The Dreaming Of... Collection. Оливия Гейтс
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wasn’t how I foresaw my evening ending when I arrived at the museum tonight.’
Jasmine tensed, the thought that he could be regretting what happened sending a vein of ice through her chest. Some other-worldly, more experienced woman would’ve found a sophisticated answer to his comment. But no such words rose to her mind, so she clamped her eyes shut and held her breath.
‘Nor mine,’ she murmured.
‘You were amazing,’ he muttered, his tone hushed.
The breath whooshed from her lungs, joy making her lips curve in a smile that seemed to emerge from her very heart. ‘You weren’t so bad, yourself.’
He laughed, a low, husky sound she’d begun to seriously like. With a kiss on her shoulder, he eased himself from her body and stood up.
‘Come.’ Again his tone was more command than request.
Again, Jasmine found she didn’t mind. ‘Where are we going?’
‘I have a sudden need to see your body slick with water.’
He tugged her off the bed and led her into a luxurious shower room. After adjusting various dials and testing the water with his fingers, he turned.
He dropped a kiss at the juncture between her neck and shoulder. With swift, efficient motions he secured her hair on top of her head.
Grasping her shoulders, he walked her into the misty cubicle and proceeded to wring every last ounce of pleasure from her body.
Afterwards, wrapped in a warm, fluffy towel, Jasmine watched Reyes, his lean, masculine body stealing her breath once again.
‘I’m glad I met you tonight.’ The words spilled out before she could stop them.
Their eyes connected, held. ‘I feel the same,’ he said simply. They both looked away at the same time.
In silence he led her back to his bed. And this time, their lovemaking was slow, languid, an unhurried union that brought an alien tightness to her chest and tears to her eyes. Before their heartbeats had slowed, Reyes had fallen asleep.
* * *
The low buzz of her phone woke her. Squinting in the dark, she saw the light from her smartphone illuminate the inside of her small clutch purse. The call could only be from England. And since her boss knew she was on holiday and was unlikely to disturb her, it could only be her parents...or Joaquin.
Her heart jumped into her throat.
Reyes had eased his tight hold of her during the night and now lay on his stomach, his head turned away from her.
Quickly, she slid out of bed and retrieved the phone. Seeing the name displayed on the screen, her heart plummeted. ‘Hello.’
‘Jasmine!’ Her mother’s frantic voice rang in her ears. ‘Where are you? They took him. Oh, God, they broke his arm...and then they took him away!’
Walking on tiptoe to the door, Jasmine slipped out and hurried down the hallway to Reyes’s study. ‘Mum, take a deep breath and tell me what happened,’ Jasmine said, even though deep down she suspected the answer.
‘Some men broke into the house and they took Stephen!’
‘What? When?’
‘About an hour ago. They wouldn’t say where they were going. But they hurt him, Jasmine. What if they...they kill him?’ Her voice broke in a strangled sob.
Ice slithered down Jasmine’s spine. She clutched the phone to her ear to stem the shaking in her hand. ‘It’s okay, Mum. I’m sure they won’t. Did they...what did they say?’ She tried to steady her voice so her mother’s panic didn’t escalate.
‘They left a number...asked me to give it to you to call. Jasmine, I don’t know what I’ll do if anything happens to Stephen— Oh, God!’
Knowing how adversity had affected her mother before Stephen came into their lives, Jasmine clutched the phone harder, unwilling to contemplate the worst. Her earlier bravado began to wither before her eyes.
She took a deep breath. ‘Well, stop worrying.’ Jasmine tried to infuse as much optimism into her voice as she could. ‘Text me the number. I’ll sort this out, I promise.’
Her mother’s teary, panic-laced goodbye wrenched at Jasmine’s heart. Hands shaking, she started to dial the number her mother had sent through when her phone buzzed with another incoming text.
Jasmine read it. Once. Twice. Her fingers went numb.
The message itself was innocuous enough. But the meaning hit her square in the chest.
One hour. Rio Hilton. Room 419. A simple exchange. Good luck.
She returned to the bedroom on leaden feet and froze as Reyes shifted in the bed, exhaled heavily before settling back into deep sleep. Moonlight filtering through the open windows silhouetted him in soft light, his glorious body bare from the waist up. Momentarily, she stared, recalling the way he’d unleashed all that potent power on her, his generosity in showering her with pleasure.
Her insides quivered as harsh reality hit her in the face.
She had no choice.
She’d been willing to abort her despicable mission even if it meant exposing her stepfather’s misdeeds and possible incarceration to the authorities.
But she couldn’t stand by and do nothing while Stephen was being physically harmed. Or worse. She would never be able to live with herself.
As for Reyes...
She bit her lip and forced her gaze from the man lying on the bed.
Numbness invading every atom of her being, Jasmine stealthily pulled her clothes on and went back into the study. Reyes hadn’t had the chance to place the treaty back in the safe.
Insides clenched in shame, she walked to the desk, opened the folder and lifted the heavily embossed papers.
Her hands shook as she lifted the treaty and held it in her hands.
‘I am merely a concerned citizen of Santo Sierra, wishing to reassure myself my crown prince’s actions are altruistic, Miss Nichols. That is all...’
Joaquin’s words reverberated in her head and she clenched her teeth. She might only have known him for a few hours, but Jasmine didn’t doubt that Crown Prince Reyes Navarre cared deeply about his people and held only their best interests at heart.
It was Joaquin’s motives that were highly suspect.
Whatever happened, Jasmine didn’t have any intention of letting the document out of her sight.
Taking a deep breath, she folded the treaty, slipped into the hallway and made her way to the deck to retrieve her shoes. Clutching them to her chest, she made her way down the steps towards the gangplank.
The bodyguard materialised in front of her, large and threatening. His searching eyes stalled her breath.
With every last ounce of strength, she straightened and lifted her chin, all at once ashamed and thankful that her old skills were coming to the fore.
Never show fear, never show fear. ‘Can I get a taxi, please?’ she asked, praying he spoke enough English to understand her request.
For several seconds, he didn’t respond. Finally, he nodded and indicated the exit.
Despite the pre-dawn hour, people and cars rushed past on the road beyond the quay, the post-Carnival Rio nightlife as vibrant as it had been during the festival a month ago. Another set of bodyguards guarded the gangplank and exchanged words with her escort, who shrugged and said something that made the others chuckle. Jasmine tried to remain calm, regulate her breathing as she walked beside him.
Twenty minutes later, she stumbled into the foyer of the Rio Hilton. The