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A Perfect Husband
Fiona Brand



“Give that back.”
Lilah made a lunge for the pad. Zane evaded her reach.
“Why do you need it so badly?”
“Those sketches are … private.”
He handed her the pad, but used it to draw her closer.
The relief that had spiraled through her when she thought he hadn’t checked out the drawings dissolved. “You looked.”
“Uh-huh.” He drew her close enough that her thighs brushed his and the sketch pad, which she was clutching like a shield, was flattened between them.
“And you would be drawing and painting me because …?”
Lilah briefly closed her eyes. “You saw the painting in my apartment.”
“Because then you could avoid admitting that you’re attracted to me. And have been ever since we met two years ago.”
Gently, he eased the sketch pad from her grip. “You don’t need that anymore.” He tossed the pad aside. “Not when you have the real thing.”
Dear Reader,
The final story of THE PEARL HOUSE trilogy centers on two people who have deep issues with relationships and wildly opposing agendas. Both Lilah Cole and Zane Atraeus are a little extreme by nature, but with some very likable quirks.
Desperate to escape the embarrassment and undeserved notoriety of being her billionaire boss’s dumped date, all Lilah wants is to put that mistake behind her and get back on track with achieving her five-year marriage plan. Until she runs headlong into the object of her secret fantasies for the past two years, the dark and dangerously unreliable Zane Atraeus.
As powerfully attracted as Zane is to Lilah, he has trust issues with women who are on the hunt for well-heeled husbands, although he is fascinated and drawn by her methodical approach and, actually, just can’t seem to leave her alone.
Short term is Zane’s middle name, but as time goes by, he finds himself wanting to convince Lilah that, despite his terrible track record with commitment, he just could be the perfect man for her …
I hope you find when you read it, that I really did have the most fun writing Lilah and Zane!
Fiona

About the Author
FIONA BRAND lives in the sunny Bay of Islands, New Zealand. Now that both her sons are grown, she continues to love writing books and gardening. After a life-changing time in which she met Christ, she has undertaken study for a bachelor of theology and has become a member of The Order of St Luke, Christ’s healing ministry.

A Perfect
Husband
Fiona Brand


www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
For the Lord. Thank you.
Each of the gates is a single pearl, and the street of the
city is pure gold, transparent as glass.
—Revelation 21:21

One
Dark hair twisted in a sleek, classic knot … Exotic eyes the shifting colors of the sea … A delicate curvy body that made him burn from the inside out …
A sharp rapping on the door of his Sydney hotel suite jerked Zane Atraeus out of a restless, dream-tossed sleep. Shielding his eyes from the glare of the morning sun, he shoved free of the huge silk-draped confection of a bed he’d collapsed into some time short of four that morning.
Pulling on the jeans he’d tossed over a chair, he dragged jet-lagged fingers through his tangled hair and padded to the door.
Memory punched back. An email Zane had found confirming that his half brother Lucas had purchased an engagement ring for a woman Zane could have sworn Lucas barely knew. Lilah Cole: the woman Zane had secretly wanted for two years and had denied himself.
His temper, which had been running on a short fuse ever since he had learned that not only was Lucas dating Lilah, he was planning on marrying her, ignited as he took in glittering chandeliers and turquoise-and-gold furnishings.
The overstuffed opulence was a far cry from the exotic but spare Mediterranean decor of his island home, Medinos. Instead of soothing him, the antiques and heavily swagged drapes only served to remind him that he had not been born to any of this. He would have to have a word with his new personal assistant, who clearly had a romantic streak.
Halfway across the sitting room the unmistakable sound of the front door lock disengaging made him stiffen.
Lucas Atraeus stepped into the room. Zane let out a self-deprecating breath.
Ten years ago, in L.A., it would have been someone breaking in, but this was Australia and his father’s company, the mega wealthy Atraeus Group, owned the hotel so, of course, Lucas had gotten a key. “Ever heard of a phone?”
Closing the door behind him, Lucas tossed a key card down on the hall table. “I phoned, you didn’t answer. Remember Lilah?”
The reason Zane was in Sydney instead of in Florida doing his job as the company “fixer” and closing a crucial land deal that had balanced on a knife’s edge for the past week? “Your new fiancée.” The tantalizing beauty who had almost snared him into a reckless night of passion two years ago. “Yeah, I remember.”
Lucas looked annoyed. “I haven’t asked her yet. How did you find out?”
Zane’s jaw tightened at the confirmation. “My new P.A. was your old P.A., remember?” Which was why Zane had chanced across the internet receipt for Lucas’s latest purchase. Apparently Elena was still performing the role of personal shopper for his brother in her spare time.
“Ahh. Elena.” He glanced around the room. Comprehension gleamed in his eyes.
Now definitely in a bad mood, Zane turned on his heel and strolled in the direction of the suite’s kitchenette. A large ornately gilded mirror threw his reflection back at him—darkly tanned skin, broad shoulders and a lean, muscled torso bisected by a tracery of scars. Three silver studs, the reminder of a misspent youth, glinted in one ear.
In the lavish elegance of the suite, he looked uncivilized, barbaric and faintly sinister, as different from his two classically handsome half brothers as the proverbial chalk was from cheese. Not something he had ever been able to help with the genes he’d inherited from the rough Salvatore side of his family, and the inner scars he had developed as a homeless kid roaming the streets of L.A.
He found a glass, filled it with water from the dispenser in the fridge door and drank in long, smooth swallows. The cold water failed to douse the intense, unreasoning jealousy that seared him every time he thought of Lucas and Lilah, the picture-perfect couple.
An engagement.
His reaction to the idea was as fierce and surprising as it had been when he had discovered Elena admiring a picture of the engagement ring.
The empty glass hit the kitchen counter with a controlled click. “I didn’t think Lilah was your type.”
As gorgeous and ladylike as Ambrosi Pearls’s head jewelry designer was, in Zane’s opinion, Lilah was too efficiently, calculatingly focused on hunting for a well-heeled husband.
Two years ago, when they had first met at the annual ball of a charity for homeless children—of which he was the patron—he had witnessed the smooth way Lilah had targeted her escort’s wealthy boss. Even armored by the formidable depth of betrayal in his past, Zane had been oddly entranced by the businesslike gleam in her eyes. He had not been able to resist the temptation to rescue the hapless older man and spoil her pitch.
Unfortunately, things had gotten out of hand when he and Lilah had ended up alone in a private reception room and he had given into temptation and kissed her. One kiss had led to another, sparking a conflagration that had threatened to engulf them both. Given that he had been irritated by Lilah’s agenda, that she was not the kind of woman he was usually attracted to, his loss of control still perplexed him. If his previous personal assistant hadn’t found them at a critical moment, he would have made a very big mistake.
Lucas, who had followed him into the kitchen, scribbled a number on the back of a business card and left it on the counter. “Lilah has agreed to be my date at Constantine’s wedding. I’m leaving for Medinos in a couple of hours. I was going to arrange for her to fly in the day before the wedding, but since you’re here—” Lucas frowned. “By the way, why are you here? I thought you were locked into negotiations.”
“I’m taking a couple of days.” A muscle pulsed along Zane’s jaw.
Lucas shrugged and opened the fridge door.
The shelves were packed with an array of fresh fruit, cheeses, pâtés and juices. Absently, Zane noted his assistant had also stocked the fridge with chocolate-dipped strawberries.
“Good move.” Lucas examined a bottle of very expensive French champagne then replaced it. “Nothing like making the vendor think we’re cooling off to fast-track a sale. Mind if I have something to eat? I missed breakfast.”
