,’ Matt was saying, his gaze sweeping over the assembled gathering, ‘and I plan to see that measures are implemented to—’
His eyes collided with hers and for a second, time stood still. He paused. His face tightened. His eyes blazed and Laura’s heart skidded to a halt. Her mouth went dry. Her entire body froze and then burned as awareness sizzled through her.
And then Matt continued his sweep of the room as if nothing had happened and time set off again.
‘—to encourage their development. Thank you.’
Applause rumbled around her as Matt stepped down, but Laura barely registered it. She could hardly breathe with the nerves that were suddenly attacking her from all sides.
Oh, God, she thought, struggling not to sag against the door. This had been such a bad idea. Because for that brief moment Matt had not looked happy to see her. In fact he’d looked downright furious.
Her heart tumbled. How had she ever thought she could get the upper hand with a man like him? He was a king, for heaven’s sake. A natural born leader. He was alpha through and through, whereas she had spent her whole life sitting squarely at the omega end of the scale. OK, so she might be inching up that particular alphabet but still she was in way over her head.
What the hell had she been thinking? What had given her the nerve to presume she could shake him up? Come to think of it, why on earth would she want to shake him up anyway? Shaking Matt up would be like rattling a lion’s cage while leaving the gate open. Had she gone completely nuts?
Laura’s heart began to race. She ought to leave. Pretend she’d never come. Now.
But with Antonio Capelli striding towards her, smiling warmly in welcome and taking her elbow, it was far too late to flee.
Oh, hell, thought Matt, plucking a glass of champagne off the tray of a passing waiter and forcing himself not to down it in one.
What was Laura doing here? He deliberately hadn’t invited her so he must have done something truly horrendous in a past life to deserve this kind of torment, he thought grimly, gripping the glass and muttering some sort of appropriate response to the question he was being asked.
When his gaze had skated over the room and landed on her, everything had seemed to judder to a halt. His heart had thumped and for a split second his head had gone blank. He’d forgotten where he was, what he was doing and more worryingly what he was supposed to be saying.
It had taken every ounce of strength he possessed to drag his gaze from hers and continue his perusal of the room. With every fibre of his being suddenly on fire what he’d really wanted to do was leap off the podium, shove everyone out of the way and drag her off somewhere private.
So much for his famed ruthlessness. He could only hope to God that no one had noticed him falter.
Matt felt his eyes narrow as he watched Laura being wheeled off by his secretary and suspicion began to wind through him. If Antonio had had anything to do with Laura’s presence at the party he could well be finding a new job come the morning.
But never mind, he told himself as they disappeared into the melee. There were five hundred people in the room and there was absolutely no reason why he’d even need to go up to her, let alone have to speak to her.
All he had to do was forget she was there and everything would be fine.
Forgetting Laura was at the party was easier said than done, Matt thought, an agonising hour later.
He might not have had any need to approach her, but that didn’t stop him being aware of every move she made. It didn’t stop him subconsciously manoeuvring himself towards her, and it didn’t stop him wanting to march over and throw out any man she spoke to, smiled at or laughed with. Of which there were far too many.
Running a finger around the inside of his collar, Matt felt uncomfortably hot and weirdly on edge. His muscles actually ached with the effort of keeping his body where it was and his brain hurt with the effort of concentrating on the conversations going on around him.
Unable to help himself, he glanced over to where she was chatting and smiling, her eyes sparkling and her cheeks pink. He caught her eye. She arched an eyebrow, as if she was well aware he was avoiding her, and something inside him snapped.
This was absurd. Trying to ignore her wasn’t working. Why the hell shouldn’t he just go over and say hello? That wouldn’t kill him, would it?
Gritting his teeth, Matt excused himself and started to make his way over to her.
Which wasn’t as easy as it sounded. She was standing only a few metres away, but she might as well have been in a different country. To his intense frustration people kept coming up to him like heat-seeking missiles. Interrupting his trajectory and wanting to have a word.
By the time he finally made it to her, he’d agreed to a dozen things he probably shouldn’t have, and his already stretched-to-the-limit patience was dangerously close to snapping.
It wasn’t helped by the lifted chin or the cool haughty smile she greeted him with. Or the long strapless blue dress she was wearing that matched her eyes and clung everywhere. Did she have any idea how little it left to the imagination?
