CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER THREE

LAIAQUESTIONEDHER sanity in thinking this was a viable option. She’d sensed Dax’s volatility just now—like a crackling forcefield around him. She could only wonder how she would feel if she was in his shoes. A lot more vulnerable, for a start. Angry. Helpless.

Her conscience pricked hard.

Although the last thing he struck her as was helpless. In fact she wouldn’t put it past him to swim out to the security boat, overcome the guards and take off. He seemed entirely capable.

But if he tried that he would set off the alarm and they’d be ready for him.

In fact, when she thought about it, he wasn’t behaving as she might have expected of a playboy who was used to instant gratification and the constant stimulation of beautiful women and places. He didn’t seem to be hugely perturbed. Annoyed, yes, but not petulant that he was missing whatever nightclub opening he was due to attend.

Laia scowled at herself. It wasn’t like her to be bitchy. But this man appealed to her worst qualities.

Because he affects you, and you’re not honest enough to acknowledge how much.

She scowled even more.

She diverted her brain away from such uncomfortable things by focusing on what she should be thinking about. Or who. Maddi, her lady-in-waiting and best friend. And, more sensationally, her half-sister, who was the product of the affair her father had had with a woman from the castle staff.

No one but them knew that they were sisters.

Her father had told her he’d always regretted how he’d handled it, because when he’d found out his lover was pregnant he’d sent her away, for fear of a scandal. He’d asked Laia to go and find her sister and tell her he was sorry.

Apparently Maddi, who lived in Ireland, had always known who she was and where she came from.

After her father’s death, Laia had been too grief-struck and shocked to go looking for her half-sister. And then, as time had passed, she’d grown apprehensive. Afraid of what she might find.

Someone who was resentful? Angry? Vengeful?

But eventually Laia had been able to ignore her conscience no longer and she’d gone to Ireland. And when she had found her half-sister Maddi had been none of the things Laia had feared.

Maddi had been shy. And yet there had been a strong bond between them from the moment they’d met. Laia had begged her sister to come to Isla’Rosa with her, to see where she came from. Maddi was the one who’d suggested working as Laia’s lady-in-waiting, to give her a chance to be anonymous and learn more about Laia and everything. They’d agreed that Laia’s coronation would be the opportune time to reveal Maddi as a member of the royal family.

Over the past year they’d forged an even stronger bond and had become inseparable. So when King Aristedes had followed them to that festival in the desert just days ago, demonstrating his determination to make Laia his wife, Maddi had suggested taking advantage of the fact that they were so alike they could pass for twins.

Before Laia had known what was happening she’d been bundled away by her security team and Maddi had taken off in a small sleek jet with King Aristedes, pretending to be her.

But obviously, since Dax had been on her trail so soon after their switch, Maddi’s impersonation of Laia couldn’t have lasted more than a few hours after her arrival with the King into Santanger.

Maddi had sent her a text—obviously before she’d known the King had discovered their ruse—saying that the King believed she was Laia, that she was okay, and asking where Laia was. Laia had responded—but only mentioning that she was in south-east Asia, for fear of someone taking Maddi’s phone. Since then there had been no more messages.

She knew Maddi was capable of looking after herself—she was a lot more street smart than Laia, thanks to having lived a regular life. And King Aristedes was a civilised man. He wouldn’t want adverse press at this time any more than she did, which was presumably why he wasn’t exposing his fake fiancée.

He would undoubtedly be expecting his brother to reappear at any moment, with Laia by his side. Was he hoping to merely switch his fake fiancée for his real one? Well, that wasn’t going to happen. Once.

Laia was Queen she would be in a much stronger position to negotiate with King Aristedes—about their marriage and peace.

All she had to do was bide her time here until a couple of days before her birthday.

Here, on a romantic private island, with the one man in the world who makes you feel prickly and hot and full of a need you can’t even name.

Laia pushed that incendiary thought out of her head and focused on cooking the food. She wasn’t remotely Dax’s type—not that she wanted to be, she assured herself hurriedly.