Probably too busy shuttling between women to think about food. The last Zane had heard Lucas had also been having a wild “secret” affair with Carla Ambrosi, the public relations officer for Ambrosi and the sister of the woman their brother, Constantine, was marrying.
“Oysters.” Lucas lifted a brow. “Having someone in?”
Zane stared grimly at the platter of oysters on the half shell, complete with rock salt and lemon wedges. “Not as far as I know.”
Unless his new assistant had made some arrangement.
If she was helping Lucas with his engagement during her lunch breaks, anything was possible. “Help yourself to the food, the juice …”
My girl.
The thought welled up out of the murk of his subconscious and slipped neatly past all of the reasons that commitment could never work for him. Especially, with a woman like Lilah.
Since the age of nine, relationships had been a difficult area.
After being abandoned by his extravagant, debt-ridden mother on a number of occasions while she had flitted from marriage to marriage, he had definite trust issues with women, especially those on the hunt for wealthy husbands.
Marriage was out.
Lucas took out the bowl of strawberries and surveyed the tempting fruit.
“It doesn’t bother you that Lilah’s on the hunt for a husband?”
An odd expression flitted across Lucas’s face. “Actually, I respect her straightforward approach. It’s refreshing.”
Despite every attempt to relax, Zane’s fingers curled into fists. So Lucas had fallen under her spell, too.
Try as he might, now that Zane had acknowledged that Lilah was his, he could not dismiss the thought. With every second that passed, the concept became more and more stubbornly real.
It was a fact that for the two years following the incendiary passion that had almost ended in lovemaking, he had been tormented by the knowledge that Lilah could have been his.
He had controlled the desire to have a reckless fling with Lilah. He had controlled himself.
Lucas selected the largest, plumpest strawberry. “Lilah has a fear of flying. I was hoping, since you’re piloting the company jet that you could take her with you to Medinos when you leave.”
Zane’s jaw tightened. Everything in him rejected Lucas’s easy assertion that Zane would tamely fall into place and hand-deliver Lilah to his bed.
He fixed on the first part of Lucas’s statement. In all the time he had known Lilah she had never told him she had a fear of flying. Somehow that fact was profoundly irritating. “Just out of curiosity, how long have you known Lilah?” Lucas did spend time in Sydney, but not as much as Zane. He had never heard Lilah so much as mention Lucas’s name.
“A week, give or take.”
Zane went still inside. He knew his brother’s schedule. They had all had to adjust their plans when Roberto Ambrosi, a member of a once-powerful and wealthy Medinian family, had died. The Atraeus Group had been forced to protect its interests by moving on the almost bankrupted Ambrosi Pearls. A hostile takeover to recover huge debts racked up by Roberto had been averted when Constantine had stunned them all by resurrecting his engagement to Sienna Ambrosi. The impending marriage had gone a long way toward healing the acrimonious rift that had developed between the two families when Roberto had leveraged money on the basis of the first engagement.
He knew that, apart from a couple of flying visits in the last couple of weeks—one to attend Roberto’s funeral—that Lucas had been committed offshore. He had only arrived in Sydney the previous day.
Zane had spent most of the previous week in Sydney in order to attend the annual general meeting of the charity. As usual, Lilah, who helped out with the art auctions, had been polite, reserved, the tantalizing, high-priced sensuality that was clearly reserved for the future Mr. Cole on ice. She had not mentioned Lucas. “Why not take Lilah with you?”
Lucas seemed inordinately interested in selecting a second strawberry. “It’s a gray area.”
Realization dawned. Lilah had not been subtle about her quest of finding a husband. He had just never seen Lucas as a candidate for an arranged marriage. “This is a first date.”
A trace of emotion flickered in Lucas’s gaze. “I needed someone on short notice. As it happens, after running a background check, I think Lilah is perfect for me. She’s talented, attractive, she’s got a good business head on her shoulders, she’s even a—”
“What about Carla?”
Lucas dropped the ripe berry as if it had seared his fingertips.
The final piece of the puzzle fell into place. Zane realized what the odd look in Lucas’s eyes had been just moments ago: desperation. Hot outrage surged through him. “You’re still involved with Carla.”
“How did you know? No, don’t tell me. Elena.” Lucas put the bowl of strawberries back in the fridge and closed the door. “Carla and I are over.”
But only just.
Suddenly the instant relationship with Lilah made sense. When Sienna married Constantine, Carla would practically be family. If it came out that Lucas had been sleeping with Carla, intense pressure would be applied. Under the tough exterior, when it came to women, Lucas was vulnerable.
He was using Lilah as a buffer, insurance that Carla, who had a reputation for flamboyant scenes, would not try to publicly force him to formalize their secret affair with a marriage proposal.
That meant that love did not come into the equation.
If Lucas genuinely wanted Lilah, Zane would walk away, however that was not the case. Lucas, who had once been in the untenable position of having a girlfriend die in a car crash after they had argued about the secret abortion she’d had, was using her to avert an unpleasant situation. As calculating as Lilah was with relationships, she did not deserve to be caught in the middle of a showdown between Lucas and Carla.
Relief eased some of his fierce tension. He didn’t think Lilah had had time to sleep with Lucas yet. Somehow that fact was very important. “Okay. I’ll do it.”
Lucas looked relieved. “You won’t regret it.”
Zane wasn’t so sure.
He wondered if Lucas had any inkling that he had just placed a temptation Zane had doggedly resisted for over two years directly in his path.

Two
Heart pounding at the step she was taking, her first bona fide risk in twelve years of carefully managed, featureless and fruitless dating, Lilah Cole boarded the sleek private jet that belonged to Ambrosi Pearls’s new owner, The Atraeus Group.
The nervy anticipation that had buoyed her as she had made her way through passport control ebbed as the pretty blonde stewardess, Jasmine, seated her.
Placing the soft white leather tote bag that went with her white jeans and comfy, oversized white shirt on the floor, Lilah dug out the discreet, white leather-bound folder she had bought with her. She had been braced for another stress-filled encounter with the dark and edgily dangerous Zane Atraeus, the youngest and wildest of the Atraeus brothers, but she was the sole occupant of the luxurious cabin.
Fifteen minutes later, with the noise from the jet engines reaching a crescendo and a curtain of gray rain blotting out much of the view from her tiny window, Lilah was still the only passenger.
She squashed the ridiculous idea that she was in any way disappointed as she fastened her seat belt with fingers that were not entirely steady.
Flying was not her favorite pastime; she was not a natural risk taker. Like her approach to relationships, she preferred to keep her feet on the ground. A stubborn part of her brain couldn’t ignore the concept of all that space between the aircraft and the earth’s surface. To compound the problem, the weather forecast was for violent thunder and lightning.
As the jet taxied through the sweeping rain, Lilah ignored the in-flight safety video and concentrated on the one thing she could control. Flipping open the folder, she studied the profiles she had compiled.
Cole women had a notorious record for falling victim to the coup de foudre—the clap of thunder—for falling passionately and disastrously for the wrong man then literally being left holding the baby. Aware that she possessed the same creative, passionate streak that ran through both her artistic and bohemian mother and grandmother, Lilah had developed a system for avoiding The Mistake.
It was a blueprint for long-term happiness, a wedding plan. She had found that writing down the steps she needed to take to achieve the relationship she wanted somehow demystified the whole process, making it seem not such a leap in the dark.
When she did eventually give herself to a man, she was confident it would be in a committed relationship, not some wild fling. She wanted marriage, babies, the stable, controlled environment she had craved as a child.
She was determined that any children she had would have two loving parents, not one stressed and strained beyond her limits.
