‘Why do you need a fake fiancée? And why me?’ Rebel asked, stunned.

Draco shook his head. ‘The “why” will be explained after you accept my proposal. The “why you” is because you happen to be in my debt—literally.’

Rebel jerked away from him. ‘Not even a million pounds and a dozen acting awards could make me pull off pretending to like you.’

His grey eyes gleamed. ‘I’m not a man you want to cross, so I suggest you give serious thought to giving me what I want.’

‘In what universe would anyone believe we were engaged to be married?’

He lowered his head and her breath lodged in her lungs. The mouth that was tantalisingly close drifted past. His breath warmed her jaw, then the sensitive skin beneath her earlobe.

‘You don’t think we have chemistry?’

‘N-no,’ she forced out.

‘Then why is your pulse jumping? Why does your breath catch every time I touch you?’ he said huskily in her ear. ‘Do you want me to kiss you?’

MAYA BLAKE’s hopes of becoming a writer were born when she picked up her first romance at thirteen. Little did she know her dream would come true! Does she still pinch herself every now and then to make sure it’s not a dream? Yes, she does! Feel free to pinch her, too, via Twitter, Facebook or Goodreads! Happy reading!

A Diamond Deal

with the Greek

Maya Blake

www.millsandboon.co.uk

To Carly, my editor, for being the instrument that gives my words true meaning. Thank you!

Contents

Cover

Introduction

About the Author

Title Page

Dedication

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Extract

Copyright

CHAPTER ONE

ARABELLA ‘REBEL’ DANIELS stood at the back of one of the many lifts that served the giant glass and steel masterpiece that was the Angel Building, and waited for the group of four to board. Swallowing down the lingering taste of the second double-shot macchiato she’d given in to this morning, she took a deep breath to calm herself. Although she’d needed the boost very badly at the time, the effect on her nerves now prompted a bout of regret.

Caffeine and panic did not mix well, and, after two long weeks of subsisting on both, she was more than ready to ditch them.

Her heart pounded with trepidation, but, thankfully, she couldn’t hear it above the loud music playing in her ears.

Grappling with what would greet her once the lift journey ended was consuming enough, although there was also the real and present albatross of having lost her biggest sponsor three weeks ago and the resulting media frenzy, to deal with. Of course, far from the wild speculation that she was using booze and drugs to cope with her problems, the media would’ve been shocked and sorely disappointed to know the strongest substance she’d touched was coffee.

She stared unseeing before her, the words of the letter that had been burning a hole in her bag for the last two weeks emblazoned in her mind.

Arabella,

First of all, happy twenty-fifth birthday for Wednesday. If you’re surprised at this out-of-the-blue communication, don’t be. You’re still my daughter and I have a duty of care to you. There’s no judgement on my part for the way you’ve chosen to live your life. Nor are there any strings attached to the enclosed funds. You need it, so put pride aside and use it. It’s what your mother would’ve wanted.

Your father.

Steeling her heart against the lance of hurt at the stark words, Rebel shifted her mind to the banker’s receipt that had accompanied the letter.

The five hundred thousand pounds deposited into her bank account was a little less than what her sponsors would’ve donated had she still been on their books, but it was enough to get her to the Verbier Ski Championships.

This time she couldn’t stop her insides from twisting with guilt and a touch of shame.

She should’ve tried harder to return the money.

Too much had been said between her father and her that couldn’t be unsaid. Even after all these years, the pain and guilt were too vivid to be dismissed. And nothing in her father’s letter had given her cause to think his views weren’t as definitive as they’d been the last time she’d seen him.

He still laid the death of his wife, her mother, firmly at Rebel’s feet.

Suppressing her pain, she tried to ignore the pointed looks from the lift’s occupants. At any other time she would’ve turned the music down, but today was different. Today, she would be seeing her father again for the first time in five years. She needed a full suit of armour in place but the music was all she had.

When another suited businessman sent her a scathing look, she mustered a smile. His eyes widened a touch, his ire rapidly morphing to something else. Rebel looked away before her attempt to excuse her music’s loudness turned into anything else. Keeping her eyes on the digital counter, she exhaled as the lift reached the fortieth floor. According to what she’d been able to glean from their very brief, very stilted conversations over the last week, her accountant father worked for Angel International Group as their CFO. He hadn’t volunteered any more information when she’d asked. In fact, any further attempt to pave a reconnecting road with her father had been firmly blocked. Just as he’d firmly blocked her initial attempts to give back the money he’d given her.

The deeply wounding knowledge that her father was only doing his duty to the wife he’d loved and lost so cruelly should’ve driven Rebel’s actions, not her manager’s insistence that the money was the answer to all their prayers.

But it was her father’s insistence that the money was hers no matter what that had led her to finally confessing the money’s existence to Contessa Stanley. Her manager had had no qualms about Rebel using the funds. Especially since Rebel had recently lost yet another big sponsor due to the continued domino effect created by the sensational reports splashed all over the media. Even her retreat from the spotlight had been looked upon negatively, with wild speculation as to whether she was finally in rehab or nursing a broken heart.

With her chances of finding new sponsorship dwindling by the day, and the championship deadlines racing ever closer, Rebel had finally given in to Contessa’s arguments.

Which left her not just in a state of confusion about why her father was now avoiding her after reaching out, at last, with his letter, but also having serious qualms about using money she hadn’t wanted to touch in the first place.

‘Excuse me?’

Rebel started as the man closest to her touched her arm. Plucking out one earbud, she raised an eyebrow. ‘Yes?’

‘Did you not want this floor?’ he enquired, interest flaring in his eyes as he held the lift doors open and avidly conducted a study of her body.

Groaning inwardly, Rebel wished she hadn’t let impulse drive her here until after she’d gone back home to change from her yoga pants and vest top after her morning training session. Muttering her thanks, she slid through the throng.

Hitching her yoga mat and gym bag firmly onto her shoulder, she turned the music volume down as she stepped out of the lift. Plush grey carpet, broken only by a set of massive glass doors, stretched as far as the eye could see, with complementing grey walls interspersed with wild bursts of colour in the form of huge flower arrangements. On the walls along a wide hallway, high-definition images of some of the world’s most gifted athletes played on recessed screens.

The whole placed smelled and looked hallowed and expensive.

Rebel frowned, wondering whether she’d walked into the wrong place.

For as long as she’d been aware her father had worked as an accountant for a stationery company, not a slick outfit whose employees flitted past in expensive suits and wore futuristic-looking earpieces. Unable to accept that the father who’d vociferously voiced his hatred of her chosen sporting career would have anything to do with a place like this, Rebel moved towards the set of glass doors and pushed.

Nothing happened. Pushing firmer, she huffed when the door refused to budge.

‘Uh, you need one of these to enter,’ a voice said from behind her. ‘Or a visitor’s pass and an escort from downstairs.’

Turning, Rebel saw the man from the lift. His smile stretched wider as he waved a matte black card. The unwillingness to prolong the stomach-churning meeting with her father dragged another smile from her reluctant cheeks. ‘Damn, I guess I was a little too impatient to get up here. I’m here to see Nathan Daniels. You couldn’t help me out and let me in, could you? I’m Rebel, his daughter. We had an appointment and I’m running late...’

She stopped babbling and gritted her teeth as he took his time looking her up and down again. Fingering the sleeves of the sweater tied around her waist, Rebel waited for his gaze to meet hers again. ‘Of course. Anything for Nate’s daughter. Awesome name, by the way.’

Pinning the smile on her face, she waited for him to pass the card over the reader and murmured, ‘Thank you,’ as he held the door open for her.

‘My pleasure. I’m Stan. Come with me, I’ll show you to Nate’s office. I haven’t seen him today...’ he frowned ‘...or this week, come to think of it. But I’m sure he’s around somewhere.’

Rebel couldn’t stop her heart from sinking further at Stan’s news. Although now she was here, she realised she’d only assumed her father would be at work today. The hurt she’d tried for so long to keep at bay threatened to overtake the small amount of optimism she’d secretly harboured these past two weeks.

