‘Your parents or your work?’
‘Neither. Both.’ A divot formed between her brows. ‘Besides, this isn’t a psychology session. You propositioned me for one reason and one reason only, remember?’ She deliberately brought what they were back to sex, back to the futility in them knowing more about each other. It felt good to control that, good to keep a part of herself separate from him. He wasn’t offering beyond this fortnight; why should she bare her soul to him?
‘Right.’ He nodded slowly, lifting a palm and rubbing it over his stubbled jaw. ‘Closed subjects. I get it.’ He pressed a finger under her chin, lifting her to face him. ‘Did you have a good day?’
Her lips parted. ‘Yeah.’ A husky admission. ‘You?’
He lifted his broad shoulders. ‘I bought an airline.’
She blinked at him, sure she’d misheard. ‘What?’
‘Not a big one. Seventy-one planes. But it’s my first move into the air travel industry.’
‘So, yesterday you bought half a billion dollars’ worth of a hedge fund and today an airline?’
His smile stole her breath. ‘Apparently I’ve been on a spending spree.’
‘Apparently,’ she agreed, his proximity super-charging her blood.
She moved back to the kitchen, taking a sip of her wine. It was sweet and quite delicious, but she reached for a tumbler and filled it with water, knowing that she couldn’t drink wine on its own without losing her head. ‘And did the airline come with a convenient mistress, as well?’ she couldn’t resist asking. ‘Someone to move on to after I leave?’
He turned to face her without speaking and they stared at one another for several beats, the silence somehow raw and tense. Jemima’s pulse began to rush through her, and she was aware of every movement of his, every shift, every lift. ‘Have you done this before?’
He slowly began to walk towards her, and her breath burned in her lungs, her body tense.
‘Done what, uccellina?’
‘Manoeuvred a woman into your bed.’
‘Is that what I did?’
She swallowed and nodded, seeing no point in telling him the truth—that she was exactly where she wanted to be.
‘Blackmailed would be another word for it,’ she drawled, fascinated by the play of emotions in the depths of his eyes. There was no shame, only a hint of triumph.
‘No.’
‘No?’ She frowned. ‘You don’t agree it’s blackmail to tell someone you’ll only help the person they love most in the world if they agree to be your mistress for a fortnight?’
Unapologetically, he reached for her, pulling her body to his, and his eyes held something another person might have taken as a warning.
‘No, I haven’t done this before,’ he clarified. ‘I do not generally find it necessary to leverage women into sleeping with me.’
A range of emotions burst through her. Surprise, relief, pleasure. ‘I suppose you bat them away with a stick.’
His smile was wolf-like. ‘I am not lacking for companionship.’
Jealousy was unwelcome and totally unexpected. It cut her chest right open. She stared at him, wondering where the emotion had come from, and why she should even care. She knew what he was like; she’d known even before they’d met that he was someone who went through women like most men went through underwear. She’d known when he’d kissed her that very first time that he was used to crooking his finger and receiving whatever—whoever—the heck he wanted.
‘So why’d you blackmail me, then?’
‘Why do you think?’
Distractedly, she toyed with the ends of her hair. ‘I don’t know.’
His hands found the fabric of her shirt and he lifted it. Not slowly this time. It was unceremonious, impatient. ‘It’s simple.’
She waited silently, watching him, revelling in the feel of the air against her breasts, in his closeness, the heat of possession he could ignite simply by being close to her.