Over the last three years, despite interviewing an exhaustive number of candidates, she had not managed to find a man who met her marriage criteria and appealed to her on the all-important physical level. Scent in particular had proved to be a formidable barrier to identifying someone with whom she could have an intimate relationship. It was not that the men she had interviewed had smelled bad, just that in some subtle way they had not smelled right. However, things were finally taking a positive turn.
Lilah studied the notes she had made on her new boss, Lucas Atraeus, and a small number of other men, and the points system she had developed based on a matchmaking website’s recommendations. She spent an enjoyable few minutes reviewing Lucas’s good points.
On paper he was the most perfect man she had ever met. He was electrifyingly good-looking and used a light cologne that she didn’t mind. He possessed the kind of dark, dangerous features that had proved to be an unfortunate weakness of hers and yet, in terms of a future husband, he ticked every box of her list.
For the first time she had found a man who was her type and yet he was safe, steady, reliable. The situation was a definite win-win.
She should be thrilled that he had asked her to a family wedding. This date, despite its risky nature, was the most positive she’d had in years and, at the age of twenty-nine, her biological clock was ticking.
She didn’t know Lucas well. They had only met in the context of work over the past few days, with a “business” lunch at a nearby cafe tossed in, during which he had told her that not only did he need an escort for his brother’s wedding, but that he was looking for a relationship with a view to marriage.
Like her, she didn’t think Lucas had succumbed to any kind of intense physical attraction. He preferred to take a more measured approach.
If it were possible to control her emotions and fall in love with Lucas, she had already decided she would do it.
She checked her watch and frowned. They were leaving a little earlier than scheduled. If the pilot had only waited a few more minutes, Zane might have made it.
She squashed another whisper of disappointment and snapped the window shutter closed. Witnessing the small jet launching itself into the dark, turbulent center of the storm was something she did not need to see.
The liftoff was bumpy. During the steep ascent, wind buffeted the jet and lightning flickered through the other windows of the cabin. When they finally leveled out, Lilah’s nerves were stretched taut. She had taken a sedative before she had left her apartment, but so far it had failed to have any effect.
The stewardess, who had retreated to a separate compartment, reappeared and offered her a drink. With the cabin to herself, sleeping seemed the best option, so Lilah took another sedative. According to her doctor, one should have worked; two would definitely knock her out.
She was rereading Lucas’s compatibility quotient, which was extremely high, her lids drooping, when a heavy crack of thunder shook the small jet. Lightning flashed. In that instant the door to the cockpit popped open. Zane Atraeus, tall, sleekly broad-shouldered and dressed in somber black, was framed in the searing flicker of light.
The jet lurched; the folder flew off her lap. The clasp sprang open as it hit the floor, scattering loose sheets. Lilah barely noticed. As always, her artist’s eye was riveted. Zane’s golden skin and chiseled face—which she had shamelessly, secretly, painted for the past two years—could have been lifted straight out of a Dalmasio oil. Even the imperfections, the subversive glint of the studs in his lobe, the faint disruption to the line of his nose, as if it had once been broken, were somehow … perfect.
She blinked as Zane strolled toward her. Her vision readjusted to the warm glow of the cabin lights. Until Zane had moved, she had not been entirely convinced that he was real. She thought she could have been caught up in one of the vivid, unsettling dreams that had disturbed her sleep ever since The Regrettable Episode two years ago.
Unlike the temporary effect of the lightning flash on her vision, the events of that night had been indelibly seared into her consciousness. “I thought you missed the flight.”
His steady dark gaze made her stomach tighten. “I never miss when I’m the pilot.”
Aware that the contents of the folder had spilled into the aisle, and that the topmost sheet which held the glaringly large title, The Wedding Plan, was clearly visible, Lilah lunged forward in an attempt to regather the incriminating sheets. Her seat belt held her pinned. By the time she had the buckle unfastened, Zane had collected both the folder and the loose sheets.
Her cheeks burned as he straightened. She was certain he had read some of the contents, enough to get the gist of what they were about. She took the sheets and stuffed them back into the folder. “I didn’t know you could fly.”
“It’s not something I advertise.”
Unlike the lavish parties he regularly attended and the endless stream of gorgeous models he escorted. Although, flying did fit with his love of extreme sports: diving, kitesurfing and snowboarding, to name a few. Zane had a well-publicized love for anything that involved adrenaline.
It occurred to Lilah, as she jammed the folder in her tote bag, out of sight, that she didn’t know what Lucas liked to do in his spare time. She must make the effort to find out.
Zane shrugged out of his jacket and tossed it over the arm of the seat across the aisle. “How long have you been afraid of flying?”
Lilah tore her gaze from the snug fit of his black T-shirt and the muscular swell of tanned biceps. She was certain that beyond an intoxicating whiff of sandalwood she could detect the scent of his skin.
Her blush deepened as she was momentarily flung back to the night of The Episode. Zane had suggested they go to an empty reception room so they could indulge their mutual passion for art by studying the oils displayed on the walls.
She couldn’t remember much about the garish abstracts. She would never forget the moment Zane had pulled her close. The clean, masculine scent of his skin and the exotic undernote of sandalwood had filled her nostrils, making her head spin. When he had kissed her, his taste had filled her mouth.
Somehow they had ended up on a wide, comfortable couch. At some point the bodice of her dress had drifted to her waist, a detail that should have alarmed her. Zane had taken one breast in his mouth and her whole body had coiled unbearably tight. She could remember clutching at his shoulders, a flash of dizzying, heated pleasure, the room shimmering out of focus.
If the door hadn’t popped open at that moment and Zane’s date, who was also his previous personal assistant, a gorgeous redhead called Gemma, hadn’t walked in, Lilah shuddered to think what would have happened next. She had dragged her bodice up and clambered off the couch. By the time she had found her clutch, which had ended up underneath the couch, Zane had shrugged into his jacket. After a clipped good-night, he had left with Gemma.
The echoing silence after the heady, intimate passion had stung. He had not suggested they meet again, which had put The Episode in its horrifying context.
Zane had not wanted a relationship; he had just wanted an interlude. Sex. He had probably thought they had been on the verge of a one night stand, that she was easy.
Embarrassingly, she had forgotten every relationship rule she had rigidly stuck to for the twelve years she had been dating.
Zane walking out so quickly then never bothering to follow up with a telephone call or text had been a blessing. It had confirmed what she had both read about him and discovered firsthand—that no matter how attractive, he could not be trusted in a relationship. If he couldn’t commit to a phone call, it was unlikely he would commit to marriage.
Another shuddering crash of thunder jerked her back to the present.
Aware that Zane was waiting for an answer, she busied herself fastening her seat belt. “I’ve been afraid of flying forever.”
Instead of sitting where he’d slung his jacket, Zane lowered himself into the seat next to hers.
She stiffened as he pried her hand off the armrest. “What are you doing?”
His fingers curled warmly through hers. “Holding your hand. Tried-and-true remedy.”
Nervous tension, along with the tingling heat of his touch, zinged through her at the skin-on-skin contact. There was something distinctly forbidden about holding hands with Zane Atraeus.
Illegitimate and wild, according to the tabloids, Zane had been the instant ruination of hundreds of women, and promised to be the ruination of even more in the future. She had the shattering firsthand knowledge of exactly how that ruination was achieved.
She flexed her fingers, but his hold didn’t loosen. “Shouldn’t you be in the cockpit?”
“Flight deck. There’s a copilot, Spiros. He doesn’t need me yet.”
