Captive at Her Enemy's Command Read online

  This wasn’t just about sex, it was about so much more than that. In so many ways they were kindred spirits. Hadn’t they both been holding themselves back, keeping a tight rein on their emotions to protect themselves from hurt? Once she got a chance to talk to him properly, she would let him know that he could trust her to keep his secrets safe.

  She went for a long swim in the pool and then had a leisurely breakfast on the terrace, hoping that he would put in an appearance at some point. By two o’clock she had finished all the landscapes she had been working on the day before and was considering tracking him down at the resort’s business center when a call arrived from Megan.

  They spoke for over an hour, and although Katie was careful not to divulge the details of her affair with Jared she knew her sister suspected something when she revealed that she had visited Alexis’s grave the day before. And also that she had made the decision to return to New York with Jared.

  But she resisted Megan’s careful probing. She couldn’t talk to her sister before she spoke to Jared. She needed to keep her optimism under control. Even though she was certain they’d reached an important turning point the night before, they’d only slept together twice. What they had was hardly even an affair let alone a relationship and she had to be careful not to get ahead of herself. His distance last night after they’d made love had been clear and unequivocal. It had felt like a blow at the time but, after a solid five hours’ sleep and some time to think and reflect, she was sure he was just wary of the emotions they’d both unleashed.

  He was a cautious, guarded man who had good reason to be scared of emotional attachments. It made sense that he would leave it up to her to take the next step, especially as she suspected he felt guilty about taking her virginity. Which was of course nuts, but he was a guy.

  After hanging up the phone she called the business center. But once she finally got through to Jared’s executive assistant, he informed her that Signore Caine was conducting a meeting with the heads of his security teams and would return to the villa by four o’clock.

  Galvanized into action, Katie hunted through the wardrobe Donatella had selected. She tried on three different outfits before finally settling on a tomboyish combo of Capri pants, camisole and linen shirt. Nerves skittered over her skin when she heard the deep rumble of the motorbike pulling into the car port at four exactly. She waited on the terrace, trying not to let all the thoughts and feelings from last night overwhelm her.

  That said, it was still impossible to quell the rampant beat of her pulse when he stepped out into the sunlight. In his suit pants, and tailored white shirt, a thin tie neatly knotted at the collar, he looked every inch the business tycoon—composed, commanding and detached. A million miles away from the man she had seen the previous night and was very much afraid she was already halfway in love with.

  “Hi, how are you?” she asked, then wanted to kick herself. Seriously, could she sound anymore inane after the enormity of what they’ve been through the night before?

  But he barely even blinked before replying. “Good. I can’t stay long. I just thought I’d come back and check that you’re good with tonight’s travel arrangements?”

  She was so surprised by the pragmatic tone it took her a moment to register what he was saying. “What travel arrangements?”

  He loosened his tie and undid the first button of his shirt. “I’m heading back to Manhattan tonight on the company jet. Your passport arrived from the British Consulate an hour ago, so you can accompany me if you want.”

  She didn’t have any objections, of course. She had already made the decision to return home. And that wasn’t really because of him and what had happened between them. It was mostly to do with her visit to her mother’s grave. Yesterday she had finally made peace with her mother’s legacy and come to terms with why she had spent so long running away. Plus, Megan and Dario were expecting her. But there was something in his tone, in the controlled expression, that had her nerves tangling in her stomach into a knot of anxiety.

  He was behaving as if last night had never happened. As if the connection she’d felt didn’t exist.

  Had she completely misconstrued the significance of those moments?

  “It has occurred to me,” he continued in the same impersonal, businesslike tone, as if she were one of his employees, “that while Dario and I had agreed you would travel back to New York with me when your passport arrived, the final decision should be yours.”

  Part of her realized she should be pleased with this development too. He was giving her a choice, giving her the agency she’d wanted four days ago when he’d insisted on bringing her to Capri in the first place. But the whisper of impatience in his tone and the blank expression on his face didn’t feel good. It felt like a blow. A mortal blow to the foolish hopes and dreams she’d nurtured during the day.

  “I’m happy to go back with you tonight,” she said. “I spoke to Megan this afternoon and I’ve realized it’s the right thing to do. That I’m ready to start putting my life back together again.”

  He nodded, the movement oddly stiff. But his expression remained carefully blank, making the thoughts whispering through her head seem even more melodramatic and misguided.

  “Let the staff know you’re coming with me and they’ll pack for you.” He planted one hand in his pocket, his stance so casual and unconcerned now she knew she wasn’t imagining his withdrawal. “I can’t hang around. I’ve got too much to finish up here, and then I have a meeting in Naples before we fly, so I’ll meet you at the airport.”

  She jerked forward as he turned to leave. “Wait, Jared.” She touched his arm and he swung round, dislodging her fingertips.

  “Yes?” he asked, one eyebrow raised as if she were an inconvenient distraction.

  “Shouldn’t we talk? About last night?” she managed, pushing the words out past the lump forming in her throat.

  He let out a deep sigh. “Yeah, I guess we should. I had planned to leave this until we got back to Manhattan but it’s probably better to handle it as soon as possible.” There was no mistaking the strain in his voice, but even so she felt the tiny bubble of hope. So she hadn’t imagined something had happened.

