‘And this too.’
As he opened it, her eyes widened with shock.
‘Look, Dora, this is how I live. All of this isn’t optional. So I guess what I’m asking is...do you still want to be a part of that?’
She stared at him mutely and he felt his heartbeat accelerate at the thought of her refusing. From nowhere came something almost like panic that she wouldn’t agree. Only, of course, that made no sense.
Finally, just as he was starting to think she would never respond, she nodded.
Taking the beautiful diamond ring, he slid it onto her finger. He thought about telling her that there was another reason he’d had the clothes sent over: because he’d wanted to do something to make her feel special.
Not that a few dresses could in any way make up for her parents’ neglect, but he hated knowing that she had been hurt by them, that she was still hurting.
Her eyes met his, the grey soft but defiant. ‘I won’t need all these.’
‘That’s fine. Just choose what you like.’
She bit her lip. ‘Sorry, that was rude. It’s generous of you, and I am grateful.’
He felt something pinch in his chest. She was holding back for a reason he understood only too well. Despite his father’s obsession with family unity, for most of his life being Lao Dan’s son had felt like an ambition, not a birthright. And for Dora it was the same. Her caution was part of a learned pattern of behaviour never to take anything for granted.
He didn’t know how to change that pattern—he just knew he didn’t want to add to it.
‘You don’t need to be. Truly. You’re part of my family now and, like I said before, I take care of my family.’
She looked up at him, and he saw some of the uncertainty fade from her eyes.
Reaching out, she ran a finger lightly over a silvery grey dress, the movement making it shimmer in the light. ‘How did you know my size?’
She might as well have asked how he knew his own name. His hands had formed her, shaped her, followed every curve, mapped every line of her body to its edges, like an explorer uncovering a new world.
‘I know everything about you,’ he said softly.
It wasn’t true. It wasn’t even close to being true. But it made her mouth soften, her body turn towards his, and then, standing on tiptoe, she kissed him.
He could taste her hunger, and her hope, and just for a moment he almost wanted to push her away. It made him feel responsible—and, whatever he might have said about taking care of her, he didn’t want to feel responsible.
But he could feel her need for him pulsing through her body into his, so he did what was natural and necessary.
Closing his eyes, he pulled her closer and deepened the kiss.
From somewhere inside the house Charlie heard the faint pop of a champagne cork, but he felt more as if a starter gun had just been fired.
His family had arrived. The party was starting.
As usual, his eldest sister, Lei, was first. Lei was beautiful, but had never been smart enough to fulfil Lao Dan’s business ambitions. Instead he’d funded her moderately successful film career. What she liked best of all was taking centre stage at any family occasion.
His middle sister, Josie, was smart, with enough academic certificates to wallpaper all her homes across the globe. But she was also deeply insecure, and she had married a man who was both less successful and less intelligent than she was—a man their father had despised.
Sabrina, the youngest, was an entitled princess, indulged by both her parents. Work bored her, but she loved the benefits and the trappings of power that came with the Lao name.
None of them had anything in common except a surname and their father’s DNA, but nobody would ever know that. Together, they were the Lao family. United, strong and—he glanced across to where dark-suited bodyguards scanned the garden through their sunglasses—bulletproof.
Nothing was more important than presenting that lie to the world.
Leaning forward, Charlie air-kissed his sisters in turn, and then nodded at their partners.
‘So, where is he, then?’ Sabrina frowned. ‘Where’s the birthday boy? Oh, what a sweetie—’