by Dani Collins
“I want both.”
Dev frowned. Maybe he had been too quick to trust this woman. “I think you’d better tell me the reason you’re here first,” he said. “Everything else can come later.”
He saw her take a deep breath.
“I have a Mob boss after me. His hired thug was here, aboard your yacht this evening, watching me. It was why I had to play hide-and-seek in your closet.”
“What?” Dev said, incapable of any other response. He arrested the stinging denial that rose to his lips. The stark fear in her eyes couldn’t be a lie.
“The same man was camped outside my office in London. Then I saw him when I flew to a conference in New York. Then again here. When I spotted him up there tonight,” she said, pointing to the upper deck, her entire body shivering at some invisible draft, “I just had to hide. I’m sorry for thrusting this all on you, especially when you have your own problems, but I had no choice. I’m stuck in a really bad situation.”
“I know the man you’re referring to. I signaled to my head of security after I saw him approach you. He was definitely not on the guest list. When I checked again, he’d disappeared.”
Clare simply nodded. “I had a call from his boss as I arrived here tonight. He told me that he was going to have me, no matter what. That no one’s going to stop him, because he owns me outright.”
Dev saw her shiver again and fisted his hands. “You’re safe here. My security escorted his henchman off the yacht.”
“I’m safe for now,” she corrected.
“Why is he after you?”
Her lashes fell down in a curtain, suddenly hiding her expression. “I took money from a man I shouldn’t have trusted.”
Dev couldn’t help sounding incredulous. “You took a loan from a known Mob boss? Why?”
Pink scoured her cheeks. “I told you it was...a bad decision. I was desperate to establish my business. I didn’t look closely at who I was trusting.”
Dev raised a brow. “So wait, you took out a loan with yourself as collateral? How can a woman specializing in PR not understand what she was signing?”
“Please don’t use it as a measure of my efficiency. Let’s just say I found myself tricked. Those weren’t the terms that were spelled out when I accepted the money. I was just so happy to have a running start on establishing my business. I...” She rubbed her temple with her fingers, her gaze anywhere but on him. “It doesn’t matter why or how this happened, okay? That damned man thinks he owns me now.”
Clare Roberts was a perplexing combination of innocence and sophistication, with a good measure of idiocy thrown in. Or had she been that desperate to launch her business? To establish her self-sufficiency? To prove her own self-worth?
Because those feelings of desperation were very old friends to Dev.
“I just need some time to figure a way to get out of his clutches. Somewhere he and his goons can’t reach me. The last thing I want is to become the prized possession of some Mafia boss who’ll delight in punishing me by lending me to his lieutenants whenever he feels like it.”
“And how would you know he’d do that?” Dev asked, his mouth twitching again.
She looked at him and away, embarrassment shining in her face. “I binge-watched a show where the main character did that. Fairy tales and fantasies are not really what you’d associate with a practical businesswoman like me, are they?” A bitterness he knew only too well twisted her mouth.
“We all have our guilty pleasures, Clare.”
“Like you and your never-ending array of bed partners?” she retorted. But before he could answer her, she shook her head regretfully. “Let’s pretend I didn’t just say that. And no, I don’t need rescuing by anyone. I just need time to rescue myself. So?”
“So what?” he said, wondering what he was signing up for here.
“Will you let me stay aboard for a little while?”
Dev studied her. With her mussed-up hair and clothes, she couldn’t have looked less like the CEO of her own PR firm. She looked like trouble. Of the kind that he didn’t usually touch with a very long pole.
The last thing he needed right now was another headache. And yet, he couldn’t just throw her out, could he? Not when he’d seen the very man she’d mentioned eyeing her like a particularly juicy steak. Not when stark fear at her plight had rendered her so distressingly pale.
He’d already let down one woman who’d been under his protection. Had failed in what he considered to be one of the most important aspects of his own personality—defending those who couldn’t defend themselves.
Those who were deemed lesser or weaker, just because they didn’t fit a certain definition of perfect or normal. He had been that kid once, with no champion to defend him. With no one to understand how he’d felt being cut off from the world of the written word. Especially not after Mama’s death.
How could he ignore Clare’s plight now, knowing that her life might be in danger? He didn’t want any more women on his conscience.
He looked down to find her gaze resolutely staring back at him. “All I’m asking for is a place to hide. Whether you hire me or not to clean up your image, you can decide that based on my proposal.”
More than pleasantly surprised at how fast she’d turned all that emotion into something far more constructive, he impulsively said, “Fine. We’ll figure out a way to get you out of this predicament.”
He wondered who was more shocked by his ridiculous promise. Playing the hero had never been his forte. Emotional grandstanding of the kind that his father excelled in had always made him wary. So why was he spouting these words to her?
Thankfully, Clare apparently had a lot more sense and gumption than he had given her credit for.
She shook her head. “Now, Mr. Kohli, don’t go making promises you can’t keep. Even when I buried myself in fairy tales and stories, I knew enough to not think myself the heroine. To not lose my grip on reality.” She sounded like a woman who had never had anyone to depend on. She sounded exactly like him. Dev wondered if that was her appeal for him. “This is a problem I’ll solve for myself. As I’ve always done. All I ask is that you buy me some time.”
