“You say things like that just to make me laugh.”
He shrugged. “Sometimes.” Then he picked up her hand again, threaded their fingers together. “My mom moved us around a lot when I was growing up. One of the things I remember, when I was about eight I think, was this little girl in my class. She was blonde, like you, and she had these enormous pigtails. She was the prettiest thing I’d ever seen, and she carried a pink backpack with a Barbie face on it.”
“You must have liked her.”
“I did.”
She thought of him as a love-struck little boy and smiled. “So what happened? Did you write one of those notes to her where you asked her to circle ‘yes’ or ‘no’?” she teased.
“No. But she did invite me to her birthday party. I remember the invitation was pink, with Barbie dolls on it.”
“Was the party pink-themed, too?”
“I don’t know,” he said. “I never got to go. We moved again.”
She imagined the disappointment he must have felt when he couldn’t go to the party. “I’m sorry you didn’t get to go.”
“I probably wouldn’t have liked it anyway. There’d have been a pink cake, no doubt, and pink balloons everywhere.
And what if I’d been the only boy invited?” He gave a mock shudder.
“The horrors,” she agreed. And then she sighed. “At least you got to go places. I never did.”
She thought of her vast bedroom with the purple walls, the piles of toys and the utter loneliness that had so often assailed her. She’d had a nanny, but even Mrs. Petit couldn’t completely fill the emptiness created by the vacuum her father had placed her in. A vacuum made all the worse by the fact they’d had a normal life until her mother had died in the accident.
Veronica had spent the past several years of her life trying to fill that emptiness; it’d gotten her nothing but heartbreak.
“One thing I’ve learned in this life,” he said, “is that the grass always looks greener on the other side of the fence—though it usually isn’t.”
“Maybe so,” she said. “But sometimes it just might be.”
“It does no good to think like that, Veronica. It only leads to regrets. And they might be false regrets.”
She turned to look out the window. They were over water now, winging their way toward the island of Aliz in the Mediterranean. “I have enough regrets to last me a lifetime.”
She could feel the weight of his stare on her, but she didn’t turn. Tears were suddenly pressing against the backs of her eyes. Stupid, stupid tears. If she looked at him, she wasn’t sure she could stop them from falling.
But why? What was it about him that made her want to unburden her soul to him every damn time?
She sucked in a breath, nibbled on her thumbnail. So quickly, she’d grown to trust him. So quickly, she’d grown to care about him. And she still knew next to nothing about him.
“You can cry if you need to,” he said, so softly that she almost didn’t hear.
How did he know? She turned to face him again, resolutely burying the tears and forcing herself to smile.
“Not at all,” she replied. “I was just thinking.”
He didn’t look convinced. “It’s a long trip, Veronica,” he finally said. “Why don’t you rest?”
“Nonsense. It’s only a couple more hours. And we really should discuss what happens when we arrive.” She had to concentrate on that, on the moment the plane landed and she set foot on her home soil again. She’d only been gone two weeks, and she’d set in motion much that would be ruined if she didn’t quickly get this situation under control.
Giancarlo Zarella would never agree to build a resort in Aliz if they couldn’t maintain the rule of law.
Raj’s eyes sparked. “There’s nothing to discuss,” he said. “I’ll handle it.”
Veronica blinked. “You’ll handle it? Handle what? I think we should at least discuss the possibilities.”
“No,” he said, his voice harder than it had been only moments ago.
A current of anger swirled in her belly. “No? I’m not a child, Raj. I have a right to know what your plans are.”
He got to his feet, every inch the imperious lord and master. Then he shoved a hand through his hair—and she realized that he looked as if he hadn’t slept much lately.
Her fault, no doubt.
“We’ll discuss it before we arrive,” he said.
Veronica bit down on the spike of temper. Perhaps he was still finalizing his plans and didn’t want to share them yet. Or maybe he had no idea what to expect when they arrived. She could wait another hour. She’d trusted him this far, and he hadn’t failed her yet. “Fine. But I expect a full report quite soon.” His mouth was a hard line. “You’ll get it, believe me.”
Veronica awoke with a start, confusion crashing through her. Then she remembered that she was on a plane, flying back to Aliz. After Raj had walked away, she’d closed her eyes for a few minutes. She hadn’t expected to fall so soundly asleep.
Or maybe she had, considering how little sleep she’d gotten the night before. A flight attendant materialized at that moment. “Madam President, would you like something to eat?”
She started to refuse, then realized her stomach was growling. But they would be in Aliz soon, and she could wait. She sent the man away with a request for water instead and turned to raise the window covering that someone had lowered.
Her blood froze as myriad stars glittered against a sea of black. It was wrong, all wrong. It shouldn’t be dark yet. Aliz was only four hours from the U.K., and they’d left early enough to arrive before nightfall.
Veronica unsnapped her seat belt. Before she could rise, Raj was there. His hands were shoved in the pockets of his camel trousers. His navy shirt was unbuttoned partway, exposing a tanned V of skin, and his dark hair curled over the collar, so carefree and sexy, as if he belonged on a beach instead of here.
Her heart beat sharply. “Where are we, Raj? Where are you taking us?”
Part of her already knew she’d been betrayed, but the other part—the part that had trusted this man with her body and soul last night, that still wanted to trust him—refused to believe he could be so duplicitous. It was a mistake, that’s all. She’d simply miscalculated, or they’d had to go a different route for some reason.
There was no way he was forcing his wishes upon her. No way he was taking her somewhere against her will. He wouldn’t do that.
“We’re going to my home in Goa,” he said, and her stomach went into a free fall.
She was stunned, as if she’d been running fast and suddenly smacked up against a brick wall.
“Goa? Isn’t that a bit far from Aliz?” She sounded so bitter, so terribly bitter. Fury was bubbling in her veins like a volcano preparing to erupt—she felt as if she would burst apart at the seams if she had to stay on this plane a moment longer.
But what choice did she have? What goddamn choice?
He had her right where he wanted her—and he was controlling her, taking away her autonomy, locking her up. Revulsion mixed into the vile stew inside her, rose into her throat so that she wanted to retch with the bitterness of it.
She would not do so. She would not crumble, not now.
“I’m sorry, Veronica,”