The Platinum Collection: A Diamond Deal: The Flaw in His Diamond / The Purest of Diamonds? / In the Brazilian's Debt

She stared at him in silence for a moment and then tried to reach past him for a towel.

He stood in her way. ‘When I said I didn’t have time to meet with you, I meant it, Ms Skavanga. What the hell are you doing on my island uninvited? We have nothing to discuss.’

‘That’s your opinion. I’ve come here to change your mind.’

‘I wish you luck with that.’ The water had made her underwear translucent. It left nothing to his imagination where her naked body was concerned. And as she stood confronting him pool water cascaded down her body, highlighting every line and curve. It was even trickling down the crack in her butt, he noticed as she turned away to grind her jaw and tap her foot. Maybe she’d think twice about wearing such a tiny thong next time she planned to invade a stranger’s pool.

‘Please pass me a towel,’ she ground out, turning back to him. ‘They’re just behind you,’ she informed him, tilting her chin at a combative angle.

She could wait. He knew the expression in his eyes offered no reprieve. Eva stared back at him without blinking. Somehow she managed not to fold her arms across her chest during this standoff, though he suspected she dearly wanted to. She needn’t have worried. He wasn’t interested.

Seriously?

As he held her gaze with what was supposed to be disinterest, something unique happened inside him: a slight relaxation of his muscles and a fleeting warmth in his empty heart. He pushed the sensation away, but then the desire to laugh, and not in a cruel way, overcame him. She was just so damn cute.

Until she reminded him icily, ‘A towel? When you’re ready, Count Quisvada.’

‘Certainly, Ms Skavanga.’ He reached for one without breaking eye contact.

Eva Skavanga didn’t have the slightest idea of the effect she was having on him, and long might it remain that way. She was defensive because she thought herself unattractive to men, he concluded. That was why she tried to frighten them off rather than wait for them to push her away. She was a refreshing change. He was used to glamorous, confident women whose sole aim was to insinuate themselves into his life. There was only one thing worse in his opinion, and that was the ambitious parents with a daughter to trade. He was interested in neither option. He would rather live and die a single man than endure some fake arrangement.

‘Thank you,’ she said grudgingly when he finally gave her a towel.

Failure was not an option for Eva Skavanga, and neither was caution, apparently. He had to admit, he liked her style. Maybe he wouldn’t despatch her on the next ferry home, but would keep her here while it suited him. At least while she was here she couldn’t cause trouble at the mine, and by the time he did send her home the work that needed to be done would have been completed.

* * *

This was not what she had planned. This was not what she had planned at all. Being caught red-handed by the count—swimming in his pool, trespassing on his grounds—confronting the man himself, when she might as well have been naked and he was elegantly clothed. It was hardly the surprise encounter she had envisaged when she set off from Skavanga, but of course that was the one where she seized the initiative, while the count was still reeling from his surprise at seeing her. There wasn’t much reeling going on right now.

‘So, Ms Skavanga?’ he demanded. ‘Do you intend to launch a protest at the side of my pool? Or may I continue on into the palazzo, where I can make arrangements for your immediate removal from the island?’

Not reeling. And definitely not in the mood for negotiations. The count was hostile, and embarrassingly unmoved by her all-but-naked body.

‘You can’t have me removed.’

‘I assure you, Ms Skavanga, I can do anything I want to do.’

‘But I’ve come all this way to see you.’ And, damn it, her voice was trembling. She hadn’t expected him to be so aggressive. She had imagined a man with an aristocratic pedigree would soften for a woman. How wrong could she be? ‘Please—’

‘Please, would you forgive me breaking in to your home? Or, please don’t deport me from the island?’ His voice was wholly mocking.

‘Both,’ she managed, angry at his tone.

‘Begging now, Ms Skavanga?’

‘Hardly. I’m merely appealing to your better nature.’ She raised a brow as she spoke, as if to say she realised now how unlikely it would be that he had one.

