CHAPTER FOUR

      MIKOLAS THREW BACK the last of his ouzo, clenched his teeth against the burn and set aside his glass with a decisive thunk. He searched for the void that he usually occupied, but he couldn’t find it. He was swirling in a miasma of lascivious need, achingly hard after the way Viveka had stared at his crotch and swallowed like her mouth was watering.

      He absently ran a hand across his chest where his nipples were so sharp they pained him and adjusted himself so he wouldn’t pop out of his shorts, resisting the urge to soothe the ache with a squeeze of his fist.

      His reaction to her was unprecedented. He was an experienced man, had a healthy appetite for sex, but had never reacted so immediately and irrepressibly to any woman.

      This lack of command over himself disturbed him. Infuriated him. He was insulted at being thrown over for a gardener and unclear on his next move. Retreat was never an option for him, but he’d left the island to regroup. That smacked of cowardice and he pinned the blame for all of it on this woman.

      While she stood there with her hand closed over the lapels of his robe, holding it tight beneath her throat. Acting virginal when she was obviously as wily and experienced as any calculating opportunist he’d ever met.

      “Let’s negotiate our terms, Viveka.” From the moment she had admitted to being Trina’s sister he had seen the logical way to rescue this deal. Hell, by turning up in Trina’s gown she’d practically announced to him how this would play out.

      Of course it was a catch-22. He wasn’t sure he wanted such a tempting woman so close to him, but he refused to believe she was anything he couldn’t handle.

      Viveka only flashed him a disparaging look and spun toward the door.

      He didn’t bother stopping her. He followed at a laconic pace as she scurried her way out to the stern of the mid-deck. Grasping the rail in one hand, she shaded her eyes with the other, scanning the empty horizon. She quickly threw herself to the port side. Gazing back to the island, which had been left well behind them, she made a distressed noise and glared at him again, expression white.

      “Is Grigor on board?”

      “Why would he be?”

      “I don’t know!” Her shoulders relaxed a notch, but she continued to look anxious. “Why did you leave the island?”

      “Why would I stay?”

      “Why would you take me?” she cried.

      “I want to know why you’ve taken your sister’s place.”

      “You didn’t have to leave shore for that!”

      “You wanted Grigor present? He seemed to be inflaming things.” Grigor hadn’t expected his departure, either. Mikolas’s phone had already buzzed several times with calls from his would-be business partner.

      That had been another reason for Mikolas’s departure. If he’d stayed, he might have assaulted Grigor. The white-hot urge had been surprisingly potent and yes, that too had been provoked by this exasperating woman.

      It wasn’t a desire to protect her, Mikolas kept telling himself. His nature demanded he dominate, particularly over bullies and brutes. His personal code of ethics wouldn’t allow him to stand by and watch any man batter a woman.

      But Grigor’s attack on this one had triggered something dark and primal in him, something he didn’t care to examine too closely. Since cold-blooded murder was hardly a walk down the straight and narrow that was his grandfather’s expectation of him, he’d taken himself out of temptation’s reach.

      “I had a boat hired! All my things are on it.” Viveka pointed at the island. “Take me back!”

      Such a bold little thing. Time to let her know who was boss.

      “Grigor promised this merger if I married his daughter.” He gave her a quick once-over. “His stepdaughter will do.”

      She threw back her head. “Ba-ha-ha,” she near shouted and shrugged out of his robe, dropping it to the deck. “No. ’Bye.” Something flashed in her hand as she started to climb over the rail.

      She was fine-boned and supple and so easy to take in hand. Perhaps he took more enjoyment than he should in having another reason to touch her. Her skin was smooth and warm, her wrists delicate in his light grip as he calmly forced them behind her back, trapping her between the rail and his body.

      She strained to look over her shoulder, muttering, “Oh, you—!” as something fell into the water with a glint of reflected light. “That was my credit card. Thanks a lot.”

      “Viveka.” He was stimulated by the feel of her naked abdomen against his groin, erection not having subsided much and returning with vigor. Her spiked heels were gone, which was a pity. They’d been sexy as hell, but when it came to rubbing up against a woman, the less clothes the better.

      She smelled of his shampoo, he noted, but there was an intriguing underlying scent that was purely hers: green tea and English rain. And that heady scent went directly into his brain, numbing him to everything but thoughts of being inside her.

      Women were more subtle than men with their responses, but he read hers as clearly as a billboard. Not just the obvious signs like the way her nipples spiked against the pattern of her see-through bra cups, erotically abrading his chest and provoking thoughts of licking and sucking at them until she squirmed and moaned. A blush stained her cheeks and she licked her lips. There was a bonelessness to her. He could practically feel the way her blood moved through her veins like warm honey. He knew instinctively that opening his mouth against her neck would make her shiver and surrender to him. Her arousal would feed into his and they’d take each other to a new dimension.

      Where did that ridiculous notion come from? He was no sappy poet. He tried to shake the idea out of his head, but couldn’t rid himself of the certainty that sex with her would be the best he’d ever known. They were practically catching fire from this light friction. His heart was ramping with strength in his chest, his body magnetized to hers.

      He was incensed with her, he reminded himself, but he was also intrigued by this unique attunement they had. Logic told him it was dangerous, but the primitive male inside him didn’t give a damn. He wanted her.

      “This is kidnapping. And assault,” she said, giving a little struggle against his grip. “I thought you didn’t hurt women.”

      “I don’t let them hurt themselves, either. You’ll kill yourself jumping into the water out here.”

      Something flickered in her expression. Her skin was very white compared with her sister’s. How had he not noticed that from the very first, veil notwithstanding?

      “Stop behaving like a spoiled child,” he chided.

      She swung an affronted look to him like it was the worst possible insult he could level at her. “How about you stop acting like you own the world?”

      “This is my world. You walked into it. Don’t complain how I run it.”

      “I’m trying to leave it.”

      “And I’ll let you.” Something twisted in his gut, as if that was a lie. A big