Secrets In The Boardroom: A Perfect Husband / The Boss's Secret Mistress / Between the CEO's Sheets

Against all the odds her heart thumped wildly at his bad-tempered, rather blunt statement, which definitely indicated a desire to keep her to himself. She guessed she could excuse him, although not right away.

He had kidnapped her.

She clamped down on the dizzying delight that he wanted her enough to actually commit a crime. After Zane’s behavior in Sydney and her misery when he had failed to come after her, it was a scenario she hadn’t dared consider.

The engine dropped to a low hum. Zane stabbed at a button. The rattle of a chain cut through the charged silence as he dropped anchor.

Lilah watched the grim set of Zane’s shoulders as he studied the chain for a few seconds to make sure the anchor had taken hold. “I suppose on Medinos, trying to get a conviction against an Atraeus is impossible.”

Zane went very still. When he straightened, she realized the faint shaking of his shoulders was laughter. He grinned, suddenly looking rakish. “Not impossible, just highly improbable.”

Ten (#ud90b6dcb-865b-5101-8c13-a633e6e6da34)

The inflatable boat scraped ashore on the pristine white-sand beach. With a fluid movement, Zane climbed out and held it steady against the wash of waves. Ignoring the hand he offered her, Lilah clambered over the side, shoes in one hand, handbag gripped in the other.

Ankle-deep water splashed her calves, surprisingly cold as she stepped onto the firmly packed sand at the shoreline. With muscular ease, Zane pulled the inflatable higher on the beach, unwound rope and tied it to an iron ring attached to a weathered post.

Shielding her eyes from the sun, which was almost directly overhead, Lilah examined the bay. Beyond the post was an expanse of tussock grass interspersed with darker patches of wild thyme and rosemary. Farther back, and to the right, she could see, following the broad curve of an estuary, the remains of sheds. To the right, flanked by a grove of gnarled olive trees, was the ivy-encrusted remnant of what must have once been a grand villa. She instantly knew that this had to be Sebastien Ambrosi’s villa. Sienna and Carla Ambrosi’s grandfather had left Medinos in the 1940s and settled in Broome, Australia, where he had reestablished the Ambrosi Pearls business. “The house looks smaller than I imagined.”

“You knew Sebastien Ambrosi?”

“My mother used to work for him in Broome, seeding and grading pearls. He was very kind to us.” She lifted her shoulders. “I’ve always been fascinated by Ambrosi Pearls, and I’ve always longed to see Ambrus.”

While Zane unloaded their cases, she walked along the beach. From here nothing was visible except the misty line where sea met sky, no land, no Medinos or any other island, just water and isolation.

She studied the Atraeus beach house, which was set back into a curve in the jagged cliffs. Built on three levels, it wasn’t, by any stretch of the imagination, a cottage. Planes of glass glinted in the sun. The teaklike wood and the jutting curves and angles gave it the appearance of a gigantic ship flowing out of the rock. Sited higher than the beach, it no doubt commanded a magnificent view.

“Are you all right?”

She whirled. “You’re holding me prisoner. Other than that, I guess everything is just fine.”

Any hint of amusement winked out of his gaze. “You are not a ‘prisoner.’ I’ve asked a Medinian couple, Jorge and Marta, to stay over for a couple of days. Jorge is a trained butler, and Marta is a chef. I’m trying to keep this as PC as I can.”

“A PC kidnapping.”

His jaw set in an obdurate line. “If you’re hungry, Marta will have lunch ready up at the house.”

Zane breathed a sigh of relief when Lilah appeared, fresh and cool after showering and changing into a white shift, to join him on one of the enormous decks for lunch.

Marta had set out a tempting array of salads and meats. As Zane watched Lilah eat, curiously at home in the wild setting, a sense of possessiveness filled him.

The house on Ambrus was a luxury retreat. He could have brought any number of women he had known here, but he had never been even remotely tempted. Lilah was his first guest. Not that she had seen it that way.

He realized he wasn’t just attracted to Lilah; he liked her, even down to the way she pushed his buttons. She had given him a hard time from the minute he had caught up with her in the airport.

His decision to do whatever it took to keep her with him settled in. She wasn’t ready to admit it yet, or surrender to him, but he was confident he could change that. Deny it as she might, she couldn’t hide the fact that she wanted him.

Until that moment, he hadn’t known how this would work, but now the equation was simple. Lucas had had his chance, and made his choice. He was no longer prepared to allow his brother, or any other man, near her.

