Fiona McArthur - Dreaming Of... Bali

Her bare skin tingling at the contact of his rough fingers, Riya followed, past the nonplussed staff, who had gathered in the huge dining hall, and her pale mother, through the door and out into the lush acreage behind the house.

A cold breeze blew her hair in her face, and with a soft huff, Riya pulled it all to the side. The night was inky black, only the moon and carefully placed lights on the ground illuminating the path for them.

But instead of dulling his presence, the dark intensified her awareness of him. The graceful line of his shoulders, the taper of his lean chest to his waist and the corded energy of his thighs when she stumbled and he steadied her.

Her own senses revolted against her mind, determined to observe and absorb every little thing about him. They’d reached the well-lit-up gazebo in the south corner of the estate when Riya realized his long fingers were still wrapped around her wrist.

Dragging her feet on the grass, she tugged her hand away.

The splish-splash of water from another fountain, the relentless whisper of the cicadas, a hundred different fragrances carried around by the breeze greeted her. The very place she had always found blissfully peaceful was now ruined by the man playing a cat-and-mouse game with her livelihood. And something much worse.

Grasping the fear that was the only way to puncture her awareness of him, she lashed out. “You couldn’t have given me an evening to brace myself? Let me figure out how and what I’m going to tell my mother, to figure out my future?”

“You left without a word to anyone. Is this how you run the company?”

“The very company that you threatened to tear into pieces?” she threw at him. “You asked me to get out. Very clearly.”

“You were blackmailing me.”

She bristled at the outrage in his voice. “I was doing no such thing.” And because she couldn’t bear to simply stop thinking of it as her company, she continued. “Even if your plan is to dismantle the company and sell it for bits, you’ll need a skeleton staff to see through the memberships for the rest of the year. I recommend you keep Sam Hawkins on. He’s been there from the beginning and Martha Gomez too. She needs this job and she’ll be invaluable to—”

All of her panic ground to a halt as his long-limbed stride ate the distance between them.

“I don’t remember firing you. Are you resigning, then?”

Riya reached behind her and grasped the wooden column. But there was nowhere to go and he was standing too close.

The lights from around the gazebo cast him in shadows.

Close enough to realize how many different shades of blue his eyes could turn depending on the light. Close enough for her to see the shape of his mouth, which had a hint of gaiety to it. Close enough for her to breathe and learn the scent of him and realize why he affected her so much.

She had never before experienced the weird pull in her stomach, the feverish tremble that gripped her, the constant fascination with every aspect of him.

Fisting her hands by her sides, she clamped down the shaky realization.

His gaze rested on her mouth for a nanosecond. Only an infinitesimal fragment of time, but her lips tingled. “I didn’t quit. But have you left me a choice?”

As if the tension became too much even for him, he moved to her side and leaned against the structure. “The staff’s murderous glares after you left would have turned me into dust if I hadn’t told them you were just having a tantrum.”

Her breath left her in a huge whoosh, the sound amplified in the silence. “Building up their hopes that everything’s okay is just cruel. Does nothing get to you?”

“No.”

His response wasn’t threatening or emotional. Scarily, it was honest.

His watch glinted in the light as he folded his hands. “I’ll give you and your staff one chance. Prove that Travelogue and you are worth taking on as part of RunAway International.”

Catching the immediate thanks that rose to her lips, she turned toward him. Her heart thumped hard in her chest. Whether it was because of how close he was standing or because he was giving her a chance, she had no idea.

Ruthlessly killing her own hopes, she shook her head. “I don’t want to work for you.”

“Why not?”

“What do you mean why not ?” She moved away, exasperated by him and her reaction to him. “Because you and I have a history, that’s why. And not a good one. Whatever you think of me, I lied because...”

He gave her such an arch look that she backpedaled quickly. “Fine. I manipulated Maria and you with good intentions. Whereas you...you are doing this out of some twisted need for revenge . That’s it. You want to torture me, guilt me and then—”

He grinned, and his blue eyes glittered. Her knees wobbled. “Have you always been this prone to drama or is it me that brings it out in you?”

How she wanted to say he affected her in no way, but they would both know she was lying. Better instead to focus on fighting it. “Why the sudden change of heart, then?”

“A strong sense of familial duty? A core made of kindness?”

Rolling her eyes, she swatted him. Deftly, he caught her hand in his.

Her breath stuck in her throat. Her fingers moved over his in the dark, registering the different texture of his palm—rough and abrasive, devoid of any softness, so different from her own.

It was his absolute stillness next to her, just as powerful as that latent energy, that made her realize what she was doing.

She jerked her hand away, the air she had been holding rushing out of her.

What the hell was she doing, pawing him like that? He was her employer, her enemy...

No man had been so dangerous to her internal balance as him. No man had ever spun her senses so easily.

Rubbing shaking fingers over her face, she struggled to think back to their conversation. “You’re agreeing to see Robert, then?”

“If you give me a date now as to when you will sign the deed over to me.”

“Stay here in San Francisco until their wedding. See Robert, let him speak to you. And I’ll sign over the estate the day after the wedding. Also, none of my staff will be made redundant. When this is all over, I want you to go away and leave Travelogue alone. Forever.”

“That depends on if Travelogue stays intact that long.”

“If you give us a fair chance, I have no doubt it will.”

His eyes gleamed ferociously. “You’ve got a lot of nerve, setting conditions to sell my mother’s house back to me.”

“You’re a billionaire, you’re your own boss and as far as I understand, you have no one in your life that you’re answerable to. What’s two months in the big picture of your life, Nathan?”

“Everything, Riya.” There was no humor in his smile now, only a dark warning. “This is your last chance to let it go.”

She didn’t take even a beat to think it over. “No. Robert...he...I’ll do anything for him.”

His curious silence swathed her and Riya felt like the rabbit in the story her father had told her when she was little. The rabbit had gone into the lion’s den, determined to change his mind about eating one animal every day.

At that point, she had stuck her fingers in her ears and begged him not to continue. A few days after that, she and Jackie had left. Her father had never seen her again, never called her, never sent a birthday card.

For years, she had wondered if he thought of her, hoped he would write to her, call Jackie to ask about her.

Only utter and absolute silence had greeted her hopes.

Now...now she didn’t even remember his face clearly. On the road with Jackie, hearing her crying at night, not knowing where they would go next—it had been the most uncertain time of her life. Until Jackie had met Robert and he had taken them to his estate, Riya had thought she would never know a stable home again.