For one thing, he always seemed to favour tall, slim blondes. A dramatic contrast to his dark good looks. And she was far too boring and staid for his tastes.

The persona she’d created of being a party girl was paper-thin. She’d become an expert at appearing at the opening of an event only to be curled up in bed with a book an hour later, with no one any the wiser. She’d realised that once people saw you there, they just assumed you were there for the night. And she’d always made sure she appeared in the press.

Within a couple of days her guest would be climbing the trees with boredom, but there was nothing Laia could do to help that. There was no way she was jeopardising her future when she was close enough to feel the weight of the Isla’Rosa crown on her head and know that she was taking her own destiny, and that of her country, into her own hands and no one else’s.

Later that evening Dax wandered into the kitchen, rubbing his wet hair with a towel. He’d just had a shower in the changing gazebo after a swim in the lap pool, and felt marginally less edgy and irritated after expending some energy.

He’d walked around the island a little beforehand. It was mostly forest and precipitous hills. There was a stunning private white sand beach on the other side of the island. And a small house that he guessed was used by staff when they were required.

It was indeed a beautiful location. But Laia was right. Unless he dived into the sea and started swimming he wasn’t going anywhere.

And now, after the activity, he was hungry. He opened the fridge and spotted a Tupperware bowl filled with the leftovers of the stir-fry. There was a Post-it note attached.

Feel free to help yourself.

Strange to feel somewhat mollified at this very basic concession for having removed him from his life so spectacularly. But then hadn’t he been planning on doing that to Laia? Albeit without resorting to kidnap. He could see now, though, that she wouldn’t have gone anywhere with him willingly.

He took out the bowl and lifted off the airtight lid. It smelled good. His stomach rumbled. Dax had always had a healthy appetite. For everything. Life. Sex. Ambition. Winning. Sex.

He hadn’t had sex for a few months. It had been preying on his mind...the flatlining of his libido. But lately everything had begun to feel a little dull. There was no excitement. No one causing his pulse to trip.

Until he’d laid eyes on Laia again today.

He set about putting the stir-fry in the microwave, and tried not to think about the suspicion that he’d actually felt flat since he’d seen her in that nightclub over a year ago.

Oh, he’d taken lovers since then. But for the first time it hadn’t been satisfying. And so he’d subconsciously taken a hiatus from women. Focused instead on his work.

He’d even taken a call from Ari a month or so ago, his brother commenting, ‘You haven’t appeared in the papers in a few weeks. I’m just checking you’re still alive.’

Dax had realised with a jolt that he hadn’t had any appetite for going out. For the endless round of socialising that for so long had helped him not to think about things.

He’d replied, ‘I’m very much alive, brother. Maybe I’m plotting to take over your throne? It’s all the rage on every TV show at the moment.’

Ari had sounded weary. ‘Be my guest—and while you’re at it see if you can track down Princess Laia and remind her of her marital obligations, would you?’

Dax had responded lightly, belying the spike of something sharp in his gut that had felt suspiciously like jealousy. ‘Maybe she’s just not that into you.’

His brother had said, ‘Ha-ha,’ and terminated the call.

And now he was here, with this woman who appealed to him in a way that was seriously unwelcome, and instead of being able to explore his attraction as he usually would—by seduction and indulging in slaking his desires—he had to do the right thing and encourage her go back to Europe, marry his brother and become his sister-in-law. His Queen.

Once again the resistance he felt to that idea was almost physical.

The microwave dinged at that moment and Dax welcomed the distraction. He took out the bowl of stir-fry and transferred it to a plate. He got himself a beer from the fridge, and went to sit on the decking outside the kitchen.

Dusk was cloaking everything in a lush lavender colour. The night chorus of insects was starting up. Dax noticed a citronella candle burning, to deter mosquitoes. Had Laia been sitting here eating just a short while before?

The food was delicious. Fresh and tasty, with a bit of a kick. Dax wolfed it down.

