So the veneer of gracious civility was simply a pretence, designed to disarm her. Or something. It had certainly put her right back on her guard, tensing for his next move. “Excellent. You have no idea how much of an aphrodisiac your fear is. I’m going to enjoy bending you to my will – you will definitely be my biggest challenge so far.”
The not-even-thinly veiled threat in his tone sobered her completely, although the tiny sip meant she wasn’t even approaching squiffy. Or at least she shouldn’t be. Had he drugged it? She tried to think back to whether the bottle had already been open, but he’d definitely poured both glasses together. Unless he’d added something to her drink.
“Are you all right? You seem a little peaky.”
“I did?” He laughed out loud. “I suspect you’ve been watching too many James Bond films.” He picked up her glass and gulped back a large swig. “I assure you I’ve never had to drug a woman in my life.”
“Not when you can intimidate, terrify or threaten her.”
“What’s the difference?”
She glared. Now he wanted to talk semantics? He was obviously just toying with her, bully that he was. She should take his toys away. Subtly. Any overt demonstration of his lack of power over her would inevitably lead to a puffing up of feathers and a desperate desire to dominate. A cool glance. “I’m sure you’re smart enough to figure it out.”
Raising her glass in a toast, he emptied, swilled and dried it before pouring more wine and offering it.
Despite his attempts to disconcert, she was starting to get the measure of what he really wanted. The trick would be in making him think she was being duped into satisfying his weird “desires.” She accepted the glass and took another small sip, then gestured at the room. “As for James Bond – this whole set-up is straight from a Bond-villain scene. Right down to the dastardly laugh.”
He obliged with a suitably demented cackle, tapping his steepled fingers in the classic bad-guy gesture. Then his whole demeanour changed as he sat forward. “Diverting though this is, we should get down to business.”
Putting the glass on the desk-cum-table, she resisted the compelling impulse to fold her arms against his onslaught. “What happens if I refuse?”
“Did I not make myself clear? Refusal is not an option.” He paused. “On either count.” “You can’t make me do anything which would hurt Eric.”
Another belly laugh. “Whatever gave you that idea? Hurting him is the very last thing I want. He’s of no use to me unless his brain is in full working order, and that won’t happen if he’s missing a finger.” Another pause. “Or a leg.”
Ignoring the graphic images his words conjured up, she glared. “And you think his brain will be in full working order when he finds out what you’ve done to me?”
“Exactly what have I done apart from treat you to a very fine Syrah?”
She clamped her lips together to stop herself from falling into his trap.
“How hurt do you think he’ll be when he finds out you’d rather meet me than celebrate your twentieth anniversary in the romantic Scottish location where you were wed?”
She managed to quell a second gasp, but only just.
“Eric’s a passionate man and you’re a very attractive woman – or at least you would be if he didn’t make you dress like a frump.” His sidelong glance said he was baiting, and she refused to rise to it.
“But how much does he trust you? Do you honestly think he’ll believe you could spend a couple of hours alone in a hotel room with a man of my reputation and not have sex?” “You flatter yourself.”
“Every day. It has far more sincerity than compliments from toadying sycophants who would curry my favour in the hope of getting something from me.” A wink. “But I’m under no illusions about my attractiveness to women. Although I’m not a complete ogre, I realise it’s my wealth that makes them call me handsome.”
His glare demanded some reaction, but he surely couldn’t expect her to protest. The vast majority of women – and probably most men – would call him handsome, with or without the money. But Naomi never paid any attention to physical appearance, being far more attracted to courage, integrity and kindness. So she didn’t react.
Her cool indifference should have rankled, but instead of annoyance, humour sparkled his eyes and twitched his lip. “I sensed a worthy adversary, but you exceed all expectations. You’re not like most women, are you?”
“I couldn’t possibly comment, only knowing a small fraction of the available population. As, I suspect, do you. Moving in the circles you do, I imagine you come into contact with many women who have little in common with me.”
He barked a laugh. “Why couldn’t I have landed a gem with your courage and wit instead of …” A head shake. “Never mind. What’s done is done.” A speculative glance. “What if I told you there’s a way you can secure Eric’s immunity from my unsavoury attentions?”
Her lips had no more chance of not twitching at the deliberate irony than Eric did of swimming on the moon – his favourite expression for impossible situations. This pleased Devlin greatly if the glitter in his eyes was anything to go by. Down to the nitty-gritty. “I’m listening.”
Her eyes widened as he outlined the deal. She had no choice but to comply – the alternative didn’t bear thinking about.
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