Her stomach clenched as she was suddenly reminded that they were twenty-eight thousand feet above the ground. “How long is the flight?”
“Twenty hours, give or take. We land in Singapore to refuel. If you don’t like flying, why are you going to Medinos?”
Trying to arrange her future with a steady, reliable husband who would not leave her. Trying to avoid the Cole women’s regrettable tendency to fall victim to the coup de foudre.
Her head started to swim, and it was not just the dizzying effect of the sandalwood. She remembered that she had taken two sedatives. “Trying to get a life. I’m twenty-nine.”
She blinked. She was beginning to feel as if she was swimming in molasses. Had she actually told him her age?
“Twenty-nine doesn’t seem so old to me.”
She smothered a yawn and frowned at the defensive note in his voice.
“What did you take?”
Her lids slid closed. She gave him the name of the sedative.
“They’ll knock you out. I can remember having them as a kid. After my father found me in L.A., we flew to Medinos. I was a handful. I didn’t like flying, either.”
Curiosity kept her on the surface of sleep, caught in the net of his deep, cool voice and fascinated by the dichotomy of his character. She had read his story on the charity website. One of the things she admired about Zane was that he happily revealed his past in order to help homeless kids.
“Put your head on my shoulder if you want.”
The quiet offer sent a warning thrill through her. She considered leaning against the window, but the thought that the shutter might slide open and she would catch a view clear down to the ground was not pleasant. “No, thank you.” She struggled to stay upright. “You’re nicer than I thought.”
“Tell me,” he muttered, “I’m curious. You’ve known me for two years. How did you think I would be?”
Her lids flickered open. Exactly how he had been the night of the ball. Dangerous, sexy. Hot.
With an effort of will, she controlled her mind, which had shot off on a very wrong tangent. Zane had probably been in intimate situations with more women than he could count. She doubted he would even remember how close they had come to making love. Or that she had actually—
She cut short that disturbing thought and searched for something polite to say. As an Atraeus, Zane was one of her employers now. She would have to adjust to the new dynamic.
Her stomach tensed at a thought she had cheerfully glossed over before. If she and Lucas married, their relationship would be even closer; he would be her brother-in-law. “Uh—for a start, I didn’t think you even liked me.”
“Was that after what happened on the couch or before?”
The flashback to the sensations that had flooded her that night was electrifying. From the knowing gleam in Zane’s gaze, she was abruptly certain he knew exactly what had happened.
Embarrassed heat warmed her cheeks. He had been lying on top of her at the time. She would be naive to consider that he had not noticed that she had lost control and actually had an orgasm.
He had to know also that if Gemma hadn’t turned up dangling car keys and making them jump guiltily apart, that she had been on the verge of making an even bigger mistake. “I’m surprised you remember.”
“Lucas won’t marry you.”
The sudden change of topic jerked her lids open. The dark fire burning in Zane’s eyes almost made her forget what she was about to say. “Lucas isn’t the only one with a choice.”
“Choose someone else.”
Lilah’s heart slammed against the wall of her chest. For a split second, she’d had the crazy thought that Zane had been about to say, “Choose me.”
From an early age she had discovered that men liked the way she looked. Something in the slant of her eyes, the curve of her cheekbones, the shape of her mouth, spelled sexual allure. On occasion attraction had spilled over into an uncomfortable fascination, although she had never thought that Zane Atraeus would find her more than ordinarily attractive.
She dragged in a lungful of air and tried to deny the heart-pounding knowledge that behind the grim tone Zane Atraeus really did want her. “What gives you the right—?”
“This.”
Zane bent toward her, his head dipped. Her pulse rate rocketed.
For two years she had tortured herself about her loss of control. Now, finally, she was being offered the chance to examine what, exactly, had gone wrong.
She caught another enticing whiff of clean skin and exotic cologne. Dimly, she noted that the concept of her ruination had receded, a dangerous sign, although she was still in control. She had time to shift in her seat. If she wanted she could turn her head—
Warm fingers gripped her chin. The pressure of his mouth on hers almost stopped her heart.
Suddenly, the electrical hum every time he looked at her coalesced into stunning truth. The double whammy of her ticking biological clock combined with prolonged celibacy was the reason she was having such a difficult time controlling her responses to Zane.
Relief surged through her. She didn’t know why she hadn’t thought about that two years ago. It was the logical explanation. Zane had caught her at a vulnerable moment at the charity ball. She simply hadn’t had the resources to resist him.
Jerking back from the seductive softness of the kiss, Lilah gulped in air.
The experience had been so riveting that the harder she had tried to suppress the memories, the more aggressively they had surfaced—in her dreams, her painting.
She had to get a grip on herself. She could not afford to take him seriously. According to the tabloids, the youngest Atraeus brother was the dark side of the mega wealthy Atraeus family, wild and dangerous to know, the bad as opposed to the good.
Which only went to prove that her judgment when it came to men was no better than her mother’s or her grandmother’s before her.
A little wildly she decided that the attraction was no bigger a deal for Zane than it had been two years ago. But that didn’t change the disturbing knowledge that, if anything, she was in an even more vulnerable position now. The sensations already coursing through her body had the potential to destroy the future she had mapped out for herself.
She could not let that happen.
She was strong-willed. She had steered clear of intense emotions and casual flings all of her adult life. She was not going to mess up now.
With a younger man.
Zane was twenty-four, twenty-five at most, and with no sign of tempering his fast, edgy lifestyle with the encumbrances of a wife and family. He could say what he liked about his brother, but on paper, Lucas was perfect. He was older, more mature, ready to commit and without the wild reputation.
Those minutes on the couch with Zane and the experience of losing control and almost giving herself to a man who had demonstrated that he did not care for her had been salutary.
She knew the danger of her weakness now. On top of the healthy sex drive that came with her Cole genes, her biological clock was ticking loudly in both ears.
The thought that Zane could make her pregnant sent a hot flash through her that momentarily welded her to the seat before she managed to dismiss the notion.
Zane was not husband material. All she had to do was ignore the magnetic power of the attraction and her raging hormones, ignore the destructive impulse to throw her wedding plan away.
And throw herself beneath Zane’s naked body.

Three
After a formal family dinner at the Atraeus family’s Medinian castello the following evening, Lilah excused herself from the table while coffee was being served. Lucas had left some twenty minutes earlier, during dessert. His defection had been no great surprise because through the course of the evening she had become grimly certain that he was involved with another woman.
After obtaining directions from one of the kitchen staff, she paused by the door to Lucas’s private suite. Stiffening her shoulders against the chill of the Mediterranean fortress walls, she rapped on the imposing door.
Lean brown fingers manacled her wrist. “I wouldn’t go in there if I were you.”
Lilah spun, shocked by the deep, cool voice and the knowledge that Zane had left the dinner table and followed her.
Snatching her wrist back, she rubbed at the bare skin, which still tingled and burned from his grip.
She dragged her gaze from his overlong jet-black hair and the trio of studs glinting in one lobe. An unwanted surge of awareness added to the tension that had gripped her ever since she had arrived at the castello that evening and seen Lucas in the arms of Carla Ambrosi.
Lucas and Carla had a short but well-publicized past, which Lilah had mistakenly believed to be invented media hype. To further complicate things, Carla was Lilah’s immediate boss.
Zane indicated the closed door. “Haven’t you figured it out yet? Lucas is … busy.”
The startling notion that, beneath the casual facade, Zane was quietly angry was shattered by the distant sound of laughter and the tap of high heels. More guests leaving the dining table, no doubt in search of one of the castello’s bathrooms.
