Rebel's Bargain

‘Not usually. But it seemed most convenient in the circumstances.’ A quick gesture encompassed his glasses and plastered arm. He sounded perfectly composed. No roiling stomach for Orsino after that scene in front of the paparazzi. No regrets or concerns.

Poppy’s fingers curled till the nails bit her palms. She wished she could be so blasé.

‘The hotel business must be booming.’ She shoved open her door and swung her legs out.

‘I’m not in the hotel business.’

Something in his voice made her turn in time to see him flatten his lips as if in distaste.

Poppy tilted her head, watching his long fingers flex then clench into a fist. She frowned. Orsino was so good at guarding his thoughts. Did he realise the tension he was signalling?

‘I know you don’t have to work for a crust, Orsino.’ Carefully she kept her voice neutral. His attitude to her career had never been supportive, as if he couldn’t understand her need to pay her own way. ‘But your family fortune comes from hotels. It’s the same thing.’

He opened his mouth as if to say something then paused. ‘The jet belongs to a friend,’ he said at last.

Poppy hesitated, about to call him on his blatant change of subject then shrugged. She wasn’t interested in what made Orsino tick. He’d cured her of caring.

Twenty minutes later they were finally alone, seated on opposite sides of the cabin. The plane had lifted off and the steward had retired to the galley after serving drinks.

‘What the hell did you think you were doing back there, Orsino?’ Her outrage hadn’t abated. Her fingers were white-knuckled around her glass.

‘Where?’ He turned his head towards her but his expression was unreadable behind those glasses.

‘Oh, don’t be so coy.’ She all but grated her teeth together. ‘Outside the hospital.’

‘What? The kiss?’

‘Of course, the kiss.’ Heat saturated her skin at the nerve of the man pretending not to understand. ‘What did you think gave you the right to do that?’

Above the dark glasses one black eyebrow arched. ‘A husband’s right?’ he purred in a whisky-deep voice.

‘A husband’s—!’ Her words were cut off as she surged upwards, only to find herself restrained by the seatbelt. With a fumbled click she freed herself and shot to her feet, stalking across the luxurious lounge to stand before him. She shook with the force of her indignation.

‘How many times do we have to go through this, Orsino? You’re no longer my husband.’

Slowly, oh so slowly, he lifted his head towards her voice. Her skin prickled as his gaze trawled her body, from her hips, past her waist to her breasts and then finally to her face. Heat surged in her cheeks.

Could he see her or was he just pretending, yanking her chain? Either way, his leisurely survey set her teeth on edge, like fingernails scraping down a chalkboard.

Poppy wrapped her arms around herself rather than reach out to wrap her hands around his throat. She’d never in her life been violent but Orsino brought out a response more potent than any she’d known.

Except the depth of misery and hurt he’d left in his wake. The memory of that helped get her anger under control.

‘You didn’t like kissing me?’ He tilted his head as if puzzled. But the shadow of a smile lurking at the corner of his mouth told its own story. ‘You could have fooled me.’

Poppy swung away, pacing the deep, plush carpet. ‘Then obviously I succeeded. Being kissed by you isn’t an experience I want to repeat. Ever. I prefer to save my kisses for someone I care about.’

Silence.

‘And does this man have a name? Or can I guess?’ Orsino’s voice held a dangerous edge, like honed steel sheathed in velvet. It abraded her senses, making her shiver.

‘That falls in the category of none of your business.’ He had a hide, prying into her private life after all this time.

Orsino’s lips twisted up in a smile she could only describe as feral. ‘If you try to flaunt him under my nose while we’re together you’ll find it’s very much my business.’