The Dreaming Of... Collection. Оливия Гейтс
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entered. The diminutive man rose from a cream-coloured sofa, his hands outstretched in false greeting. Jasmine sidestepped him, her fists clenched.
‘What did you do with my stepfather?’ she demanded.
Joaquin paused, his hard eyes glittering before his sleazy smile slid back into place. ‘Why, nothing, Miss Nichols. He’s fine and currently enjoying the best hospitality at my home in London until our business is concluded.’
‘You broke his arm!’
‘Ah, that was rather unfortunate. My men merely wanted to make sure everyone understood what moves needed to be made. But he got a little...excited.’
Rage built inside her. ‘So you broke his arm? God, you’re nothing but a thug!’
‘I would caution against name-calling. You were on the prince’s yacht for over five hours. And from the looks of it you weren’t there against your will.’
Her skin crawled. ‘You were having me watched?’
‘I’m very vested in our deal. It’s imperative that you understand that.’ His eyes slid from her face to her handbag, the question in them undeniable.
For a wild second, Jasmine wanted to tell him she’d failed.
She wanted to turn back the clock; to return the treaty, return to the bed and the magnificent, captivating man she’d left in it. A man whose haunted eyes made her yearn to comfort him.
Even now she craved one more look, one more touch...
But it was too late. Defying Joaquin would be condemning her stepfather to a horrific fate.
And yet, she couldn’t just hand the document over.
‘You’re not merely a concerned citizen of Santo Sierra, are you?’
Joaquin shrugged. ‘No. Valderra is my home.’
Her mouth dropped open in shock. What on earth had she got herself into? ‘Why are you doing this?’ she whispered. Just then another possibility dawned, cold and unwelcoming. ‘Do you work for Prince Mendez?’
‘Enough questions. The document, please,’ Joaquin said coldly.
‘No.’ Jasmine shook her head and eyed the door. ‘I won’t give it to you.’
She whirled about and was confronted with the thick wall of muscle in the shape of the bodyguard. His beady eyes narrowed before he snatched the clutch out of her frozen grasp and removed the treaty from it.
Jasmine had been in enough fights to know which ones she stood a chance in and which ones were hopeless.
Joaquin’s eyes glittered as he perused the sheets, before rolling up the document.
‘Thank you, Miss Nichols. I think this concludes our business together.’ He started to turn away.
Sick with self-loathing, she stepped forward. ‘Wait! Please tell me you’ll return the treaty to Prince Reyes before tomorrow?’
‘You don’t need to trouble yourself about that,’ Joaquin answered. ‘I’ll make sure it reaches the right hands.’
Sweat coated her palms. ‘But if the document isn’t returned tonight, Rey...the prince will know I stole it.’
‘And what does that matter? It’s highly unlikely you and the prince will ever cross paths again, is it not? Besides, going on past experience, I wouldn’t have imagined you would be bothered by something as trivial as your reputation,’ he scoffed.
‘I’m not that person any more. I’ve turned my life around.’
‘So you say. But once a thief, always a thief. You reverted to type quite easily.’
Pain frayed the outer edges of her heart. Holding her head high, she stood her ground. ‘I don’t need to prove myself to you.’ Anxiety churned through her stomach. ‘What about Stephen?’
‘He’ll be home for breakfast. Goodbye, Miss Nichols.’ He walked out of the room.
Jasmine wanted to chase after him, rip the document from his hands.
As if guessing her intentions, the bodyguard cleared his throat.
Jasmine didn’t flinch. She’d dealt with brutes like him before, taken down one or two, even. But she knew she wouldn’t win this battle. She’d been damned from the very start.
Nevertheless, the enormity of what she’d done settled like a heavy mantle on her shoulders. Ice flowed through her veins as she clenched her fists.
‘Taxi?’ the bodyguard snarled.
‘No, thank you. I’ll find my own way.’
The first rays of dawn slashed across the sky as Jasmine returned to her hotel. With disjointed movements, she wheeled her suitcase out of the closet and stuffed her belongings into it. Forcing herself not to think, not to feel, she undressed and entered the shower.
But tears, scalding hotter than the scouring spray, coursed down her cheeks as she desperately scrubbed her skin.
Tonight she’d sunk to a despicable low. She’d lied. She’d stolen.
She’d let herself down spectacularly.
And in the blink of an eye, stripped back the years and reverted to her old self.
One month later
APRIL HAD BROUGHT an abrupt end to the cold snap and incessant rain that had engulfed London and most of the country for months.
Jasmine stepped out of Temple tube station into brilliant sunshine and stumbled past a group of tourists debating which attraction to visit. Their excited conversation barely touched her consciousness. Arms folded around her middle, she struck a path through the crowd towards the building that housed her office, clinging to the near fugue state she’d inhabited since returning from Rio. A blank mind meant she didn’t have to think. Didn’t have to feel.
Didn’t have to remember Reyes.
Or what she’d done.
Most of all, she didn’t have to acknowledge the fact that the past she’d thought she’d left behind was still with her, buried underneath her skin, ready to rear its ugly head and reveal itself in all its glory.
Naïve. She’d been so naïve. To imagine that she could escape unharmed.
A lance of pain shot through her chest. By now Reyes Navarre would know her for what she was. And despise her for it.
Despite the thousands of miles separating them, Jasmine could almost feel the weight of his disappointment.
‘I’ve trusted you with more tonight than I have anyone in a long time.’
A moan rose in her throat. With a shake of her head, she ruthlessly suppressed it, sucking in a deep breath as she neared her office building.
Her boss had been sending her anxious looks over the past few days. Twice this week, she’d forgotten it was her turn to get the coffee and muffins.
Yesterday she’d returned from a hurried trip to the coffee shop with a serious case of nausea. One she hadn’t been able to shake since.
Numbness and absent-mindedness when she was alone was fine...welcome in fact. But she couldn’t afford to let it affect her work—
Her thoughts scattered as a body slammed into her.
Jasmine grasped the nearest solid thing to break her fall, but it was too late. She slid sideways, taking with her half of the contents of the small newsstand as she stumbled.
‘For goodness’ sake, miss, watch where you were going! Now look what you’ve