Suddenly, the stunning risk Lilah had taken in traveling thousands of miles for a first date with an extremely wealthy man whose love life was of interest to the tabloids came back to haunt her. He had fulfilled all of the criteria of her system. Now things were going disastrously wrong.
Zane jerked his head in the direction of the approaching guests. “I take it you don’t want to be discovered knocking on Lucas’s bedroom door?”
A wave of embarrassed heat decimated the chill. “No.”
“Finally, some sense.” Zane’s fingers curled around her wrist again.
The startling intimacy of the hold sent another tingling jolt through her. A split second later, heart pounding with nerves, she found herself crushed against Zane’s side and flattened against the cold stone of an alcove. She inhaled, bracing herself against the effect of the sandalwood and the sudden, nervous desire to laugh.
As unpleasant as the evening had been she couldn’t suppress a small thrill that Zane had come to her rescue. Now they were hiding like a couple of kids.
Zane leaned out and peered around a corner. When he settled back into place she discovered that she had missed the warmth of his body.
His dark gaze touched on hers. “What I don’t get is why Lucas asked you.”
Lilah stiffened at the implication that she was the last person Lucas should have asked to partner him at a family wedding.
Determinedly, she stamped on the soft core of hurt that had haunted her since she was a kid—that her illegitimate birth and the poverty of her background made her less than respectable. “You certainly know how to make a girl feel special.”
He frowned. “That wasn’t what I meant.”
“Don’t worry.” She dragged her gaze free from the dangerous, too-knowing sympathy in his. “I have no problems with the reality check.”
She just wished she had thought things through before she had left home. Labeled “Catch of the Year” in a prominent women’s magazine, Lucas had been too good to be true.
Somewhere in the distance a door snapped shut, cutting off the sound of footsteps and laughter. The abrupt return to silence made Lilah doubly aware of the masculine heat emanating from Zane’s body and that the pale pearlized silk of her gown suddenly seemed too thin, the scooped neckline too revealing.
Hot color flooded her cheeks as the stressed uncertainty that had driven her to go in search of Lucas, and the truth, gave way to the searing memory of the kiss on the flight out.
The sedatives she had taken had kicked in shortly afterward. She had not seen Zane again until they had landed in Singapore, where two more passengers, clients of The Atraeus Group, had boarded the jet. Courtesy of the extra passengers, the rest of the flight had been uneventful. During the customs procedures, aware that Zane had been keeping tabs on her, she had managed to separate herself from him and had taken a taxi to her hotel.
Zane checked the corridor again. “All clear, and your reputation intact.”
“Unfortunately, my reputation is already shredded.”
That was the risk she had accepted in traveling thousands of miles on a first date with her billionaire boss. She hadn’t yet had time to formulate the full extent of the damage this would do to her marriage plan. Her only hope was that the other men on her list didn’t read the gutter press.
Jaw locked, she marched to the door of Lucas’s suite and rapped again.
Zane leaned one broad shoulder against the door frame, arms folded across his chest. “You don’t give up easily, do you?”
Lilah tried not to notice the way the dim light of an antique wall lamp flared across his taut, molded cheekbones, the tough line of his jaw. “I prefer the direct approach.”
“Just remember I tried to save you.”
The door eased open a few inches. Lucas Atraeus, tall and darkly handsome in evening clothes, was framed in the wash of lamplight.
The small flare of anger that had driven her back to his door leaped a little higher. She had expected Lucas to be somehow diminished in appearance. It didn’t help that he still looked heartbreakingly perfect.
The conversation was brief, punctuated by a glimpse of Carla Ambrosi, the woman Lilah realized Lucas truly wanted, hurriedly setting her clothing to rights. In that moment any idea that she could retrieve the situation and persevere with Lucas dissolved.
Gripping the door handle, Lilah wrenched the solid mahogany door closed, cutting Lucas off. In the process the strap of her evening bag flew off her shoulder. Beads scattered as the pretty purse hit the flagstones.
Silence reigned in the corridor for long, nervy seconds. Lilah tried to avoid Zane’s gaze. She was so not grieving for the relationship. Somehow she had never managed to get emotionally involved with Lucas. “You knew all along.”
He picked up the purse and a number of glittering beads and handed them to her. “They’ve got a history.”
Lilah slipped the little beads into the clutch. “I read the stories two years ago. I guess I should have included the information in my—”
“Wedding planner?”
Her gaze snapped to his. “Process. My woman’s intuition must have been taking a mini-break.”
He lifted a brow. “Don’t expect me to apologize for being in touch with my feminine side.”
The ridiculous concept of Zane Atraeus possessing any feminine trait broke the tension. “You don’t have a feminine side.”
A sudden thought blindsided her. Zane in his position as The Atraeus Group’s troubleshooter was used to handling difficult situations. And employees. “You’re running interference for Lucas.”
It made perfect sense. With Carla in the mix, Lucas had hedged his bets and asked Zane to fly her out. Now Zane had stepped in to stop her making a scene. It placed her in the realms of being “a problem.”
“No.”
The flatness of Zane’s denial was reassuring. His motives shouldn’t matter, but suddenly they very palpably did. She couldn’t bear the thought that she was just another embarrassing, or worse, scandalous, situation that Zane was “fixing.”
In the distance a door opened. The sharp tap of heels on flagstones, the clatter of dishes, broke the moment.
Zane straightened away from the wall. “You could do with a drink.” His hand cupped her elbow. “Somewhere quiet.”
The heat of his palm against her bare skin distracted Lilah enough that she allowed him to propel her down the corridor.
Seconds later, Zane opened a door and allowed her to precede him. Lilah stepped into a sitting room decorated in the spare Medinian way, with cream-washed walls, dark furniture and jewel-bright rugs scattered on a flagstone floor. A series of rich oils, no doubt depicting various Atraeus ancestors, decorated the walls. French doors opened out on to one of the many stone terraces that rimmed the castello, affording expansive views of a moonlit Mediterranean sea.
Zane splashed what looked like brandy into a glass. “When did you realize about Lucas and Carla?”
She loosened her death grip on her clutch. “When we arrived at the castello and Carla flung herself into Lucas’s arms.”
“Then why go to Lucas’s room when you had to know what you would find?”
The question, along with the piercing gaze that went with it, was unsettling. She was once again struck by the notion that beneath the urbane exterior Zane was quietly, coldly angry. “I’d had enough of feeling uncomfortable and out of place. Dinner was over and I was tired. I wanted to go back to the hotel.”
He pressed the glass into her hands. “With Lucas.”
The brush of his fingers sent another zing of awareness through her. “No. Alone.”
She sipped brandy and tensed as it burned her throat. She was not about to explain to Zane that she had not gotten as far as thinking about the physical realities of a relationship with his brother. She had assumed all of that would fall into place as they went along. “I put a higher price on myself than that.”
“Marriage.”
She almost choked on another swallow of brandy. “That’s the general idea.”
Fingers tightening on the glass, she strolled closer to the paintings, as always drawn by color and composition, the nuances of technique. Jewelry design was her trade, but painting had always been her first love.
She paused beneath an oil of a fierce, medieval warrior, an onyx seal ring on one finger, a scimitar strapped to his back. The straight blade of a nose, tough jaw and magnetic dark gaze were a mirror of Zane’s.
Seated beside the warrior was his lady, wearing a parchment silk gown, her exotic gaze square on to the viewer, giving the impression of quiet, steely strength. Lilah was guessing that being married to the brigand beside her, she would need it. An exquisite diamond and emerald ring graced one slim finger; around her neck was a matching pendant.