Matt thrust his hands in his pockets. ‘Good evening,’ he said, his tone far sharper than he’d have liked.
‘Your Majesty,’ she said, dropping into a graceful curtsey.
What the hell? Matt ground his teeth. ‘Don’t do that.’
She rose and gave him a smile that had his heart pounding. ‘Am I doing it wrong?’
‘No.’ She did it very well. Sank so low that he could see straight down the front of her dress. ‘But don’t do it again. Not you.’
She sighed dramatically and pouted. ‘And I spent such a long time practising.’
Matt blinked and tried to keep his eyes out of her cleavage and some sort of grip on his control. ‘What are you doing here?’
‘I thought it might be a good idea to see how the ballroom works. From a restoration perspective.’
‘Gatecrashing?’
‘Not at all,’ said Laura coolly. ‘Once I explained my intentions to Signore Capelli, he added me to the guest list.’
Hah. As he’d thought. He’d definitely be having words with his secretary.
‘Nice dress.’ His voice sounded strangely hoarse and he cleared his throat.
‘Thank you. Nice suit.’
‘Thank you.’
She tilted her head back to take a sip of her champagne and Matt’s gaze dropped to her throat. Soft and creamy skin. Completely exposed. He curled his hands into fists deep in his pockets to stop himself reaching out, pulling her against him and setting his mouth to the pulse thumping at the base of her neck.
Then she lowered her glass and shot him a languid look and a smouldering smile that set his body on fire. ‘Are you all right, Matt?’
He pulled himself together. ‘Fine. Why?’
‘You look a little uncomfortable.’
‘Just a trifle warm.’
‘So why are you glowering? This is a party. You shouldn’t be glowering.’
‘It’s my party. I can do whatever I like.’
Her smile deepened. Turned faintly knowing, and Matt’s pulse hammered. Would anyone notice if he hauled her away somewhere private to continue the party alone?
‘Well, you must be busy,’ she said, her voice unusually husky. ‘Don’t let me keep you.’
‘You aren’t.’
‘Great speech.’
Had it been? He couldn’t remember. Her gaze shimmered at him with something he couldn’t identify but made desire pound through him.
Matt’s head swam. What on earth had got into her tonight? Where had this sultry hauteur sprung from? And what was he going to do about it?
‘This is a lovely room,’ she said, looking up and giving him another view of her throat.
‘I don’t want t
o talk about the room,’ he grated.
If she was surprised by his tone, she didn’t show it. In fact her eyes began to sparkle with something that looked suspiciously like triumph. Which only wound him up further. ‘Then what do you want to talk about?’
He didn’t want to talk at all. ‘Why did you dash off like that earlier?’ he said, drawing on the first thing that sprang to mind.
Laura lifted her shoulders and Matt had to force himself not to glance down. ‘Things to do.’
His eyes narrowed. ‘Running away from me seems to be becoming a habit.’
‘Not at all. You simply reminded me of my place, that’s all.’
Matt frowned. What the hell did that mean? Her place was in his arms. Beneath him. On top of him. Whichever way, plastered against him was where she should be.
His jaw clenched as the desire pounding through him grew hotter, more insistent.
He’d had enough of this. Enough of the eyelash batting and the sultry little smiles. Enough of the hammering desire and tight tension keeping him awake all night and ruining his concentration all day. Enough of trying to resist her.
For whatever reason, Laura was in a dangerous mood tonight and, despite his best efforts to hang on to it, Matt’s control was slipping away like sand through an hourglass. He’d never felt such a need clawing at his gut. Never felt such desperation. Never had so little desire for conversation.
To hell with the entrepreneurs. He’d done plenty to ease their concerns. Now it was his turn.
Stepping forward, Matt took her elbow and pulled her against him.
‘What are you doing?’ Laura muttered, her breath catching.
‘We’re leaving,’ he said as the scent of her spun into his head and obliterated all rational thought. ‘We can’t.’
‘We can and we are.’
She glanced up at him, a tiny frown creasing her brow. ‘Is something wrong?’
‘Very.’
‘What is it?’
Out of the corner of his eye Matt caught the flash of movement, a glimpse of someone heading over to talk to him. Oh, no. No way. ‘Have you seen the Sala dell’Anticollegio yet?’ he said loudly, wheeling her off in the opposite direction and not giving her time to answer. ‘Incredible vaulted ceiling. Badly in need of some TLC.’ As was he.
