Captive but Forbidden

by Lynn Raye Harris

  Veronica’s chief of staff, a man named Georges, dealt with the man quickly and effectively. He was ordered to pack his bags and told he would be returning to Aliz on the next available flight.

  And then everyone was gone again. Brady said his goodbyes as Raj sipped the coffee that Martine, Veronica’s secretary, had prepared for him. Veronica walked with Brady to the door. He gave her a kiss on both cheeks, and then—after shooting Raj another meaningful look—he was gone, too.

  “Ready for bed, darling?” Raj said, setting down the coffee.

  She looked at him haughtily. He almost laughed. But he was glad to see her be strong, glad that she wasn’t succumbing to the terror and uncertainty. She’d played her part quite well tonight. Once her people had returned, she’d acted as if nothing had happened. He—and whoever had put the doll there for her to find—were the only ones who knew.

  “Don’t get carried away with your part,” she told him.

  And then she sagged against the door, raised a shaking hand to her head. Raj was moving before he ever realized he’d stood.

  Veronica’s heart crashed against her rib cage as she watched him. He moved like a cat, so sleek and deadly, coming straight for her. She was frozen in place, watching the way the fabric of his shirt stretched across his chest, molding the hard curves beneath. Her mouth went dry at the thought of what lay beneath the crisp white material.

  She rubbed her palm over her eyes. What was she doing thinking of him naked when some maniac had gotten inside her room and put a defiled doll on her bed?

  “Don’t go there,” he said firmly, reaching her side and putting an arm around her shoulders. “Don’t give it power over you.”

  “I’m trying,” she whispered. Because it was so cruel, so evil. Reminding her of what she’d lost.

  Of what she’d destroyed.

  Because she was the one responsible for what had happened to her baby, wasn’t she? If she’d known she was pregnant sooner, she wouldn’t have continued to drink cocktails or stay out until the early-morning hours, partying with her so-called friends because she couldn’t bear to be alone.

  It didn’t matter what the doctor told her. She knew it was her fault.

  “You need to sleep,” Raj said, his arm firm around her. She wanted to turn into his embrace, wanted to bury her face against his solid chest again. She’d felt so safe for those few minutes earlier when she’d done so. “When was the last time you had a good night’s rest?”

  Veronica shrugged as he herded her toward the bedroom. “I don’t remember. I sleep, but not well.”

  She hadn’t slept well in months. Not since she’d realized what a truly horrible person she was.

  “Then get into your bed and try.”

  She stopped at the threshold to the bedroom. “I can’t sleep in there tonight.”

  He skimmed a hand along her jaw, the touch warm and light. It made her insides tighten. Heat—glorious heat—leeched into her bones. How could she need his touch when she didn’t even know him?

  “I’m not going anywhere. You’ll be safe.”

  “I don’t really want to sleep with you, Raj,” she said, though she realized it was a bit of a lie. Right now, she was tempted to seek oblivion in his arms, tempted to drive away her memories by using his body for one hot night of sex.

  “We aren’t sleeping together,” he replied. “But I’ll be here nonetheless.”

  “Where are you planning to sleep, then?” she asked.

  “The couch folds out.”

  She swallowed. He would be here, sharing the same space but not quite sharing it. She had to admit that she felt safe at the thought—as well as a bit unnerved.

  “It’s happening so fast,” she said, shaking her head. “By tomorrow, every newspaper and tabloid will be simultaneously writing about our grand affair and our inevitable breakup.”

  “Not quite yet. We have a day or two with this snowstorm keeping everyone busy.”

  She snorted. “I wish I had your confidence. Not that it matters,” she said. “I don’t really care what they say, so long as you find whoever did this.”

  “I will,” he said in that sexy voice of his that sent little whirlpools of heat spiraling down her spine.

  Veronica dropped her gaze again, unable to keep looking at him. Up close, those golden eyes made her long for things she had no right to long for. Made her reckless, dizzy and willing to do things she hadn’t ever thought she’d do again.