Laia was an enigma, for sure—a queen in waiting so desperate not to be married that she had run to the other side of the world to a jungle paradise where she seemed happy to cook and wait on herself.

Notthe behaviour he would have expected of someone of her standing. He knew people with regular blood running through their veins who wouldn’t deign to lower themselves to such mundane activities.

He was going to do his utmost to figure out how to get to her and make her see sense, and then he’d send her on her way before she could wrap his brain—and his body—into too many knots.

The following morning, after a fractious sleep that she blamed Dax for, Laia felt fuzzy-headed even after a swim in the pool and a shower. She went down to the kitchen, taking out supplies for breakfast. Pastries and fruit and granola. She made coffee and the fragrant smell helped clear her head.

She had to admit moodily that her sleep had also been fractious because she was sharing a space with a man who made her feel aware of herself as a woman, and very conscious of the fact that she was that rare unicorn: a virgin. Still. At almost twenty-five.

In her defence, she wasn’t exactly in a position where she could indulge in carnal activities without risking drawing the all-seeing eye of the press. If anything, seeing Dax’s sexploits splashed routinely across the tabloids over the years had put the fear of God into her. And as time had gone on, and she’d grown older, the world’s fascination with her and her love-life had assumed gargantuan proportions, making it even more unlikely that she would indulge.

Not that she’d met anyone who’d made her feel like indulging.

Except for the man who is here right now, in your house...

She pushed that inflammatory thought aside. And then she heard a sound and looked up and froze, even while simultaneously melting on the spot.

Dax was on the other side of the kitchen, having just walked in from outside.

He was bare-chested and wearing a pair of short sweatpants. He was drinking from a bottle of water. Laia was aware that he must have been running, or maybe he’d found the gym.

Her gaze seemed to be glued to his chest. It wasn’t the first time she’d seen a bare-chested man, but it felt like it.

He was...sublime. Broad and exquisitely muscled. A light smattering of hair across his pectorals met in a line that dissected his abdominal muscles and continued down under the top of his shorts...

Laia raised her eyes, cheeks on fire. Dammit, why couldn’t she be cool? She’d never needed to be cool more than now. She felt ridiculously overdressed, in a loose linen sleeveless shirt and loose trousers. Then she noticed something else. A dark mark high over one pectoral.

He walked closer. She could see that it was a tattoo.

‘You have a tattoo.’

She wasn’t sure why she was surprised. It wasn’t as if this man didn’t have a reputation for being a rebel already.

The ink drawing was surprisingly delicate and beautiful. An intricate birdcage with a closed door and a bird inside. For some reason it made Laia feel a little sad.

‘The bird is caged.’

She looked at Dax and saw he was watching her with a wary expression. It diffused something inside her...as if she’d discovered a chink in his armour.

‘Yes, the bird is caged.’

‘Does it mean something?’

An expression crossed his face so fleetingly that she might have imagined it, but she knew she hadn’t. It had been pain.

He shrugged minutely. ‘It was done on a drunken whim. It means whatever you want it to mean.’

‘Drunken tattoos aren’t usually as...considered.’

He arched a brow. ‘Maybe you’d like to tell me what you think it means?’

The air around them seemed to have grown thick and charged. Laia was glad of the big solid island between them.

She changed the subject. ‘Did you go for a run?’ she babbled. ‘We have a gym, too, fully equipped.’

‘I found the gym, thank you.’

She put some fruit and yoghurt into a bowl and said, ‘Please, help yourself to whatever you’d like. There’s fresh coffee.’

She moved to a table on the terrace before Dax could get too close as he filled his own plate with a little of everything. He was a big man—he undoubtedly had a healthy appetite.

Not just for food, whispered a little wicked voice.

Laia tensed all over as Dax came over and joined her at the table.

He stopped before sitting down. ‘Do you mind?’

Yes. She shook her head. ‘Of course not.’

