Rising Stars & It Started With… Collections. Кейт Хьюит
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usual, a maid and a breakfast tray close by. Veronica pushed herself upright, disappointment hollowing her stomach as she blinked in the bright morning light.
She ran her hand over Raj’s side of the bed, came away cold. He’d been gone for a long time.
Ridiculously, she thought of their fiction—which was no longer fiction, and yet her lover had left her. Perhaps he didn’t want to be seen with her after all.
The thought made her head throb.
Instead, she ate her breakfast, listened to Martine detail her morning appointments and took a shower. She dressed carefully in a bright pink cashmere sweater dress, deciding at the last minute to be a little naughty and pulling on tall, suede boots to complement it.
Then she brushed her hair into a thick ponytail and went to face the day.
She drew up short when she entered the living area to find Brady.
And Raj, she realized. He stood by the window, looking all dark and broody and distant.
“Good morning, gentlemen,” she said, her heart beginning to throb as Raj turned toward her. She couldn’t tell what he was thinking. His expression was hooded, his feelings a mystery to her.
Part of her cried out in protest. How could he have made love to her the way he had and be so distant now? How could he not look at her with heat simmering in his eyes? She felt as if her feelings must be written all over her face, and yet he was as unreadable as stone.
She shot a glance at Brady. He was oblivious to the undercurrents, thank God. He walked over and gave her a hug, then took her by the hand and led her to the couch.
“You need to sit down, Veronica,” he said.
The first prickles of alarm dotted her skin.
“What’s going on?” Her gaze slewed from Brady to Raj.
“I’m sorry, Veronica,” Raj said, his sexy voice so impartial and cool. Not at all the voice of the man who’d whispered in her ear last night. Who’d told her she was beautiful and amazing as he’d thrust deep inside her.
Her heart squeezed tight at the memory. She wanted that man back, the one who was tender and loving and worshipped her body so beautifully that he’d given her back something of herself. He’d made her feel as if she deserved to be treated special. As if, for a short while, she wasn’t a horrible woman who’d lost her child because she’d been careless.
He’d made her feel whole.
“There’s been a coup in Aliz,” he continued. “The chief of police has seized all the government buildings in the capital. He’s calling for your ouster and the restoration of the former president.”
“He can’t do that,” she said numbly. But he could. He had. She rose, her limbs shaking with sudden fury. “I won’t let him.”
“Sweetie,” Brady said, but she held her hand up to silence him.
Raj, however, did not remain silent.
“I know what you’re thinking. But it’s too dangerous for you to return. You need to remain here.”
“And do what?” she demanded, fury swirling inside. “Do nothing?” She shook her head. “I can’t sit by and let them get away with this. I won’t.”
Raj’s eyes flashed. “They won’t get away with it,” he said. “But it’ll take time to sort it out. In the meantime, you’re in danger, especially if you try to return to Aliz.”
But he didn’t know her country, didn’t know her responsibility. She wasn’t backing down, wasn’t abandoning the people who had elected her. She couldn’t.
“I’m returning to Aliz,” she said. “With or without you.”
“Very well,” he said. So cool, so casual. Even when he lost the battle, he appeared to be in complete control. It irritated her.
“Just like that?” she said. “No arguing? No attempts to persuade me otherwise?”
He inclined his head. “Just like that.” Then he turned and walked toward the door.
Her chest ached at the thought he was leaving her after what they’d been through together. So easily, as if it meant nothing.
Which it probably hadn’t. He’d told her he couldn’t give her anything else. It was her fault if she wanted to believe more was possible.
“You aren’t just going to leave her, are you?” Brady called out angrily.
Raj stopped and turned back to them, hand on the door. “No. I’m going to pack.”
Three hours later, they were airborne. Veronica sat in a plush leather seat and gazed out at the snowy English landscape below. She knew she owed the speed of their departure to Raj.
Without him, she’d still be waiting on a chartered plane since Aliz did not maintain a government fleet. Instead, Raj had let her use one of VSI’s company jets. She and her staff were on their way home, thanks to him.
He sat across the aisle from her, engrossed in whatever was on his computer screen at the moment. He’d barely said a word to her in the three hours since he’d come into her suite and told her of the situation in Aliz.
She’d been mortified to have to hear it from him when she should have known before he did.
Yet another sign that Raj was powerful and connected.
His fingers tapped something on the keys, and a current of heat swirled in her belly. Those fingers had touched her so expertly, had drawn such need and passion from her that thinking of it now made her wet. She wanted him again, in spite of everything.
He must have sensed something, because he looked up at that moment, his gaze turning swiftly to capture hers. She didn’t bother to pretend she hadn’t been staring. Her heart skipped a beat. Her nipples began to tighten against the cashmere of her sweater dress.
His gaze slid down, then back up again, his eyes glittering with heat and need that mirrored her own. A thrill shot through her. He still wanted her. Maybe one night hadn’t been enough.
It was impossible, though. There was a bed on this plane, but there was no way they could retreat to it. Between her staff, his team and the flight crew, there was no hope of privacy.
And once they reached Aliz, who knew what would happen?
He snapped his computer closed and pushed up from his seat. Then he was sinking into the seat beside hers, and her skin was prickling with his nearness. Her blood was singing with heat and need.
She picked up the vodka cocktail the flight attendant had brought to her—she’d hoped it would calm her nerves—and took a small sip. The vodka wasn’t strong, but it kicked back nevertheless, burning her throat in a good way.
“Thank you,” she said.
“You’ve already thanked me at least fifty times,” he replied, his voice low and containing an edge she didn’t quite recognize. “I couldn’t let you go alone. They would devour you in a matter of minutes.”
She met his gaze, her heart turning over at the intense look in those golden eyes. “Maybe I was thanking you for last night.”
He didn’t say anything for a long moment. “Just when I think you can’t get to me,” he said, shaking his head.
“I get to you?” For some reason, that made her stomach leap.
“In the worst way,” he replied seriously.
Veronica frowned. “I’m not sure that’s very flattering.”
He picked up her hand where it rested on her lap, threaded his fingers through hers. Her pulse shot into overdrive. Her core throbbed with need for him, her body tightening painfully. When he lifted her fingers to his lips and kissed them, a shiver rocketed through