  “I don’t want to sleep in that bed tonight. Do you suppose we could trade?”

  His sigh was long-suffering. “We can’t trade because this is the exterior room. But you can have the fold-out bed. I’ll take the floor.”

  She lifted her head again, her eyes meeting his. He was so solemn, so serious. “I can’t ask you to do that.”

  He shrugged. “It’s fine. I’ll drag the covers from the other bed. Believe me, I’ve slept in worse places than on a floor.”

  She helped him remove cushions and unfold the bed from the couch. Once that was made, he disappeared into her bedroom and came back with a pile of blankets and pillows that he laid out on the floor nearby.

  She felt guilty as she climbed into the cozy bed, and yet she couldn’t bear to sleep in the other room. She’d thought she could, but she couldn’t.

  And tomorrow, she was going to play the diva and demand another room. At least her reputation was good for something.

  “Raj,” she said once the light was out and everything was quiet again.

  “Yes?”

  “Where did you sleep that was worse than a floor?”

  “You don’t really want to know.”

  “I wouldn’t have asked otherwise. Though if you don’t want to say, that’s a different matter.”

  She heard him sigh. “I was in the military, Veronica. The Special Forces. I’ve slept in mud, blood, blazing deserts and freezing blizzards. A floor in a posh hotel is heavenly.”

  “I still feel badly for taking your bed,” she said.

  “Then invite me into it.”

  She couldn’t help but smile. “You say that to shut me up. I heard what you said to Brady.”

  “Maybe I lied.”

  Her heartbeat throbbed in the darkness. “I don’t believe you.”

  “Invite me into your bed and find out.”

  Flames licked her skin at the thought. “Good night, Raj,” she said, punching her pillow and turning onto her side.

  She wasn’t sure, but she thought he laughed softly. “Sleep well, Veronica.”

  There wasn’t much chance of that now that he’d planted the image in her head of the two of them in this bed together. Skin against skin, heat against heat, soft against hard.

  She practically moaned at the thought.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  LONDON was beautiful in the snow, especially Hyde Park with all its trees and open expanses. Though it was dark, the snow made everything bright and fresh. Veronica knew that it wouldn’t necessarily look so pristine during the day when all the warts and blemishes of humanity shone through.

  But for now, she could enjoy it as her limousine crawled its way toward Mayfair and the exclusive party she’d been invited to there.

  Tonight, she hoped to persuade Giancarlo Zarella, the Italian hotel baron, to bring one of his exclusive resorts to Aliz. Where Giancarlo went, others would follow.

  But rather than concentrating on the Italian and going over the information about him that she’d been given, she kept thinking of Raj. She had not seen him since this morning.

  He’d shaken her awake early, telling her they had to put the bed away before her secretary arrived with the morning dispatches. She’d been bleary-eyed, but she’d obeyed.

  Or, rather, she’d mostly watched while Raj fixed everything. Then he led her into the bedroom and told her to climb into the bed. In the gray light of morning, the bed hadn’t looked so frightening. She’d complied, falling asleep immediately.

  When she’d awakened a second
time—with a hotel maid delivering her breakfast tray and Martine standing stoically near—Raj was gone. Brady arrived a bit later, and once she’d answered her dispatches and sent Martine on an errand, she’d quizzed Brady.

  Raj Vala was not simply a bodyguard. He was self-made, the owner of Vala Security International, a very successful firm that provided elite corporate and internet security.

  According to Brady, Raj was a loner. And he was every bit as hard and ruthless as she’d thought he would be, with a military Special Forces background and the drive to be the best in everything he did.

  Raj, Brady assured her, would make sure she was completely protected from harm.

  After last night, she tended to believe it. She took her phone from her purse and checked her text messages. She would not ever be caught without a personal phone again.

  The text from Raj was still there, still brief and to the point: he would meet her at the party. She smoothed a hand down the sleek ice-blue Vera Wang dress she wore. It was strapless, slit up one side, and shimmered as if it had been sewn with millions of tiny lights.

