She held out her hand, her eyes wet with unshed tears. ‘Hold me.’

He was out of his chair in a flash, she was in his arms a second later and a second after that, he kissed her gently, in apology and gratitude.

In joy.

But much later that night, after they’d made love, after Kate had fallen asleep, gratified and content, Dominic lay awake – restless, something tight and urgent nudging the back of his brain, stealing his sleep.

He finally left the bed, walked next door to his study and stood at the window, silhouetted against the glow of the city, his powerfully built gladiator’s body, tense, coiled for battle. The full moon was like a tangerine-coloured mirror in the sky, the brightly lit city laid out at his feet, the silence so complete that the vague premonition that had been hovering at the back of his mind like some prophetic bird of prey broke cover.

Bleak and black and terrifying.

He wasn’t surprised. Or not very surprised. Perhaps he’d always known the question lay ahead.

Could he share his life?

Had he ever?

Even with Julia, he’d never let her into all the hidden rooms, the dark corners of his soul. Her death had come too soon; he’d never quite reached that deluded point before he’d been plunged back into the vast, anonymous world.

A world that wasn’t tepid or grey or equivocal. It was black or white, yes or no, win or lose. It was the only world he’d ever known.

And now he faced a different future – perhaps even children and real Christmases and acceptable emotions – nothing too raw or barbed or insulting. This brave new world had arrived after seven days, or eight depending how he counted the virginal hours and dislocating shock waves.

And now he found himself close to panic, feeling as though he had a target on his back and someone was about to pull the trigger.

He took a deep breath, exhaled, took another.

Then he abruptly turned from the window, quietly walked back into the bedroom, picked up his cell phone from the bedside table, entered his dressing room and threw on some clothes.

Dominic wasn’t in the bedroom when Kate woke in the morning. She was relieved. She had a letter to write and needed privacy. Sitting down at a small writing table set in front of one of the windows, she pulled out a sheet of monogrammed paper from a red leather tray, picked up an expensive pen from a red leather canister and began to pour out her heart to a man who might not even have a heart. Or if he did it was numbed by cold indifference. Or perhaps placed with loving care in his wife’s coffin. And what was left behind was an unblinking enigma of a man, ruthless, without borderlines, slippery as mist, beautiful, passionate, remote. And totally and irredeemably loveable.

It took her some time to decide on a salutation. Personal? Impersonal? Oozing her life’s blood? She finally settled on something short and sweet and true.

Dear Dominic,

First, I want you to know that I love you. Right or wrong, deep down I do.

But I can’t stay.

If I did, you’d take over my life – even if you didn’t mean to. Or more likely, because you did mean to. I can’t lose myself completely – my will, my wits, my reason – because of you. Because of how you make me feel.

It’s wonderful, beautiful, a hot-house fantasy come to life.

But in the end, it’s madness. An exhausting, fighting back all the time over every trivial thing. I’d die a little each day if I stayed. I wouldn’t be the woman you want. And ultimately, you’d leave me anyway because that’s what you do. How’s that for cowardly? Knowing you, you’d stay and fight. I wish I were that brave. We both knew it was complicated. But you don’t give away anything; you’re mysterious and unattainable and selfishly, I want more.

So, much as I adore you, I’m not the one to melt your frozen heart.

She just signed her name because she’d already handed over her heart on the page. Sliding the letter into a monogrammed envelope, she sealed it, put it into her messenger bag and went downstairs to find Dominic. She’d wait to give it to him. She wanted a last breakfast with him … so she could fill her memory bank against her melancholy future. She didn’t kid herself that leaving him wouldn’t break her heart.

Leo met her in the entrance to the breakfast room. ‘Good morning, Miss Hart.’

‘I’m looking for Dominic.’ She scanned the set table. ‘He hasn’t been down for breakfast? Is he in his office?’ The awkward pause should have been a clue, but she was so intent on her own revelation that she didn’t immediately take notice.

‘Dominic left Hong Kong early this morning, Miss Hart. He said you were welcome to stay here as long as you wish.’

She suddenly felt faint, her ribcage was pressing all the air out of her lungs. ‘Is he coming … back?’

‘He didn’t say, Miss. Please’ – Leo quickly pulled up a chair – ‘sit for a moment.’

She sat, took a deep breath, looked up. Leo’s face was expressionless, his gaze studiously blank, the perfect emissary. ‘When did Dominic leave?’ She wished she hadn’t sounded so plaintive.

‘Shortly after three. He left a plane at your disposal when and if you chose to go back to the States. May I get you something to drink?’ She was ashen. ‘Or some breakfast?’

‘Thank you, no. I’ll just sit for a moment.’

He tactfully withdrew.

It all made sense now, Kate sadly thought. Dominic had been incredibly tender last night, gentle, considerate, obliging her in all things, offering her pleasure in such full measure she felt as though she was lit from within, glowing with lust and love. He’d never once said, ‘No’, or ‘Wait’, or ‘Not just yet’. He’d given her everything she wanted, needed. Until she’d finally panted, ‘No, no more … I can’t.’