His gaze wandered to Wales, who drooled over her unabashedly. He pictured her as Wales was surely doing. Naked. This is disconcerting. Perhaps she’s Davidoff’s secret weapon? I should have guessed by the way she ambled in my direction that she had passion in her veins, but she seems so self-control-

“-Craig?” Edward asked, taking Alistair’s head out of the clouds.

Double fuck! I have to rein in these wayward thoughts. “Pardon?”

Davidoff smiled at him with a knowing look in his blue eyes.

Aye. Secret weapon.

“Page thirty-three, the penalty clauses,” Edward informed with his smile widening. He was sure of the Sophia’s effect on the huge man in front of him.

Alistair browsed the contract and quickly apprehended the notes in the margin. What the fuck? Alistair stiffened on the chair and looked at Wales, Davidoff, and then at Sophia. A sardonic look imprinted on her face. She delicately raised a raven eyebrow and tapped her left index finger on the center of her mouth. Christ! Her mouth. He looked down at the penalty clauses to distract himself from her mouth. These are absurd!

“I can see you have made some pertinent notes on these clauses, Mrs. Santo. I’m sure I can arrange to settle them somewhat differently.” He gave her a charming smile. She wetted her lips with the tip of her tongue and drilled her red long nails on the glass covering the wooden table. If this continues, I’ll be unable to stand when the meeting ends. She narrowed her eyes at him, changing her stance. Oh, come on… you can do better than this, Alistair Connor. He wanted the Leibowitz Oil account and now he wanted this woman to bend to his will. Let’s see how much longer she resists me.

Alistair swung the chair in her direction, casually crossed his legs and, slightly bending his torso, stared deeply into her eyes, not concealing his desire. “What do you desire, Mrs. Santo?” He asked in his deep, husky voice, letting the double entendre hang in the air.

Sophia’s mouth went dry and she tilted her head to the side. God. What just hit me? Her lips parted and she forgot what she needed to say.

Edward came to Sophia’s rescue again. “Exactly what is written, MacCraig.”

Oh, hell, Mr. MacCraig, you are so not doing this. Sophia snapped out of her reverie. Don’t push your luck, Mr. I’m-so-handsome-and-I-know-it. This is business. “Let me be honest, Mr. MacCraig.” She put her jeweled dragon Cartier pen on the contract with finality and entwined her long fingers in an elegant gesture, shifting in her chair to lean away from him. “These penalties are incompatible with a firm of our size and solidity. The fees and guaranty clauses are inconsistent with our corporate policy. You’re dealing with Leibowitz Oil, for God’s sake.” She looked quickly at Edward, who nodded his head slightly. Alistair’s gaze followed the exchange. “You can do better than this, Mr. MacCraig.” She gave him a knowing smile.

Christ! Can she read my thoughts? How good is she?

“And?” Alistair asked poker-faced. How old could she be? Twenty-two? Please, I have five times her experience.

“We’d like you to modify the highlighted terms as best you can. We could set another meeting to-”

Wales interrupted, “Miss Santo, I have told you before. These are our final conditions. Every time you postpone the signing of this contract you waste a business opportunity for Leibowitz,” Wales, undiplomatic, put forth and continued pushing her, “you have more to lose than us.”

Sophia’s temper snapped. “Mr. Wales, I think you haven’t properly researched Leibowitz Oil. This loan,” she tapped the contract with her pen, “is just a means to expand our business. We’re doing extremely well without it, no thanks to you.”

“If I may say, Miss Santo, since the death of Gabriel Leibowitz and the disappearance of his wife and daughter, Leibowitz Oil has lost a great deal of its credibility,” Wales sneered at her. “It’s sinking without him. We’re your salvation.”

Alistair watched as Sophia paled.

“I don’t see what the lives of Mr. Leibowitz’s widow and child have to do with the company, sir,” Sophia murmured dryly.

“Well, although Davidoff has been doing great in steering the company, everyone knows that Mr. Leibowitz was the brains behind it. It was said that his widow was very astute, but rumor has it she is dead.” When Wales finished, Sophia swayed in her chair and Edward leaped to steady her.

Alistair’s eyes sent daggers in Wales’s direction. Shut up, you idiot. “Davidoff, I’ll ask the legal department to review these clauses and Wales will-”

“MacCraig, seems to me that Wales doesn’t know whom he’s talking to.” Edward’s voice had the sharp edge of barely controlled rage.