Pushing it back, she followed Stan along a series of hallways until they reached the first of two brushed-metal doors in a long, quieter corridor. ‘Here we are.’

Stan knocked and entered. The outer office was empty, as was the inner office once Rebel followed him in. Frown deepening, he turned to her. ‘Looks like he’s not here, and neither is his PA...’

Sensing what was coming, she pre-empted him. ‘I’m happy to wait. I’m sure he won’t be long. If he’s not back soon, I’ll give him a call.’

Stan looked uncertain for a moment, then he nodded. ‘Sure.’ He held out his hand. ‘I’d love to take you out for a drink some time, Rebel.’

Rebel barely stopped herself from grimacing. ‘Thanks, but I can’t. My social calendar is booked up for the foreseeable future.’ She had no intention of dating anyone any time soon, either casually or otherwise. At this time of year, she had her hands full dealing with her harrowing guilt and grief.

The press liked to speculate why Rebel Daniels loved to party hard in the weeks leading up to Valentine’s Day. She’d deliberately tried to keep that façade of wild child in place. The last thing she wanted was for anyone to dig beneath the surface, find out the truth about what had happened in Chamonix eight years ago. Besides protecting her beloved mother’s memory, the guilt she had to live with was monumental enough without having it exposed to prying eyes.

Now that her dreaded birthday was out of the way, her sole focus was the upcoming championship.

Smiling to take the sting out of the refusal, she breathed a sigh of relief when Stan gave a regretful shrug and left.

Rebel slowly turned and stared around the glass-walled office that belonged to her father. Exhaling, she allowed herself to scrutinise the expensive polished-leather chair and mahogany desk, upon which items had been laid out in the meticulous way her father employed. Insides shaking, she approached his desk, her eyes on the single personal item that stood to the right side of it.

The picture, set in a childish pink and green frame, was exactly as she remembered it when she’d given it to her father on his birthday twelve years ago. At thirteen years old, laughing as she rode a tandem bike with her mother in the picture, Rebel had had no idea her family was about to be ripped apart a few short years later. Or that the decimating of her family would be her fault.

She’d had no cares in the world, secure in the love from a father who’d adored his wife and daughter, and a mother who had encouraged Rebel to pursue her dreams, regardless of any obstacles that stood in her way.

It was that relentless pursuit of her dream that had shattered her family. She knew that. And yet, she’d never been able to walk away from her dreams of pursuing a ski-jump championship. Deep in her heart, Rebel knew walking away would be betraying her vivacious and hugely talented mother, who’d never been quite able to achieve a championship win of her own.

Her heart ached as she passed her hand over the picture. Her father had never understood her need to keep chasing her dream. He’d been harsh and critical to the point where they hadn’t been able to stay under the same roof without endless vicious rows. But even then, Rebel had never imagined walking away would mean losing her father for this long. She’d never thought his condemnation and lack of forgiveness would be set in stone.

She dropped her hand. She was here now. She was about to undertake the most important challenge of her career. Before that happened, she needed to know whether there was a way to reconcile with her father.

Forcing the nerves down, she looked around, seeking clues as to his whereabouts. His computer was turned off, but his desk calendar was still set at a date two weeks ago. Unease spiked as she recalled Stan’s words. Deciding not to read too much into it, she walked to the far side of the vast office, and set her yoga mat and gym bag down. Another half an hour of pacing, and her nerves were screaming that something wasn’t quite right. After leaving yet another message on her father’s voicemail stating that she wasn’t leaving his office until he called her back, she put her phone on the coffee table along with her sweater, and rolled out the yoga mat.

The situation with her father, a bandaged but far from healed wound, had been ripped open by his letter, bringing fresh anguish. That anguish was affecting her concentration, something she could ill afford. Greg, her trainer, had commented on the fact today, hence the addition of yoga to her exercise regime.

She’d made it through the trials to secure herself a position on the championship-seeking team. She couldn’t afford to take her eye off the ball now, no matter how unresolved her issues were with her father.

Dropping onto the mat, she plugged her earphones back in, stretched and closed her eyes. Legs crossed in front of her, she took several breaths to centre herself, then began to move through her positions.

The first few tingles she attributed to her body dropping into a state of relaxation. One she welcomed after the turmoil of the past few weeks. But when they persisted, growing with each breath, Rebel rolled her shoulders, mildly irritated and more than a little anxious that she would truly find no avenue of relief until she spoke to her father.

Then the scent hit her nostrils: dark, hypnotic, with traces of citrus and more than a hint of savagery. At first she believed she was dreaming its complexity. But with each breath, the scent wrapped tighter around her senses, pulling her into a vortex of sensation that increased the tingling along her spine.

Slowly lowering herself from downward dog, she lay flat on her stomach and extended her left leg behind her, hoping the taut muscle stretch would dissipate the strange feeling zinging through her body. She repeated the exercise with her right leg, welcoming the burn.

But the distraction wasn’t sufficient. Her concentration slipped further.

Gritting her teeth, she sat up and stretched her legs wide, perpendicular to her body. She aligned her torso to one leg, then the other, then leaned forward on her elbows and slowly raised her pelvis off the floor.

The curse was thick and sharp enough to pierce the cocoon of her music.

Rebel’s eyes flew open.

Sensation hit her like a charging bull. The air knocked clean from her lungs, Rebel gaped at the imposing man who sat with one leg hitched over the other and his arms crossed over a wide, firm chest.

Steely grey eyes pinned her in position. Not that she would’ve been able to move had her life depended on it. Frozen on the floor, she could only stare as the most arresting man she’d ever seen uncoiled himself from his sitting position and stood to a towering, dominating height. His navy three-piece suit was sharp and stylish, and drew attention to broad shoulders, a trim waist and strong thighs, but even without those visual aids, his sheer beauty was potent enough to command her attention.

Her muscles strained, lactic acid building in a body that screamed for relief, but Rebel couldn’t heed it.

The man advanced, bringing the scent that had so thoroughly shattered her concentration even closer until it fully encompassed her. There was a vague familiarity about him, like a stranger she’d caught a glimpse of a lifetime ago. But the sensation passed as he drew closer.

Her chest tightened, her lungs struggling to work as he crouched down in front of her and jerked the earbuds from her ears. Flinging the wires to the floor, he leaned forward until every inch of her vision was crowded with him.

‘You have exactly three seconds to tell me who the hell you are, and why I shouldn’t call Security and have you thrown in jail for lewd conduct and trespassing.’

CHAPTER TWO

DRACO ANGELIS WASN’T a man overly prone to emotion or volatile impulses. And yet as he stared at the woman before him he wanted to curse again. Loudly and far more filthily than he had in a long time.

He told himself it was because the floor show she’d been giving his male employees for the last fifteen minutes was losing him money with each second her sinuous body undulated. More than that, she was drawing attention to a matter he wanted to keep under wraps by performing said floor show in Nathan Daniels’ office. In a business often accused of being shady and underhanded, Draco had striven to keep Angel International above reproach. He’d succeeded beyond his wildest dreams by keeping all his dealings professional, above board and strictly private. None of his clients were permitted to publicise details of their relationship with his company save for a carefully prepared press release at the time of signing.

Draco kept that same stranglehold on his personal life.

But with the sudden disappearance of Nathan Daniels and the suspected reason behind it, Draco knew it was only a matter of time before the whispers grew to wild speculation and brought unwanted attention to both facets of his life.

And this...siren performing moves fit for a certain type of gentlemen’s club right here on his CFO’s office floor was the last thing he needed.

As to the pull he’d experienced in his body and especially in his groin as he’d watched her... Well, he could deal with the reminder that he was a full-blooded male.

What he wasn’t prepared to deal with was her interrupting his—

‘Lewd conduct?’ A sultry laugh detonated his thoughts, slamming him back to the room and the sensual vision still frozen in position before him. ‘I think that’s a bit of a stretch, don’t you?’

A thick bead of sweat trickled down her earlobe and over her jaw. He tracked it, unable to drag his gaze away as it rolled over her heated skin to disappear between small but lush breasts. He ruthlessly suppressed the growl that rose in his chest and clenched his jaw.

