Imprisoned by a Vow

by Annie West

  Dimly he heard the lift ping and the slide of the doors. Instead of moving, Joss gathered her in, wanting to prolong the almost innocent pleasure of her tentative response.

  There was nothing innocent about the surge of possessive hunger that urged him to haul her back to the penthouse and into bed. Fire shot to Joss’s groin and his embrace hardened. Her bare back was silken beneath his palm. Her mouth sweet distraction.

  Even the touch of her palms, pressed flat to his jacket, heightened his carnal senses. He wanted those gentle fingers on his bare body, all over him.

  Would she mark him with her nails in the throes of ecstasy? He’d wager she was as passionate in bed as she was when she fought him. Joss’s skin tightened in a shiver of pure lust as he imagined Leila naked beneath him. Those pert breasts thrusting up into his palms, her throaty moans husky in his ears as he drove them both to a pinnacle of bliss.

  Joss’s hold tightened convulsively and suddenly Leila wasn’t kissing him back.

  With a wrench she broke free.

  Disbelieving, Joss watched the rapid rise and fall of her breasts with dazed fascination.

  ‘Don’t look at me like that!’

  He jerked his head up.

  Huge eyes of cloudy emerald held his beneath heavy lids, as if she too had difficulty shaking off the erotic force of that kiss. Her hair was a mass of rich, dark waves around her shoulders, framing a face now flushed instead of pale. Her mouth was bare of lipstick and her lips looked plump and poutingly kissable.

  Joss shoved his hands into his pockets before he could reach for her again.

  ‘I’m not on tap for your pleasure.’ Her eyes narrowed to slits of sizzling fire. Challenge vibrated in every taut line of her body.

  Someone should warn her that he thrived on challenge. He had only one way of dealing with it: facing it head-on and winning. Every time.

  It was all Joss could do not to haul her up against him and demonstrate how flimsy her outrage was. She’d kissed him back; there’d been no mistaking her shudder of pleasure as she’d leaned in.

  ‘Did you hear me?’

  ‘I heard you, Leila.’ Even saying her name, after tasting her breath in his mouth, was a sensual experience. His eyes dropped to the jerky pulse at the base of her neck. Would her skin taste as delicious as her lips?

  Suddenly he was ravenous with the need to find out.

  He didn’t need Leila’s outraged expression to warn him he was on dangerous ground. He knew already. He’d been in treacherous territory all week as he spent hours pondering his intriguing wife instead of concentrating on work.

  But even that didn’t deter him.

  Success was all about making plans then adapting them to suit emerging needs.

  His lips twisted in a mirthless grin. What he felt for Leila was definitely an emerging need.

  Was it possible he’d miscalculated, demanding this be a paper marriage only?

  Would it be so very bad if he mixed a little personal pleasure with business after all?

  ‘You can stop looking at me as if you’d like to...’

  ‘Eat you all up?’ Joss couldn’t prevent his wolfish grin as anticipation weighted his lower body.

  Leila’s eyes widened, her mouth sagging a fraction before she snapped it shut.

  Was that genuine shock? The idea intrigued Joss, and excited him. He was tired, he discovered suddenly, of women so experienced they were blasé about life and everything in it except money.

  Leila would never be boring or predictable.

  Even now she was primming her lips as if she’d like to punish him.

  He’d enjoy watching her try.

  ‘Don’t put your hair up.’ Already she was twisting it high at the back of her head in quick movements. He enjoyed seeing her long tresses around her shoulders. Last night he’d found one excuse after another to draw her close just to feel its softness and inhale its fragrance.

  Leila shook her head curtly. ‘Not with this dress.’

  As she spoke she turned away, presenting him with a view of her sleek back, the graceful curve of her spine ridiculously alluring. The dress was completely decent, covering breasts, arms and most of her legs, yet something about that deep V of bare feminine flesh made his body prickle with renewed hunger.

  His.

  Leila was his.

  The covetous thought filled his brain to the exclusion of all else.