He sat down. Laia felt uptight. His chest filled her peripheral vision. She wanted to ask him to put a top on, but they were in the tropics. It was entirely practical to wear as little as possible. His skin gleamed. From the humidity or from exertion? She had an urge to go closer, to breathe in his scent.

This awareness of herself as a woman and him as a very masculine man made her skin prickle uncomfortably. She cursed silently. Why couldn’t she be immune to him?

‘So, this island...it belongs to you?’ he asked.

Laia nodded, glad of a diversion from her increasingly heated thoughts. ‘It was my mother’s—left to her by an uncle who lived here his whole life.’

‘Your mother, Queen Isabel, had links to almost every royal family in Europe.’

Laia looked at Dax. He sat in a louche sprawl on the other side of the table. Supremely at ease. Not ranting and raving about being incarcerated. She didn’t trust it for a minute.

She took a sip of coffee and nodded. ‘As do we all.’

‘True.’

In fact he was being polite. Civil. Laia could play him at his own game and be polite too. ‘Have you been to Malaysia before?’

Dax nodded his head. ‘Yes, but only to Kuala Lumpur. I am grateful for an opportunity to explore more of this beautiful country.’

Laia looked at Dax suspiciously. He had an innocent expression, as if to say, What? She felt a little disconcerted. She wasn’t sure how to handle this sanguine man who appeared to hold no grudge for her having removed him from his life for an extended period.

Her conscience forced her to say, ‘Look, I’m sorry that it had to happen like this. I’m sure you’re missing lots of...engagements. I hope nothing too important?’

Dax took a sip of coffee and put the cup down. He said, ‘I’d already carved time out of my schedule because my brother asked me to track you down. And that’s what I’ve done. But I won’t consider the job done until you are delivered to him in Santanger.’

Laia scowled. ‘Like a parcel.’

Dax shook his head. ‘Like the wife you agreed to be.’

Now Laia shook her head. ‘I never agreed to it. I was never given a chance. It was a fait accompli from the day I was born and born a girl. How archaic is that?’

His eyes narrowed on her. ‘It’s the way it’s done in our world. You do know that there are far more arranged marriages than so-called love matches globally?’

‘You’re not a fan of a love match, then?’

Now he was the one who looked slightly uncomfortable, avoiding her eye. Laia felt it like a small triumph.

He said, ‘Not for people like us, no.’

‘But normal people can indulge?’

He looked at her. ‘The stakes are lower.’

That was one way of putting it. The stakes were definitely lower when you didn’t have a duty to a nation of people and the responsibility of continuing a royal line.

Laia felt a dart of guilt before she realised that this was probably Dax’s plan—to undermine her resolve.

As if reading her mind, he asked congenially, ‘Why are you so against the marriage? Ari isn’t a bad person. I’m told he’s considered to be quite attractive.’ Dax made a self-deprecating face. ‘Not as much as me, of course, but he can’t have everything—the kingdom and incredible sex appeal.’

Laia had to curb the urge to roll her eyes and smile at his confidence.

He’s a charmer, reminded a little voice. This is how he’s spent his dissolute life. This is how he’s trying to get to you, any way possible.

Laia sobered. ‘I’m not against marriage. I’m just against this one. Your brother has no interest in me. He expects a convenient royal wife to slot into his world and doesn’t want to discuss it further.’

‘So what is it that you want, if not a perfectly reasonable match with one of the world’s wealthiest and most eligible men? Call me old-fashioned, but I can’t see many women turning that opportunity down.’

‘You’re cynical.’

He looked surprised. ‘And you’re not?’

Laia shook her head. How had they got into this territory? ‘I try not to be. I want a deeper partnership with my husband.’

A smile spread across Dax’s face and Laia’s breath got stuck in her throat for a second. When he smiled it was like being caught in the sun’s rays...magnetic and—

He declared, ‘You’re a romantic.’

Laia went cold. Was she so transparent? She felt exposed under Dax’s gaze.

‘Don’t be ridiculous.’

