Sorcha moved from behind a leafy palm and stepped into the glittering white of the inner courtyard. It was dusk. A shimmering pool in the middle offered up reflections of the surrounding intricately carved walls. A bird of paradise flew through in a quicksilver flash of colour. Lotus flowers sat on the water like flowering jewels. And there, on the other side of this oasis of beauty, stood her lover, waiting for her. She walked slowly, as if in a dream, felt the silk of her long dress moving like liquid satin against her legs. She reached him. A stunning portrait of handsome perfection in a black tuxedo. He pulled her into his arms and kissed her.
Simon’s voice rang out. ‘That’s great, Sorcha and Zane. We’ll do it one more time, and then it’s Dominic’s turn.’
Sorcha smiled at Zane as he let her go. It was a brittle smile, and hid the aching hurt in her throat and chest. It had taken Lucy a lot longer today to do her make-up, after her sleepless night, and it hadn’t been helped by the girl’s monosyllabic bad mood. Sorcha couldn’t feel bad as she was the one who had acted on a reflex, taken the drugs from her and decided to protect her.
She had refused to acknowledge or look to where she knew Romain stood behind a monitor, watching proceedings as they were filmed. Except just now, walking over to Zane, trying desperately to act her heart out, she’d found a lean, autocratic face coming into her mind’s eye, superimposing itself onto Zane’s features. And it was actually only six-thirty a.m. They were pretending it was dusk. There was a whole lot of day left to get through.
By midday, Romain was pacing like a caged tiger. Seeing Sorcha at the crack of dawn in a dress that was breathtakingly indecent was testing his control to the limit. Along with the fact that she hadn’t acknowledged him once, and skittered away if he came near her. Right now she was seated on the corner of the set. She was a picture of contradictions that made his head swim. And the inarticulate rage from yesterday was still close under the surface.
The long, flowing silver-grey dress clung precariously to the soft swells of her breasts. A diamond clipped just under her bosom was the only feature, and the dress fell from there to the floor in a swirling symphony of silk. What had made his trousers feel tight all morning was the fact that it had an artful thigh-high slit. So when she walked one long, lithe and luscious leg peeped out in all its lissome glory.
His decision, his announcement to her that he would take her as his mistress, was making it hard for him to rein in the desire. He cursed himself again for not just taking her last night. Why had he left her alone?
Uncomfortably, he knew why. Because too much had happened, too quickly. He’d reeled with the shock of coming face to face with her duplicity, with the hard evidence…the image of that white powder still made his stomach contract. Reeled at the fact that all along she had been playing him, with what he’d revealed about his mother, and reeled at how, even after all this, he could still want her. Even more. It burned him up inside.
He couldn’t take his eyes off her. With her hair piled high, exposing a long graceful neck, she looked like a teenager playing dress-up. Her shoes were off, her legs were crossed, one small bare foot peeping out from under the folds of silk. Her brow was creased over her glasses in concentration as she read her book.
Who was she trying to kid?
After lunch, Sorcha waited for them to get the next set-up ready. She was congratulating herself on having managed to avoid Romain all morning, but every time she saw where they’d had lunch the previous day, on the other side of the courtyard, she felt ill. Clammy and sweaty.
She heard Dominic call for her impatiently. He had it in for her today, and she could only imagine that Lucy must have told him what she’d done. She prayed that he wouldn’t make an issue of it. She should have guessed that things wouldn’t be going her way…
Hours later everyone was crabby: a mixture of the dense, heavy heat and the jet lag which some were still suffering from. Dominic had become so unbearable that Sorcha felt compelled to go over to him and say something—anything, to get him to lay off. She’d even seen Romain raise a brow at one stage, when he’d been sharp to the point of rudeness. When she confronted him he turned on her, making her blanch, and real fear struck her. It was only then that she realised they were cut off from everyone else, behind a huge plant.
He gripped her arm at the elbow, drawing her further into seclusion, and Sorcha bit back a retort.
‘How dare you play almighty God with Lucy? It’s none of your business what—’
Sorcha refused to let the fear rise, to be bullied, and she rallied back. ‘It is my business when it’s offered to me, Dominic. And what are you doing, giving her that kind of stuff anyway? She’s barely out of her teens.’
He smirked, and it was ugly. ‘Yet she pleasures me every night like an adult.’
Sorcha felt bile rise, and tried to wrestle her arm away—but his wiry strength was too much.
‘But you know, Sorch, I’d much prefer to taste your sweetness. Christian told me all about you…how sweet you taste…’
A black hole threatened to consume Sorcha. Her deepest, darkest fear was being articulated out loud, here, by this odious man.
‘Come on, Sorch, just a kiss…’
He pulled her into his wiry body, and she struggled in earnest now. This was a nightmare. What had possessed her to think she could reason with someone like this?
Bending away so far that it felt her back might break, she still felt hot breath on her neck. Panic gripped her. She pushed against him. ‘Dominic—no!’
‘Come on…just pretend it’s lover boy…’
His mouth touched her skin. She felt teeth. A wave of dizziness washed over her, and then in an instant he was gone, pulled back so brutally that she went forward with him, and would have fallen if Romain hadn’t caught her, an arm holding her steady away from Dominic.
‘This is not the time or place.’ His voice was so chilling that Sorcha was reminded of the previous day. ‘Now, go back out there and finish the job you’ve been paid to do.’
Dominic just nodded, a mottled flush on his cheeks, his eyes overbright. Sorcha couldn’t believe it. He was high! How had she not even noticed?
When he had gone, Romain turned Sorcha to face him. She was shaking all over. He didn’t allow it to move him. He was still hard and unrelenting.
‘We’ll talk about this later.’
He had a hand under her arm and was leading her back outside. Her neck still stung from where Dominic had practically bitten her, and she still couldn’t believe it. Did Romain really think that he’d interrupted them lovemaking?
Forcing herself not to let a wave of self-pity engulf her, Sorcha called on all her professional pride and somehow got through the rest of the day. When they wrapped she stuck close to Val, and made sure she was on a boat with him. Dark shades covered her bruised eyes. Her mouth was a grim line. When she got off the boat and she heard a familiar voice behind her she stopped, but didn’t turn around. Her slim shoulders were rigid with tension.
Romain came and stood in front of her. She could see the rest of the crew walking away towards the hotel.
‘You can avoid me all you want, Sorcha, but ultimately you won’t be able to. You know that, don’t you? And you will tell me what was going on with Dominic.’
She said nothing. Didn’t move. If she had looked she’d have seen his jaw clench angrily at her stony silence.
Romain could see her throat work. Dark shades covered her eyes, and he nearly moved to take them off but at the last minute didn’t. Almost as though he was afraid of what he might see…?
Instead he cupped a hand around her jaw, felt the delicate line and saw a pulse jump in response.
‘Be