work out very well. Chester’s wife Carolyn is English and I’m sure you’ll be able to keep her entertained while Chester and I discuss business.’
‘But…what do you expect me to talk to her about?’ Freya asked, unable to hide the faint panic in her voice. She had never been good at small talk and trying to make conversation with people she’d never met before had been one of the things she’d hated when she had lived with Zac.
He shrugged his shoulders impatiently. ‘I don’t know. I’m sure you can swap stories about shopping in Bond Street or something.’
‘Oh, yes—because I do that all the time.’ She shook her head in exasperation. ‘Zac, I honestly think that you and I come from different planets. I struggle to pay my bills and buy basic necessities while you live here in your gilded tower and have no idea of the real world.’
He didn’t appear to be listening and had already swung away from her. Bristling with anger, she followed him into the lounge and stopped just inside the doorway, blinking as she stepped out of the bright sunlight on the balcony. ‘I’m not coming with you. Find someone else to entertain your businessman and his wife.’ She folded her arms across her chest and stared at him belligerently, frowning when he handed her a large flat box with the name of a well-known couture house on the front. ‘What is this?’
‘Something for you to wear tonight,’ he replied blandly, seemingly unconcerned by her simmering temper or her refusal to accompany him to dinner.
Freya stared down at the box, her heart suddenly beating at twice its normal rate. ‘You bought me a dress?’ she said slowly, hating herself for the little thrill of pleasure she gained from the idea that he had taken time out of his busy schedule to go shopping for her.
‘Actually, no, I gave Francine a rough idea of your size and she picked out a suitable outfit,’ Zac instantly burst her bubble and she fell back to earth with a bump.
‘Well, she wasted her time, because I’m not wearing it and I’m not going. What made you think I would agree?’ she demanded furiously, her eyes widening at the sensual gleam in his.
‘I was confident of playing on your sympathy for my secretary,’ he said coolly, ‘but, failing that, I can think of several other methods of persuasion that we’d both enjoy—although they may well result in us being late for dinner.’ His slow smile triggered alarm bells and she bit back her retort as her mind fantasised about how he would bend her to his will. With ease, that was for sure, she acknowledged on a wave of self-disgust. Just the thought of his hands and mouth caressing her was enough to send liquid heat pooling between her thighs. If he touched her, kissed her again, she seriously doubted her ability to resist him—and he knew it.
She swallowed and tore her eyes from his mocking smile, tears of shame prickling behind her eyelids. If she wanted to retain any vestige of her self-respect, she would have to agree to go to dinner with him because she could not risk him persuading her.
‘It was kind of your PA to go to so much trouble,’ she said tightly, carefully not looking at him. ‘And because I know how unwell she must be feeling at the moment, I’ll agree to take her place tonight.’ Clutching the box he had given her, she headed for the door, her back ramrod straight as his softly spoken comment followed her.
‘I hadn’t expected you to give in so easily, chérie. What a pity,’ he drawled with genuine regret in his voice. ‘I was looking forward to…coaxing you round to my way of thinking.’
Hours later Freya studied her reflection in the mirror. The dress Zac’s secretary had chosen for her was a deceptively simple floor-length black sheath with a lace overlay, narrow shoulder straps and a neckline that plunged lower than Freya was happy with. When she had first realised how much of her cleavage was exposed she’d seriously considered changing into something else, but challenging Zac was not a good idea and she was afraid that if he tried to coax her, he would almost certainly win. Instead she had piled her hair on top of her head, and slipped on a pair of high-heeled sandals. Now, deciding she was ready, she swept out to meet Zac, her pulse rate quickening at the flare of undisguised desire in his eyes when he caught sight of her.
It gave her a fierce thrill of feminine triumph to realise that she was not the only one to be suffering from sexual frustration. Zac wanted her and was fighting the same battle to control his hunger. The knowledge empowered her and, instead of slinking shyly into the lounge, she sauntered confidently across the room, aware of his eyes lingering on the creamy swell of her breasts.
He looked breathtaking in his black tuxedo and white shirt that contrasted with his olive-gold skin, but for the first time she felt almost his equal and she met his gaze steadily as faint colour briefly highlighted his sharp cheekbones. The atmosphere in the room throbbed with tension and for one wild, crazy moment she wondered how he would react if she walked over to him and kissed his mouth with all the pent-up longing she was struggling to control.
Of course she did no such thing. She wasn’t completely stupid and, besides, one kiss would not have been enough for either of them. What she really wanted was to feel the hard length of him deep inside her as he drove her to the pinnacle of sexual ecstasy—and that was never going to happen again, she reminded herself firmly.
She was shaken out of her erotic fantasies by his terse voice informing her that they had to leave, but she felt his brooding stare on her as they rode the lift down to the car park. The short journey to the hotel where they were meeting his American client was completed in silence, but once there Zac immediately exerted his usual charismatic charm as he ushered her into the bar and introduced her to Chester Warren and his wife.
From then on Freya concentrated on chatting to Carolyn Warren and struck up an instant rapport with the older woman when she discovered that she originated from a small Hampshire village, a few miles inland from Freya’s home town. After cocktails at the hotel, they moved on to the wonderfully ornate Salle Garnier Opera House where the performance by the Monte Carlo Ballet Company was truly magical, and afterwards they returned to the hotel for a late dinner.
‘So, Freya, do you like living here in Monaco?’ Chester Warren queried when they had finished eating. ‘Carolyn tells me you’re from the same part of England where she was born—quaint little place, although I can never remember its name,’ he added cheerfully.
Freya glanced across the dance floor to where Carolyn Warren was dancing with Zac. ‘I love Monaco,’ she replied, ‘but I don’t live here. I’m just a…friend of Zac’s and I’m staying here with my daughter for a few days. I’ll be going home soon,’ she added, wondering why the thought caused a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach. She would be glad to get back to reality, she told herself firmly. She didn’t belong here in this billionaire’s playground and she had no place in Zac’s life.
The bleakness in her voice caused Chester to stare at her with undisguised curiosity. ‘Friends, eh,’ he drawled. ‘Well, Zac’s a fine man—as charming as his father was and just as ruthless in the boardroom,’ he said on a note of admiration. ‘I remember when Charles died a couple of years back, there were some on the Deverell board who believed Zac wasn’t up to the job of Chief Executive. He was seen as a playboy—you know, fast cars, plenty of women.’ Chester chuckled. ‘But to give him his dues, he worked like a dog to prove he was a worthy successor to his father even though he was pretty cut up at Charles’ death. Now, of course, Deverell’s profits are soaring and Zac has the full support of his board, but I hear he still works all the hours God sends.’ Chester winked at her conspiratorially. ‘Maybe he needs to get himself a wife, although he’s shown no signs yet of wanting to settle down. I guess it would take a pretty special lady to tame him.’
‘She