He shrugged. ‘If you gave Ari a chance you might find that your relationship provides all that you need.’

‘I did try to talk to him—after my father’s funeral. He wasn’t interested. He said the marriage would be happening and there was nothing further to discuss. He had his chance to convince me and now it’s gone.’

Suddenly Dax looked serious. ‘It’s a fool’s errand, looking for love in our world. It simply doesn’t exist—and nor would you want it to. It only leads to self-destruction.’

Laia frowned. ‘What does that mean? Who are you talking about?’

But Dax had stood up abruptly. He said, ‘I’m going to clean up. Can I ask you to pass a message to one of my assistants for me? I’m sure you don’t want worldwide headlines shouting about the missing Playboy Prince.’

Laia took the abrupt hint. Clearly he didn’t like her question and wasn’t going to answer.

She considered his request and knew she owed him this much. ‘Okay.’ She stood up and went to a drawer, pulling out a notepad and a pen. She handed it to Dax. ‘Give me the details.’

But he said, ‘I’ll call them out to you, if you don’t mind. I’m dyslexic, so it’ll take me longer to write it all down.’

Laia stopped and looked at him. She hadn’t expected him to say that. And so easily.

‘I...’ For once in her life she felt at a loss. Not sure what to say. Eventually she said, ‘I’m sorry. I wasn’t expecting to hear you say that. I didn’t know you were dyslexic.’

Dax looked unperturbed. ‘Both me and my brother have it—him to a lesser degree. I’ve learnt to navigate my way around it.’

Laia felt as if the ground was shifting under her feet. This threw a new perspective on Dax. An intriguing one.

‘Okay, call out the details.’

He did, and she wrote them down. When she looked up again Dax was too close. That chest was all she could see. And she could smell his scent. Woodsy and musky. She had the most bizarre urge to put her hand on his chest and feel his heart beating against her palm.

She backed away so fast she almost fell over.

She said, ‘I’ll do this now,’ and fled.

Dax could still smell Laia’s scent lingering in the air. Soft and flowery. But not too sweet. There was something sharp. Like her.

She’d looked at him sharply just now, when he’d told her he had dyslexia. As if reassessing him. He was used to people looking at him differently when they found out—and not necessarily kindly. Sometimes with pity. Sometimes as if his diagnosis explained something to them. As if it explained why he was nothing but a feckless royal playboy—because how could anyone with dyslexia be successful?

A total misconception, as Dax knew well. Some of the most successful people in the world had dyslexia and similar neurodivergences.

But he had been a feckless royal playboy in his younger years. So he couldn’t really blame people for their lazy judgement. And if they continued to judge him based on that earlier version of himself then more fool them. And he’d proved lots of people to be fools by now.

He realised that he’d mentioned his dyslexia just now because he’d wanted to see how Laia would respond. He’d almost wanted to see that glint of aha in her eyes, as if she could square him away into a little box. Dismiss him.

But she hadn’t looked at him like that. She’d been surprised, but not judgemental. Intrigued. She was endlessly surprising. Not least for pulling this stunt in getting him onto a private island with no escape.

And also because sometimes she looked at him the way she had in Monte Carlo, with big eyes. As if she’d never seen a man before.

As if she wanted to devour him.

But in the next second the shutters would come down and she’d disappear back behind an expressionless mask, like she had that night.

She reminded him of a fawn. Curious, but drawing back.

She wanted him. He knew that now.

Her little glances when she thought he wasn’t looking.

The way she quivered when he came near.

The almost ever-present flush in her cheeks—although admittedly sometimes that might be irritation or anger.

And you want her.

Dax turned and strode out to the terrace, to try and cool the heat in his body and brain. He might want her, but he couldn’t have her. Not this woman who’d been promised to his brother from her birth.

He cursed. It was archaic. It was ridiculous. But it was her destiny and he had to do everything in his power to make sure it happened.

His brother had let him have his freedom and now it was Dax’s turn to give Ari what he needed. A wife and a queen.