  Until he saw her stiffen as she faced the open door to the vast underground car park. Her shoulders hunched and he heard her suck in her breath.

  Belatedly his brain notched into gear and he remembered her anxiety. The fact that she didn’t venture out, except last night when he’d given her no option.

  He wanted to know more, to understand. But now wasn’t the time.

  Joss stepped close and slid his arm under hers, wrapped her hand over his and clamped it there, noting the way she held onto him as if fearing he’d let her go. It stirred a long-dormant protectiveness.

  ‘This way.’ He nodded towards the waiting limo he used in London. He preferred his driving off road and fast, not at a snail’s pace in city streets.

  He made to step forward but Leila stood her ground. She refused to go with him? Was she that scared?

  He looked down and saw the determined angle of Leila’s chin.

  ‘I can walk alone.’ She relaxed her grip, inviting him to release her. ‘There’s no need to act the doting husband.’ Her tone was light and high as if her breathing was too shallow, but Joss couldn’t mistake the fierce glitter of pride in her eyes.

  So much for admitting she was anxious. She was toughing it out, pretending a calmness belied by the tiny tremors he felt racing through her body.

  Something stirred deep inside him.

  He liked that she was a fighter, refusing to give in. He could relate to that. Obstinacy was the quality that had helped him survive life with his self-absorbed parents and move on.

  ‘Just getting in a little practice for our dinner guests.’ He shrugged. ‘I’m not used to being part of a couple. I need to get it right.’

  Which was a lie. Few things had felt so instantly right as holding Leila.

  ‘Very well.’ She drew in a deep breath and Joss battled to keep his gaze on her face. ‘You can take my arm.’ She sounded like a gracious monarch bestowing a concession. ‘But let’s get this clear. I don’t appreciate being manhandled.’

  Her gaze skimmed his face to rest at a point near his collar.

  Not so brave after all. Was she afraid of what she might see in his face, or of herself? There’d been two of them kissing a moment ago.

  ‘If you want kisses—’ her voice was low ‘—find someone else to share them.’

  ‘You’re not interested?’ he persisted, daring her to lie outright.

  ‘Why should I be?’ Leila lifted her eyes to his. He felt for an absurd moment as if he were drowning in a pure pool of deep mountain water. ‘I kissed you yesterday out of curiosity.’ She lifted her shoulders in a tight shrug. ‘That doesn’t mean I want to repeat it.’

  ‘No?’ She could have fooled him. Yesterday it had been more than curiosity driving her. But he’d cut her some slack. He’d seen her fear mere minutes ago. It hit him that he never wanted to see her like that again.

  ‘No.’ Gripping his hand firmly, Leila stepped out into the vast subterranean space, her attention locked on the car waiting for them. ‘After all, it wasn’t in our contract, was it?’

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  ‘I’D ALWAYS HEARD you were lucky as well as clever. Now I know it’s true.’

  Joss looked at the Russian beside him and raised his eyebrows. ‘Really?’ Tevchenko was one of Europe’s wealthiest men. Joss’s London apartment, though expensive and perfectly positioned, Jos
s had chosen it for convenience. It wouldn’t draw accolades from a man who owned ex-imperial palaces in his own country.

  ‘Really.’ A chuckle of approval rumbled up from the other man’s chest. ‘Your wife.’ He nodded across the wide sitting room. ‘She’s a jewel of the first water. A rare find.’

  Joss read the appreciation in Tevchenko’s dark eyes and felt a scimitar-sharp slice of jealousy.

  He froze, his coffee halfway to his lips.

  Jealousy? Impossible.

  Slowly he turned. He knew exactly where to find Leila. All evening he’d been aware of her—had felt an undercurrent of electricity running under his skin, tugging him like metal towards his magnetic north.

  Leila had understood without being asked that she was to look after the wives and partners while Joss focused on business. She’d done her job brilliantly, allowing him to pursue his discussions without interruption.

  She was a born hostess. She’d charmed even the most difficult. The secret, he’d discovered, was her genuine warmth. She took an interest in everyone she met.

