Page 30 of After-Party Consequences

She gave a weary sigh and nodded. ‘Fine, I’ll come to the US, but I want my own place.’

‘Sure.’ His sensual smile made the pulse in her belly pound harder, though, the challenging expression unmistakeable.

She dragged her hand free but had to bunch her fingers into a fist to neutralise the buzz on her knuckles which was now playing havoc with the pulse in her sex.

As she trudged up to her room, she wanted to be furious with him—and with herself—for being forced into this position... She thought of Adam and his stake in the bet. She didn’t want to make her brother lose Montague’s, the jewellery company owned by Helberg, but frankly he was on his own for entering into such an idiotic agreement with Cade and Zane in the first place. Plus, she’d never quite understood why buying back their mother’s old jewellery company meant so much to him. Their mum had taken no interest in it herself at the time of her death, as far as Charley could remember.

As she sank into a hot bath in the enormous clawfoot tub in front of a marble terrace which looked out over the lake, it occurred to her she wasn’t angry with Cade any more, because all she really felt was hopelessly confused. And even a little scared, thanks to the flicker of anticipation in her stomach alongside the nausea.

Because that flicker reminded her of the girl who couldn’t resist taking stupid risks simply to make herself feel valued—which she had always ended up regretting.

What she needed to remember was that Cade Landry was a dangerous man, because he had the power to make herwantto do those impulsive, reckless things again, no matter what the consequences...

CHAPTER NINE

SOMETHING’SWRONG.

Cade frowned as Charlotte slept in the leather seat opposite him in the Landry jet.

Why did she still look so exhausted? And why did he feel uncomfortable about the fact she hadn’t put up more of a fight this morning? Wasn’t having her at his mercy exactly what he’d flown out to Lake Como to achieve?

But he couldn’t shake the uneasiness in his gut as he observed the slow rise and fall of her breathing.

He’d been braced for an argument when she’d appeared for breakfast at the hotel. So he’d made sure he was well ahead of her—by setting up a team to relocate her business to San Francisco for the rest of the summer and getting his EA to handle any issues with her visa status. But there had been no fuss, no more angry words. Instead she’d spent breakfast discussing options for her workspace and accommodations with his property management team on the West Coast while picking at her food.

From the fascinating conversation he’d listened in to with interest, he’d discovered she was a smart, erudite businesswoman who knew what she wanted but could also be flexible and take expert advice when needed. Both qualities Cade considered invaluable when making a startup like hers a success.

She’d appeared worn-out last night, once he’d taken the time to really look at her. And while she’d finished what needed to be done this morning once they had boarded the Landry jet in Milan—settling on a space hire in the Embarcadero and a condoin the same building as his—she’d barely touched her lunch before dropping back to sleep.

He’d driven himself to exhaustion too, once—especially during the early days—pulling eighteen-and twenty-hour shifts, fuelled on coffee and adrenaline and ambition for weeks on end. He knew what it looked like when the inevitable crash came. So why was he so upset at the thought of Charlotte burning herself out?

Her welfare wasn’t his concern.

But as she shifted on the seat—struggling to find a comfortable position—he undid his belt. Touching her probably wasn’t smart. He’d learned that yesterday evening when her stunned reaction to his knuckle buzz had left him hard and aching. But he needed her well-rested by the time they hit New York. Being photographed at the party tonight would establish her as his summer date—and hopefully give the media what they wanted so they would leave him the hell alone. Plus, he hoped to run into Zane deMarco—who had some explaining to do about the candid shots of him getting up close and personal with a Helberg employee at a pretzel stand while he had already racked up at least one other date for the summer so far.

He unclipped Charlotte’s belt and scooped her into his arms.

Her eyes opened just as he got a lungful of her scent. The streak of sensation hitting his groin wasn’t helped by the sight of her wide green eyes and her heavy sigh.

‘What are you doing?’ she murmured, still groggy.

‘Taking you to the bedroom in back,’ he said. ‘I want you awake when we get to New York.’

She blinked, but instead of protesting, she looped an arm around his neck, tucked her head against his collarbone, and yawned. Her warm breath brushed his neck, sending the sensations in his gut into free fall.

‘Thanks, Sir Galahad,’ she mumbled.

After placing her on the bed, he eased off her sneakers and tucked the quilt over her, the arrow in his gut becoming sharp and insistent.

The constriction in his ribs tightened as she turned away from him and curled onto her side, fast asleep again.

Just sex. And chemistry.

He headed back to his seat, determined to work for the rest of the flight. But he couldn’t shake the disturbing thought that his motives for chasing Charlotte all the way to Italy, and blackmailing her into returning to the US with him, might be about more than just the bet he had to win...

‘How are you feeling, Charlotte?’

Charley forced a strained smile at the low question from the man sitting opposite her in the chauffeur-driven car—who looked typically devastating in a designer suit—as they cut through the snarl of evening traffic in Manhattan’s Meatpacking District.

---