A little later, Laia was sitting cross-legged on her bed with her bedroom door carefully locked. She was on her laptop, which was hooked up to rapid broadband.

There were no headlines mentioning anything about Dax going missing. There were, however, some headlines about Princess Laia’s arrival on Santanger, and speculation about the royal wedding but no real details.

King Aristedes must have realised that he’d have to postpone the wedding at the very least.

There were several grainy pictures of Maddi arriving in Santanger, wearing what looked like a man’s jacket and with long bare legs. And then there were more recent pictures of her and the King at a palace garden party.

Laia touched the screen. Maddi looked very sleekly polished and a little terrified beside the tall and stern King. Wide-eyed. Obviously the King was determined to maintain the fiction of his wedding proceeding, and luckily no one had seemed to notice that Maddi wasn’t Laia.

They looked so alike. It was only at close quarters that someone might notice that Maddi’s eyes were darker and that she was a little curvier—much to Laia’s envy.

The fact that the King hadn’t noticed that Maddi wasn’t Laia from the very first moment told Laia she was doing the right thing. They might not have spent much time together but he knew her well enough to have noticed. If he cared.

Laia hoped that Maddi was coping okay, and vowed to get her back to Isla’Rosa just as soon as she could. Her heart swelled as she thought of what her sister had done for her so selflessly.

Laia had spoken to her most trusted and closest advisor, who supported everything she was doing. He was the only one outside of Maddi, King Aristedes and Dax who knew exactly what was going on and where she was.

She’d just had a video meeting with him, to make sure all was proceeding as planned and that nobody suspected anything was awry. The Privy Council—the group of traditionalist men who’d worked for her father and who Laia had every intention of disbanding once she became Queen, to make way for a much more gender-equal and inclusive council—were under the impression that she was, indeed, in Santanger, fulfilling her engagement duties. Thanks to Maddi.

They wouldn’t know any different until she came back to Isla’Rosa, just before the coronation was due to take place. There would be repercussions from breaking the engagement, but nothing she couldn’t handle.

So now she turned to the piece of paper where she’d written down Montero Holdings along with Dax’s assistant’s email address. The name MonteroHoldings rang a small bell, but she couldn’t place where she’d heard it before.

Laia sent his assistant an email from a generic account, explaining that she was acting on Dax’s behalf for a few days, and giving a set of instructions regarding launching a new software product online in the coming weeks. And another instruction regarding sending his apologies for not being able to make the board meeting of a charity that—

Laia stopped typing and sat back. She hadn’t fully taken in what she was writing down at the time. The New Beginnings charity was very close to Laia’s own heart. She’d donated generously over the years—usually anonymously.

It had been set up specifically to target babies, children and minors who had been left orphaned or alone after either a natural disaster or through migration, when they were most vulnerable and prey to being trafficked or exploited. The charity provided safe places to stay, education and resources to help them find permanent homes. It also provided scholarships for sports academies and third level education.

It was an amazing charity, and it had called to Laia as soon as she’d heard about it. Her circumstances had been vastly different, of course—she’d still had a loving father—but she’d always felt the loss of her mother so keenly, and could empathise with other children bearing that huge loss.

As far as she could make out Dax was on the board of this charity. Interesting... A lot of wealthy people paid lip service to charities—she’d seen photographic evidence of Dax attending enough events over the years, with a beautiful woman in tow, and she’d thought it started and ended there.

But being on a board was a responsibility—she knew because she was on a few. You wouldn’t be tolerated for long if you didn’t pull your weight.

Intrigued, Laia finished sending the email and resisted the urge to dive deeper into an investigation of Dax online.

She thought of the fact that he was dyslexic. The people she knew with dyslexia had had to overcome hurdles most people never had to face. They were incredibly high achievers and very successful. Ingenious.

Laia had to concede that maybe Dax had more substance to him than she’d initially given him credit for, but a man with a social life as busy as his—

A headline popped up on her web browser at that moment and she stopped and clicked on it.