‘You think it’s a stretch to perform lasciviously in front of a window to the clear view of everyone in my company?’

Her back bowed as she flexed her hips, a smile curving her full lips. ‘I wasn’t aware what I was doing was so distracting. Do you mind stepping back?’

‘Excuse me?’ Irritated surprise held him rigid.

‘I’m almost done. If I stop now, I’ll have to start all over again. Sorry, I’m a little OCD like that. I need room for the last two positions, so if you don’t mind...?’

Draco was sure it was pure shock that propelled him to his feet, not the secret need to see her complete her set. All the same, he stepped back, his jaw clenched harder as he folded his arms and stared down at the lithe body sprawled at his feet.

She balanced on her elbows, her torso straightened. Slim muscled legs slowly lifted off the floor, maintaining the perpendicular position for several seconds, before meeting in the middle in a sleek upside-down formation. Draco watched her stomach muscles delicately vibrate as she centred herself, her skin bathed in a sheen of sweat as her toned body achieved the perfect line.

As a former athlete himself, Draco appreciated the discipline it took to hone one’s body into the ultimate competitive instrument. And while part of him approved of the level of skill being displayed before him, the greater part was eyeing the delicate, muscled perfection of her body.

And detesting himself for it.

Whoever this woman was, she had no right to be here.

About to step forward and end this nonsense, he halted mid-step as she dropped one leg to the floor behind her. The sexy agility in her body arrested him, drying out every flaying word he’d meant to deliver as he stared.

Thee mou.

Anyone would think he hadn’t seen a female body before. He’d dated sportswomen at the peak of their careers and slept with more than his share of them. And yet something about this woman drew him as no other had done in a very long time.

That thought sent another bolt of anger through him. Rousing himself, he stepped forward, just as she lowered her other leg and straightened.

She wasn’t very tall, only coming up to his chest. But her deep blue eyes sparked with a fire and attitude that made her appear six feet tall. Her chin, pointed and determined, and her mouth, still curved in that sultry, albeit slightly wary smile, made him think thoughts that had no room in this space.

‘Now, where were we?’ she asked, her voice reminding him of smoky rooms in gentlemen’s clubs.

Draco dragged his mind from images of unwanted decadence to a far more appropriate ire. ‘We were addressing your unsolicited presence in my building.’

‘Ah, yes, you wanted to know who I was?’

‘I see you’ve skilfully avoided my trespass charge.’

‘That’s because I’m not trespassing. I have a right to be here.’

‘I seriously doubt that. Sanctioning half-naked women to perform acrobatics for my employees as part of their busy workday isn’t part of my business model.’

‘We’re talking about my supposed floor show, right?’

She glanced behind her. Catching sight of the group of men staring avidly through the glass from a few offices away, she smiled and waved.

A glowering look from Draco sent his employees dispersing, although a brave buck, Stan Macallister, dared to wave back.

Deciding it was time to bring this farce to an end, Draco strode to the desk of his AWOL CFO and snatched up the phone.

‘This is Mr Angelis. Send Security up to Daniels’ office. I have an unwanted guest who needs to be removed from the premises. And inform my head of security that I want a report on my desk as to why this breach has happened before the day is out.’

He slammed down the phone with more force than was needed.

‘Wow, was that really necessary?’

He turned to find her standing in the same position before the window, her hand on her curvy hips and her head tilted to one side. The loose knot of her silky black hair fell lopsided as she stared at him with one eyebrow raised mockingly.

‘I have a client meeting in less than half an hour. I’d throw you out myself but I don’t have time to take a shower before then.’

Her expression slipped at the thinly veiled insult. Draco felt childish satisfaction at scoring a direct hit. Absurdly, he’d been off balance since he’d seen her from his office next door. His need for transparency in all things had transmitted to his office layout, and with the open-plan setting and see-through glass windows across the floor he could keep an eye on most of his employees. Although he liked to believe it was unnecessary where his employees were concerned as he’d earned their loyalty, he’d learned the hard way that loyalty came at a cost.

The alternative career he’d had to choose was a cutthroat one at best. He’d made a few hard bargains along the way to get him where he was.

What he hadn’t bargained for today was seeing a decadently curvy woman on display on his CFO’s floor. He’d stopped an important call mid-conversation, a move he’d never made before. Now he had an irate, egocentric client waiting for him to call back. And a snarky stranger openly mocking him.

‘I hope you don’t feel too silly when you find out who I am,’ she said in that voice that snagged his senses, made him strain to hear her every word.

‘I’m not interested in who you are. My security will furnish me with that information if I need it. What I am interested in is you being escorted off the premises—’

‘Okay, this is getting ridiculous. My name is Rebel Daniels, Nathan Daniels’ daughter. I’m here to have lunch with my father. I forgot to sign in downstairs so Stan let me in. My dad wasn’t here. I assumed he was in a meeting or something, so I thought I’d wait for him. The yoga thing was just to relieve a little bit of stress.’

Several questions stormed through Draco’s mind. Was his security so lax that someone could just forget to make themselves known downstairs and still make it up here? She was Daniels’ daughter? Why was she stressed?

‘Your parents named you Rebel?’ Mildly disconcerted at the least relevant question that had chosen to fall from his lips, he watched a smile twitch at the corners of her mouth.

‘Hardly, although my mother did wonder why she hadn’t thought of that when I started using it at fifteen.’

Draco waited, wondering at the shadow that crossed her face a moment later. When she continued to stare at him, he pursed his lips. ‘So your real name is?’

‘I thought you weren’t interested.’ She turned and bent over to pick up her yoga mat.

He forced his gaze from her delectable behind to her bare feet, then away from her altogether when he realised he was even growing fascinated with her peach-painted toenails. ‘I’m only interested in you if it helps me locate your father.’

Her head jerked up, the rolled mat held against her body as she frowned at him. ‘What do you mean locate him? Isn’t he here?’

‘Did you have any reason to think he would be?’ he countered.

‘Of course I did. Why else would I have come here?’

Draco spotted two burly men rushing towards the office. His head of security looked extremely nervous. As he should be. He held up his hand when they reached the door. ‘When did you last speak to your father?’

Her gaze darted from the men back to him, a tiny flash of nervousness darkening her eyes. ‘Why, what does it matter?’

‘Because I would very much like to speak to him too.’

Her eyes widened, again a minuscule motion that he otherwise would’ve missed had he not been watching her closely. ‘So he’s not here?’ she pressed.

‘I think we’ve established that, Miss Daniels. Now are you going to answer me, or shall I hand you over to them?’ He jerked his head at the security men.

She frowned. ‘What exactly is going on here? If my father’s not here and you want me to leave, I will. There’s no need to throw your weight about. And I certainly don’t need to be escorted out.’

‘But you were in here on your own for over fifteen minutes. Who knows what information you’ve made yourself privy to?’

‘Are you accusing me of stealing something?’ she snapped.

‘Did you?’

‘Of course not!’

‘I’ll leave them to be the judge of that. I’m sure you’ll be released in a few hours once the security footage has been analysed, your belongings searched, and your alleged innocence confirmed.’ Draco motioned for his men to enter.

His head of security entered, followed by his assistant. Draco ignored their contrite expressions. ‘Take Miss Daniels’ bag—’

‘You can’t be serious!’

‘And the yoga mat. Make sure she’s not in possession of anything that doesn’t belong to her—’

‘Okay, fine. I’ll answer your damn questions.’

The men paused.

Draco shook his head. ‘Take them. Leave her shoes. I’ll let you know when I’m finished with her.’

She sent him a look filled with pure vitriol and her fingers clenched around the yoga mat as the younger guard stepped towards her. Eyes flashing blue fire, she released her hold on it, slipped her feet into her knee-high boots and propped her hands on her hips.

‘Shall we get this ludicrous inquisition over with?’

Sparks virtually flew off her. In another time, Draco would’ve enjoyed stoking that fire just to see how high her conflagration burned. It’d been far too long since any emotion besides bitterness, guilt and the rigid control he’d put in place ruled his life. Anything beyond that was a luxury he could ill afford.

