you paid for!’
Never having been attacked on that score before, Xan tensed, slowly coming to terms with the truth that for the first time in his life he might just have chosen a woman with moral principles. He was utterly spooked by the suspicion. ‘You’re not a slut,’ he breathed in a curt undertone of denial. ‘We have an agreement—’
The reminder steadied Elvi as nothing else could have done. ‘The theft charge?’
‘Dropped. Gone,’ Xan emphasised with relief, expecting that to improve her mood.
But Elvi said nothing, refusing to believe that assurance until she heard it from her mother herself. She knew Sally would have phoned her immediately with such news, not sat on it. Her hands merely tightened around her clutch.
‘I have some jewellery for you to wear,’ Xan continued.
‘Don’t want it,’ she said mutinously.
‘Nonetheless you will wear it as part of your role,’ Xan contradicted, settling a wide shallow box on her lap without apology. ‘You’re being childish and difficult and that’s not what I want from you.’
Possibly that was the wake-up call Elvi felt she needed at the moment. She had agreed to the mistress role and there was no room to wriggle out of the arrangement again. Gritting her teeth together, she opened the box on a diamond necklace and earrings that flashed like white fire as the streetlights illuminated the limo’s interior. She pushed her hair over one shoulder and reached for the necklace but Xan got there before her.
‘Allow me,’ he breathed, tugging her round by the shoulder to put her back to him, so close to her that the sheer heat of his body hit her bare back like a burn inflicted by the sun and she froze as he bent over her to attach the necklace at her nape.
That close, he smelt amazing, a dynamite combination of clean, crisp masculinity, exotic cologne and an element that was uniquely his own but which reminded her of fresh air and the woods. The startling wonder of his scent filtered through her like an aphrodisiac, shocking her afresh. Her breath hitching in her dry throat, she shifted away again fast and fumbled for the earrings to attach them.
‘You’re very jumpy for a woman I have yet to touch,’ Xan observed.
‘This situation is new to me,’ Elvi pointed out nervously.
‘It’s not a situation. It’s a relationship like any other.’ Xan surprised himself by saying the word he always avoided because he knew it wasn’t a relationship, it was purely a sexual connection.
Now you’re giving her mixed messages, he reproved himself immediately. No, he was simply trying to make her relax before she wrecked his good mood. He had set this up; he could hardly complain about her being different from the kind of women he was accustomed to when he had known that from the start. He was no softie with women but he was always rational, fair, he assured himself until he tried to apply that statement to the manner in which he had acquired Elvi, and the oddest sense of discomfiture assailed him for the first time ever in a woman’s presence.
Elvi shot him an anxious glance, big blue eyes as easily read as a headline. There was a sort of strange innocence about her, almost as if she was expecting him to break out a whip and chains. Stubborn mouth quirking, he shelved that sudden unlikely suspicion, choosing instead to recall the moment she had looked back at him a couple of months back in the apartment foyer. She had wanted him then and he had known it, was way too experienced in that department with women to be mistaken. And now he had made it possible for her to have him and she ought to be pleased about that, shouldn’t she? He was pleased. Why wasn’t she? Why did women have to be so blasted irrational and changeable? And since when had he cared when one was? He was wasting way too much time speculating on her behaviour and it was inappropriate with a sexual partner.
He took her to a very exclusive party in a London town house with a man playing jazz at a grand piano in the drawing room amid a crush of very well-dressed chattering guests. Xan was treated like a golden god from the moment he arrived, drinks brought, seats found, his every opinion sought. He did once say, ‘This is Elvi,’ but for the most part, she was studiously ignored, presumably because his habit of having a mistress as a partner at such engagements was well known and she was deemed to be beneath the notice of such wealthy people.
‘Who is she?’ she heard one woman whisper behind her seat.
‘Not his usual type,’ another remarked.
‘Fabulous hair though. Dyed, of course—’
And Elvi had been horribly tempted to twist around and disabuse the women with a tart response, but she had resisted the urge, preferring to be ignored while she had to listen to boring financial discussions and Xan kept an unexpectedly possessive arm wrapped round her even while they were sitting down, as if he feared she might bolt for the door.
Perhaps he had ESP, she reflected ruefully, because she was becoming increasingly apprehensive about the end of the evening. She had checked her phone repeatedly, even texting her mother to ask how she was, and if Xan had dropped the theft charge the fact hadn’t yet been shared with the older woman. How was she supposed to trust him? How was she supposed to know that he had done what he had promised?
‘That was a mind-numbing evening,’ Xan commented, surprising her as he lounged back in a corner of the limousine. ‘I hate it when people fuss over me like that and expect tips for free—’
‘The price of success?’ Elvi quipped.
As she was one of the benefits, Xan savoured, watching her with unashamed hunger. He had used his power to capture her and right at that moment he had not a single regret. She was a natural beauty and blue was definitely her colour, lighting up those eyes to brilliance. The wondrous curves were simply the icing on a very tempting cake and tonight she was finally his. He had been tempted to cut the party and stay in, had made himself go to convince himself that he was still in control of the need that made him ache with excitement in her radius. Not cool, not cool at all...but now he didn’t have to be any longer.
Elvi was not unaware of the way Xan was watching her, could only compare the blaze of those slumberous amber eyes to a panther lazily eying his next meal. Her entire body felt hot and scratchy, her breasts heavy, the space between her thighs tingling and hollow. She knew it was how he made her feel and told herself she ought to be grateful for that in the circumstances. Suppose he had not appealed to her in any way? How could she possibly have made such an agreement?
And exactly how was she now supposed to tell him that there was no way she was sharing that bed with him tonight?
Nerves gripped her fast as he accompanied her into the lift and she knew she had to say something. She cleared her throat awkwardly. ‘Look... I have something to say—’
‘Say it,’ Xan urged impatiently, his lean brown hands lifting to come down on her small shoulders and urge her closer even as the lift doors whirred back.
‘We...er...can’t. Not tonight anyway,’ she warned him with hot cheeks.
Xan groaned out loud. ‘Why didn’t you tell me sooner?’ he demanded, practically dragging her out of the lift and slotting his own key into the front door of the apartment.
‘It was...difficult—’
‘Surely you