Emotion expanded in his chest. After living an admittedly wild, single life, it was something of a U-turn. Until that moment he hadn’t known how much he wanted to make it. He still didn’t know how exactly they would work out a relationship, how long it would last—or if Lilah was even prepared to try, given her agenda—but he was finally prepared to try.

Lilah placed her fork down and smothered a yawn. “I think I’ll go take a nap.”

Zane watched her walk back into the house and determinedly squashed the desire to go after her.

After detaining her at the airport then kidnapping her, carrying her to bed would not improve on the impression he had made. Given that he wanted more than a short-lived liaison, he needed to take a different, more mature, approach.

As much as he wanted to follow up on the promise of those rushed few moments on the couch, he would have to wait.

She didn’t trust him yet. At this point trust was a commodity neither of them possessed.

When Lilah woke, the sun had gone down and she could smell something savory cooking. Pushing back the sheet, which was the only covering she had needed in the balmy heat, she walked through to the lavish marble en suite bathroom to freshen up.

It seemed that even when the Atraeus family holidayed at the beach, it was done with style. After washing her face, she ran a comb through her hair and coiled it into a loose knot on top of her head. Eyes narrowed, she surveyed her crumpled wardrobe. If she was launching herself into a two-day venture of passion, she needed to dress the part.

In the end she changed into a simple but elegant ivory cotton dress with an intriguingly low cut neckline that she usually teamed with a thin silk camisole.

She inserted pearl studs in her ears and spent a good ten minutes on her makeup. The results weren’t exactly spectacular, but Zane hadn’t given her much notice. Feeling buoyed up but more than a little on edge, she strolled out to the main sitting room.

For the next two days she had a guilty kind of permission to put her marriage plans to one side and immerse herself in a passionate experience. Unfortunately, she was going to have to play it by ear. Nothing in her extensive research on dating with a view to marriage had prepared her to cope with a rampant love affair with a totally unsuitable man.

Zane was already on the deck dressed in fitted dark pants that outlined the muscular length of his legs and a loose, gauzy white shirt. On another man the semitransparent shirt might have looked soft and effeminate, but on Zane the effect of muslin clinging to broad shoulders was powerful and utterly masculine. With his hair sleeked back in a ponytail, the studs in his ear were clearly visible, making him look even more like his piratical ancestor.

Somewhere classical music played softly. Marta had set the table, but this time it was glamorously romantic with white damask, gleaming gold cutlery and ornate gold candlesticks. Lit candles provided a soft, flickering glow, highlighting the Lalique glassware. With the deck floating in darkness above the rocks and the sea luminous and gleaming below, it was easy to fantasize that she was standing in the prow of a ship.

Dinner was a gazpacho-style soup with fresh, warm rolls, followed by a rich chicken casserole with pasta. Desert was a platter of honeyed pastries, fresh figs and soft white cheese.

Marta and Jorge cleared away. When Zane indicated they should go inside, she preceded him gladly, grateful for the distraction from the growing awareness that they were finally alone.

Feeling even more nervous now, Lilah walked around the huge sitting room, studying the artwork on the walls. She stopped at a beautifully executed watercolor of a rocky track, which culminated in a cave.

Zane’s deep, cool voice close to her ear sent a tingling jolt of awareness through her. “That came from the old villa. One of the few possessions that survived the World War Two bombing.”

She forced herself to study the familiar signature at the bottom right-hand corner of the painting, although with Zane behind her she was now utterly distracted. “Of course, one of Sebastien’s.”

“You might recognize a couple of landmarks.” He reached past her to indicate a familiar headland, then farther in the background, a high peak. “It’s a painting of an area behind the old villa.”

She tensed at Zane’s proximity. It was ridiculous to be so on edge. It wasn’t as if they hadn’t kissed a number of times, made love.

The warmth of his breath on her nape sent a shivery frisson down her spine. “Would you like a drink?”

When she turned, he had already moved away and was at the drinks cabinet, a decanter of brandy in one hand, a balloon glass in the other. “No. Thanks.”

He splashed brandy in the glass and gestured at the comfortable leather couches. “Have a seat.

Lilah chose an armchair close to the fire, sank into the cloud of leather and tried to relax. She blushed when she registered Zane’s gaze lingering in the area of her neckline, and tried to brazen out the moment.

“Why didn’t you tell me that Peters was gay?”