The Dare Collection January 2020. Lauren Hawkeye

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       Since when have you got territorial about a woman before?

      Pretty much never. I didn’t get territorial about people because getting territorial implied that they mattered and I didn’t want anyone mattering to me.

      I already had my little sister, Morgan, to worry about and I didn’t need anyone else. She worked for Black and White, managing our PR, but I’d made sure she based herself in London rather than anywhere near me.

      It was just easier that way. For both of us.

      And anyway she worked with Ulysses, whom I trusted like I’d trust family, and he was there to look out for her.

      Ulysses and Everett might not be my blood, but they were my brothers just the same.

      ‘Yeah, I know how important it is.’ I forced down my irritation and tried to keep it casual. ‘But, like I said, I dealt with the issue. Would you like me to repeat it again in American so you can understand?’

      Everett ignored that. ‘You disappeared for a long time last night.’

      ‘Because I was busy fucking an extremely beautiful woman. If you want the details, I’m more than happy to supply them. Hell, I’ve even got the video if you want to check up on me.’ Not that I’d ever send him a video even if I had one—too easy for that shit to fall into the wrong hands.

      ‘Someone mentioned an issue with one of the catering staff,’ he went on, as if I hadn’t spoken, being the usual Everett bulldozer that he so often was. ‘A last minute replacement.’

      Christ, the guy could be relentless. He was ex-military, systems-oriented and detail-obsessed, which made his security expertise legendary. It also made him a pain in the arse to deal with. I honestly didn’t know how Freya, his best friend other than Ulysses and me, managed to deal with him without wanting to punch him in the face.

      Maybe she did want to punch him in the face. I certainly wanted to on a regular basis. But it wouldn’t do to get irritated with him. He’d just want to know what the problem was and that might lead to other questions I didn’t want him to ask.

      ‘And I checked out all the staff,’ I said easily. ‘You know how anal I am about making sure only people who are actually cleared to be there are there.’

      Everett grunted again. ‘There were—’

      ‘Yeah, Ev... I don’t care what there fucking were.’ I tried to keep the growl out of my voice. ‘Everything was roses as far as I’m concerned. Now, I have a very naked woman in my bed who I’m very keen to get back to, so if you don’t have any other bullshit to talk to me about, why don’t you go get on that goddamn flight of yours?’

      There was a long silence.

      ‘Fine,’ Everett said expressionlessly. ‘But if I hear anything different I’ll be calling you back.’

      I opened my mouth to tell him what he could do with his damned call, but he disconnected before I could get a word out.

      Shit, this was a problem. If Everett had had reports of a security breach, he wouldn’t stop sniffing round until he’d discovered the truth. Which meant I needed to deal with Thea, and fast, starting with getting some answers out of her.

       And then what?

      That would all depend on what answers she gave me. Still, I wasn’t going to lie to myself and pretend that all I was concerned about was security. No, last night I’d had enough of a taste of her to know that I wanted more. Our chemistry was through the roof and I wasn’t letting that go in a hurry.

      Jamming my phone in the back pocket of my jeans—the first item of clothing that had come to hand when I’d got up to answer Ev’s call—I turned around and stalked back into the apartment, heading for my bedroom.

      Getting answers out of Thea might be a problem, given she hadn’t been keen on giving them to me the night before; then again, one thing I’d discovered about her was that she was passionate. She’d been into everything I’d done to her and everything I’d showed her how to do to me. Fuck, she’d been incredible. The way she’d looked at me, the way she’d touched me, as if all of this had been new and exciting to her...

      She’d been a virgin, if I wasn’t much mistaken.

      I was normally pretty good at judging when a woman was experienced or not, but I had been too busy getting hot for her last night to notice. In fact, it had only been after she’d snuggled down into my arms after our fourth round and fallen fast asleep that I’d had a chance to think about it and her behaviour. To go over in my head the moment I’d first pushed inside her and to see that what had flickered through her eyes had been uncertainty. And a bit of fear.

      My memory was good for some things; I’d give it that.

      But that was another thing I’d have to ask her about, because she really should have told me. Especially when I’d given her every opportunity.

      Feeling not a little pissed about it, I got to the bedroom and pushed the door open, expecting to see her where I’d left her, all curled up in my bed and wrapped in the white high-thread-count cotton sheets I preferred.

      Except the bed was empty.

      Okay. Where the hell had she gone?

      Acting on a hunch, I turned and went back down the hall, heading to my office. And sure enough, when I pushed open the unlocked door, there she was, standing in front of a painting I had on the wall, her hand already on the frame.

      Looking for my safe and the Red Queen, clearly.

      She must have heard the door open because she whirled around as soon I came in, her dark eyes clashing with mine. She wore nothing but the shirt I’d had on the night before, the black cotton making her eyes look even darker and highlighting the flawless, deep ivory of her skin.

      Christ, the more time I spent with her, the more beautiful she became. Especially wearing my shirt and nothing else.

      A possessive streak I didn’t realise I had woke up and suddenly I wanted the shirt gone and her naked so I could see again all those luscious curves she’d showed me the night before. Rounded hips and thighs, full tits, small waist. Classic hourglass; fucking perfection.

      I could drape her in the black-pearl jewellery I’d bought from a destitute British aristocrat, ropes of baroque pearls, rich and glossy and unique, lying against her glowing skin.

      Yeah, black pearls. She’d look gorgeous in black pearls.

      Leaning against the doorframe, I folded my arms. ‘Am I interrupting anything?’

      Her expression was instantly guarded, but her chin lifted in unconscious challenge. She dropped her hand from the frame. ‘No. I was just having a look around.’

      Little liar.

      ‘Sure you were.’ I grinned. ‘If you want the safe, it’s behind that picture and, yes, the necklace is inside.’

      ‘I wasn’t—’

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