It was the same control that dictated he take hold of this situation before it blew up in his face. He’d allowed his suspicions about Nathan Daniels to go unquestioned for far too long as it was.

He straightened. ‘Come with me.’

‘Where are we going?’ the question was snapped back immediately.

‘My office.’

‘Uh...sir?’

He turned to his security chief.

‘We need the lady’s full name in order to log her into the system.’

Draco raised an eyebrow at her.

Her mouth pursed, bringing his reluctant attention back to her plump lips.

‘It’s...my name is Arabella Daniels,’ she muttered reluctantly.

It took less than a second for Draco to place her. Arabella Daniels had once been a promising cross-country skier until she’d abruptly changed disciplines to become a ski jumper. Although she’d remained in the top ten for the last few years, the twenty-five-year-old woman had never risen above fifth in competitions. Probably due to her off-piste antics.

His mild shock subsided into a heavy dose of distaste, but he kept his expression neutral as he dismissed his men and strode to his office.

He waited until she entered, then activated the privacy setting on his windows. Once the glass was frosted, he perched at the edge of his desk and watched her pace warily in front of him. The burn in his groin as he followed her lissom figure made him kick out a chair.

‘Sit down.’

‘No, thanks. I thought you had an important meeting? Or was that just a fib rolled up as an insult?’

‘It wasn’t a lie. But the party concerned will understand. I tend to surround myself with reasonable, rational individuals.’

She paused in her pacing, her eyes narrowing. ‘Is that supposed to be some sort of dig?’

‘I know who you are, Miss Daniels.’

‘Well, since I told you my name, I should hope so. I wouldn’t like to think you were thick or anything, seeing as you seem to be the head honcho in this glass playhouse.’

‘So the rumours are true.’

‘What rumours?’ she asked, her expression growing more wary.

‘You take pride in being deliberately offensive and exhibiting wild behaviour.’

‘And you don’t seem to like being told things the way they are. In fact your actions reek of more than a touch of melodrama. Why is that? Are you overcompensating for something?’ Her gaze conducted what started off as a mocking perusal. But a trace of heat flared up her cheeks when her eyes dropped below his belt.

When her gaze darted away, Draco allowed himself a stiff smile. ‘I’ve never needed to overcompensate for anything in my life, Miss Daniels. If I had time to waste and felt so inclined, I’d give you a demonstration.’

‘You assume that I have the time to stand around listening to your rubbish. Keep your veiled threats, ask me what you want to know and let us both get on with our lives.’

‘You seem a little off balance. Is it because you feel out of your depth?’ he drawled.

She jerked the hair band from her hair. Thick, silky jet waves fell over her shoulders and down her back before she started combing her fingers through the tresses.

‘Why would I feel like that? Just because you’re being disgustingly unreasonable—’

‘Or is it because you don’t find me as gullible as you do the men you like to associate with?’

‘I don’t know what you think you know about me, but if these absurd questions are why you brought me in here—’

‘You like to dominate your men, do you not?’

She tossed her head. ‘Only when they beg me to. Do you want me to dominate you? I’m fresh out of horse whips but I’m sure I can get inventive with a pair of boot laces.’

His gaze dropped to her knee-high boots. ‘I’m sure you can, in the right circumstances, but I’ll pass.’

She wrinkled her nose and Draco’s temperature rose, along with his irritation. ‘Why? Because you always wait for the right circumstances? How boring. Giving in to your impulses might just surprise you.’

Draco bared his teeth in a smile that had been described by the tabloids as his dragon smile. He knew its effect well enough to know it’d made its mark when her agitation escalated.

‘I find that people like you easily confuse the reckless with the impulsive. Personally, I find the wait builds the anticipation.’

Her gaze held his for one bold heartbeat, then she glanced away. Although she engrossed herself in his office decor, Draco was certain she wasn’t as bored with him as she pretended to be. The colour in her cheeks was more pronounced and the pulse beating at her throat had increased. His own blood thickened as he followed her figure. He assured himself, now he knew who she truly was, this mild fascination with her would swiftly abate.

‘Well, as interesting as this all is, I’m one hundred per cent sure you know very little about me. And I have to insist you either get on with your ever-so-important questioning, or tell your guards to return my things.’

‘You’re attempting to compete in the Verbier Ski Championships this year. Shouldn’t you be training instead of making an exhibition of yourself and taking extended lunches?’

She inhaled sharply and turned towards him, all pretence at being bored vanishing from her expression. ‘You know who I am?’

‘I make it my business to know people like you.’

‘What do you mean, people like me?’

‘Reckless athletes, who try to buy their way into the big leagues.’

She stalked to where he leaned against his desk, her whole body bristling with anger. ‘How dare you? That’s a ridiculous and totally unfounded allegation.’

‘I know enough. The rest I don’t intend to bother myself with.’

Her hands clenched. ‘Just who the hell do you think you are?’

‘I’m the man who intends to make sure all the sponsors you’ve been chasing the last month drop you from their books. People like you paint talented and dedicated sportsmen and women in a bad light, not to mention your reckless behaviour on and off the ski slopes needs to be stopped once and for all. You have three measly sponsors left, who probably, mistakenly, think your notoriety will bring their products the attention they crave. Perhaps I’ll let you keep them.’

Her eyes had been widening with each condemnation. Slowly, shock replaced her anger. And this time, when she looked around at the trophies and pictures that decorated his office, her interest was genuine.

Draco knew the moment the penny dropped.

Her lustrous hair flew as she whirled back to him. ‘You’re Draco, the super-agent.’

‘I’m Draco Angelis, yes.’

She swallowed. ‘You represent Rex Glow.’

‘Your former sponsors? Yes.’

She inhaled sharply, but the next question wasn’t what Draco had expected it to be. ‘And my father works for you?’

‘You’re surprised by that.’

A frown clamped her brows. ‘Well...yes, to be honest.’

‘Why?’ he fired back, his need to probe the reason behind Nathan Daniels’ disappearance returning.

‘Because...’ She hesitated, a trace of pained bleakness flitting over her features. ‘Let’s just say the world of competitive sports isn’t his first love.’

He folded his arms, alarm bells clanging loudly. ‘Well, he was my chief financial officer up until two weeks ago, when he seemed to fall off the face of the earth.’

‘And you’re looking for him because...?’

‘There’s a small matter of a half a million pounds that seems to have evaporated from my company’s accounts. I would very much like to speak to him about that,’ Draco replied, his eyes narrowing at the mixture of guilt and trepidation that froze on her face.

CHAPTER THREE

REBEL KNEW SHE’D given herself away a split second before Draco straightened to his imposing six-foot-plus height and took the single step that brought him to within a whisper of where she stood. His broad shoulders and the cloak of power draped around him eclipsed her every thought and action. But even without them, the expression on his face as he stared down at her dried the words that rose to her lips.

This man was responsible for Rex Glow dropping her. While a significant part of her was enraged by the blatant admission, the greater part of her was shocked by the other information he’d imparted.

He was her father’s boss. A father who, for all intents and purposes, had disappeared. Along with the uncomfortably exact amount of money that had landed in her bank account. The shock of it rendered her attempt to keep a neutral expression hopelessly futile.

‘Tell me where your father is,’ he pressed.

In that moment, Rebel understood why this man was named The Dragon. His steely grey eyes were cold and deadly enough to freeze the Sahara. And yet his nostrils flared with white-hot anger that promised volatile, annihilating fire.

‘I...I don’t know where he is.’

Black eyebrows clamped darker. ‘You expect me to believe that?’

‘You can believe what you want. It’s the truth.’

‘You admitted to having been in touch with him lately. And you came here to meet him, did you not?’

‘We spoke briefly on the phone a couple of days ago. Lunch was mentioned, and I thought I’d surprise him today...’ She trailed off, unwilling to elaborate that she’d done most of the talking, while her father had remained stonily monosyllabic. Rebel struggled to hide the hurt that lanced her heart from knowing her father would’ve probably rejected any firm plans had he known she’d intended to come here today.

