remoteness disappeared the instant she met his glittering gaze.
“We need to talk.”
The curt demand sent another hot tingle through her. She resisted the urge to cross her arms over her chest. Suddenly the dress seemed too thin, too revealing, definitely not her best idea. “That is why I’m here.”
A muscle pulsed along the side of his jaw. If she hadn’t known he was angry before, she knew it then.
“Outside. Now.”
Her jaw tightened at the low register of his voice, the unmistakable whiplash of command. “I don’t think so.” The last time she had taken orders she had been five and she had wanted that Barbie doll.
His hand closed around her arm; his palm burned into her naked skin. A pang of pure feminine fear shot through her, making all the fine hairs at her nape stand on end, but she dug her heels in. To anyone watching they would no doubt appear to be engaged in an intimately close conversation, but Constantine’s grip was firm.
When her resistance registered, he bent close. His lips almost brushed her ear and his warm breath fanned her neck, sending another fiery pang through her, this time straight to her loins. She froze, pinned in place by the potent lash of sensation. For a split second she couldn’t move. Worse, she didn’t want to.
“We’re leaving now. If you make a fuss, I’ll carry you out and no one will stop me.”
“You can’t do this.”
“Try me.”
Wildly she checked for Lucas, but he had conveniently disappeared. “This is assault.”
He laughed, and the weird primitive female thing that had frozen her in place and which was probably designed as a survival mechanism for the race so that women would have sex with men even if they were hideous and had no manners at all, dissolved. Suddenly, she was back. “I’ll call the police.”
“Before or after our business meeting tomorrow?”
Her teeth snapped together at his blatant use of the power he had over both her and Ambrosi. “That’s blackmail.”
He applied pressure, unceremoniously shunting her out of the room. “Babe, that’s business.”
Nine
S ienna dug in her high-heels as they entered a deserted gallery with tall, arched windows along one wall, softly lit works of art on the other. “This is as far as I go. We’re out of the ballroom, which strangely enough you wanted to leave despite the fact that it’s your party. But if we go any farther, I’m afraid no one will hear my screams.”
“Calm down, I’m not interested in hurting you.”
Ignoring her protest, Constantine swung her up into his arms.
Sienna pushed at his shoulders and attempted to wriggle free. “You could have fooled me.”
Constantine strode a short distance then set her down directly in front of a large oil painting, grunting softly when her elbow accidentally caught him in the stomach.
Just when she was congratulating herself on finally ruffling his steely control, one long tanned finger flicked the sapphire teardrop just above the swell of her cleavage. “Part of the new promotion?”
Her cheeks burned with a combination of irked fury and a dizzying heat. “How would you know about that?”
“I’m still on your client mailing list. I get all of your pamphlets.”
“I’ll have to speak to my assistant.”
Better still, she would edit the list herself. Those glossy pamphlets were too expensive to mail out to people who were never going to buy their products.
Constantine’s expression was grim. “When you walked into the ballroom wearing Medinian bridal jewels you caused quite a stir. Was that planned, or a coincidence?”
She followed the direction of his gaze. The jewel-bright colors of the large oil painting that loomed overhead came into sharp focus. She studied what was, without doubt, a wedding portrait. “I had no idea these were wedding jewels.”
“Or that the press could put two and two together and make ten.” Constantine’s expression was frustratingly remote. “This isn’t a game,
“We need to talk.”
The curt demand sent another hot tingle through her. She resisted the urge to cross her arms over her chest. Suddenly the dress seemed too thin, too revealing, definitely not her best idea. “That is why I’m here.”
A muscle pulsed along the side of his jaw. If she hadn’t known he was angry before, she knew it then.
“Outside. Now.”
Her jaw tightened at the low register of his voice, the unmistakable whiplash of command. “I don’t think so.” The last time she had taken orders she had been five and she had wanted that Barbie doll.
His hand closed around her arm; his palm burned into her naked skin. A pang of pure feminine fear shot through her, making all the fine hairs at her nape stand on end, but she dug her heels in. To anyone watching they would no doubt appear to be engaged in an intimately close conversation, but Constantine’s grip was firm.
When her resistance registered, he bent close. His lips almost brushed her ear and his warm breath fanned her neck, sending another fiery pang through her, this time straight to her loins. She froze, pinned in place by the potent lash of sensation. For a split second she couldn’t move. Worse, she didn’t want to.
“We’re leaving now. If you make a fuss, I’ll carry you out and no one will stop me.”
“You can’t do this.”
“Try me.”
Wildly she checked for Lucas, but he had conveniently disappeared. “This is assault.”
He laughed, and the weird primitive female thing that had frozen her in place and which was probably designed as a survival mechanism for the race so that women would have sex with men even if they were hideous and had no manners at all, dissolved. Suddenly, she was back. “I’ll call the police.”
“Before or after our business meeting tomorrow?”
Her teeth snapped together at his blatant use of the power he had over both her and Ambrosi. “That’s blackmail.”
He applied pressure, unceremoniously shunting her out of the room. “Babe, that’s business.”
Nine
S ienna dug in her high-heels as they entered a deserted gallery with tall, arched windows along one wall, softly lit works of art on the other. “This is as far as I go. We’re out of the ballroom, which strangely enough you wanted to leave despite the fact that it’s your party. But if we go any farther, I’m afraid no one will hear my screams.”
“Calm down, I’m not interested in hurting you.”
Ignoring her protest, Constantine swung her up into his arms.
Sienna pushed at his shoulders and attempted to wriggle free. “You could have fooled me.”
Constantine strode a short distance then set her down directly in front of a large oil painting, grunting softly when her elbow accidentally caught him in the stomach.
Just when she was congratulating herself on finally ruffling his steely control, one long tanned finger flicked the sapphire teardrop just above the swell of her cleavage. “Part of the new promotion?”
Her cheeks burned with a combination of irked fury and a dizzying heat. “How would you know about that?”
“I’m still on your client mailing list. I get all of your pamphlets.”
“I’ll have to speak to my assistant.”
Better still, she would edit the list herself. Those glossy pamphlets were too expensive to mail out to people who were never going to buy their products.
Constantine’s expression was grim. “When you walked into the ballroom wearing Medinian bridal jewels you caused quite a stir. Was that planned, or a coincidence?”
She followed the direction of his gaze. The jewel-bright colors of the large oil painting that loomed overhead came into sharp focus. She studied what was, without doubt, a wedding portrait. “I had no idea these were wedding jewels.”
“Or that the press could put two and two together and make ten.” Constantine’s expression was frustratingly remote. “This isn’t a game,
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