She felt the heat from Zane’s body all down one side as he came to stand beside her. The intangible electrical current that hummed through her whenever he was near grew perceptibly stronger.
Lilah swallowed another mouthful of brandy and tried to ignore the disruptive sensations. The warmth in the pit of her stomach extended to a faint dizziness in her head, reminding her that she had barely eaten at dinner and had already sipped too much wine. She stepped closer to study the jewelry the woman was wearing.
“The Illium jewels.”
Lilah frowned, frustrated by the lack of fine detail in the painting. “From Troy? I thought they were a myth.”
“They got sold off at the turn of last century when the family went broke. My father managed to buy them back from a private collector.”
Lilah noticed the detail of a ship in the background of the painting. “A pirate?”
“A privateer,” Zane corrected. “During the eighteen hundreds his seafaring exploits were a major source of wealth for the Atraeus family.”
Lilah ignored Zane’s smooth explanation. After a brief foray into Medinian history, she had gleaned enough information about the Atraeus family to know that the dark and dangerous ancestor had been a pirate by any other name.
She stepped back from the oil painting in order to appreciate its rich colors. The play of light over the warrior’s dark features suddenly made him seem breathtakingly familiar. Exchange the robes, soft boots and a scimitar for a suit and an expensive black shirt and it was Zane. “What was his name?”
“Zander Atraeus, my namesake, near enough. Although my mother didn’t have a clue about my father’s family history.” He turned away. “Finish your drink. I’ll take you back to your hotel.”
She followed Zane to the sideboard and set her empty brandy glass down. She noticed the glint of the seal ring on the middle finger of Zane’s left hand. “Your ring looks identical to the one in the painting.”
“It is.” His reply was clipped, and she wondered what she had said to cause the cool distance.
Suddenly she understood and busied herself extracting her cell from her clutch. She knew only too well what it was like to be an illegitimate child and excluded from her father’s family. As much as she had tried to dismiss that side of the family from her psyche, they still existed and the hurt remained.
“You don’t have to take me back to the hotel. I can call a cab.” Unfortunately, the screen of her cell was cracked and the phone no longer appeared to work. It must have happened when her purse had gone flying.
Zane checked his watch. “Even if the phone worked, you wouldn’t get a cab after midnight on Medinos.”
Her stomach sank. She was a city girl; she loved shops, good coffee, public transportation. All the good-natured warnings friends had given her about traveling to a foreign country that was still partway buried in the Middle Ages were coming home to roost. “No underground?”
A flash of amusement lit his dark gaze. “All I can offer is a ride in a Ferrari.”
Her stomach tightened on the slew of graphic images that went with climbing into a powerful sports car with Zane Atraeus. It was up there with Persephone accepting a ride from Hades. “Thanks, but no thanks. You don’t need to feel responsible for me.”
Zane’s expression hardened. “Lucas won’t be taking you back to the hotel.”
Her chin jerked up. “I did get that part.” She had been stupidly naive, but not anymore. “Okay, I’ll accept the lift to my hotel, but that’s all.”
Zane’s fingers brushed hers as he took her empty glass. “Good. Don’t throw yourself away on a man who doesn’t value you.”
“Don’t worry.” She stepped back, unnerved by how tempted she was to stay close. “I know exactly how much I’m worth.”
She realized how cool and hard that phrase had sounded. “I didn’t mean that to sound … like it did.”
His expression was neutral. “I’m sure you didn’t.”
Another memory surfaced. Two weeks after “the kiss,” at another function, Zane had found her politely trying to fend off her friend and escort’s boss.
She could still remember the hot tingle down her spine, the sudden utter unimportance of the older man who had decided she was desperate to spend the night with him. For an exhilarating moment she had been certain Zane had followed her because he wanted to follow up on the shattering connection she had felt when they had kissed.
Instead, his gaze had flowed through her as if she didn’t exist. He had turned on his heel and left.
In a flash of clarity she finally understood why she had agreed to travel to Medinos with a man she barely knew.
The date had been with Lucas, but it was Zane she had always wanted.
In her search for Mr. Dependable she had somehow managed to fixate on his exact opposite.
Lucas had been an unknown quantity and out of her league, but he was nothing compared to Zane. With Zane there would be no guarantees, no safety net, no commitment. The exact opposite of what she had planned for and needed in her life.

Four
Ten days later, Zane stepped into the darkened offices of The Atraeus Group’s newest acquisition, Ambrosi Pearls in Sydney. He took the antique elevator, which matched the once-elegant facade of the building, to the top floor.
It was almost midnight; most of the building was plunged into darkness. Zane, who was more used to mining and construction sites and masculine boardrooms, shook his head in bemusement as he strolled into Lucas’s office. The air was perfumed; the decor white-on-white. It looked like it had been designed for the editor of a high-end fashion magazine. He noted there was actually a pile of glossy fashion magazines on one end of the curvy designer desk.
Lucas turned from his perusal of downtown Sydney. His hair was ruffled as if he’d run his fingers through it, and his tie was askew. He looked as disgruntled as Zane felt coming off a long flight from Florida.
Zane checked his watch. It was midnight. By his calculations he had been awake almost thirty-six hours. “Why the cloak-and-dagger?”
Lucas stripped off his tie and stuffed the red silk into his pocket. “I’ve decided to marry Carla. The press is already on the hunt. I’ve been trying to do a little damage control, but Lilah’s going to come under pressure.”
Zane’s tiredness evaporated. Now the midnight meeting at the office made sense. Lucas’s apartment had probably been staked out by the press. “I thought you and Lilah were over.”
If he had thought anything else he would not have gone back to Florida to close the land deal. He would have sent someone else.
Lucas paced to the desk, checked the screen of an ice-cream pink cell as if he was waiting for a text, then rifled through a drawer. He came up with a business card. “We are over, but try telling that to the press.”
He scribbled a number on the card. “Lilah came to my apartment. She was followed.”
Zane took the card. If he thought he had controlled the possessive jealousy that had eaten into him ever since Constantine’s wedding, in that moment he knew he was wrong. “What was Lilah doing at your apartment?”
Lucas frowned at the pink cell as if something about it was stressing him to the max. “I’m not sure. Carla was there. Lilah left before I could talk to her. The point is, I need you to mind her for me again.”
In terse sentences, Lucas described how a reporter had snapped photos of him kissing Carla out on the sidewalk, with Lilah looking on. The pictures would be published in the morning paper.
Every muscle in Zane’s body tensed at the knowledge that Lucas and Lilah were still connected, even if it was only by scandal.
During Constantine’s wedding, which Lilah had attended because she had not been able to get a flight out until the following Monday, she had made it clear she was “off” all things Atraeus. Zane had not enjoyed being shut out, but at least he’d had the satisfaction of knowing Lilah was over Lucas.
He wondered what had changed her mind to the extent that she had actually gone to Lucas’s apartment. Grimly, he controlled the cavemanlike urge to grab Lucas by his shirtfront, shove him against the wall and demand that he leave Lilah Cole alone. “She won’t like it.”
Lucas’s expression was distracted. “She’ll adjust. She’s being well compensated.”
Zane went still inside. “How, exactly?”
Lucas shuffled papers. “The usual currency. Money, promotion.”
Zane could feel his blood pressure rocketing. “Carla won’t like that.”
“Tell me about it.” Lucas shot him a tired grin. “Women. It’s a juggling act.”
And one in which Lucas, with his killer charm, had always excelled.
Suspicion coalesced into certainty. Despite the engagement to Carla, Zane was certain that Lilah was still in the picture for Lucas. Maybe he had it all wrong, but he couldn’t allow himself to forget that Lucas had bought Lilah an engagement ring.
