Recalling the last time she’d visited Paris, she felt a swell of pain rise through her. ‘Three years ago.’
A hooded look came over his eyes. ‘Were you alone?’
‘No.’ She’d been with her father. They’d had an amazing time. Going back to where she’d stayed with him would be painful. Of that she had no doubt.
Face the demons …
Damion rose to tower over her. ‘Well, you won’t be staying there. I won’t let you compromise our agreement simply because you want to feel bohemian.’
‘It’s a good thing you’re not the boss of me, then, isn’t it?’ she snapped.
‘Look out of the window, Reiko,’ he replied simply.
‘Why?’ Her head whipped to the closest window, her heart hammering. Expecting to find the plane surrounded by police, all she saw was another gleaming sports car and an immigration official ready to inspect their travel documents. Relief made her slightly dizzy. ‘Wh … what exactly am I supposed to be looking at?’
‘You’re not a French citizen, which means you need a special licence or a certificate of origin to bring any form of art into the country. I haven’t yet taken ownership of the Femme en Mer, so unless I vouch for you, or claim ownership of the painting, the authorities will have to be involved. Now, personally I don’t have a problem—’
‘Fine! We’ll do it your way.’ His smug smile made her teeth grind. ‘Did I mention that I think you’re a cold bastard?’
‘Your tone implied it exquisitely.’
‘Good, I’m so glad.’ Despite her snarky tone, panic began to claw at her insides. She had no doubt Damion meant to keep her close. Which meant he would be within hearing distance should she experience another of her nightmares, or worse. Carefully, she cleared her throat. ‘Do you intend to hold me prisoner the whole time I’m here?’
Their pilot came out and lowered the steps to the plane. Damion ushered her out. ‘Not at all. You’re a free agent. As long as you stay at my apartment, stay within the confines of the law and make every attempt to locate the painting.’
When he placed a hand in the small of her back to propel her forward, Reiko jumped out of reach. Beneath her clothes, her skin tingled. She averted her gaze from Damion’s frowning look.
‘Let’s not keep the nice officer waiting,’ she said hurriedly.
His frown remained in place. ‘It also goes without saying that I want you on your best behaviour. And, before you use another Scout salute, be warned that I saw your two-finger salute last night instead of the correct three.’
He stood so close she could see the faint shadow of his stubble, smell the heady scent of him. Hurriedly she went down the stairs. ‘How would you know? I find it impossible to picture you as a Scout.’
‘I wasn’t, but I had a crush on a Guide once upon a time.’
Stunned, she glanced at him as he shook hands with the official. The sheer magnificence of him made something kick in her chest, catching her breath for a second before releasing it. When Damion’s gaze caught hers, she struggled to maintain a neutral expression.
She couldn’t lower her guard around him. Even if what had happened five years ago hadn’t been enough of a lesson, she only had to think of his affair with Isadora Baptiste to remember she detested everything about his heartless attitude towards relationships.
Like an ice-cold shower, the thought obliterated everything else.
The foundations of her control solidified, she slid into the car beside Damion.
She felt his quizzical gaze on her, but kept hers forward. When he turned the ignition and gripped the gearstick, she deliberately drifted her fingers over the back of his hand. His light intake of breath didn’t pierce her re-imposed self-control. Even the tingle in her fingers lingered for a split second before it set her free. For that, Reiko was eternally grateful.
‘You don’t need to worry. I’ll be on my best behaviour.’
‘I’m curious as to the sudden change of heart.’
Had his voice grown a little raspier?
‘Let’s just say I don’t want to prolong our association any longer than I have to.’
Damion pondered the change in Reiko as he negotiated the last few streets towards his Parisian apartment in the third arrondissement. Something had happened between their disembarking the plane and leaving the airstrip. Something he couldn’t put his finger on.
Her body was so still, her expression so remote, Damion wondered if she was in some sort of trance. Only the frequent flickering of her eyelids and furtive glances out of her window indicated she wasn’t in a meditative state.
When he pulled up outside his apartment overlooking the Place des Vosges, he glanced at her again. This time she met his gaze. Damion saw a trace of pain in that look and frowned. Had he been too rough with her? A tinge of guilt seeped in to compound his confusion. As feisty as she was, he wasn’t unaware of her diminutive stature. His glance slid over her again and his frown deepened. Why had she covered herself up so completely?
The Reiko he’d known had worn skimpy outfits designed to drive him wild with desire. He recalled her perfect, flawless skin, and heat unfurled within him. He’d loved running his hands over her naked body, watching arousal heat her flesh, hearing her words of wonder as he’d taken her …
He stemmed the tide of unwanted memories.
Five years ago he’d let the personal get in the way of business and regretted it.
Whatever Reiko Kagawa was hiding underneath those staid, sexless clothes was no longer his business.
His main focus needed to be on locating the third painting and making sure his grandfather’s last days were made as comfortable as possible.
As to what came after that … His jaw tightened. He’d think about that aspect of his duty—finding a wife, making sure his family name continued—when the time was right.
‘Vien, we’re here.’ His personal concierge hurried forward and opened Reiko’s door. Damion handed over the contents of the boot and turned to her. ‘It’s lunchtime. I’ve booked a restaurant close by. Are you okay to walk?’
He caught her look of panic-tinged suspicion before she quickly doused it.
‘Of course I am. Why shouldn’t I be?’ she challenged, her eyes fiery.
He indicated the cobblestoned pavement reminiscent of this part of Paris. ‘Those heels look hazardous—’
‘They’re fine.’
He’d clearly touched a nerve, but Damion didn’t know why. ‘Let’s go.’
The scent of her flowery perfume caught his nostrils as she fell into step beside him. He slowed his pace to match hers, and in the spring sunshine watched the way the light bounced over her long, dark locks.
He felt another puzzle tease at his brain. Her suit, make-up and shoes all shrieked a power statement that her free-flowing hair immediately defused.
Or was that her trick? Recalling the way she’d touched him last night and this morning, Damion felt his gut tighten. The contact had been in no way sensual, and certainly not what he was used to from women, but it had captured his attention. So much so he hadn’t been able to dismiss it from his mind.
A grande dame tottered past with several dogs on a leash. Reiko didn’t seem to notice her. He grabbed her arm to steer her clear of the menagerie and felt the fragile bones of her elbow beneath his