‘I urge you to come clean now, Miss Daniels, before things get worse for you and your father,’ Draco Angelis threatened.

The first tendrils of fear clawed up her spine. ‘If you must know, we didn’t make any firm plans. It was a spur-of-the-moment decision to stop by and see if he was free for lunch. I haven’t seen him in a while and I thought—’

‘How long is a while?’

‘That’s between my father and me, and none of your business.’

Firm, sinfully sensual lips pursed. ‘You don’t think my CFO’s sudden disappearance and you turning up unannounced in my building is any of my business?’

‘So he’s taken a brief vacation. So what?’ she speculated wildly, her unease growing as suspicion mounted in Draco’s eyes.

‘Considering he hasn’t taken one in the five years he’s worked for me, you’ll pardon me if I find his sudden need for one, without speaking to me first, more than a little suspect. Besides, we have a procedure for absences. My employees don’t make a habit of just not turning up to work when the mood takes them.’

‘Because that would guarantee them an on-the-spot sacking?’

‘Perhaps not on the spot. I would demand an explanation first before the sacking ensued.’

Rebel forced an eye roll, which was far from the nonchalance she tried to project. ‘So you’re not just a dragon to work for, you’re an ogre as well? Congratulations.’

Sharp grey eyes, surrounded by the most lush eyelashes she’d ever seen on a man, lasered her. ‘You find this subject amusing?’

Anger surged through her. ‘About as amusing as discovering that you seem to have a personal vendetta against me when we’ve never even met before.’

His face tightened, his expression growing even more formidable. ‘We didn’t need to meet before I knew exactly what sort of person you are. Your antics in the last half an hour have only confirmed it.’

‘Really? Would you care to share it with me or should I take a few wild guesses?’

‘You’ve barely scraped through into ski finals for the last few years because your work ethic is average at best. You’re more concerned with headlining in the tabloids with your extracurricular activities than putting in the hard work to secure yourself a position in the championships.’

She swallowed hard before her temper got the better of her. ‘I’ll have you know I was an under-twenty-one record holder for two years.’

‘But you haven’t placed higher than fifth in the last six years. Your position in the rankings has fallen in direct proportion to the rise of your notoriety. It doesn’t take a maths genius to work out where your true interests lie. Which is why I wonder why you even bother.’

Anger gave way to bewildered hurt, but Rebel locked in her emotions, determined not to show him how his words affected her. ‘I’m still at a loss as to how all of this or anything in my private life concerns you.’

‘If it concerns my client, it concerns me. Besides, it’s only a matter of time before your reckless actions have a direct impact on another athlete,’ he retorted pithily, his gaze boring harder into her, condemnation stamped in every pore.

Draco Angelis’ reaction was too strong for Rebel to believe his motivation stemmed from concern for his client alone. But she was too busy struggling not to react to the accusation of recklessness to pay it much heed.

The only thing Rebel wanted was to leave his office and his oppressive presence. She needed the head space to ponder exactly what her father was up to. And whether the money he’d sent her was indeed embezzled funds as her every instinct shrieked it was. The enormity of what that would mean struck cold dread inside her.

‘I think we’re done here, Mr Angelis. Rex Glow is no longer my sponsor, so I don’t have to listen to you or your groundless accusations about my life. If you choose to believe whatever nonsense you read in the papers, then that’s your problem, not mine.’

He made no move to stop her as she headed for the door. She knew why the moment she tried to pull it open and found it unyielding.

‘Open this door now.’

Cold steel eyes pinned her in place. ‘I’m not finished with you.’

‘But I am with you,’ she replied, a vein of panic rising in her belly. She rattled the door harder, but the reinforced glass didn’t budge an inch.

‘You can leave once you tell me where your father is hiding.’

She whirled at the hard demand. He was less than a foot from her, his stance even more imposing than before. His scent attacked her senses a second later, once again cutting a dangerous swathe through her thought processes.

The man wasn’t just a dangerous dragon. He was a precariously beautiful creature, his face and body an alluring, breathtaking combination designed to trap helpless prey.

Not that she was one!

‘Do you jump to conclusions about every single subject or are my father and I being singled out for special treatment?’

‘You think I want my company exposed to the fact that my CFO has embezzled from me?’

Renewed panic gripped her insides. ‘Where’s your proof that he has?’

‘The evidence isn’t concrete yet, but what I’ve found so far doesn’t look good. It’s only a matter of time before we trace where the funds ended up. His not answering my calls or emails doesn’t exactly look promising.’

‘What...what would you tell him if he answered?’

Draco’s narrowed eyes scoured her face. ‘He’s served me well for five years. I’d be prepared to listen to his explanations.’

‘Before throwing the book at him?’

‘You think I should let him go scot-free if he’s guilty?’

Her heart lurched. ‘Since we haven’t established that he’s done anything wrong, I think this is a moot point.’

‘Sadly, your poker face isn’t as flawless as you think. You know where he is. Tell me now and I’ll consider not pressing full charges.’

‘I don’t know where he is. I swear,’ Rebel answered.

Draco took the last step that separated them and grabbed her bare arm. The hand still clutching the door handle dropped as raw electricity raced across her skin. Intense tingling tightened her every cell, straining towards the point of contact with a severity that stole her breath. Her lips parted as she fought to get air into her lungs.

Above her, Draco inhaled sharply. The expression on his face reflected her bewilderment for a second before the cold façade slid back into place.

‘You may not know where he is, but you know something. I suggest you come clean now.’ He repeated his earlier threat.

Rebel shook her head. If her father had truly embezzled the money he’d deposited in her account from the Angel International Group, there was no way she could get it back. And right now, Rebel couldn’t be sure which was worse—confessing her suspicion of her father’s guilt, or informing Draco Angelis that she had used the funds to secure her place in the Verbier tournament. From Draco’s censorious reaction to her as an athlete, Rebel knew he wouldn’t hesitate to condemn her as an accessory to the crime and have her thrown in jail.

‘Arabella, this is your last chance.’

The sound of her name on his lips sent shafts of disconcerting fire through her belly. The sensation was so powerful it weakened her knees, and the secret place between her legs was dampening with each second his hand remained on her.

God, what was wrong with her? She’d heard her girlfriends confess to growing wobbly at the knees when some hot guy glanced their way at a nightclub. She’d secretly rolled her eyes at that implausible statement, knowing she’d never be one of those women. The shocking sensation ramming through her right now filled her with horror and more than a touch of anger.

She parted her lips, but Draco shook his head, his other hand rising to clamp her other arm.

‘Think carefully before you speak.’

She pulled in a deep, sustaining breath. ‘No,’ she stated firmly.

‘Just so we’re clear, to what exactly are you saying no?’ he breathed softly, dangerously.

Rebel ignored the warm breath washing over her face and raised her chin. ‘To answering any more of your stupid accusations. To being kept prisoner in this office. To you having your hands on me. No to everything. Now, let me go before I scream this place down.’

‘Scream all you want. This room is soundproof.’

‘How very convenient. Do you do this a lot, then?’ she taunted.

‘Do what?’ he sliced at her.

‘Drag women in here and hold them against their will?’

A muted curse in a language she didn’t understand spilled from his lips. ‘No woman has been in here who didn’t want to be.’

The images his words conjured up jarred her into squirming before she forced her muscles to lock tight. ‘So you admit to seducing women in your office during the workday?’

A chilled smile parted his lips. ‘You assume that I do the seducing.’

‘So women not only stage floor shows in your offices, they also seduce you behind closed doors into the bargain. Your poor thing. How on earth do you get any work done?’

‘You have a reckless, smart mouth, Arabella.’

Another zing went through her, but she fought it tooth and nail. ‘Along with a smart brain. So if you think anything’s going to happen here other than me walking out the door in the next minute, think again.’

‘You set too high a premium on yourself, I think.’

‘Ah, so if I were to strip right here right now, you’d turn me down?’

‘You won’t. You like to pretend otherwise, but I’m willing to bet, deep down, you’re less Lady Chatterley and more Miss Prude.’

