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She had to have it, Britt told herself sternly as she showered down. Anything else was weakness.

Britt’s bedroom was one of three at the cabin. She had chosen it as a child, because she could be alone up here. She had always loved the pitched roof with its wealth of beams, thinking it was like something out of a fairy tale. When she was little she could see the sky and the mountains if she stood on the bed, and when she was on her own she could be anyone she wanted to be. Over the years she had collected items that made her feel good. Her grandmother had worked the patchwork quilt. Her grandfather had carved the headboard. These family treasures meant the world to her. They were far more precious than any diamonds, but then she had to remember the good the diamonds could do—for Skavanga, the town her ancestors had built, and for her sisters, and for the company.

She had to secure Emir’s recommendation to his master, the Black Sheikh, Britt reflected as she toyed with some trinkets on the dressing table. They were the same cheap hair ornaments she had worn as a girl, she realised, picking them up and holding them against her long blonde hair so she could study the effect in the mirror. She hadn’t even changed the threadbare stool in front of the dressing table, because her grandmother had worked the stitches, and because it was a reminder of the girl Britt had been, like the books by her bedside. This was a very different place from her penthouse in the centre of Skavanga, but the penthouse was her public face while this was where she kept her heart.

And to keep it she must cut that deal to her advantage—

With a man as shrewd as Emir in the frame?

She had never doubted her own abilities before, Britt realised as she wandered over to a window she could see out of now without standing on the bed. Skavanga Mining had meant everything to her parents, but they hadn’t been able to keep it—

Because her father was a drunk—

She shook her head, shaking out the memory. Her parents had tried their best—

Leaving little time for Britt and her siblings.

So she had picked up a mess. Lots of people had to do that. And somehow she would find a way to cut a favourable deal with the consortium.

Staring out of the window drew her gaze to the traditional sauna hut, sitting squat on the shore of the lake. With its deep hat of snow and rows of birch twigs switches hanging in a rack outside the door, it brought a smile to her face as she remembered Eva’s teasing recommendation—that she bring Emir into line here. There were certainly several ways she could think of to do that. If only there weren’t a risk he might enjoy them too much...

Seeing Emir’s shadow darkening the snow outside, she quickly stepped back from the window. Tossing the towel aside, she pulled out the drawers of the old wooden chest and picked out warm, lightweight Arctic clothing—thermals, sweater, waterproof trousers and thick, sealskin socks. She resented the way her heart was drumming, as if she were going out on a date, rather than showing a man around a mine so he could make vast sums of money for his master out of generations of her family’s hard work. She also hated the fact that Emir had beaten her to it downstairs. She was endlessly competitive. Having two sisters, she supposed. Determined to seize back the initiative, she knocked on the window to capture his attention, and when she’d got his attention she held up five fingers to let him know she’d be down right away. Almost. She’d brush her hair and put some lip gloss on first.

Traitor.

Everyone likes to feel good, Britt argued firmly with her inner voice. This has nothing to do with Sharif.

* * *

He had the cabin keys as well as the keys to the Jeep, and was settled behind the wheel by the time Britt appeared at the door. Climbing out, he strolled over to lock the cabin. She held out her hand to take charge of the keys.

‘I’ll keep them,’ he said, stowing them in the pocket of his lightweight polar fleece.

Britt’s crystal gaze turned stony.

‘I’m driving too,’ he said, enjoying the light floral scent she was wearing, which seemed at complete odds with the warrior woman expression on her face.

She was still seething when she swung into the passenger seat at his side. ‘I know where we’re going,’ she pointed out.

‘Then you can guide me there,’ he said, gunning the engine. ‘I’ll turn the Sat Nav off.’

She all but growled at this.

‘Why don’t you let me drive?’ she said.

‘Why don’t you direct me?’ he said mildly, releasing the brake. ‘It doesn’t hurt to share the load from time to time,’ he added, which earned him an angry glance.


Tags: Susan Stephens Billionaire Romance