  But then he said, “Things got out of hand last night and I didn’t use protection.” He sunk both his hands into the pockets of his pants and studied her as if she were a particularly rare bug under a microscope. “Is that going to be a problem?”

  The blush burned her neck as the hope burst, leaving the familiar feeling of insecurity and inadequacy in its wake. “I...I don’t think so,” she mumbled, realizing she should have given the situation some thought herself. But, after everything else, it hadn’t even occurred to her.

  “I’m guessing that means you’re not on the pill?”

  “No, I’m not, but...” The question hadn’t sounded harsh, judgmental or condemnatory. It had simply sounded pragmatic. But, even so, it reminded her of all the times Lloyd Whittaker had made sneering judgements about her intelligence and common sense. And her reply got caught in her throat.

  “But what, Katherine?” he coaxed.

  “I’m due in a few days. It’s unlikely that there’ll be any consequences,” she blurted out, feeling hideously exposed.

  He nodded again, the stiff line of his shoulders visibly relaxing. “Okay, that’s good. But if there are any consequences you need to let me know. And we can deal with them together.”

  “But...won’t we be seeing each other once we get back to New York?” she asked, unable to extinguish the final flicker of hope.

  He frowned and she suddenly felt like the naive girl again who had once thrown herself at him. “I don’t think that’s smart, do you?” he said, the finality in his voice the final blow.

  “I don’t understand, I thought... Your nightmare—I...” She bit back the words, scared she might cry and make an even bigger mess of things.

  “I’m sorry you had to witness that,” he said, his expression ruthlessly controlled. “And
I’m sorry I got rough afterward. But you’re an extremely desirable woman and you offered.”

  He was making the encounter sound insignificant, even a little sordid. And it hadn’t been, at least not for her. But what did she really know about sex, about relationships? She was so stupidly inexperienced.

  Had she blown everything out of proportion, read meaning into his actions that simply wasn’t there?

  He touched a fingertip to her forehead and drew it down the side of her face. Her breath seized in her lungs as the brutal tug of yearning ripped through her.

  “I thought you understood,” he said, his voice gentle. “When we got into this, I wasn’t looking for anything more.” He tucked the stray strands of hair behind her ear and she felt like a child again, looking for affection she didn’t deserve.

  She nodded, absolutely devastated as he tucked his hands back into his pockets and walked away from her.

  * * *

  The trip back across the Atlantic was agonizing. The distance he’d already established was compounded by the curt, businesslike attitude Katie remembered from their encounters five years before. She had to be grateful that his executive assistant was returning on the private jet with them and Jared spent most of the time discussing business while she slept fitfully on the bed in the back of the cabin. He said goodbye to her at JFK, insisting again that she should call him if there were any consequences from their recklessness. But she noticed he didn’t even glance back as the private car Dario had arranged drove her away from the terminal.

  CHAPTER TEN

  KATIE DROPPED HER paintbrush in the cup of turpentine. Blowing out a breath, she rolled her shoulders to ease tight muscles and studied the composition. She’d been up well before dawn that morning, unable to sleep for another night, compelled to finish the picture. Jared stared back at her, his face full of naked hunger, his beautifully sculpted body gleaming with sweat and taut with arousal.

  Awareness blossomed in her sex and she winced.

  This was the fourth picture she had done of him in the last two weeks. In fact, Jared was pretty much the only subject she seemed compelled to paint. She would never be able to sell any of the work—even if she could be convinced to let anyone else look at it. But, having analyzed and reanalyzed every moment of their brief time together on Capri, she couldn’t seem to stop trying to paint her way to a different outcome.

  She’d had her period three days after returning to Manhattan and, while on one level it had been a relief, on another it had devastated her. Especially when it took her two days to get up the courage to text him with the news—writing and rewriting the message in the vague hope that it might begin a dialogue between them—only to receive a five-word reply.

  Thx for letting me know.

  She had become obsessed with Jared and their microaffair and she needed to stop. He couldn’t have been clearer about his feelings. Or rather his lack of them. She had caught him at a vulnerable moment, thrown herself at him, and he had been unable to resist her. Then she had blown their four-day encounter completely out of proportion as a way of validating her behavior.

  But somehow she couldn’t seem to throw off the draining lethargy of the last few days and the ludicrous thought that something wonderful had been within their grasp and she might never get over the loss.

  She’d spent the first week after getting back from Capri trying to work him out of her thoughts. After setting up a website and scouring for commissions, she had managed to secure a gallery showing in Brooklyn, regular work doing designs for a greeting-card company and—with a little help from Dario’s connections—had sold her Capri landscapes to an Italian travel giant for use in their logo. The money she had earned had been just enough to pay the rental deposit on a tiny apartment in Queens, so she had been able to move out of Dario and Megan’s beautiful townhouse.

  But, since moving in four days ago, she hadn’t been able to maintain that work ethic—partly because she’d been running on so little sleep, partly because she couldn’t concentrate on painting anything but Jared. But mostly because all the misery, and the endless reappraisals of every second they’d spent together, had crowded back in.