Is Playboy Prince Dax finally settling down?

Below was an article speculating as to what he was up to, and with whom, because he hadn’t been seen on the social circuit in a few months.

The article was from a month or so ago, so it had nothing to do with his current disappearance.

Laia breathed a sigh of relief and absorbed the fact that perhaps Dax didn’t seem too put out by his current situation because he’d already been taking time out? For what? Was there someone special? Hardly, if he wasn’t asking her to let anyone else know he was okay.

For a moment Laia wondered what it would be like to have someone like Dax care enough about you to let you know he was okay. To care enough about him to be worried about him.

She felt a swooping sensation in her lower belly and quickly shut her laptop.

Maybe she would follow Dax’s lead and go to the gym...try to work off some of the restless energy she was feeling. She told herself it wasn’t because she was more acutely aware than ever that she had one of the world’s most notorious playboys on her private island and completely at her behest.

The words that he’d said to her on that first day came back in her head. ‘Now you have me here, what are you going to do with me?’

Laia let out a sound of frustration and left her room—but not until she’d made sure it was locked again.

Late that afternoon, Dax was flicking through the apps on the TV in the media room when he heard a sound and looked up to see Laia in the doorway. He went very still.

Every inch of her athletic physique was lovingly outlined by the clinging Lycra of her leggings and the tank top she wore. Her hair was pulled back and up into a ponytail. Her face was clean of make-up. A little shiny from exertion.

Dax’s entire body pulsed with awareness and something much more basic—lust.

He realised she was holding something. A mobile phone. She came into the room and said, ‘I have your assistant John on the phone. He wants to verify that it is you who is sending the instructions via email.’

Dax stood up. He held out his hand for the phone. But she shook her head.

She said, ‘I have it on mute at the moment. I’ll put him on speaker.’

Dax almost smiled. It would be nothing for him to take the phone from Laia, but he had to admit that he felt disinclined to do it. He told himself that it was because he knew gaining her trust would be far more effective.

‘Okay.’ He folded his arms.

Laia unmuted the phone and pressed the speaker button. She said, ‘Okay, John, go ahead.’

‘Dax, are you there?’

Dax didn’t take his gaze off Laia’s. ‘I’m here. Did you get the email?’

‘Yeah... I just wanted to make sure it really was you. What’s going on Dax? Is everything okay?’

Laia’s finger hovered over the disconnect button.

Dax said, ‘Everything is fine. If I need anything else I’ll contact you. I’m on a holiday and I don’t want to be disturbed unless it’s urgent, okay? If my brother calls looking for me, tell him I’m still working on his project.’

His assistant sounded bemused. ‘Okay... Dax, do you know how long you’ll be on this holiday?’

Laia took the phone off speaker and turned around, saying into it, ‘Sorry, John, Dax has just stepped out. He’ll be away for at least ten days, okay? Thank you.’

She terminated the call.

But Dax had barely even heard what she’d said because his gaze was glued to her behind. High and firm. More lush than he would have imagined. Sexy. He had a sense that she wasn’t even aware of that. There was an innocence about her that made him wonder fleetingly if she might still be a virgin. There’d certainly never been any hint of a relationship or even an affair in the press, in spite of her socialising.

Or not socialising.

His suspicions about that rang even louder now.

She turned around and he lifted his gaze. Her face was pink. He unsettled her. He couldn’t deny a deep sense of satisfaction that he had such an effect on her. That he could ruffle that serene surface.

And nothing will ever come of it.

A lead weight settled in his belly.

Oblivious to his inner turmoil, Laia said, ‘Thank you for that. I know you could have easily disabled me and let him know everything.’

Dax felt prickly, and it was directed at himself for being weak.

‘I’ve never laid a hand on a woman in my life unless it was to bring pleasure. I’m not going to start now. And anyway, even if I had let him know where we were and he’d sent the cavalry, how am I meant to take you back? By force? You’ve made it clear that’s not happening. I’ll just have to wait for you to come to your senses.’