  She told herself she’d chosen it to appeal to Signor Zarella, but the truth was she’d been thinking of Raj. Her hair was tousled and long, flowing artfully around her face and over her shoulders. She checked her makeup in the small mirror she’d tucked into her purse and breathed deeply to control the racing of her heart.

  It wasn’t like her to be nervous. She’d always loved parties, always loved getting dressed up and going out with other people who laughed and talked and helped her feel as if she were catching up on everything she’d missed growing up.

  Except that now, part of her wished she could be anywhere but here. The thought of mingling with yet another crowd failed to cheer her the way it once would have.

  The limo arrived at the Witherstons’ grand Georgian town house, and Veronica deliberately turned her thoughts to Giancarlo Zarella. She had a duty to perform. Obsessing over her personal issues wouldn’t help her to get it done.

  Her bodyguard—a different man from yesterday—preceded her from the car. Three other Alizeans exited a car that had been following and formed a loose band around her. They were all very serious about their jobs today.

  After they went inside and Veronica gave her thanks to the host and hostess, her security team peeled away until she was left with one man following at a discreet distance.

  Inside the ornate ballroom, she was swept into the whirl and chatter of the crowd. Men and women introduced themselves in dizzying succession, her hostess having appeared from somewhere to guide her through the maze. She was still hoping to talk with Signor Zarella when Mrs. Witherston gave a little gasp.

  “Madam President,” she said breathlessly, “allow me to introduce you to Raj Vala.”

  Veronica turned sharply, her gaze clashing with Raj’s. He was smiling at her as if he’d never seen her before in his life.

  “Pleased to meet you, Madam President,” Raj said.

  “Likewise, Mr. Vala,” Veronica replied, following his lead.

  But her heart began to beat double time as she took him in. He was far too handsome in his bespoke tuxedo, the white shirt once more setting off the golden color of his skin and eyes.

  Truly, it should be against the law for a man to be so striking.

  The jazz ensemble struck up a tune and Raj reached for her before she realized what he was about. “Do me the honor, Madam President?” he asked, as Mrs. Witherston tittered like a Regency matron.

  “Of course,” she said as she put her hand in his. What else could she say? What else did she want to say?

  Raj swept her into the swirling crowd, one hand firmly against her back, the other clasping hers. The pressure of his touch comforted her, made her feel as if she’d come home again after a long time away.

  She hated it. Hated how her body reacted, how her mind seemed to want to attach significance to this man. He might be able to keep her physically safe from harm, but he could not keep her safe from himself if she insisted on lying helplessly in the tiger’s claws.

  She knew better, and yet she turned into a puddle each time he touched her.

  “How have you been today?” he asked.

  “Well,” she said. “You?”

  His eyes seemed to search her face, as if he didn’t quite believe her. “I was busy taking care of a few things. But now I’m all yours,” he said, a devilish grin lifting the corners of his sensual mouth.

  “Oh, all mine,” she cooed. “How delightful, Mr. Vala.”

  “I thought we had gone beyond that.”

  “How could we? I’ve only just met you.”

  Her heart skipped a beat at his sudden smile. “Ah, yes, of course. I thought we could use this opportunity to begin our ‘official’ relationship.”

  “Why not?” she said, returning his smile. “It’s certainly more dignified.”

  “But perhaps it’s not the first time we’ve met,” he said, his gaze skimming her face as he brought her hand up to his mouth and kissed it. “Perhaps we are old souls who have known one another before. Perhaps we are meant to be.”

  Veronica stumbled, but quickly caught herself. Raj was frowning. “It’s the shoes,” she said. And the fact she was tired from a restless night and unnerved to be in his arms again. “I’m fine.”

  “Good,” he said. They moved across the floor together, their steps as fluid as silk. In her peripheral vision, she could see people stopping, pointing, heads leaning together as they talked about her and Raj. Ah, well, that had been the plan, had it not?

