‘No?’
‘Your determination is...remarkable.’
‘You’ve said that already.’ He brushed his lips over hers.
‘Then I guess that makes you doubly remarkable.’
She felt his smile against her lips.
‘I can’t imagine how you did all this.’
‘I worked hard.’
‘Still...to build this from nothing...’
He lifted his head so she could see the strength in his gaze. ‘When I want something, I get it. Not because I am lucky or charmed, but because I move the pieces around until I’m guaranteed to win.’
His words took half her breath away; his kiss finished the job.
* * *
It was past midnight. Not far past, somewhere in the small hours of the morning. Cesare presumed Jemima was sleeping. Her breathing was even, her body still. He lay on his back, his head tilted towards her, his eyes resting on her frame out of habit, so when she shifted, rolling slowly to face him, he was surprised.
‘You were asleep.’
‘Dozing,’ she corrected, lifting her fingertip to his lips and tracing the outline slowly, her eyes following the gesture.
‘Ah. Same thing?’
‘No.’ She shook her head, and there was something in her gaze that spoke of trouble and worry. ‘I was thinking.’
‘Ah. About?’
‘The night we met.’ She dropped her finger to his chest, spreading her palm over his pectoral muscles, a faraway look in her eyes. ‘If you thought I was just a snob, like the kind of kid your mother looked after, why did you kiss me?’
He frowned. The question was valid—it was one he’d asked himself often enough. ‘I wanted you.’
She pulled a face. ‘Sure. But you’re not someone who reacts to his every whim. You’re disciplined and determined and a workaholic. No way would you have taken me home with you on a whim.’
His frown deepened, because her assessment was accurate and it filled him with a sense of impatience. ‘You were there, and I presumed quite willing to offer yourself to me to make things go more smoothly with your cousin.’
He saw the fierce look of rejection fire in her gaze and wanted to ease it.
‘I was wrong.’
Her expression shifted, but her eyes dipped down, away from his gaze, so he couldn’t fathom what she was thinking. ‘Yes. This was never about Laurence.’
He found himself wishing that were the truth, wishing she hadn’t been motivated in part by a loyalty to her cousin.
‘Not that night, no.’
‘Not any of it.’ Her eyes bounced back to his.
‘This fortnight,’ he reminded her, ‘came about because of your need for me to invest in his hedge fund.’
She frantically massaged her lip from side to side. ‘It’s why I went to see you, but not why I agreed to this.’ Her throat shifted as she swallowed. ‘I need you to know that before—before tomorrow and before I...we... Before this ends.’ She dropped her hand and her face was tight, her features taut. ‘I don’t want you to look back on this and rewrite what we were.’
Something stone-like rolled through his gut. Visceral disagreement. He wasn’t going to look back on his time with Jemima. He never thought of past lovers. It wasn’t in his genetic coding. And Jemima would fall into that same category once this was over.