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       CHAPTER THREE

      ‘WHAT DO YOU THINK, Dante?’ Enzo asked. ‘Do we want to go with Tokyo on this one or stick with the New York office’s plans?’

      Dante wasn’t listening, too busy restlessly pacing around in front of the windows of the boardroom in Cardinal Developments’ London office. Rain pelted against the glass, obscuring the view of the city below but, just as he wasn’t listening to his brother, he wasn’t paying much attention to the view either.

      He was in England with Enzo to work out some of the details of a new project in the City, which had been hijacked by some disagreement between their people in New York and Tokyo, and quite frankly he didn’t have the patience for either thing right now.

      Not when his head was full of Stella Montefiore.

      It had been over a month since she’d left him cuffed to a bed in that hotel room in Monte Carlo, running out on him mere minutes after the most unexpectedly intense sexual experience of his life, and to say he was annoyed about it would be to understate things massively.

      He wasn’t simply annoyed. He was furious.

      And he wasn’t furious that she’d not only drugged him and cuffed him but then tried to kill him. No, he was furious firstly because she’d run out without even a thank you, and secondly because, try as he might, he simply could not stop thinking about her.

      That brief moment of excitement and pleasure should have been more than enough for him. After all, there were a great many other lovely women in the world, so he shouldn’t be fixating or caring about one particular woman.

      But for some reason he hadn’t been able to stop.

      For weeks all he’d thought about was the feel of her tight, wet heat around him and the scent of her arousal, the unbelievable pleasure that had licked up his spine the moment she’d lowered herself down on him.

      Of the challenging look in her beautiful eyes as her fingers had closed around him, upping the ante on their little game in a way he hadn’t expected. Or the way that look had turned to wonder as she’d lowered herself down on him and the heat and the pleasure between them had taken hold.

      He’d never seen that look on a woman’s face in bed before and he’d been riveted. Caught too by the knowledge that she was experiencing this for the first time and he was the one who was giving it to her.

      Maybe it was simply because she’d been trying to kill him that had heightened everything, including the pleasure.

      Whatever it was, one thing had become very, very clear to him: given that she had in fact been trying to kill him, and that he had no guarantee she wouldn’t try again, he couldn’t simply leave her to run around on the loose.

      So for the past month he’d spent most of his efforts on investigating her and, more importantly, finding her. Efforts that had all ended up with frustrating dead ends.

      Until now.

      ‘Dante, for God’s sake,’ Enzo said curtly. ‘You’re giving me a damn headache.’

      Dante blinked then turned around, shoving his hands into the pockets of his suit trousers. Enzo was leaning against the long, sleek black table that dominated the boardroom, his arms folded, his golden eyes disturbingly sharp.

      ‘Are you going to tell me what the matter is?’ he asked. ‘Or are you going to continue to pace around, pretending to be me?’

      His brother wasn’t wrong. Pacing was definitely Enzo’s speciality, not Dante’s.

      With an effort, Dante tried to relax. He didn’t want Enzo to know about Stella, not yet. His brother was happy for the first time in his life and Dante didn’t want anything to worry him, such as attempts on Dante’s life from enemies back in the old country.

      Besides, Enzo would no doubt start taking charge of the operation if Dante did tell him, and there was no way Dante wanted him to do that. This was his problem and he was going to handle it his way.

       Nothing at all to do with wanting Stella Montefiore in your bed again, naturally.

      Naturally. He’d had her once. He didn’t need to have her again, no matter how beautiful she was or exciting he’d found her. He just wanted her found, any threat she presented negated.

      ‘There’s nothing the matter.’ Dante consciously tried to relax his tense muscles. ‘Why would you say that?’

      ‘Because you haven’t listened to a word I’ve said and you’re pacing around like Simon does when he’s restless and wants to go outside and play.’

      ‘Though presumably with fewer tantrums,’ Dante muttered. He loved his nephew but, as Simon was only four, Dante didn’t much appreciate the comparison.

      One of Enzo’s black brows rose. ‘Is that a comment on my son’s behaviour? Because if so—’

      ‘Of course not,’ Dante snapped, unaccountably irritable.

      There was an uncomfortable silence as Enzo stared at him.

      ‘What?’ He stared back. ‘There’s no problem.’

      ‘And our father is alive and well and ruling peacefully at home,’ Enzo commented dryly. ‘Tell me. And it had better be work related. Simon starts school in a couple of months and the last thing he needs is one of his uncle’s scandals all through the media.’

      Since Enzo had married Matilda six months ago, he’d got very protective of his little family. Annoyingly so, in Dante’s opinion. His brother had never minded his affairs before, but in the past few months he’d turned into a damn prude. It was irritating.

      Dante had managed successfully to build a life that consisted entirely of seeing to his own comfort and he was more than happy with the present arrangement. He did not want anything to change it.

      ‘It’s nothing that need concern Cardinal Developments,’ he said, trying to find his usual casual smile. ‘Or Simon. It’s merely a distracting entanglement.’

      Enzo frowned. ‘That doesn’t sound promising. She’s not married, is she?’

      ‘Brother,

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