The droll observation brought heat to her cheeks. Dear God, he was making her blush again?

‘Well, sadly for you, you’ll never find out.’

‘I will. If I wish it, you’ll get your chance to strip for me in the very near future. At a time and place of my choosing when I know we won’t be interrupted in any way.’

‘Wow, you must tell me where you acquired your crystal balls. I’m running out of ideas for Christmas presents.’

Dear Lord. Was she truly standing in front of him, discussing his balls?

He freed one arm. Rebel was about to exhale with relief, but her breathing stuttered as he curled his long fingers over her nape and tilted her chin with his thumb. She’d never imagined the skin along her jaw was sensitive until experiencing Draco Angelis’ branding touch. Now every nerve in her body screeched as her heart raced and her blood heated.

His head lowered a fraction and his gaze dropped to her lips. He was about to kiss her. And she couldn’t move.

Rebel grew frantically aware of every desperate breath that passed between her lips, her own gaze unable to shift from the mouth drawing ever closer to hers.

‘I don’t need crystal balls. My human ones are more than adequate to deal with challenges from the opposite sex. But we’re straying from the subject. Tell me what you know, Arabella.’ Again that smile peeled back a layer of her skin and exposed her to sensations as alien as a distant galaxy.

‘For the last time, take your hands off me. I don’t know where my father—’

The buzz of an intercom from his desk froze her words. Draco tensed, the flex of his jaw exhibiting his displeasure at the interruption.

‘Mr Angelis, I’m so sorry to disturb you, but I have Olivio Nardozzi on the line again. He refuses to leave a message or be put on hold. He says you promised to call him back fifteen minutes ago.’

He raised his head, but he didn’t let her go. Nor did his gaze move from her lips as he answered, ‘Tell Olivio I’ll speak to him in two minutes. Tell him he can either hold or wait for my call.’

‘Yes, Mr Angelis.’

The intercom clicked and silence once more engulfed them. Draco didn’t seem in a hurry to speak, or do anything but hold her prisoner.

Rebel knew she had to move, but for the life of her she couldn’t get her legs to work. So she employed her best defence. ‘Another one of your angelic, perfectly reasonable, high-maintenance clients?’ she mocked.

With a slow, deliberate movement, his thumb rose from her chin to pass lazily over her lower lip. ‘There will come a time when this delectable mouth will get you into trouble you won’t be able to escape from,’ he drawled in a low, dark voice that resonated deep within her.

‘Tick tock, Mr Angelis.’

His grip firmed, the fire branding her deeper. Then he released her with an abrupt move that spoke of barely leashed emotion. Before she could escape, he caged her in by placing his hands on the glass door either side of her.

‘You have until six o’clock tonight to tell me what you know about my money. Trust me, you don’t want me to come after you.’

She wanted to dare him to do his worst, but Rebel bit her tongue. Draco Angelis had already demonstrated that he had the power to strip her sponsors from her with nothing more than a hatred of her vivacity. Sure, she’d taken a few risks on the ski slope that had earned her a name in the sport. But they’d all been carefully calculated and had taken into account the injury she’d sustained when she was twenty-two. Without those risks, she’d have fallen even further down the rankings and lost all her sponsorship long before now.

As much as she wanted to tell Draco to take a running jump, if she wanted to get to the bottom of her father’s actions, or have a last chance at securing the Verbier championship and laying a few ghosts to rest, she needed to retreat and regroup.

A tug on her Lycra training bottoms drew her thoughts away from her mother and her errant father. She gasped as Draco slid a business card into her waistband. The backs of his fingers brushed her skin and her muscles jumped at the contact.

Before she could form an effective comeback to his audacious action he stepped back. A moment later the frosty glass cleared and a click released the door.

‘I assume I’m free to go now?’

He lifted the phone and punched in a series of numbers. ‘Provided you’re not held by my security, then yes, you may leave. But we both know you’re guilty of something, Arabella. Make the wise choice and use my private number. I guarantee you won’t like the consequences if you don’t.’ He sat down behind his desk. The infinitesimal twitch of his chair away from her was as definitive a dismissal as any as he spoke into the phone, ‘Olivio, my apologies for keeping you waiting. I hope you’re chomping at the bit to speak to me because you’ve given further consideration to my offer?’ His voice rang with charming familiarity, not at all like the ire he’d demonstrated towards her.

Rebel could barely recall stumbling from Draco’s office and summoning the lift that raced her back down to the ground floor. She assumed she was free to leave when the Angel head of security met her on the ground floor with her belongings. Thankful that she wouldn’t be required to answer any more questions, Rebel took her bag and yoga mat and hurried out into the weak February sunshine.

The light breeze that whispered over her skin brought a little clarity, but her senses were too focused on the card burning against her skin, and the grave certainty that the money she’d used to secure her place in the Verbier tournament was indeed money stolen from a man who seemed to have the lowest, blackest opinion of her, to feel the cold.

Plucking the card out of her waistband, she stared at the black and gold inscription and the private number etched into it.

Rebel wanted to rip it into a dozen pieces and scatter them to the four winds. But deep in her heart she recognised the foolhardiness of doing so.

She might not understand why her father had chosen to help himself to money that didn’t belong to him and then pass it on to her. Their last few rows had been awful enough for her to imagine he was done with her as long as she chose to keep competing. For him to have followed her career closely enough to know when she needed help at once lifted her heart and plunged it into despair. Not in a million years would she have wanted him to help in this way.

Jerkily, she searched for her phone and dialled as she hurried away from Draco’s building. The moment the line connected, she rushed to speak. ‘Contessa, have the cheques we paid out to the tournament organisers cleared?’

Her manager snorted. ‘Well, hello to you too. And the answer to your question is yes, the cheques cleared this morning, so did the money we paid for your travel, accommodation and equipment. We only need an extra fifteen thousand for incidentals, but I’m sure your remaining sponsors will front you that. I was going to pop round to your flat tonight with a bottle of champagne to celebrate. I know you don’t like to drink during training, but I thought a sip or two wouldn’t hurt...’ Her voice trailed off for a moment. ‘Rebel? Is something wrong?’

Rebel exhaled shakily, her vision hazing as she fought panic. ‘And there’s no way we can get any of it back?’

‘Get it back? Why would we want to do that?’ her manager demanded, her voice rising.

‘I...I just...it doesn’t matter.’

‘Obviously it does. Tell me what’s happened.’

Unwilling to drag Contessa into her problems until she confirmed the depth of the trouble she was in, she forced lightness into her voice. ‘Ignore me. Just last-minute nerves. You can come over, but can we give the champagne a miss, though?’

‘Of course...are you sure you’re okay?’ the older woman pressed.

‘I’m sure. Talk to you later.’

She hung up and immediately dialled her father’s number, already suspecting it wouldn’t go through. When the mechanical voice urged her to leave a message, Rebel cleared her throat. ‘Dad, it’s me...again.’ She paused, a new fear chilling her heart. Draco Angelis wasn’t above having her father’s phone traced. Until she got answers for herself, Rebel didn’t want to lead the man who made her spine tingle with dread and other unwanted emotions straight to her father. ‘Call me. Please. I need to talk to you.’

Feeling helpless for the first time in a very long time, she hung up. Plugging her earphones in, she ramped up the volume and hurried to the Tube, all the while willing her focus away from the card she’d tucked back into her waistband, hoping against hope she wouldn’t be forced to use it.

CHAPTER FOUR

DRACO READ THE bullet points in the report for the second time and closed the file. He spared a thought as to why his CFO hadn’t bothered to cover his tracks, then dismissed the useless thought. The why didn’t matter.

The inescapable fact was that a crime had been committed. By Daniels and his daughter.

Draco didn’t doubt for a second that she was neck deep in this theft. Her guilt had been written all over her face, despite her trying hard to hide it. Her racing pulse had condemned her just as definitely, no matter how much her smart mouth had tried to distract him.