  And yet it disappointed her in some respects. Now that they would be publicly linked, it was as if the innocence of their budding relationship had been eroded.

  What relationship?

  “Are we falling madly in love now?” Raj asked, jolting her out of her thoughts.

  “Madly,” she agreed, playing the game. “I’ve never felt like this before.”

  “Neither have I.”

  The words they said had no meaning, and yet she couldn’t help but want to assign meaning that wasn’t there. Had she ever been truly, madly in love before? She’d thought she’d been in love, but she’d usually realized the disappointing truth at some stage.

  And she was positive that no man had ever felt that emotion for her. Lust, yes. Love, no.

  “When we finish dancing, I suppose you will remain by my side the entire night?” she asked. “Enraptured by my presence?”

  “The proverbial wild horses could not drag me away, Madam President.” He lifted her hand to his lips again. The feather touch of his mouth against her skin sent a shudder rolling through her body. Hot need sizzled into the deepest parts of her.

  Too bad this really wasn’t Regency England, because then she would be wearing long gloves. She wouldn’t be able to feel the sensual pressure of his mouth on her skin, wouldn’t have to fight the focusing of all her senses upon that one spot. It was an exquisite torture to endure.

  “Too bad our love is doomed to fail,” she said, needing to counteract the drugging affect of his touch.

  Again with the killer smile. “Then let us enjoy it while it lasts,” he purred. “It’s much more fun that way.”

  The evening went much as she’d thought it might. Raj did not leave her side. To all appearances, he was smitten with her. And she returned the favor, smiling in his direction, seeking him out if he walked away for the barest moment. Her eyes were pulled to him as if he were a magnet and she the metal.

  It made talking to Giancarlo Zarella a bit difficult, but she finally managed to get the Italian alone at a table for a few moments. He seemed interested in Aliz, his eyes gleaming speculatively as she talked of incentives and subsidies.

  “You would levy no taxes against us for the first year of operations, you say?”

  Giancarlo was handsome, but she found herself comparing him to Raj and judging him lacking. “So long as you invest the money into building up the resort and hiring Alizeans to staff it.” />
  “Make it two years, and I will consider it,” he said shortly.

  Veronica leaned in. “One year is what I can promise. But I pledge to work on reducing the tax burden in your next five years in Aliz.”

  Giancarlo laughed. “You drive a hard bargain,” he said. “But then you know just how to twist the knife enough to get me to notice. I will think on it, I promise you.”

  After that, Veronica felt as if nothing could puncture the balloons lifting her up tonight. She had no guarantees, but she felt as if she’d made a good start with Giancarlo. He would be in touch, she was certain. He left her at the table with an apology as someone beckoned him from another table a bit farther away.

  “Did you get what you wanted?”

  Veronica jumped at the voice. Raj was frowning down at her. He seemed troubled, but not alarmingly so. “I did,” she replied. “Or so I think.”

  He took her elbow and helped her up. “Good. I think it is time we leave, then.”

  Veronica blinked. The jazz ensemble was playing an upbeat version of a classic Christmas carol. “Time we leave? I’m not finished here yet.”

  “How many hearts do you plan to capture tonight?” he asked. His voice was teasing, but his eyes seemed hot and intense. Serious. “You’ve had a long few days. It’s time you rest.”

  “I can decide that for myself. You weren’t hired to oversee my schedule, you know.” She knew he was merely trying to protect her from harm, and yet the memories of her life with her father were too strong to dismiss. She would not be so controlled ever again. Keeping her safe wasn’t the same as wrapping her in a cocoon.

  His jaw hardened imperceptibly. “Actually, it goes with the territory. Or didn’t you realize that?”

  “I decide when I leave,” she said. “And I’m not ready yet. Unless there is a real threat at this moment and time, which I will acknowledge is your responsibility. Is there?”

  He looked angry. “No,” he said shortly. “There is no immediate threat.”

  “Then we stay.”

  One eyebrow crooked. The superiority of that look infuriated her. “Then don’t blame me when you encounter people you might wish you had not.”