night was great,’ she said stiffly. ‘But it was just a … a one-night stand, and now it’s time for me to move on.’
Dante stared at her, not quite able to believe what he was hearing. It was true he’d had his fair share of one-night stands but they had always been his choice. He was used to calling the shots in his relationships and he did not like the feeling that he was powerless in this situation.
He did not want to lose her. The thought slid into his head and he tensed as the implication sank in. You could not lose what you did not have, he reminded himself. Rebekah was not his and he did not want her to be. He did not want a long-term relationship—once had been enough. He simply wanted to explore the wild passion they had shared last night and he was not ready to let her go yet.
‘I don’t understand why you no longer want to work for me,’ he said curtly. ‘Why can’t we just carry on as before?’
As he spoke the words Dante realised the futility of them. He could never go back to thinking of Rebekah as a member of his staff when he had seen her naked body in all its voluptuous glory.
His eyes narrowed on her flushed face, and once again he was struck by how lovely she was. The way she scraped her hair back in a severe style only emphasised the perfect symmetry of her face and the porcelain smoothness of her complexion. Few women could get away without wearing make-up, but Rebekah’s beauty was fresh and natural. The way she had responded to him last night had revealed an earthy sensuality that Dante found utterly addictive. Making love to her had whetted his appetite and he had been looking forward to having her fill the dual roles of his mistress and cook for—well, he had not even thought about a timescale; he’d simply assumed that she would stay with him until their passion burned out.
But apparently Rebekah was prepared to walk away from him. He could not deny a feeling of pique. It had never happened before. He wondered if she was hoping he would try to persuade her to stay, even beg her. His mouth twisted in a grim smile. She would soon learn that he did not throw himself on the mercy of anyone. One thing his marriage had taught him was that only a fool allowed his emotions to get involved.
‘I think we both realise it would be impossible for me to continue working for you,’ she said quietly, voicing his thoughts.
He shrugged. ‘So what are your plans?’
If she was disappointed that he made no attempt to dissuade her from leaving, she did not show it. ‘I have a few things in the pipeline,’ Rebekah told him. ‘There’s a possible opportunity for me to work for Gaspard Clavier at his new restaurant in St Lucia.’
Dante’s frown deepened. ‘So that’s what he was talking to you about at the party. But Gaspard told me the restaurant won’t be ready to open for a few months. He’s a friend of mine, and in fact I represented him in his recent divorce from the young Russian wife he had ill-advisedly married. Despite the fact that the marriage only lasted for two years, Olga claimed an exorbitant settlement. Fortunately I managed to keep the bulk of Gaspard’s fortune intact, for which he was extremely grateful.’
Rebekah hated his coldly cynical tone. In his profession Dante saw some of the worst examples of human behaviour, which probably explained his attitude towards marriage and relationships, she acknowledged ruefully.
‘Presumably you haven’t found anywhere to live yet?’ he continued, glancing at the laptop screen which displayed properties to rent.
‘I’m going to ring an estate agent and hopefully view a place this afternoon.’ Rebekah spoke with a confidence she did not feel. Even if she found a flat it was unlikely she would be able to move in today. She prayed that her friend Charlie, who she had met when she had worked for the catering company, would allow her to stay with him for a few nights.
Dante folded the letter and slipped it into his trouser pocket. ‘I accept your resignation—but you seem to have forgotten something. Under the terms of the contract you signed when you accepted the job as my chef you are required to give one month’s notice before you can leave.’
Rebekah gave him a startled glance. ‘Well, yes, technically I suppose that’s true. But surely, under the circumstances …’
‘I have no problem with the circumstances,’ he said coolly. ‘It will be impossible for me to find a replacement cook in a few days and I demand you will work your full amount of notice—or I will sue you for breach of contract. Not only that,’ he continued, ignoring her shocked gasp, ‘but I will refuse to give you a reference. I know you left your previous job without a reference and I imagine it will be difficult for you to find another job when neither of your previous employers will vouch for you.’
He paused to allow all this to sink in and then delivered the final blow. ‘If you walk out on me I will advise Gaspard Clavier that you are an unreliable employee, and he may well reconsider his job offer.’
Rebekah felt sick. She guessed it was possible Dante could sue her if she did not fulfil the terms of her contract. He knew far more about the law than she did. But more worrying than the legal implications if she left her job without working her notice was the realisation that he could ruin her career. He was a hugely influential figure and if he spread the word among his rich friends, including Gaspard Clavier, that she was unreliable, she would struggle to find anyone to employ her. An unreliable chef was a restaurant owner’s worst nightmare and no one would risk taking her on without references.
‘I thought you would be glad for me to leave without any fuss,’ she said slowly, puzzled by his determination that she should stay.
‘Why would I want you to go when you’re a superb cook and an exciting lover?’
His arrogant drawl brought a flush of angry colour to her cheeks. ‘If you insist on me working my notice, cooking is the only thing I’ll do for you. Sleeping with you was a one-off event, and to be honest it was a mistake I now regret. I must have been more affected by the alcohol in the fruit punch than I realised last night.’
‘You could be very bad for my ego if I believed that was true,’ Dante said in an amused voice. ‘But you weren’t drunk; you knew exactly what you were doing. And, what’s more, you want to do it again.’
‘The devil I do!’ Furiously Rebekah attempted to push past him, but to her shame she felt a flare of excitement when he snaked an arm around her waist and jerked her against him. ‘Dante, let go of me—I mean it …’
He stilled her angry words by bringing his mouth down on hers and kissing her with barely suppressed savagery, grinding his lips hard against the tremulous softness of hers until she gave a low moan. Sensing her capitulation, Dante slid his hand down to her bottom and forced her pelvis into sizzling contact with his fiercely aroused body. His other hand moved to her hair and he pulled the pins from it so that it fell in a curtain of rich brown silk around her shoulders.
The evocative sensation of Dante running his fingers through her hair was too much—he was too much—and, although Rebekah hated herself for her weakness, she could not fight him. Helpless in the face of his passionate onslaught, she parted her lips and he deepened the kiss so that it became intensely erotic. Her body recognized its master. He had given her the most pleasurable experience of her life the previous night and revealed a level of sensuality she had not known she possessed. Her breasts felt heavy and ached for his touch, and the flood of moist heat between her legs was a damning indictment of the sexual desire coursing through her veins.
When he finally released her, she swayed on legs that felt as if they would not support her and stared at him wordlessly as she explored the swollen