He could still see the catalog picture Elena had shown him. The solitaire had been large and flawless. Personally, he had thought the chunky diamond had been a mistake. He would have chosen something antique and lavish, maybe with a few emeralds on the side to match her eyes.
Zane’s jaw clenched against the fiery urge to demand to know why, now that Lucas was engaged to Carla, he couldn’t leave Lilah Cole alone.
Irrelevant question. Atraeus men had a long, well-publicized history of womanizing. He should know; he was the product of a liaison.
Letting out a breath, Zane forced himself to relax. “How long do you want me to mind her this time?”
Lucas shrugged. “The weekend. Long enough to get her through the media frenzy that’s going to break following the announcement at the press conference—” he checked his watch “—today.”
Zane’s temper frayed at the possessive concern in Lucas’s voice. “Sure. We got on okay on Medinos.” He drilled Lucas with another cold look. “I think she likes me.”
Lucas looked relieved. “Great, I owe you one. I know Lilah isn’t your normal type.”
Zane’s brows jerked together. “What do you mean, not my type?”
Lucas placed his briefcase on the desk and began loading files into it. “Lilah’s into classical music; she’s arty. I think she paints.”
“She does. I like art and classical music.”
He snapped the case closed. “She’s older.”
Lucas made the age gap sound like an unbridgeable abyss. “Five years is not a big gap.”
Lucas’s cell broke into a catchy tango.
Jaw compressed, Zane watched as Lucas snatched up the phone. “Nice tune. Bolero.”
Lucas shrugged. “I wouldn’t know. This is my secretary’s phone. Mine’s, uh, broken.” He held the cell against his ear and lifted a hand in dismissal. “Hey, thanks.”
“Not a problem.” Jaw taut, Zane took the creaking elevator to the ground floor. If he had stayed in the office with Lucas much longer he might have lost his temper. He had learned long ago that losing control was the equivalent of losing, and with Lilah Cole he did not intend to lose.
He had to focus, concentrate.
A whole weekend. Two days, and nights.
With a woman so committed to marriage she had written a blueprint for success and developed a points system for the men who had scored highly enough to make it into her folder.
Lilah slid dark glasses onto the bridge of her nose and braced herself as she stepped out of her taxi into the midmorning heat of downtown Sydney. Two steps toward the impressive doors of the hotel where the press conference was being held, and a maelstrom of flashing cameras and shouted questions broke over her.
Cheeks hot with embarrassment, she tightened her grip on the ivory handbag that matched her stylish suit, and plowed forward. Someone tugged at the sleeve of her jacket; a flash blinded her. A split second later the grip on her arm and the reporter were miraculously removed, replaced by the burly back of a uniformed security guard. The mass of reporters parted and Zane Atraeus’s dark gaze burned into hers, oddly calm and assessing in the midst of chaos. Despite her determination to remain calm in his presence, to forget the kiss, a hot thrill shot down her spine.
“Lilah, come with me.”
For a split second she thought he had said, “Lilah, come to me,” and the vivid intensity of her reaction to the low, husky command was paralyzing.
She had already had two negative experiences with Atraeus males. Now wasn’t the time to redefine that old cliché by fantasizing about jumping out of the frying pan and into the fire, again.
The media surged against the wall of security, an elbow jabbed her back. She clutched Zane’s outstretched hand. He released her fingers almost immediately and scooped her against his side, his muscled heat burning into her as they walked.
Three swift steps. The glass doors gleamed ahead. A camera flashed. “Oh, good. More scandal.”
She caught the edge of Zane’s grin. “That’s what you get when you play with an Atraeus.”
The hotel doors swished wide. More media were inside, along with curious hotel staff and guests. Lilah worked to keep her expression serene, although she was uncomfortably aware that her cheeks were burning. “I didn’t ‘play’ with anyone.”
“You went to Medinos. That was some first date.”
The nervy thrill of Zane turning up to protect her evaporated. “I didn’t exactly enjoy the experience.”
As first dates went it had been an utter disaster.
Zane ushered her into an open elevator. The heat of his palm at the small of her back sent a small shock of awareness through her. Two large Medinian security guards stepped in on either side of them. A third man, blocky and muscled with a shaven head, whom she recognized as Spiros, took up a position by the door and punched buttons.
Lilah’s ruffled unease at Zane’s closeness increased as the elevator shot upward. “I suppose you’re in Sydney for the charity art auction?”
“I’m also doing some work on the Ambrosi takeover, which is why Lucas asked me to mind you.”
The last remnants of the intense thrill she had felt when Zane had come looking for her died a death. “I suppose Lucas told you what happened last night?”
“He said you found him with Carla at his apartment.”
Lilah’s blush deepened. Zane made it sound like she had been involved in some kind of trashy love triangle. “I didn’t make it to his apartment. Security—”
“You don’t have to explain.”
Lilah’s gaze narrowed. The surface calm she had been clinging to all morning, ever since she had seen the morning paper, shredded. “Since Medinos, I haven’t been able to get an appointment to see Lucas. I got tired of waiting. I was there to resign.”
The doors slid open. Adrenaline pumped when she saw the contingent of press in the lobby of the concierge floor, although these weren’t the sharp-eyed paparazzi who had been out on the street. She recognized magazine editors, serious tabloids, television news crews.
She took a deep breath as they stepped out of the elevator in the wake of the security team.
Zane’s fingers locked around her wrist. “If you run now, what they’ll print will be worse.”
“Any worse than ‘Discarded Atraeus Mistress Abandoned on Street’?”
Zane’s expression was grim. “You should have known Lucas was playing out of your league.”
Something inside her snapped. “Is it too late to say I wish I’d never met Lucas?”
The moment was freeing. She realized she had never actually connected with Lucas on an emotional level. Marriage with him would have been a disaster.
Zane’s gaze captured hers, making her heart pound. “How worried are you about the media?”
Lilah blinked. The focused heat in Zane’s eyes was having a mesmerizing effect. “I don’t have a TV and I canceled my newspaper subscription this morning. Dealing with the media is not my thing.”
“Is this?”
His jaw brushed her forehead. Tendrils of heat shimmered through her at the unexpected contact. His hands framed her face. Dimly, she registered that he intended to kiss her. In the midst of the hum of security, press and hotel staff, time seemed to slow, stop. She was spun back two years to the seductive quiet of the empty reception room, eleven days ago to the flight to Medinos.
She dragged in a shallow breath. She needed to step back, calm down, forget the crazy attraction that zinged through her every time she was near Zane. Constantine and Lucas had both gone through gorgeous women like hot knives through butter, but Zane had a reputation that scorched.
His breath feathered her lips. She closed her eyes and his mouth touched hers, seducingly warm and soft. A shock wave of heat shimmered out from that one small point of contact.
He lifted his head. His gaze, veiled by inky lashes, locked on hers. Instead of straightening, his hands dropped to her waist. The heat from his palms burned through the finely tailored silk as he drew her closer.
The motorized whirr of cameras and the buzz of conversation receded as she clutched at Zane’s shoulders and angled her jaw, allowing him more comfortable access. This time the kiss was firmer, heated, deliberate, sizzling all the way to her toes. By the time Zane lifted his mouth, her head was spinning and her legs felt as limp as noodles.
The smattering of applause and wolf whistles shunted her back to earth. She stared at the forest of microphones trying to break through the wall of security, her wild moment of rebellion evaporating.
The phrase “out of the frying pan and into the fire” once more reverberated through her. “Now they’ll think I’m sleeping with you as well.”
