Page 14 of A Diamond for My Forbidden Bride

‘Feel better?’ I asked mildly.

She was breathing very fast, her pretty eyes darkened with fury. Then the anger began to recede and a look of shock crossed her face.

‘Oh, my God,’ she whispered as if to herself. ‘What are you doing to me?’

But I didn’t want that fire inside her dying, didn’t want that diamond veneer back in place, and as she started to back away I reached out and grabbed her wrist, pulling her closer to me. ‘I didn’t do anything,’ I said. ‘You did that all by yourself. And it was magnificent. You can even do it again, if you like. I don’t mind. I enjoyed it.’

Her eyes were wide as they stared into mine and I could feel the tension between us grow then pull taut. Her skin was still pink and flushed, making her irises look darker, like charcoal instead of quicksilver, and the sun in her hair turned it into a deeper gold.

The sweet scent of her surrounded me, mingling with the salt to remind me of that secret Caribbean beach, situated between our respective holiday estates, where we used to meet. Of swimming, lying in the sand and talking about everything and nothing. Of driftwood fires and toasted marshmallows and arguments and apologies.

Of friendship that had grown slowly over time into something more...

She’d only been fifteen, and there had just been a kiss between us, but she’d had my heart even then. Just as she still had it.

And she’s not fifteen now.

Her wrist in my hand felt delicate and fragile, my fingers mapping the beat of her pulse. Her skin was warm and I could hear her breath catch.

For a second, I thought she might lean forward and press those petal-soft lips against mine.

I could almost taste her kiss...

She ripped her wrist from my grip and took a couple of steps back, shaking her head. Then she turned around, her back to me, her spine stiff and ramrod-straight, looking out over the endless blue of the Indian Ocean.

I could feel the blood pumping hot in my veins, the sound of my own heartbeat loud in my head. I’d been certain for a moment there that she was going to soften for me, kiss me, let out that passion I knew lived inside her. But apparently not.

It made me want to close the distance between us very badly, to pull her into my arms, shatter that hard veneer of hers and discover the sweetness of her kiss once again. To tug away the sheet and bear her pale skin. Then pull her down onto that sun-lounger and have her right here beneath the sun.

I could. Even though she’d pulled away from me, I’d seen the flicker of desire in her eyes. It hadn’t been all anger. She wanted me, I knew it; and, if I kissed her, she’d melt against me the way she’d done all those years ago.

Is that really how you want it to happen?

I stared at the tense line of her shoulders. Her whole posture was tight.

No, I’d never denied myself anything I wanted. Nothing at all. And that included all the forbidden emotions my father had despised: anger, love, lust, guilt, hate, grief...

But nothing was forbidden to me now. Anger in particular I enjoyed, because it gave everything such spice. Particularly sex.

Angry sex with Olivia would be incredible; I knew that. But something stopped me from closing that distance, from taking her the way I wanted to. I hated boundaries, hated rules. I loathed being restrained. Yet I stayed where I was, struggling with the unfamiliar urge to hold back.

I wasn’t sure why, since I’d never held back before, but some long-forgotten instinct told me it was too soon to take her to bed.

I had a plan and I needed to stick to it. I was to get her here and keep her here until I’d neutralised Constantine as a threat. Then I’d rebuild the relationship we’d once had, make her fall in love with me once again and marry me.

So she’d be mine, and only mine, for ever.

I could certainly manipulate her into bed. It wouldn’t be the first time I’d manipulated someone to get what I wanted, after all; that was exactly how I’d built my business. But it wouldn’t be quite as satisfying as her climbing into my bed because she wanted me. Because she was desperate for me.

Desperate for me the way she had been all those years ago.

You were desperate too, don’t forget.

Oh, yes, I was. I’d had all kinds of plans for how we could be together, away from my father and out of his reach for ever. Away from the beatings, the lessons and the tests. Away from his attempts to turn Constantine and me into his mirror image.

Cold. Hard. And above all, strong.

I had never passed his tests. Never learned his lessons. I’d never followed his rules and he’d punished me for it. Repeatedly.

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