  With the exception of her husband.

  She evinced no interest in Joss, keeping him at arm’s length all week since those kisses.

  It was frustrating. His heavy schedule and her reticence meant he was no closer to uncovering those secrets she hid so well.

  Joss’s eyes raked her. Tonight she was dressed modestly. No bare back to distract him. Yet in a slim-fitting dress of aquamarine she looked like a sea nymph rather than anything as prosaic as a wife. She wore her hair up, accentuating those flawless, high-cut cheekbones and the fragility of her long neck.

  Just looking at her drove pleasure through him.

  Beside her the trophy wives with their plastered-on dresses and tanned flesh looked garish and cheap, though their gems were probably worth the GDP of a developing country.

  By contrast Leila wore a simple pendant that drew the eye to the delectable curve of her ripe breasts.

  Joss frowned, realising it was the same pendant she’d worn each time they’d gone out. Did she wear nothing else?

  ‘You don’t agree?’ the Russian boomed in his ear. ‘As a new bridegroom I thought you’d be aware of your wife’s special assets.’

  Surely Boris wasn’t crass enough to appraise her body so blatantly? Joss swung round, fury welling, his hands tight fists.

  ‘She puts everyone at ease.’ Tevchenko nodded to the women on the other side of the room. ‘Even those two cats who were spitting and snarling at each other earlier.’ He sighed. ‘With a woman like that at my side...’ He shrugged and grinned. ‘I repeat, my friend. You’re a lucky man.’

  He clapped his hand to Joss’s shoulder and Joss relaxed. He’d overreacted.

  ‘I know.’ Who’d have guessed Leila would eclipse his expectations? She was a valuable asset indeed.

  Despite the inconvenient lust she inspired.

  And the way she distracted him.

  And the annoying way she was pointedly avoiding him after that taste of raw, mind-blowing passion.

  It chagrined him that it was he who chafed at the restrictions of a paper marriage. He wanted more than a polite goodnight and a closed door.

  His blood steamed, remembering how she’d brushed him off. It was only the shadows in her eyes that had convinced him not to press further.

  But soon. Anticipation stirred in his belly.

  As Joss watched, a newcomer, Asad Murat, joined her and the other women melted away. Joss’s brow knitted. Leila’s stance spoke of sudden tension, though he’d swear she hadn’t moved a muscle.

  He turned to the Russian. ‘You’ll excuse me?’

  ‘Of course. If I’d married a woman like that I’d keep her close too.’

  Joss made his way through the knots of guests to the far side of the room, curiosity rising. Leila stood, glass in hand, head tilted towards their guest as if eager to hear his every word. Yet some preternatural sense warned something was wrong.

  He lengthened his stride.

  ‘Am I interrupting?’

  Murat started and took a step back. It was only then that Joss realised how close the pair stood. Leila turned smoothly, her smile perfect. Only the sharp glitter in her eyes confirmed Joss had been right. Something was up.

  He reached out and slipped his hand through her arm. She stood stiffly, the pulse at her wrist racing.

  ‘Not at all.’ Leila’s crystal-clear diction reminded him of her tone when she argued with him: polite, calm and with an undercurrent of acid. ‘We were just discussing the importance of discipline.’

  ‘Discipline?’ Joss frowned. ‘Self-discipline?’

  Leila shook her head. ‘The lack of it in modern society.’

  Joss looked from one to the other, wondering what he’d interrupted. Leila was wound so tight it was a wonder her smile didn’t crack. ‘For example?’

  When she said nothing, Murat took the lead.

  ‘Society today is full of do-gooders carping about the weak and disadvantaged. They don’t understand the strong in society need to take a lead, set an example.’ He paused. ‘Like us.’

  ‘Us?’ Joss had learned enough about Murat in this week’s preliminary discussions to realise they had little in common except wealth and large-scale mining interests.

  ‘Leaders. Strong-minded men. Men who aren’t afraid to take a stand for what’s right.’