Zane’s arm locked around her waist as he propelled her through the reporters and into the room in which the press conference was being held. “Think of it this way, if you’re with me, at least now they’ll wonder who dumped whom.”
Forty-five minutes later the official part of the press conference was over. Lucas and Carla, Lucas’s mother, Maria Therese, and Constantine’s P.A. Tomas had left in a flurry of publicity over their engagement announcement and the further announcement that Sienna and Constantine were expecting a baby.
Zane flowed smoothly to his feet. “Now we leave.”
Relieved that Lucas’s announcement had taken the unnerving focus of the press off her, Lilah hooked the strap of her handbag over her shoulder.
Two steps onto the still crowded floor and an elegant blonde backed by a TV crew shoved a mike at Zane. “Can we expect another engagement announcement soon?”
“No comment.” Zane lengthened his stride, bypassing the TV crew and the question as he propelled her toward the elevator.
Even though Lilah knew that Zane’s lack of response was the only sensible option, his comment left her feeling oddly flat and definitely manipulated.
The end of the nonrelationship with Lucas had not mattered. Standing on the pavement the previous evening while a reporter had snapped her witnessing Lucas and Carla locked in a passionate clinch had not been a feel-good moment. But, as embarrassing as her association with Zane’s brother had turned out to be, after the toe-curling intimacy of the kisses in front of the media, in that moment she felt the most betrayed by Zane.

Five
Zane hustled Lilah out into a private underground parking lot and opened the door of a gleaming, low-slung black Corvette. He waited for Lilah to climb into the passenger-side seat then walked around the vehicle and slid behind the wheel.
He had been annoyed enough with Lucas to want to stake a claim on Lilah, although he hadn’t planned on doing it in quite such a public way.
He also hadn’t expected Lilah to kiss him back quite so enthusiastically. Although ever since they had hit the elevator on the way down she had been cool and reserved and irritatingly distant.
He lifted a hand as Spiros and the two security guards climbed into a black sedan.
He fastened his seat belt. The back of his hand brushed Lilah’s. The automatic jolt he received from the brush of her skin against his increased his irritable temper. A temper that, just days ago, he had not known he’d possessed.
The dark sedan the bodyguards had climbed into cruised out of the parking building. Seconds later, Zane followed, emerging into the glare of daylight.
He transferred his gaze to the woman beside him. Dressed in her signature ivory and white, her hair smoothed into a loose, elegant confection on top of her head, smooth teardrop pearls dangling from tiny lobes, Lilah looked both cool and drop-dead sexy. The fact that he had kissed off her lipstick, leaving her lips bare, only succeeded in making her even more sensually alluring.
Grimly he noted that the same addictive fascination that had tempted him to lose his head two years ago was still at work. Lilah Cole was openly and unashamedly husband-hunting. She was the kind of woman he couldn’t afford in his life, and yet it seemed he couldn’t resist her.
Lilah stared straight ahead, her purse gripped in her lap. “I know I’ve been invited to lunch with your family, but with everything that’s happened, maybe that isn’t such a good idea. If you drop me off, I can get a taxi back to the office.”
Zane’s jaw tightened at the subdued, worried note in Lilah’s voice. Lucas should have known better; he should have left her alone. “It’s lunchtime. You need to eat.”
She looked out of the passenger window. “I had cereal and toast for breakfast. I’m not exactly hungry.”
Zane found the thought of Lilah crunching her way through cereal and toast before facing the press oddly endearing. He wondered what kind of cereal she ate then crushed his curiosity about her.
He braked for a set of lights. “Lucas would probably be relieved if you didn’t show.”
The words were ruthless, but he had gotten used to seeing Lilah calm and businesslike, with all her ducks in a row. For two years it had been a quality that had irritated him profoundly. Incomprehensibly, he now found himself looking for ways to get her back to her normal, ultraorganized self.
Her gaze snapped to his. “What Lucas wants or does not want is of no concern to me.”
Zane felt suddenly happier than he had in days. The lights changed, he put the car in gear and accelerated through the intersection. “I can take you somewhere else to eat if you want.”
Her head whipped around, her green gaze shooting fire. “On second thought, no.”
“Good. Because we’re here.”
He watched Lilah study the elegant portico of the Michelin star restaurant as if the fluted columns represented the gates of Hades. “You’re a manipulative man.”
“I’m an Atraeus.”
“Sometimes I forget.”
He found himself instantly on the defensive. “Because I’m also a Salvatore?”
He did not voice the other lurking fear that had reared its head since his conversation with Lucas, that it was because he was only twenty-four.
She frowned, as if his shadowy past had not occurred to her. “Because sometimes you’re … nice.”
“Nice.” His brows jerked together.
She looked embarrassed. “I read the article about you on the charity website. I know that you wear those three earrings to help kids relate to you when you do counseling work. You can try all you like to prove otherwise but, from where I come from, that’s nice.”
Lilah breathed a sigh of relief when Zane pulled in at her apartment’s tiny parking area. Lunch had been just as stilted and uncomfortable as she had imagined. Thankfully, the service had been ultraquick and they had been able to leave early.
Zane walked around and opened her door. Lilah climbed out of the low bucket seat, acutely aware of the shadowy cleavage visible in the V of her jacket and of the length of thigh exposed by the shortness of her skirt. When she had dressed that morning, the suit had seemed elegant and circumspect but it was not made for struggling out of a low slung ‘Vette.
Zane’s gaze locked with hers, making her feel breathless. She clamped down on the uncharacteristic desire to boldly meet his gaze.
Arriving at the front door of her apartment with a man was what she liked to refer to as a dating “red zone.” She and Zane were not dating, but the situation had somehow become more fraught than any dating scenario she had ever experienced. After the kiss earlier, it would not be a good idea to allow Zane inside her house.
She gave him a bright, professional smile. “It’s okay, you don’t have to see me in. Thanks for the lift.”
Zane closed the ‘Vette’s door and depressed the key lock. “Not a problem. I’ll see you to your door.”
“That won’t be necessary.” She aimed another smile somewhere in his general direction as she rummaged in her handbag for her door key.
Zane fell into step beside her. “If I’m not mistaken, that’s a reporter staked out over there.”
Lilah’s head jerked up. She recognized the car that had been parked outside of Lucas’s apartment the previous night. Her heart sank. “He must have followed us.”
“The car was here when we arrived. According to Lucas, you were the one who was followed last night. The press has probably been staking you out ever since you returned from Medinos. In which case, I’d better see you safely inside.”
Resigning herself, Lilah walked quickly to the large garagestyle door, her cheeks warming as she saw the down-at-heel building through Zane’s eyes. A converted warehouse in one of the shabbier suburbs, she had chosen the building because it had been cheerful, arty and spectacularly cheap. The ground floor apartment included a huge light-filled north-facing room that was perfect for painting.
Zane, thankfully, didn’t seem to notice how shabby the exterior was, a reminder that he had not spent all of his life in luxurious surroundings.
Unlocking the door, she stepped inside the nondescript foyer, with its concrete floors and cream-washed walls.
Zane slid the door to enclose them in the shadowy space. “How many people live here?”
“A dozen or so.” She led the way down a narrow, dim corridor and unlocked her front door. Made of unprepossessing sheet metal, it had once led to some kind of workshop.
She stepped into her large sitting room, conscious of Zane’s gaze as he took in white walls, glowing wooden floors and the afternoon sun flooding through a bank of bifold doors at one end.
“Nice.” He closed the door and strolled into the center of the room, his gaze assessing the paintings she’d collected from friends and family over the years.
He studied a series of three abstracts propped against one wall. “These are yours.”

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