some food brought to my bedroom.”
His bedroom. She’d hoped they could eat in the dining room.
Testing to see how much he’d indulge her, she said, “Why don’t we stop in the kitchen so we can each make a selection.”
Again he agreed.
As soon as they entered, the staff stepped back, and she and Victor looked over the bowls and platters on the counter, each filling a plate. He also picked up a bottle of champagne and two glasses before leading her down the hall past the room where she’d spent the night. As she followed after him with her heart pounding in double time, she was hoping she could drink enough champagne to make her mind go fuzzy.
They stepped into his bedroom, and her breath caught as she focused on the dark wood king-sized bed where the green and brown spread had been neatly turned back.
She set down her plate on the small table, struggling with cold dread as she waited for him to touch her. Instead he sat down opposite her, leaning back and stretching out his long legs, crossing them at the ankles.
When he said, “I married you for love,” she struggled not to make a choking sound. Did he even know what the word meant?
“But there is a dividend. Your father refused a deal I offered him. Now he’ll have to take it. You know, because he’ll want to keep you safe.”
Goose bumps rose on her arms. So that was why he didn’t care which daughter he married. He’d get what he really wanted, either way.
If he caught her reaction, he ignored it, watching her like a cat who isn’t quite ready to pounce on a cornered mouse.
The relaxed, satisfied look made her throat close. Needing to put some distance between them, she turned away and walked to the bathroom. From the doorway, she saw a large marble expanse that looked like a luxurious Roman spa.
She stepped inside and pushed the door closed, thinking she could buy herself a few minutes of privacy. When she did, someone grabbed her from behind and pressed a hand over her mouth.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Camille tried to scream, but the hand tightened over her lips. As she struggled to pull away, a voice in her ear warned, “Don’t say anything, and don’t struggle.”
As the familiar voice registered in her brain, she felt relief wash over her. Nick Cassidy was here. Against all odds he had gotten onto the island—and into Victor’s private quarters. She tried to turn, but his strong arms held her in place.
“Nod if you understand,” he demanded, the words barely a whisper in her ear.
When she did as he asked, he unclamped his hand from her mouth. She spun to face him, her eyes wide and her heart pounding.
She was sure she had seen him at the reception. Then she was sure it was her own mind playing tricks. Apparently it was no illusion. Earlier he’d been dressed in a tuxedo like the invited guests. Now he had changed into a uniform that mimicked the men of Zanov’s security force.
She wanted to shout, “Thank God.” But somehow she remembered to whisper the words.
The look of relief on his face matched her own. When she reached for him, he pulled her into his embrace. As he folded her close, she drew in the first deep breath she’d taken since she woke up in the bedroom down the hall.
“You came.”
“I had to.”
The admission and his tone revealed a lot to her. For months he’d kept her at arm’s length, and she’d wondered how he really felt about her. Now she was sure he cared, and her heart leaped at that knowledge.
His hands stroked up and down her back as he brought his lips to her ear again.
“Are you all right?”
“Yes. But I was scared.”
“Of course you were, but you did all the right things.” His voice turned fierce, “He didn’t . . . ?”
“No.”
“Thank God.”
Once again, the show of emotion warmed her. But his next words were a warning. “Getting off the island isn’t going to be easy.”
“I know.”
“How did you get here?”
“Swam from a boat offshore,” he said, keeping
His bedroom. She’d hoped they could eat in the dining room.
Testing to see how much he’d indulge her, she said, “Why don’t we stop in the kitchen so we can each make a selection.”
Again he agreed.
As soon as they entered, the staff stepped back, and she and Victor looked over the bowls and platters on the counter, each filling a plate. He also picked up a bottle of champagne and two glasses before leading her down the hall past the room where she’d spent the night. As she followed after him with her heart pounding in double time, she was hoping she could drink enough champagne to make her mind go fuzzy.
They stepped into his bedroom, and her breath caught as she focused on the dark wood king-sized bed where the green and brown spread had been neatly turned back.
She set down her plate on the small table, struggling with cold dread as she waited for him to touch her. Instead he sat down opposite her, leaning back and stretching out his long legs, crossing them at the ankles.
When he said, “I married you for love,” she struggled not to make a choking sound. Did he even know what the word meant?
“But there is a dividend. Your father refused a deal I offered him. Now he’ll have to take it. You know, because he’ll want to keep you safe.”
Goose bumps rose on her arms. So that was why he didn’t care which daughter he married. He’d get what he really wanted, either way.
If he caught her reaction, he ignored it, watching her like a cat who isn’t quite ready to pounce on a cornered mouse.
The relaxed, satisfied look made her throat close. Needing to put some distance between them, she turned away and walked to the bathroom. From the doorway, she saw a large marble expanse that looked like a luxurious Roman spa.
She stepped inside and pushed the door closed, thinking she could buy herself a few minutes of privacy. When she did, someone grabbed her from behind and pressed a hand over her mouth.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Camille tried to scream, but the hand tightened over her lips. As she struggled to pull away, a voice in her ear warned, “Don’t say anything, and don’t struggle.”
As the familiar voice registered in her brain, she felt relief wash over her. Nick Cassidy was here. Against all odds he had gotten onto the island—and into Victor’s private quarters. She tried to turn, but his strong arms held her in place.
“Nod if you understand,” he demanded, the words barely a whisper in her ear.
When she did as he asked, he unclamped his hand from her mouth. She spun to face him, her eyes wide and her heart pounding.
She was sure she had seen him at the reception. Then she was sure it was her own mind playing tricks. Apparently it was no illusion. Earlier he’d been dressed in a tuxedo like the invited guests. Now he had changed into a uniform that mimicked the men of Zanov’s security force.
She wanted to shout, “Thank God.” But somehow she remembered to whisper the words.
The look of relief on his face matched her own. When she reached for him, he pulled her into his embrace. As he folded her close, she drew in the first deep breath she’d taken since she woke up in the bedroom down the hall.
“You came.”
“I had to.”
The admission and his tone revealed a lot to her. For months he’d kept her at arm’s length, and she’d wondered how he really felt about her. Now she was sure he cared, and her heart leaped at that knowledge.
His hands stroked up and down her back as he brought his lips to her ear again.
“Are you all right?”
“Yes. But I was scared.”
“Of course you were, but you did all the right things.” His voice turned fierce, “He didn’t . . . ?”
“No.”
“Thank God.”
Once again, the show of emotion warmed her. But his next words were a warning. “Getting off the island isn’t going to be easy.”
“I know.”
“How did you get here?”
“Swam from a boat offshore,” he said, keeping
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