“Are we really back to being Mr. Kohli and Ms. Roberts again then?”
“I think it’s safest, don’t you? Especially now that you might be one of my biggest clients.”
Dev grinned. There was something about the sudden, starchy formality that she was insisting on that made him want to unravel her. Just a little bit. “Afraid you might not be able to resist me while we’re stuck together, are you?”
She laughed. “You think this is being stuck together?” Her arms moved around to encompass the vast yacht. “Aboard your gigantic yacht. It’s so ridiculously huge that one might be tempted to think the owner was overcompensating for something...”
Dev took a step forward. One step. There was still a lot of distance between them for him to reach her. Her mouth clamped shut. “You’re being unfair, Ms. Roberts.”
“How?”
“Making wildly absurd claims that I can’t rebut without making statements that could be construed as innuendo? You’re baiting me, knowing that I can’t play along. You’re having your own sweet little revenge.”
She blushed and looked away, and he smiled in satisfaction.
“As long as we’re clear on the fact that this is not some kind of invitation to re—”
“Yes, yes, I know it’s not.” She cut in, rolling her eyes. “I’m not stupid. Also, I’m not into skittish playboys who have to be convinced what a treasure I am.”
“Did you just call me skittish?” Dev let out an outraged growl and now it was her mouth that twitched.
Her blue eyes widened as she considered him. “I’m not going to crimp your style by being here, am I?”
“What do you mean?” he demanded, feeling surly. Because the
re was that hum of desire under his skin again. Suddenly the idea of being stuck with this woman for however long—without being able to kiss that lovely mouth—was nothing but pure torment.
“Do you have anyone else on board, Mr. Kohli?”
“Other than my staff, no,” he said, wondering where she was going with this.
“A girlfriend? An ex? A bunch of guests waiting to participate in an orgy?”
He pursed his lips. “No.”
“Good, then I don’t have to disillusion some poor girl looking for a good time?”
“Is that comment in general or specific, Ms. Roberts?”
“Both. We have to be really careful about who you choose as your next playmate.”
“Ah...so you were bothered by my behavior that morning then?” He had no idea why he was pressing the issue. No idea why this particular woman had been so stubbornly stuck in his thoughts for weeks.
To give her credit, Clare didn’t look away this time. Dev thought she was incredibly brave because her eyes shimmered with a truth she didn’t give voice to.
He knew he had hurt her that morning. But it wasn’t something he could change or even regret. Better she understood the truth about him now rather than build any ridiculous expectations of this...partnership.
It had to be strictly business.
“That’s because I wasn’t used to the morning after protocol,” she said, all dignified effrontery. The twist of her mouth was both a challenge and something more...something that made Dev want to taste and absorb into himself. “And it was quite a hard landing after the ride you took me on that night. A girl should be forgiven for floating about on an endorphin rush. She needs a little time to recover from seducing you.”
Dev burst out laughing. “For the sake of honesty, you didn’t seduce me. I seduced you.”
Clare was shaking her head and advancing on him suddenly. “No way. I had a plan, and I implemented it to perfection.” When his eyes twinkled with a wicked mirth, she stopped.
Dev had no idea how she continually opened doors he didn’t want to see through. But she did. “Of course, you had a plan.” He shook his head, laughing. Remembering how she’d taken the chance he’d given her. How she’d neatly cornered him into a fascinating conversation and then a whole lot more.
“Why do anything without doing it well?”
He met her gaze again. But Clare looked away, as if that one moment of honesty had been indulgent enough. Reality intruded on them, bursting the bubble of awareness.
Clare knew she should be glad. But there was something about this man that made her not only feel hot and bothered but also naive and foolish. “Anyway, that night’s done with. We need to move on from it.”
But even now, as she studied his hard jaw, there was a part of her—that foolish part again—that wished he’d tell her that despite what he’d said to her that morning, he’d actually wanted to take her in his arms again. That he’d wanted to see her again afterward.
“Do I have your word that this won’t become awkward between us?” he asked, interrupting her reverie with a nice heaping dose of reality.
“Of course you do,” she said with extra vehemence. “I told you the reason I snuck in here. And now we’ve cleared that up, I can absolutely assure you I have no romantic notions whatsoever about you, Mr. Kohli. However, not hiring my company to clean up your image just because we slept together is its own kind of...”
His frown turned into a ferocious scowl. “What?”
“Unfairness,” she said, amending her words. “Our sexual history shouldn’t affect my career, Mr. Kohli. I shouldn’t be penalized for going to bed with you.”
“I agree with that a hundred percent,” he said, releasing a sigh. He clasped his jaw in his palm, tension radiating from his frame. And then he looked at her. Clare braced herself. “You’ll have to forgive me if I’m being extra distrustful of everyone right now,” he said honestly, taking the wind from her sails yet again.
“I understand.”