  Beside him Leila stirred, standing taller.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Joss murmured, his eyes on Leila’s white-knuckled hand gripping the stem of her glass. ‘You’ll have to be more specific.’

  ‘A man needs to rule his home fairly but with a rod of iron.’ The other man darted a look at Leila. ‘And in commerce too. Take those labour problems you’re having in Africa.’ He expounded his theory on how that should be handled. With each sentence he confirmed himself totally devoid of anything like a social conscience, much less a scrap of humanity.

  ‘An interesting approach.’ Joss cut him off, disgust pungent on his tongue as he eyed the other man in disbelief. ‘But not mine. You’ll read in the news tomorrow that the strike has been settled. The conditions at the mine under the previous owner were archaic and brutal. From now on, as many local workers will be engaged as possible, after a full health and safety review. There will be new equipment and appropriate training for everyone on site.’

  Joss paused, letting his words sink in. ‘I’ve also offered a profit-sharing incentive scheme in addition to plans to improve the fresh-water access and education of the local villages.’

  ‘Are you mad? What about your profits?’

  Joss stared into the other man’s shocked face and realised he’d conned himself thinking he could ever do business with him. Ruthless he didn’t mind. Hell, he’d been labelled that more times than he could count. But to exploit workers as virtual slaves as Murat suggested? The guy made him sick.

  ‘Decent conditions and respect for workers increases productivity.’ He curled his lips in a smile that showed his teeth. ‘I recommend you try it before you’re forced into it.’ He paused. ‘It’s only bullies who can’t respect the rights of others.’

  Murat huffed and muttered then stalked away. Joss didn’t bother to watch him go.

  ‘Did you mean that?’ Leila’s lustrous eyes were huge as she looked up at him.

  ‘Of course I meant it. He gives mining a bad name. One day there’ll be a major disaster at one of his sites—a preventable disaster.’ Joss paused, watching her closely. ‘I know he’s a family friend of yours but there’s a limit—’

  ‘He’s no friend of mine!’ She all but spat the words. ‘I’ve spent the last five minutes gritting my teeth rather than tell him to leave and never come back.’ Her brow knitted. ‘I thought he was important to your plans?’

  ‘N
o one is indispensable, Leila. Especially not him. I won’t be doing business with him after all.’ It was a decision he’d been considering all week. Tonight had just been the final straw.

  Joss threaded his fingers through hers, feeling the tension thrumming through her. ‘What did he say to you?’ The waves of anger that had built as he listened to the other man swamped him.

  ‘Nothing important.’ Her gaze slid away and he knew she lied.

  ‘Leila.’ Joss slipped a warning finger under her chin and lifted her face. ‘What was it?’

  If the bastard had insulted her—

  ‘Nothing worth repeating. Really.’ She tilted her head, looking straight into his eyes as if trying to read him. ‘Was that true? About your plans for the mine?’

  ‘Yes. The deal just went through today.’ He watched her arrested expression, wishing yet again he understood what she was thinking. ‘Does it matter?’

  Gravely she nodded. ‘It matters.’

  The slow curve of her lips was tiny, the barest hint of a smile, but it warmed him like sunrise in the desert, spreading heat in places that hadn’t felt warmth in a lifetime.

  * * *

  Hours later Leila turned away as Joss closed the door on the last guest.

  Tiredness caught her between the shoulder blades. It had been a stressful evening. She loved meeting new people but she was badly out of practice.

  Time spent poring over papers and the Net couldn’t make up for years cut off from news. All evening she’d wondered when she’d make some obvious gaffe, revealing how little she knew about what had happened in the world these last years when she’d been locked away.

  Then there was Murat. Leila rubbed her hands up her bare arms, remembering the feral heat in his eyes as he’d cornered her.

  ‘I’m tired,’ she said to Joss over her shoulder. ‘I’ll go to bed now. Goodnight.’

  She was at the entrance to the bedroom wing when his voice reached her. ‘Not yet, Leila. We need to talk.’

  Turning, she saw his stubborn expression. It had been there as he’d questioned her about Murat. Couldn’t he let that rest?