‘Is that what you’re doing?’ Maybe that’s what she’d wanted all along; the decision taken out of her hands.

He ran his hand through his thick hair. ‘More or less. I figure if you can’t make up your mind, I’ll do it for you.’ A flashing grin. ‘Decision-making is one of my major skill-sets. Now do you want help or not?’

Not, she decided, considering the time and her inability to resist him.

But she liked the quiet domesticity, the sense of togetherness; she liked watching him. He was businesslike in his dressing like he was with everything else, his movements swift and sure, his ability to transform himself from casual jeans into the full trappings of CEO power in a few short minutes, impressive.

Turning to her, he raised his brows. She was still in her jeans and sweater, although she was barefoot now. ‘We’re going to have to get you a maid. I won’t always be around to dress you. What the hell have you been doing?’

‘Watching you.’

‘You’ve seen it all before, haven’t you?’ he said with male practicality that overlooked total infatuation and desperate longing.

‘I just like being with you.’

‘OK, that I understand. Try and get away, babe.’ He smiled. ‘And that’s a total threat. I’m keeping you within touching distance. Now and always.’ He held out his hand. ‘Give me that suit. I’ll help you.’

Before the meeting began, Dominic escorted Kate to a red leather sofa near the window, opened up his laptop, keyed in his password, brought up his email and said, ‘Write down all my directions, everything you want, everything you want me to do. I’ll leave the provisions as my header so I’ll see them every time I check my email.’ He smiled. ‘Someone like me. I’m going to have to be reminded. I haven’t had rules for a long time. Not that I’m complaining,’ he quickly said as she opened her mouth to speak. ‘Really, it’s no worries. I’m in a hundred percent.’

When the other executives arrived shortly after, he introduced Kate as an ace forensic accountant, explained that she’d been instrumental in recovering twenty million that had been stolen from him, that she was sitting in as an observer today.

She watched him as he proceeded to expound on the merits of his business investment in a company that would be mining rare earths in Greenland. He detailed the progress of their sample drill sites, qualified the state of the market for rare earths with definitive historical and projected trend line charts, explained that the investment would likely generate enormous profits for those buying in at the beginning.

He dominated the room. He was larger, younger, stronger, more handsome – but then he was all that with most everyone. In a group like the one around the table, she couldn’t say he was more expensively dressed, but he was certainly more beautifully dressed, his dark, double-breasted, Savile Row suit tailored to perfection. He was lounging back in his chair, assured, commanding, one hand resting on the table, his strong wrist and vintage Cartier aviator watch visible below his crisp white shirt cuff.

She quickly looked away because all she could think about was how much she wanted him.

When he finished his presentation, he opened the discussion to questions, his answers succinct and technologically astute. He was civil to the witless, courteous to the venal and was in the process of offering everyone a tour of the drill sites when Kate gasped.

He and everyone else looked at her.

‘Excuse me,’ she murmured, and dropping her gaze, refocused on the picture on her laptop screen, her sudden paleness matching the ivory wool of her suit.

But Dominic had seen the tears in her eyes when she’d looked up. Quickly shoving his hand into his pocket, he pulled out his cell phone, glanced at the display. ‘Sorry, gentlemen, I have to take this call.’ He nodded at Max. ‘Max will reschedule the meeting.’ He scanned the men at the table, smiled tightly. ‘It’s the Pentagon, gentlemen. I can’t keep them waiting.’

The moment the door closed on eight irate billionaires, Dominic dropped his phone, surged to his feet, closed the distance between himself and Kate and spun the laptop around.

‘Fuck.’ He dragged in air through his teeth, exhaled in a great rasp, kept his voice deliberately mild when he spoke. ‘It has nothing to do with you, with us. Nothing at all.’

‘I wish I hadn’t looked,’ she whispered. An email alert had come through while she was composing her idiotic list of demands and a window had popped up.

And there it suddenly was: another glossy beauty like the Principessa, spreadeagled on the red lacquer bed in the bedroom of the Garden House – nude, blindfolded, intricately tied in some bizarre rope pattern, clearly aroused; two other splendidly naked women were stroking her body, one with a feather fan, the other with the trailing ends of a silk braided whip. The email read: Thought you might like to see the Christmas pictures.

‘Pictures’ plural – several more had been taken in what Kate recognized – by the floor – as Dominic’s tai chi studio. Clearly the room had other uses; various apparatuses were featured in the photos. All with women bound to them.

‘I hadn’t met you then. I’m sorry you saw those.’ He slowly exhaled. ‘That’s over now. I mean it. It was a distraction, nothing more – utterly meaningless.’ He wanted to grab her, crush her to him, tell her he was wrong then and she was now. But he knew better. He stopped himself by clenching his fingers so hard, his nails drew blood. ‘I’ll change my email address so they can’t reach me. Break off any contact. Jesus, don’t cry. Please.’