A muscle ticced in his jaw as he remembered the velvet softness of that mouth...the smoothness of her skin. Arabella Daniels didn’t use just her mouth to distract. She used her whole body. The need to remind his body hours later of that potent tactic irritated Draco as his car raced through the wet, lamplit streets towards the Chelsea address his investigators had supplied him with.

Another bout of irritation welled inside him.

He’d known Arabella wouldn’t honour the deadline he’d given her. Six o’clock had come and gone three hours ago, and, despite the conclusive, almost cynical evidence of theft he held in his hands, the daughter of his CFO had remained silent.

Closing the electronic file, he opened a thick manila envelope that held a completely different set of problems. While Draco was satisfied that months of hard work were poised on the edge of finally reaping rewards, he couldn’t believe the seemingly inescapable strings Olivio Nardozzi had attached to the contract in his hand.

But he hadn’t come this far to lose.

Carla Nardozzi, champion figure skater, number one in the world, was a prize every sports agent wanted. Hard-working, charismatic, almost virginally shy, she would be the jewel in his agency’s crown...if her father weren’t leveraging an unthinkable condition to signing his daughter with the Angel International Group—

‘Sir, we’re here,’ his driver interrupted his thoughts.

Draco alighted from the car and stared at the two-storey Victorian façade. While he hadn’t been surprised Arabella lived in Chelsea, he’d expected her to inhabit a glitzy condominium, not a homey dwelling on a leafy suburban street. Mounting the shallow steps to the door, he pressed her intercom.

The door released half a minute later. Draco told himself he didn’t care if she didn’t bother about her security, but by the time he arrived in front of an open doorway on the first floor irritation had given way to anger.

Loud music pumped from what seemed like a hundred speakers, although he couldn’t immediately see them as he went down a short hallway and arrived in a sizeable living room painted snow-white, and decorated with splashes of purple and pink.

He didn’t have time to be offended by the jarring decor because he was once again confronted by a scantily clad Arabella Daniels, who didn’t bother to look up as he walked into the room.

Draco dragged his gaze from her cross-legged figure enough to take in the fact that she was packing for a long trip. Escaping with the proceeds of her ill-gotten gains, perhaps?

He gritted his jaw and waited.

A moment later her head snapped up. Blue eyes met his, widened, before her mouth dropped open. ‘You’re not Contessa,’ she shouted above the pumping rock music.

‘No, I am not.’

Her eyes darted from him to the darkened hallway and back again. She set aside the sleek, specialist, lightweight skis that Draco knew cost several thousand pounds, and rose lithely to her feet. ‘You...I wasn’t expecting...what are you doing here?’

‘Do you always answer your door without checking to see who you’re letting in?’ he bit out.

She shrugged. ‘I thought you were Contessa, my manager. She’s the only one who knows where—’ She stopped and waved her hand. ‘Let’s get back to my question. What are you doing here?’

‘If you insist on playing this game, I’ll give you one guess, after you turn that racket off.’

Her pointed chin tilted and she folded her bare arms. ‘No. If you don’t like my taste in music, feel free to reuse the front door.’

Stopping his gaze from conducting a full scrutiny of her body, clad in vest top and hot pants, Draco stalked to the entertainment system set on top of an artsy-looking vanity unit and stabbed the off button.

‘Hey, you can’t do that!’

He turned and faced her, willing himself not to react to the mingled scent of peach shampoo and delicate perfume that infused his senses now his eardrums weren’t being shredded.

‘Did you forget the time, Arabella? I’m willing to give you the benefit of the doubt on the off-chance that my deadline escaped your notice because you don’t possess a watch?’

Her frowning gaze slid from the silent music system to his face. Her arms tightened and her stare grew bolder. ‘I have a watch. Several, in fact. I know exactly what the time is.’

The cold blaze of anger chilled his insides. He welcomed it far more than he welcomed the lick of fire that had flamed in his groin at the sight of her bare, shapely legs. ‘I can only conclude, then, that you thought my last words to you were a joke?’

She made a humming, almost accommodating sound under her breath. ‘Not quite. You don’t seem the joking type. I don’t imagine you’d appreciate a joke if it reared up and bit you hard.’

‘So that’s how you live your life? On the edge of reckless jokes?’

She shrugged. ‘You know what they say...if you’re not living on the edge, you’re taking up too much room.’

The urge to grab her, drag her close, just as he’d done in his office, assailed him. He stabbed his hands deep into his pockets to curb the impulse. Arabella Daniels took pleasure in flaunting her risqué behaviour. Draco wasn’t here to be riled. He was here to do the riling. To let her know she wouldn’t be getting away with stealing from him.

‘But if you insist on a definition,’ she continued, ‘I’d say I considered your words more of a suggestion...perhaps an invitation? As you can see, I opted to reject both.’

Draco drew in a breath, unable to accept that anyone could have so very little self-preservation. Back in his office, he’d considered her careless attitude a front, but now he wasn’t so sure. But then why was he surprised? He knew first-hand the sort of person he was dealing with. Wasn’t such a creature the same one responsible for reducing his sister’s dreams to dust? He’d trusted his precious Maria’s well-being and burgeoning talent to someone he’d thought would treasure and harness them. Instead, his sister’s life had been irrevocably destroyed.

The rock of guilt and bitterness that resided in his gut pressed hard and punishing. He’d taken his eye off the ball, relentlessly pursued his own dreams, and his sister had suffered for it. Continued to suffer for it. Draco absorbed the expanding pain he’d become used to bearing. He was grateful for it, in fact. The reminder of the past was as timely as it was bracing.

He looked past her to the suitcases, clothing and equipment strewn on the living-room floor. ‘Going somewhere?’

‘Yes, as a matter of fact,’ she replied. ‘And you’re interrupting my packing, so...’

Draco sauntered forward, his gaze narrowing on the two skis already wrapped in protective binding and the third one that she’d been wrapping when he walked in. ‘Your equipment looks new. Expensive. Have you come into a windfall perhaps?’ he enquired.

She tensed. ‘It’s none of your—’

He slashed his hand through the air. ‘Enough. I have irrefutable evidence that every single penny your father misappropriated ended up in your bank account. Whatever his motives were for taking the money, he didn’t seem inclined to cover his tracks. I’ve already given you enough time to come clean, but it looks like you prefer to wallow in lies and snarky banter. My time is valuable, Miss Daniels. I refuse to waste any more discussing your guilt. Now, are you prepared to take this seriously or shall I cut my losses and let you explain to the authorities how you came to be in possession of half a million pounds belonging to me?’ He took his phone out of his pocket and gripped it, fingers poised over the buttons.

Her arms dropped from their belligerent position. As he’d spoken she’d grown paler, but there was still more than enough fight in her eyes for Draco not to be under the misconception that she’d seen the light of true contrition. ‘I wasn’t lying. I don’t know where my father is, and I didn’t have anything to do with the taking of the money.’ Her brows clouded. ‘Are you sure this isn’t just some misunderstanding?’

He bared his teeth, cold amusement making him shake his head. ‘I’m not in the habit of misunderstanding the whereabouts of my company’s funds.’

She paled further. ‘I told you, I don’t know where my father is.’

‘Have you tried calling him?’ he fired back.

‘Several times.’ Her fingers spiked into her loose hair, and for the first time Draco witnessed her undiluted distress. Satisfaction lanced through him. He was finally getting through to her. Herding her into a position where she couldn’t fail to see that he wouldn’t be swayed from seeking restitution. ‘He hasn’t answered my calls.’ The tiny note of bewilderment in her voice suggested she wasn’t lying.

‘Be that as it may, the funds ended up in your bank account.’

Her full lips firmed for several moments before she nodded. ‘Yes.’

He exhaled. ‘So, are you willing to answer my questions now?’

She nodded again.

‘The championships don’t start for several weeks. The training grounds in Verbier won’t be open for another month. So where were you going?’

‘I have a friend with a chalet in Chamonix. I was going to stay there while I train.’

‘You mean you were fleeing the country with your ill-gotten gains?’ he sneered. ‘Perhaps meet up with your father and celebrate getting one over on me?’

She flinched. ‘No.’

