Rebel's Bargain

The car pulled up beside the round, free-standing tower a couple of hundred metres before the chateau. With its conical roof it looked like a setting for Rapunzel.

‘I’ll say this. Whoever chose the setting for your commercial knew what they were doing.’

Poppy’s smile disappeared, her heart dipping. Orsino’s reaction would be completely different if he knew who’d organised this series of commercials.

Even she’d had doubts about the job. Not for professional reasons—it promised to be a huge success—but for purely personal ones. Ever since that night in London, Poppy hadn’t been able to work with Mischa. But she’d finally convinced herself it was time to let the past go. Besides, the income from this contract would give her the financial security that had been her goal for so long. She’d be a fool to pass up the opportunity.

And, as she kept telling herself, the past was the past.

‘Poppy?’ Orsino’s voice dragged her into the present.

‘I’m glad you approve.’ She pushed open her door, not waiting for the chauffeur. The air was brisk and she shivered, telling herself the prickle up her back wasn’t a premonition of disaster.

All too soon they and their luggage were inside, the driver gone.

It was ridiculous to feel nervous, but Poppy was as edgy as a cat on hot sand.

For the first time in five years she and Orsino were completely alone. At the hospital and on the plane there had always been the possibility of staff appearing. But here, in the luxuriously fitted tower, a completely separate building to the chateau and the other accommodation on the vast estate, there was just the two of them.

A low whistle pierced the stillness. ‘This is really something.’

Orsino moved to an open door leading to the beautiful sitting room that looked over the formal rose garden and the river. He leaned on his stick, staring first at the view then the priceless renaissance paintwork on the high ceiling beams and down to the dark honey parquetry floor with its intricate weave pattern.

‘If it wasn’t so crass I’d ask who you had to sleep with to get this place to yourself.’

Instantly the chill at Poppy’s spine turned to a shaft of ice that twisted and pierced her chest. She swayed at the casual cruelty of the comment, but by the time he turned around she had herself in hand. She stood tall and proud, pretending that poisoned dart hadn’t hit its target. Yet she felt brittle, as if one touch would make her shatter.

‘No one, as it happens.’ Her voice was as crisp as the late-autumn chill. ‘It’s one of the perks of being the new face of Europe’s oldest and premier jewellery house.’ Poppy pinned on a smile even though it felt like her facial muscles cracked from the strain. ‘The House of Baudin takes care of its assets.’

‘I didn’t mean—’

‘Don’t!’ She stopped him with a single slashing gesture. To her surprise it worked and he stood silent.

‘Of course you meant it. You’ve got a cutting tongue, Orsino, and your readiness to think the worst is one of your more obvious and less endearing qualities.’

She stopped and heaved in a breath as adrenaline surged, making her quiver with the effort of standing to face him. With that one remark he’d sliced right to the core of her pain, opening up the past like a cleaver cutting to bone.

Her chest rose and fell and she worked to calm herself.

‘I did not sleep my way to the top of my profession. I got where I am through hard work and dedication. That’s all. And if you think to smear my reputation—’

Orsino raised his hand. ‘I spoke without thinking.’

As if she’d believe that.

Why had she agreed to have him here? Already she’d had more than enough.

‘I didn’t think you’d be so sensitive. After all, it’s a common expression.’

Sensitive! He had the nerve.

‘You think I’m such a tart I wouldn’t object to your assumption?’ Her hands found her hips as she stepped into his personal space.

Instantly he paced forward to meet her, his jaw jutting. The air between them sizzled with tension. His heat and his masculine scent enveloped her. They were so close his sling grazed her jacket but she stood her ground.

Something eddied in her belly. She told herself it was distaste.

‘You’re the one who slept around, Poppy. Not me.’ He bit the words out in sharp chunks and her head snapped back as if from a slap.

The gloves were off.

‘Or are you going to try to convince me you went to bed with him and nothing happened? That you’re an innocent?’ Orsino’s voice vibrated with the force of his accusation.

Familiar nausea swamped her. It was like reliving those nightmares that had haunted her since that night in London. In those, no matter what she said, no matter what she did, it all went wrong, over and over and over again. Just as it had gone wrong all those years before when Orsino had refused to hear her out.