He might have expected a trespasser to be mortified to have been caught out, or to beseech him with pleading in her voice, and maybe even a few crocodile tears thrown in, all that was reflected in Eva’s face was challenge. So much hung on this meeting with him, according to her, so couldn’t she even manage a climb down this time? Of course she couldn’t. It wasn’t in her nature. And that was half her appeal, he realised. ‘You have a very high opinion of yourself, Ms Skavanga.’

For the first time her gaze flickered. It reinforced his opinion that beneath the braggadocio she was insecure.

* * *

Eva shifted uneasily from foot to foot. In her world she was confident, because people knew her and knew what to expect. She was never intentionally rude to anyone. She was just forceful. At least, that was how she liked to think of it.

Guilt flashed into her mind as she remembered the much-regretted argument with her sister.

And sometimes she was just plain rude, she accepted, but now she must keep the count listening long enough to convince him that the reason she was here overrode anything she might have done to see him. Extracting diamonds from the Skavanga mine at any cost couldn’t be right. But his expression suggested she would have to eat some humble pie, or there’d be no discussion.

‘I’m sorry,’ she managed to grind out. ‘I realise we’ve made a bad start.’

‘You have,’ he agreed.

CHAPTER THREE (#u11a576c4-5736-534e-838f-114ca7b79675)

DID THIS MAN get some sort of kick out of humiliating her? Eva wondered as she stood tense and angry by the side of the count’s fabulous pool. She might have learned a lesson in where being reckless led, but she wasn’t about to back down. ‘If it hadn’t been for you accelerating work at the mine, I wouldn’t be here.’

‘Is that what you call recovering the situation, Ms Skavanga? I think you’d better follow me into the house. I’ll decide what to do with you when you’ve had a chance to shower and change into some fresh clothes.’

The last thing she had expected was that he would invite her into his home. ‘Thank you,’ she managed awkwardly.

‘Don’t thank me, Ms Skavanga. Just think of yourself as an inconvenience I don’t intend to suffer much longer. And when I march you out of here, you stay off my property for good. Is that understood?’

Anger flashed through her as the count turned away and started to walk towards the house. She had to stop herself saying something she’d regret. If her concerns for the drilling hadn’t been hanging over her— If the survival of the mine hadn’t been largely dependent on this man—

‘Do you understand?’ he called out.

‘Yes,’ she fired back, scowling.

‘And while you are a guest in my house there will be no door slamming—no temper tantrums of any kind. Do I make myself clear, Ms Skavanga?’

‘Perfectly.’ He was remembering that time at Britt’s wedding when her body had reacted just as violently to him as it was doing now, and because she was so shocked by her response to him she had slammed the door in his face. She’d felt feminine at Britt’s wedding for about five minutes, but the count had changed all that. Fairy-tale bridesmaid into dowdy country bumpkin in no time flat.

‘Please follow me into the house, Ms Skavanga.’

She could play it tough with the guys back home, because they knew her and she knew them, but the count didn’t have the slightest interest in her as a woman, or as a companion. She should be pleased. No. She should be relieved. But being rejected as unfit for purpose wasn’t great.

But if that was how it was going to be, she would keep everything on a business footing. Catching up with him at the door, she offered him her hand. ‘Eva Skavanga—’

He ignored the gesture.

Swallowing her pride, she tried again. ‘I didn’t expect for us to—’

‘Meet like this?’ he interrupted, hostility rippling off him in big, ugly waves. ‘Who would?’

Hostile was far too mild a word to describe the count. And, yes, she’d trespassed on his land, but was that a hanging offence? She’d taken a swim in his pool, but so what? What was the big deal? What was riding the count? What was his problem?

The count exuded power and menace and sex, in more or less equal quantities, and admittedly that was fascinating, but it was also intimidating and she had shivers running up and down her spine. But at least she had accomplished something, if only the fact that she had tracked him down.