He had said the word carelessly, but there was something in the timbre of his voice that was edged like a blade. Talia’s eyes flickered uncertainly.
‘You must be good at it,’ she observed, her eyes slipping to the custom-made watch around his lean wrist.
He saw her glance at it. ‘A present to myself today,’ he said dryly.
‘A very nice one!’ Talia murmured, even more dryly. ‘Is it your birthday?’
‘Better,’ he replied, taking another mouthful of his drink. ‘I’ve just achieved something I’ve worked towards for more than ten years, and it’s going to be a sweet, sweet moment.’
There was that same edge to his voice again, but it was more intense now. Almost…unnerving.
Not a man to cross.
‘You sound very driven,’ she heard herself say.
His expression stilled. ‘Driven? Oh, yes…’ For a moment he seemed to be looking far away, then abruptly his gaze refocused on her. ‘So, what brings you here tonight, Talia?’
The unsettling note in his voice had gone and now there was only…invitation. Invitation in the sweep of his lashes, the slight but distinct relaxing of his pose as he helped himself to another mouthful of his drink.
She shrugged. ‘What brings anyone to a party?’ she countered.
That sweep of his lashes came again, as if her answer amused him. ‘Do you want me to answer that?’ he challenged.
Unspoken between them was the answer already. The reason so many people went to parties was to see and be seen. And to hook up…
She gave a little shake of her head, dipping it slightly to take a sip from her glass. Then, as if the wine had emboldened her, she glanced back at him. ‘Is that why you’re here?’
This time his lashes did not sweep down. This time his gaze was level on her. ‘Perhaps,’ he murmured.
His gaze lingered, telling her just why he had said that. She felt heat flush through her. Heat she was not used to. Heat that might burn her.
This is going too fast! I should back away, mingle…
But he was speaking again, draining his glass and setting it back on the counter. His eyes washed over her, and as they did so all the caution in her evaporated. She felt her pulse surge, her cheeks flush, her lips part. A heady sense of freedom—of what that freedom might offer her—was vivid within her. What this man had she didn’t know. She only knew that never, ever in her life had she encountered it or experienced the impact he was having on her.
And she could not—would not—resist it.
Whatever is happening, I want it to happen!
‘But one thing I am certain of,’ she heard him say, and there was that glint in his eye that told her just how certain he was, ‘is that tonight calls for champagne!’
He turned to the barman and instantly two flutes were presented to them, sparkling gently. Talia took one, feeling again that heady surge in her veins.
‘Is this a toast to your “sweet, sweet moment”?’ she asked, lifting her glass to him, a smile flashing in her own eyes now, as they met his boldly.
For a second his hand stayed, and then he lifted his own glass to her.
‘To even more,’ he said.
The message was unmistakable, and it told her just what ‘even more’ would be.
And in her eyes was the answer she was giving him…
Luke lay, one arm behind his head, the other around Talia’s slender waist. Her long hair swathed his chest and her breath was warm on his shoulder as she slept in his embrace. Sweet God, had there ever been a night in his life like this?
It was a pointless question. No woman had ever been like this one!
From the very first I knew it.
From that first moment of seeing her there, at the bar, with her glorious hair tumbling down her bare back, her spectacular figure sheathed in that clinging dark red dress… And her face… Oh, her breathtaking beauty was so dramatic, so stunning, it had stopped him in his tracks.
Desire, instant and immediate, had fired in him—the unmistakable primitive response of a man to a woman who seared his consciousness. Whatever it was about her, it was like a homing signal, drawing him right to her.
Talia.
A woman he had known only a few short hours, but who had turned his life upside down.
He felt his arm tighten possessively around her. He had known right from the first instant that he wanted her—that she, of all the women in the world, was the one who would mark for him the start of his new life.
My old life is done. I have accomplished what I had to do: the task that was set for me the day my father died from sorrow for what had been taken from him and the day my mother died of a broken heart.
His thoughts darkened, slicing back down the long punishing years to the moment when he’d vowed to avenge his parents, who had been stripped—cheated—of everything they’d held so precious.
The stress of it had killed his father, and the man who had done that had laughed in Luke’s face when, at barely twenty years old, he’d stormed into his office, raging at him, only for the cursed man to light a fat cigar with his fat fingers and summon his goons to beat up Luke, his victim’s son, and throw him out on the street.
And now he is destroyed. I’ve taken everything from him just as he took everything from my parents. They can finally rest in peace.
And he, too, could rest now—rest from the infinite pursuit of more and yet more money, so that he could forge the weapon that would finally bring down his enemy.
Now his whole life stretched ahead of him.
He had been wondering what he should do with it, but suddenly his expression changed, softened.
In the long years of amassing his fortune, closing the net on his enemy, he had had only fleeting affairs with women who had only wanted that. Affairs that had been merely a brief respite from the dark, driven purpose of his life. Affairs that had not lasted.
I wasn’t free to do anything else.
But now his long, gruelling task was accomplished, and there was nothing to keep him from finding for himself a woman who could transform his life, who could join him as he journeyed towards the bright, sunlit future that beckoned to him.
And he had found her! Instinct told him she was the one.
He drew her close, grazing her cheek with his mouth, feeling her stir in his arms. He felt a stirring in himself, too, of the desire that had burned between them—the desire that they had slaked with mutual urgency when they had left the party and he’d brought her back here to his hotel suite.
They had dined on food from room service and drunk yet more champagne. They had talked of he knew not what—except he knew that it had not been about themselves. It had been with ease and familiarity, and with a ready laughter that had seemed to spring naturally and spontaneously, as if they had known each for so much longer than a bare few hours.
And he had found her on the very night that he had finally avenged his parents by accomplishing his enemy’s total destruction. He had wanted this night to be special, so that it would mark the start of his new life—the life he’d never been able to claim for himself until now—and now he knew exactly how he wanted this wonderful new life to be.
It