‘Fool,’ Beth laughed, realising he was teasing, and gave him a sharp dig in the ribs with her elbow.
‘I know, but I can’t resist teasing you.’ At that point Mr Black said something in Dex’s ear, and the amusement left his face.
‘Sorry, Beth, I need to go to the office, but I’ll show you the rest on the way. This is just for starters. The bar and restaurant are through there.’ He gestured with his free hand as they reached the bottom of a grand staircase. ‘Up here there are two more gaming rooms, where the stakes rise accordingly. Plus the offices,’ he informed her as they ascended the stairs, his arm dropping from her waist.
Beth watched him as they walked up, and saw a stranger. Dex was suddenly all efficiency, no trace of humour left. Tall and aloof, he strode up the stairs and through to another room, taking deferential greetings from various people with a word, or a nod, and a smile that never reached his eyes.
His plain black dinner suit and conservative white shirt could not conceal the powerful muscled body beneath, or a certain air of danger about him. The other people in the room faded into insignificance beside him. It was obvious to Beth, and everyone else, that this man was the master of all he surveyed, the hard-headed, powerful ruler of the lot; the Boss. It wasn’t just his height or his build, but the intangible aura he carried with him, a dynamism that radiated from him, a supreme confidence in his own worth that made weaker mortals shrink back.
Beth shuddered; a ghost is walking over my grave, she thought, but dismissed the notion when Dex halted her with a large hand curving over her shoulder. The touch of his hand on her bare flesh was enough to make her forget every rational thought.
His dark head bent towards her, and in her heightened emotional state she imagined he was going to kiss her, but she was sadly disillusioned when he said starkly, ‘This room is for the high rollers, where the real money changes hands. Black is getting you some chips so you can play.’
Play! She wouldn’t know where to start. Curious, Beth looked around: no slot machines here, but a peculiar silence, punctuated by the occasional voice of a croupier. Around the large green baize tables were expensively dressed customers, some obviously from the Middle East, judging by their garb, and the few ladies present, mostly old, wearing enough jewellery to pay off the National Debt.
‘Here, Beth.’ Dex thrust a handful of round tokens at her. ‘Enjoy yourself. I won’t be long.’
‘Can’t I come with you?’ she blurted, suddenly feeling completely out of her element. ‘I’m not a gambler, and I don’t think I want to be.’
His fingers caught her chin and he tilted her head up. ‘You look stunningly beautiful, Beth, and I will get my business concluded much quicker without you to distract me. Understand?’ His grey eyes roamed over her delicate features. ‘You will be perfectly all right on your own; no one will bother you.’ His glance slid down her body like a warm caress, and back to her face again. ‘Everyone knows you’re with me,’ he ended with unconscious arrogance, and, letting his hand slide from her chin to her shoulder, he squeezed her gently in a casual reassuring gesture.
‘Yes… w-well,’ she stuttered. Her flesh burned beneath his fingers and her body was aware of him with every pore.
She tore her gaze from his and glanced distractedly around the room. Her green eyes widened in astonishment as she caught sight of someone she knew—Paul. Even in this crowd he stood out.
Tall, his blond hair turning here and there to white, his exquisitely tailored dinner suit fitting his slim, elegant body to perfection, he looked what he was: a man of distinction. The lines of character in his face reflected his fifty-three years, but in no way detracted from his handsome features.
Paul Morris… He looked across, his blue eyes surprised when they met Beth’s. She watched as he made his way towards her, determination in every stride. But he was supposed to be in Italy. What was he doing back so soon? she wondered. Her lips curled in a slow smile. At least she wouldn’t be alone.
She glanced back at Dex, whose hand hadn’t left her shoulder. ‘Okay,’ she said. But he was not looking at her, instead he was watching Paul approach, with a dark frown on his face.
‘No, you are right. You are coming with me,’ Dex ordered curtly, his hand dropping to her waist and hauling her hard against him.
‘Bethany, what on earth are you doing here?’ Paul stopped a foot away, and, taking in the proprietary arm around her waist, he flashed a hard smile at Dex. ‘Giordanni. I’d heard you were buying the place. Congratulations.’ Then, turning worried blue eyes back to Beth, he continued, ‘I didn’t know you knew Mr Giordanni, Bethany.’
‘And I thought you were in Italy,’ she shot back. She had dined with him ten days ago and he had told her he was going to his estate in Italy.
‘Oh, I was, and I will be again in another few hours.’ Paul glanced at the gold Rolex on his wrist. ‘This is just a flying visit—twenty-four hours. I had some business that couldn’t wait. That’s why I didn’t call you. But enough about me. What are you doing here? You don’t gamble,’ he ended sternly.
Beth opened her mouth to answer but was forestalled by Dex.
‘The lady is with me, Morris.’ His fingers nipped her waist, demanding her compliance. ‘And we have urgent business to attend to in private—haven’t we, darling?’ Dex’s grey eyes captured hers and his head lowered, his firm mouth brushing her parted lips. It was a fleeting kiss, but it was enough to set her heart racing, and she stared back at him, too dumb to answer.
‘I hope you know what you’re doing, Beth.’ Paul said, bringing her back into the conversation.
She looked at Paul and smiled a misty, bemused smile. ‘Yes, Paul.’
Paul sighed, a wry smile of acceptance curving his mouth. She was a grown woman; it had to happen some time.
‘You’re a man of the world, Morris, I’m sure you understand,’ Dexter cut into the silence. ‘Enjoy your gambling and excuse us.’ And with a deft twist Dexter spun Beth round.
She only had time to call, ‘See you, Paul,’ over her shoulder as, with almost indecent haste, Dex urged her towards the back of the room and a large nondescript door. The incongruous note was the man who guarded it and opened it at their approach. He looked like a heavyweight boxer with the nose to match.
She registered that they were in a dimly lit hallway, and had opened her mouth to ask where the fire was—she would have quite liked to talk to Paul—when she registered the stark fury in Dex’s steely eyes.
‘Old man Morris a friend of yours, is he?’
‘Yes, a very good—’ She never got the chance to finish the sentence.
Dex pushed her back against the wall, his dark head swooping down, his mouth capturing hers in a kiss of pure male dominance. Shocked by his sudden aggression, the fierce pressure of his mouth, the feel of his huge body hard against her much smaller frame, she instinctively struggled to break free. But she was helpless against his superior strength, and his mouth ground against hers with a demanding arrogance that was as exciting as it was alien to her.
Then, suddenly, something peculiar happened. One second she was fighting him and the next she felt her body melting against his as his lips gentled against her mouth. His kiss softened, his tongue traced the outline of her mouth, his teeth nibbled gently on her bottom lip until, with a sigh of complete surrender, she opened her mouth to him. She lifted her hands, her fingers tangling in the silky black thickness of his hair, and kissed Dex back without realising what she was doing.
His mouth burned against hers, his tongue toying with hers in an erotic, thrusting dance. Her hands slid to his broad shoulders. She felt his muscles tense beneath the smooth fabric of his jacket and trembled as his hand slid down her