  The might-have-beens had begun to torture her. All those questions which she had never even been able to ask. What had happened to Jared to give him those terrible nightmares? Could she have reached him if they’d had more time? Why had he been so determined not to see the possibilities?

  She sighed and draped a cloth over the unfinished painting. The first hurdle was getting over the obsessive urge to paint erotic portraits of the man.

  She switched her attention to the design on her work station which she was actually being paid to do.

  The door buzzer sounded, cutting through the noise of a delivery lorry idling in front of the Korean grocery store below.

  She lifted the brush out of the turpentine to clean it with one of her rags as she walked across the narrow room and checked the peephole.

  Anxiety churned in her stomach. What was Megan doing here, with her toddler son Arturo perched on her hip and a stubborn expression on her face?

  Katie considered pretending she was out. But then Megan’s gaze fixed on the peephole.

  “I can see your shadow over the hole, Katie. So stop messing about and let us in. I just spent twenty minutes trying to find a parking spot.”

  Katie spent as long as she possibly could undoing the chain and the four locks on the door while searching for her happy face. The one she had last worn in Jared’s bed.

  She might as well not have bothered, because as soon as Megan walked into the apartment she gave her a deliberate once-over and then frowned.

  “Katie? I don’t believe it—you’ve actually lost more weight. And you look as if you haven’t slept for weeks!” she said, repeating the familiar refrain which had helped drive Katie out of her sister’s home.

  Arturo began to fuss, obviously picking up on the distress in his mother’s voice.

  “Hey, Artie, how’s tricks?” Katie sent her nephew her brightest smile and lifted him out of his mother’s arms, ignoring her sister’s plaintive plea.

  This was the problem with having people who loved you—they couldn’t stop butting into your life.

  The baby grasped a hunk of Katie’s hair in grubby fingers, easily distracted—unlike his mother.

  “I’m serious, Katie, you look dreadful. What is going on with you?”

  “Gee, thanks, sis.”

  Arturo wriggled out of her arms so Katie put him down on his sturdy little legs. In such a tiny apartment, there was a limit to how much damage he could do without her or Megan running interference, Katie reasoned. He toddled off, using the sagging sofa to keep himself upright, raring to get into mischief.

  “Do you want a cup of tea, then?” she asked, heading for the apartment’s galley kitchen. “Or are you just here to tell me how awful I look?”

  Keeping half an eye on her son in that way all mothers adopted instinctively, Megan followed Katie into the kitchen and opened the fridge door.

  “I’ll have tea if you’ll have something for breakfast.” She slammed the fridge closed. “Which is going to be next to impossible, seeing as you have nothing in your fridge except coffee.”

  Katie put on the kettle, feeling harassed. “I have a grocery store downstairs that sells everything from bagels to radish kimchi when I need it.”

  “Then why aren’t you using it?” Megan asked, her gaze on Katie’s waistline.

  “I’ve been busy, Meg, I’m not starving myself.” Or, not intentionally anyway. It was just hard to locate her appetite when all she could seem to think about was Jared.

  “Is this something to do with Jared—and the reason he’s been out of New York ever since you guys got back from Italy?”

  Katie’s head jerked up but the mention of Jared’s name had color flaring across her collarbone.

  “No.” The word choked out on an unconvincing huff.

  Where had he gone? And why h
ad he left? She had made a point of not going to any events with Dario and Megan or paying attention to the gossip columns since she had returned. She wanted to keep a low profile so she didn’t draw any of the unwanted attention from the press she had gone to Europe to avoid. But she also knew she couldn’t bear bumping into Jared or seeing him escort some other woman to the VIP events. She had also made a point of not asking Dario about his friend, mostly not to alert her brother-in-law to the fact she was desperate for even the slightest bit of news about him.

  “Something happened between you two. I know it did.” Megan’s gaze fixed on her like a Rottweiler’s. “Because you have both been acting weird ever since you got back. I’ve never seen you so subdued—”

  “It’s called being a grown-up,” Katie interrupted, feeling more dejected than ever. Had she made the nightmares worse, she wondered, by stirring things up while they’d been together?

  “And Dario is worried about Jared,” Megan continued, ignoring Katie’s comment. “He won’t answer any of his calls and he’s been staying up at his place in Vermont even though he usually only goes there during the winter-time to ski.”

  Katie searched for something coherent to say that would deflect her sister’s concern. Even though she had never managed to get to the bottom of the friendship between Jared and Dario, and why Jared felt so indebted to her brother-in-law, she was positive he would not want Dario to know about their affair. But the urge to tell Megan was almost overwhelming—because all she could think about was Jared, alone in his cabin, torn apart by the nightmares with no one to comfort him. Dario needed to go up there and make sure his friend was okay.

  She was just about to say so when an almighty crash had both women jumping. Megan dived out of the kitchen first and hoisted her son into her arms. Luckily Katie’s easel hadn’t landed on top of him, but her paints were scattered across the floor. Katie arrived in time to see Megan pick up the canvas of Jared which had fallen facedown.

  Megan turned to her, jiggling her fractious son on her hip, and sent her a smile full of compassion and understanding as she held up the painting. “Well, this explains quite a lot.”