Page 191 of Merciless Desires

He chewed the side of his mouth while his good eye creased in one corner. After a minute or two of stand-off, he got to his feet and walked lazily to the other end of the table, holding my gaze the entire time. He lifted the chair with one hand and carried it to the opposite end, placing it adjacent to his.

“Better?” he deadpanned.

I blew a strand of hair from my face and squared my shoulders. “Much. Thank you.”

His heated gaze followed me to the chair. I went to pull it out to sit but it wouldn’t budge. I tried two hands and it moved half an inch. I released my grip, feeling the skin across my cheekbones parch. He’d lifted it one-handed with the ease and grace of a swan.

“Need some help?” The smirk wasn’t visible on his face but was overwhelmingly present in his voice.

I took a deep breath and steeled myself. “Yes please.”

He stood and pulled out the chair like it weighed no more than a silver spoon. I chewed my lip and sat, transferring my focus to the table.

As if they’d been standing right outside waiting, a team of waiters trotted into the room holding trays aloft. Without making any eye contact with either of us, they bent low and served a range of delicacies onto the thinnest china plates I’d ever seen. I stared at the food, hoping saliva wasn’t dribbling down my chin, and continued even when the room was quiet again.

Dalziel lifted his knife and fork then paused. His presence was so formidable, his breathing shifted the energy around us both, untethering me.

“I do hope you’re not waiting for me to say grace.” The sarcasm in his voice was thick. “It’s been a long, long time since God walked these halls.”

I looked up at both sides of his face. Neither of them were bluffing.

I speared a bean and bit into it. He drove a fork into a piece of steak and fed it into his mouth. It was the first time I really noticed his lips. Only the right corner had been seared. The remaining skin was soft and unblemished. He watched me closely as I ate, the silence strangely comforting. We both cleared our plates and lowered our cutlery.

“This is a beautiful room,” I said, glancing around.

He breathed deeply beside me. “I don’t do small talk, Rose,” he said, sharply. “Either say something meaningful or say nothing at all.”

I glared at him. “Fine. Does asking you a question count as meaningful?”

His good eyebrow curved into a perfect arch. “It depends on the question.”

“Why did you pay so much for me?”

His eyes widened for a beat of a second then resumed their nonchalant normality. “I didn’t want to be outbid. When I see something I want, I do everything in my power to get it.”

His confession knocked the wind from my chest so I reached for the glass of wine I’d sworn I wouldn’t touch and drank half of it.

“In the short time I spent researching the auction site, I didn’t see any bid go above ten thousand. You could have bid twelve thousand and still won.”

He brought his own wine glass to his lips. “Where’s the fun in that? Besides, you don’t know that for sure.”

“Most bids I saw settled at a couple of thousand, and even then, the girls were beautiful – like supermodels.”

He lowered his glass slowly and placed it on the table with highly controlled care, then his head rotated towards me. “Are you saying you’re not worth a hundred thousand pounds?”

I swallowed, unnerved by the sudden depth of his voice. “I don’t really think you can put a price on anyone.

“But you put yourself up for sale.”

“Because I need the money,” I said, folding my arms.

The door opened and more waiters appeared. I felt his gaze scorch my skin as we waited for the plates to be removed and a dessert course to be delivered.

As soon as the door closed, he spoke again. “Why do you need money?”

I took a deep breath. “I want to go to university and unfortunately education doesn’t come cheap.”

“Your parents can’t pay for you?” He lifted a fork and dug into a pot of rosemary chocolate fondant.

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