‘Just...no? You’re not going elaborate?’

‘What more is there to say? You say you have evidence that the money ended up in my account. Will you believe me if I say I didn’t know it was coming in the first place? That when it arrived I tried to return it?’

He lifted a brow before staring at the expensive items on the floor. ‘Really?’

‘Look, I know what you’re thinking—’

‘I seriously doubt that. Picking up the phone and instructing your bank to return the funds was too much effort, but spending it wasn’t?’

‘I didn’t spend it. Not immediately.’

He placed the phone back in his pocket and stared at her until her gaze dropped. ‘I’m sure you’re going to explain that.’

‘The money arrived after Rex Glow and the rest of my sponsors started dropping like flies, thanks to you, I’m guessing.’ Her white-hot glare threatened to thaw the edges of his icy anger. ‘My father must have realised what you were doing...’ she paused...but it was already too late.

‘So you’re saying your father not only took my money, he also breached my company’s confidential secrets?’ He couldn’t stop the growl that accompanied the question.

‘No! I don’t know.’

‘You keep saying that, and yet all signs point to you hiding something.’

Her mouth worked for several seconds, before she blew out a breath. ‘Fine, if you must know, I hadn’t spoken to my father in years before I heard from him two weeks ago.’

He tensed. ‘Why not?’

‘That is definitely none of your business,’ she snapped, her fingers spearing into her hair again and tossing the heavy tresses over her shoulder. ‘But I did try to find out about the money the few times we spoke afterwards. He assured me there were no strings attached. That it was mine to use. And when a few more sponsors dropped me...’

‘You went ahead and used it, without a single thought as to its true source?’

‘You might automatically suspect everyone you meet to have nefarious motives, but the father I knew before we...lost touch was hard-working and honest. I don’t know what you did for him to—’

‘Excuse me?’ Her audacity stunned him. ‘Are you trying to wheedle your way into somehow blaming me for this?’

‘My father isn’t here to account for what’s happened, is he?’

‘No,’ Draco muttered, a daring solution to the conundrum he’d been toying with taking root and firming in his mind. ‘He’s not. But you are.’

Her eyes widened. ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

He stared into the clear depths, unable to pull his gaze away. ‘It means the sins of the father will have to be paid for by the daughter. Especially when she’s turned out to be a direct beneficiary.’

‘Right. Hold that thought for a second.’ She turned and walked to the sound system. She toyed with a few buttons before pressing one. About to warn her against restarting the ear-bleeding music when they weren’t finished talking, Draco stopped when low, sultry, Middle Eastern fusion music flowed into the room. He stared, his gaze compelled by the sinuous movement of her body as she returned to where he stood. ‘I’m afraid I’m not interested in whatever plans you’ve concocted, Mr Angelis.’

His fists balled harder in his pockets. ‘By all means refuse if you feel you’re in a position to. I’ll bring myself to wait.’

Her mouth curved in a ghost of a smile. ‘No need to wait. I have a plan in mind for how you can get your money back.’

Not what he’d been expecting. Or what his new plan entailed. But... ‘I’m listening.’

‘My manager has received a request for me to star in a reality TV show after the championships are over. I wasn’t going to accept, but, since I now have no choice, I’ll hand over the proceeds from the gig to you—’

‘No.’ The word shot out of him with a brevity that rocked him.

She blinked. ‘Umm...what?’

‘I said no.’

‘I heard you. I just don’t understand why you’d refuse, seeing as it’s my life and I can do what I want with it. Also, I thought all this posturing and threatening was so you’d get your money back?’

‘Not in three months’ time. And not after you’d whored yourself in front of a camera to repay me.’

She inhaled sharply. ‘You did not just say what I think you said.’

‘Isn’t that what it amounts to? You opening your life to intense scrutiny until every dirty scumbag out there knows what brand of toothpaste you use and what you wear to bed at night?’

‘It isn’t that type of show—’

‘They are all that type of show. If you think otherwise, you’re naive as well as stupid.’

‘And you’re an arrogant ass, who’s under the illusion he can dictate to me. I don’t doubt that you wield a lot of power in the sports world.’ She laughed self-mockingly. ‘You’ve already shown you can strip me of my sponsors, although I’m still not completely sure why, but I’m damned if I’m going to give you power over my personal life. You don’t agree to my proposal, then fine, have me thrown in jail. Although how that gets you back your money is beyond me.’

Draco looked down at her, a small part of him unwillingly intrigued by her relentless fire. It spoke to a part of his nature that wasn’t relevant any longer. These days he harnessed his cold passion to controlling his empire. And to ensuring Maria wanted for nothing. Any other emotion was superfluous.

The reminder of his sister brought him back to reality.

‘You’re bluffing. People like you love the good life too much to bravely accept a jail term, but before you deny it, tell me, are you willing to risk your father going to prison for his crimes?’

She froze, her eyes widening. ‘My father? I thought you said I would repay the money?’

‘That doesn’t absolve him of wrongdoing. My company is being audited at the end of the month. Regardless of who repays the funds after that, the crime will be discovered.’

‘But...I can’t pay back half a million pounds by then,’ she blurted.

‘I know,’ he replied with more than a drawl of satisfaction.

The shadow he’d glimpsed earlier settled over her face, her eyes darkening as she stared at him. ‘You have the power to stop this. If you want to. That’s what you’ve been hinting at all along, isn’t it?’

‘That depends on whether you’re prepared to meet my demands.’

She shook her head. ‘If you expect me to pull out of the championship, then the answer’s no.’

‘You want to compete that badly?’

She bit her bottom lip, then released it. Her mouth trembled slightly before she exhaled. ‘Yes.’

Draco wasn’t aware his hands had left his pockets until they cupped her shoulders. Delicate bones and soft, silky skin registered along his senses, even as he spoke. ‘Are you willing to can the bravado and listen to me for five minutes?’

‘If you insist.’

He drew her closer. He told himself it was because he needed her close so she didn’t misunderstand what he planned to say to her. ‘I insist.’

Her gaze dropped to his mouth for a moment before sliding away. ‘Fine. I have training at five in the morning, so if you don’t mind, can we just get on with it, Mr Angelis?’

‘Draco.’

Her eyes flew back to his. ‘What?’

‘For what I have in mind, you’ll need to start calling me by my first name. Try it.’

‘Umm...no—’

He slid a finger beneath her chin to hold her steady. ‘Say my name, Arabella.’

Her nose wrinkled. ‘I prefer Rebel.’

‘I think we’ve established that what you prefer is low on my priority list. I will call you Arabella. And you will say my name, without the snark or the attitude.’

‘Fine... Draco.’

His fingers tightened. ‘Once more, with feeling.’

‘This is truly absurd... Draco.’

The sultry decadence of his name on her lips arrowed straight through his rigid control, reminding him unequivocally that his libido was alive and well. For a hot second, Draco spied himself from the other side of the room, observing the unfolding scene with growing astonishment.

Was he really contemplating this insane course of action?

Then he reminded himself why he was doing this.

For Maria. For the sister he’d let down so severely. For the sister whose eyes filled with pain each time she looked at him, and yet was determined to rise above bitterness. To forgive.

Draco hadn’t quite mastered that particular technique. Wasn’t sure he wanted to. Bitterness and pain were his correct penance for letting his sister down, for ruining a life that had once held so much unbridled potential.

If he could get back even a shadow of joy for his sister, he would do whatever it took.

‘Earth to Draco?’

The sinful drawl brought him back to himself. To the room where low decadent music thrummed to a sensual rhythm, and where a reckless siren in hot pants could well be the answer to what he needed.

He really was going crazy...

He jerked as soft fingers grazed his jaw. The touch was gone a second later, but its earthy power streaked fire across his senses.

‘If I haven’t turned you into a zombie, can you tell me why me calling you by your first name is necessary in this grand plan of yours?’

He stared into her flawless face. With her wide eyes and parted lips, she perfectly emulated innocence. Except he knew she was duplicitous to the core. She was wild, totally remorseless and disturbingly reckless with well-documented antics both in her professional and personal lives.

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