They eyed each other carefully—not exactly adversaries, but not friends either. But... Clare couldn’t help thinking there was also a certain level of trust between them, even though he’d tried to be all cold and calculating about his decision to work with her. How could there not be a certain warmth between them when they’d been as intimate as they had? When whatever had pulled them together was still tangibly in the air, crackling into life every time they were within touching distance?
She might not have a whole lot of experience with men. But she knew what desire looked like on this particular man’s face. She knew him a lot better than he thought, or she liked.
“I promise you that you won’t regret taking me on, Mr. Kohli. I’ll have my proposal ready for you by first thing tomorrow morning.”
Dev shook his head. “Let’s make it a bit later in the day. I have a lot of things to get through tomorrow. Why don’t you at least take the morning off?”
“And do what?” She looked so dumbstruck by the suggestion that Dev laughed.
“Just lounge about. Recover from the stress of fleeing that man. Take a bath. Catch up on sleep. We’ll meet later tomorrow afternoon some time when I’m free.”
She nodded. But he knew it was a reluctant acquiescence. “Okay.”
Dev stepped aside to let her pass. When she reached the doorway, he called her name, feeling a strange tightness in his chest.
“Yes, Mr. Kohli?” she said, her gaze steady.
“If you want my help getting out of this predicament you’ve landed yourself in, I’ll need the entire truth from you.”
And just as Dev had expected, she colored immediately, confirming his suspicions. He knew there had been something wrong with her story.
Her gaze turned stubborn. “There’s nothing more to say. I trusted a man I shouldn’t have. I...let my heart rule my head and made a stupid decision. I’m willing to help you clean up your mess. All I ask is that you give me a little time to clean up mine.”
Dev had never met a woman who could turn the tables on him so well. And she was right. He knew firsthand the price of letting one’s guard down. The price of fighting your battles alone. “Fine. We’re partners, Ms. Roberts.”
“Perfect, Mr. Kohli. You’ll see you’re right to trust me in this.”
With that parting shot, she walked out of his cabin. Confirming his second suspicion that Clare Roberts was anything but the uncomplicated woman he’d thought her to be when he’d taken her to his bed.
CHAPTER FOUR
DURING THE TIME until their meeting—which to Clare felt like an eternity, since she’d been working without a break ever since she’d graduated from university—she explored Dev’s gigantic superyacht. She couldn’t help but be impressed, even though she’d teased him about the sheer size of it.
Even if she hadn’t already known it after their night together, the more she researched his company, and the man himself, the more Clare learned that Dev Kohli didn’t have any need whatsoever to prove his masculinity to anyone. So his yacht, other than being a supreme symbol of his success and stamina, was definitely not just a possession to be strutted in front of the world.
In a perverse way, it would have been so much easier to deal with the man if he’d neatly fitted into a preconceived mold.
Playboy—only cares about bedding women, not keeping them safe from evil henchmen.
Billionaire—cares about nothing except making his next billion.
Playboy billionaire—balding, beer-bellied old man with no humor lurking in his brilliant brown eyes.
But it seemed the man was a trendsetter in this too.
Following his advice, Clare had indulged herself last night with a long soak in the huge tub in her cabin’s en suite bathroom, consciously reminding herself that she was safe. For now. At least from external events and Mafia villains. Physically,
she was safe.
Emotionally...well, she’d survived for years on indifference, using her big dreams to propel her forward. And that’s what she was going to do now too—turn this calamity into an opportunity and move forward with nothing but sheer determination.
Simply because there was no other choice except survival. If she had to be on the run, she’d prefer it to be on the luxury yacht of a man she trusted.
Snuggled in a thick robe that dragged on the lush carpet under her feet, she’d arrived in her bedroom to find hot soup and warm, crusty tomato and cheese sandwiches. Luckily, no one had been around to hear the loud growl her stomach had emitted. She’d tucked herself into another window seat that offered a gorgeous nighttime view of the blue ocean and finished her bedtime snack in a matter of seconds.
Digitally blacked out windows and cool, dark navy-blue furnishings had helped her fall asleep in minutes, all thoughts of kidnapping villains dissolving like mist.
When she’d jerked awake the next morning, warm in the nest of soft bedclothes, Clare realized she’d slept for ten hours straight—a miracle in itself. Not counting how normal and in control she felt after another quick shower.
Clearheaded and alert for the first time in days, she wished she’d done her hiding in a different bedroom and not faced Dev yesterday, when she’d been afraid for her life. She’d made a right little numpty of herself.
She hadn’t built The London Connection by acting like a witless fool or a dreamy-eyed twit. The future of her company was even more paramount now than it had been before. Since, thanks to her father, she apparently owed a huge amount of money to a mobster. There was no margin for messing this up with Dev. She needed to keep her focus on it being all business between them, as he’d said.
Ten hours of sleep did wonders for a girl. The stern talking-to she gave herself as she blow-dried her hair boosted her confidence. She made do with the lip-gloss, concealer and mascara in her handbag.
Having enveloped herself in another thick towel, she spent the next twenty minutes, looking through the large but mostly vacant closet attached to her cabin. Luckily, she, Amy, Bea all made it a policy to carry spare underwear and all kinds of paraphernalia in their bags for any PR emergency. But she had no clothes.