Aye, it seems Wales has really fucked up this time.

“I think we have concluded our business with your bank, Mr. MacCraig.” Sophia rose and leaned on Edward, who wrapped an arm around her, snaking it around her waist, offering protection, comfort, and support. Immediately, the other two men rose.

Close, aren’t you? Alistair noticed every nuance of the embrace. This woman is the key to the account. I was so sure I would sign this contract today.

It was Wales’s turn to pale. “Mrs. Santo… Please, sit. I’m sure we can find-”

Ah. Not Miss anymore? “We no longer have anything to discuss with you, Mr. Wales,” she stated, her voice as cold as the Arctic.

“Mrs. San-” he tried to insist.

“I’ll handle this, Wales,” Alistair intervened, raising a hand to halt more damage. “Mrs. Santo, if there is anything I could personally do…”

“We, at Leibowitz, don’t base our conclusions or business decisions on rumors,” she dripped acid, “and, Mr. MacCraig,” she look deeply into his eyes, any hint of the previous desire gone, “if you really want to do business with us, you will have to accept the terms. Our terms, from now on.”

She calmly put her pen in her bag and packed her draft and Edward’s in her briefcase, closing it firmly. She held her hand out to Alistair and he enveloped it with his much bigger one.

Cold, so cold. He looked at her pale face and his anger shimmered. Fuck. Wales has overstepped now.

“I bid you good day, Mr. MacCraig,” she said softly, staring into his beautiful green eyes. Searching. For what exactly, she didn’t know.

Sophia left the room with a cool demeanor that wouldn’t deter Alistair for a second.


Mayfair. Hibiscus.

9 p.m.

“You never talk about your husband. Why?” Ethan asked after ordering their dinner. He hated the man, but he wanted to know everything about her, even if it pained him to hear about Sophia and another man. Knowledge is power.

“It’s painful.” She breathed, “You can’t imagine what it’s like to lose the person you love until it happens.”

“I see.” Pain; this I understand. “When did he die?”

“Two-thousand-eight.” Don’t give away too much. He’s too smart.

“And your brothers and sisters? Parents?”

Sophia smiled. “I have one brother, that you’ve met, and three sisters, Carolina, Valentina, the one you met, and Victoria, Valentina’s twin.”

Ethan smiled and shifted slightly on the sofa they were sharing, repositioning his body to look at her better.

Sophia blossomed under his attention. He looked at her with so much interest that she easily spilled out her entire life to him. Careful, Sophia. You still don’t know this man.


“You’re not hungry?” He looked at her, concerned, as the waiter took away her almost full plate. She had pushed around the food, taking tiny bites. “You barely ate. You’re thinner than when I met you.”

The waiter brought their dessert and served them.

Sophia smiled at Ethan. “Don’t mind me. The food was delicious, a surprising combination of flavors. I loved it.” She picked up her dessert spoon and dipped it in the Bakewell tart with clotted cream ice cream and cherry gel. “Don’t worry.” She flicked her hand. “I was dying to taste this.” She closed her mouth around the spoon and moaned.

Ethan leaned in her direction, brushed her hair from her face, and spoke huskily in her ear. “And I, I’m dying to taste you again, baby.”

Desire shot through her body. “You can ask for the check.” Her breath hitched, “I don’t want coffee.”

He immediately signaled for the waiter and his hand went up her thigh, sliding under her Valentino dress. “What are you wearing today?” he whispered, biting her earlobe.

“It’s a surprise,” she informed him hoarsely. “Behave. We’re in a restaurant.”

“Jesus!” His blue eyes went electric when his hand touched the skin between her stocking and garter. “You take my breath away, Sophia.”

He barely looked at the bill the waiter brought, flinging cash on the black leather case. He desired that woman. Jesus! I can’t get enough of her.

Ethan had a huge erection by the time he parked in his garage. If he had been in his Rolls, he would have had her right in the car. The Porsche is too small for the two of us.

As soon as his private lift doors closed he backed her up on its wall and kissed her hard, his hand grabbing her hair to pin her in place and pressing his hips to hers.

He dragged her behind him when they arrived on his floor without a word, going directly to his room. He was eager to touch her skin. He shed his overcoat and blazer and threw them on the sofa in the sitting room; he did the same with her fur coat. He burrowed his head in her neck and licked her throat.