from her, as if her skin were alive with an electricity that sparked onto him, an intensity in her dark eyes he had to stop himself from being pulled into.
He had a job to do and could not afford the distraction of her striking sultriness to delay him at a moment when time was of the essence. He’d planned everything down to the minute.
Tonight, her dark hair had been pulled back into a tight bun circled with tiny round diamonds, her lithe figure draped in a sleeveless deep red crushed velvet dress that flared at the hip to fall mid-calf. Her pale bare shoulders glimmered under the ballroom lights just as they had done under the hot Madrid sun and there was an itch in the pads of his fingers to touch that silky looking skin.
He leaned in a little closer so only she could hear the words that would next spill from his tongue. The motion sent a little whirl of a sultry yet delicate fragrance darting into his senses. He resisted the urge to breathe it in greedily.
‘I already know Javier isn’t here. Forgive me, Mademoiselle Clements, but I have news that is only for your ears.’
A groove appeared in her forehead, the black eyes widening.
He turned his head pointedly to the huge swing doors that led out of the ballroom and held his elbow out. ‘May I?’
Her throat moved before she nodded, then slipped her hand through the crook of his arm.
Benjamin guided her through the guests socialising magnificently as they waited for their hosts, the Casillas brothers, to arrive and for the fundraising gala to begin in earnest. They would have a long wait. The wheels he’d set in motion should, if all went as planned, delay them both for another hour each. He felt numerous eyes fall upon them and bit back a smile.
When Javier did finally get there, he would learn his fiancée had disappeared with his newly sworn enemy.
He had never wanted it to come to this but Javier and Luis had forced his hand. He’d warned them. After their last acrimonious meeting, he had given them a deadline and warned them failure to pay what was owed would lead to consequences.
Freya was collateral damage in the ugly mess they had created, the deceitful, treacherous bastards.
When they were in the hotel’s lobby, Benjamin stopped beside a marble pillar to say, ‘I am sorry for the subterfuge but Javier has encountered a problem. He does not wish to alarm the other guests but has asked me to bring you to him.’
‘Is he hurt?’ She had a husky voice that perfectly matched the sultriness of her appearance.
‘No, it is not that. He is well. I only know that he has asked me to take you to him.’
He saw the hesitation in her eyes but gave her no chance to act on it, taking the hand still held in the crook of his arm and lacing his fingers through hers.
‘Come,’ he said, then began moving again, this time towards the exit doors.
Her much shorter, graceful legs kept pace easily.
A sharp pang of guilt punched his gut at her misplaced trust, a pang he dismissed.
This was Javier’s fiancée.
Benjamin’s sister, Chloe, worked as a seamstress at the ballet company and knew Freya. She had described her as nice if a little aloof. Intelligent. Too intelligent not to know exactly the kind of man she had chosen to marry.
Money and power in the world you inhabited were mighty aphrodisiacs, he thought scathingly.
What he found harder to dismiss were the evocative tingles seeping into his bloodstream from the feel of her hand in his and the movement of her lithe body sweeping along beside him.
His driver was waiting for them as arranged at the front of the hotel.
Benjamin waited until she was sitting in the car before following her in, staring straight into the security camera above the hotel’s door as he did so.
‘Do you really not know what kind of trouble Javier is in?’ she asked with steady composure as the driver pulled away from the hotel.
‘Mademoiselle Clements, I am merely your courier for this trip. All will be revealed when we reach our destination.’
‘Where is he?’
‘In Florence.’
‘Still?’
‘I understand there was some delay.’ An understanding brought about by his own sabotage. Benjamin had paid an aviation official to conduct a spot-check of Javier’s private plane with the promise of an extra ten thousand euros if he could delay him by two hours. He’d also paid a contact who worked for a mobile phone network to jam Freya’s phone.
As they drove into the remote airfield less than ten minutes later she suddenly straightened. ‘I haven’t got my passport on me.’
‘You don’t need it.’
Benjamin’s own private plane was ready to board, his crew in place, all ready to get the craft into the air the moment he and Freya were strapped in.
He ignored another wave of guilt as she climbed the metal steps onto his jet, as trusting as a spring lamb.
Within half an hour of leaving the hotel they were airborne.
He inhaled properly for what felt the first time in half an hour.
His plan had worked effortlessly.
Sitting on the reclining leather seat facing her, Benjamin watched Freya. Her features were calm, the only indication anything was worrying her the slight tapping of her fingers on her lap. He would put her out of her misery soon enough.
‘Drink?’ he asked.
Her eyes found his and held them for the longest time before blinking. ‘Do you have tea?’
‘I think something stronger.’
‘Do I need something stronger?’
Not yet she didn’t.
‘No, but a drink will help you relax, ma douce.’
Her throat moved, the generous lips pulling together. Then she loosened her tight shoulders and nodded.
Benjamin summoned a member of his cabin crew. ‘Get Mademoiselle Clements a drink, whatever she wants. I will have a glass of port.’
Soon their drinks had been served and Freya sipped at her gin and tonic. Her forehead was pressed to the window, her gaze fixed on the dark night sky. She covered her mouth and stifled a yawn.
‘You are tired?’ he asked politely.
A quick, soft shake of her head that turned into a nod that morphed into another yawn. When she met his gaze there was sheepish amusement in her eyes. ‘Flying makes me sleepy. I’m the same in cars. Are you sure Javier is okay?’
‘Very sure. Your seat reclines into a bed. Sleep if you need to.’
‘I’ll
