Chapter Eight
She was shocked into silence by her first sight of the interior of Diego’s magnificent mountain retreat. As a member of staff, she’d had no cause to go inside his home. The scale alone was mind-numbing. The splendor of the vaulted hallway, with its burnished paneling, sweeping staircase, and stone arches that must have seen generations of his family pass beneath them, was breathtaking.
“It’s been in my family for centuries,” he explained, waiting as she stared around.
And that’s why you’re so grounded and confident, she thought. He was like a tree that could withstand whatever nature threw at it, because he knew his place in the world.
“It was a monastery at one time,” he added as she turned full circle, trying to take everything in. “I have my forebears to thank for preserving so many of the original features.”
If the yawning gulf between them hadn’t been obvious before now, it was currently slapping her in the face. “It’s fabulous.”
“I’m glad you like it,” he said as he urged her on across the hallway toward one of the many heavy polished doors. His study, she presumed as he opened the door. There was a beautiful polished mahogany desk that could have come straight from a palace, and a comfortable leather sofa with a couple of easy chairs either side of a grand inglenook. He’d no sooner closed the door behind them than he boxed her in with his arms braced either side of her face. “What are you hiding from me, Celina?”
She tensed. “I don’t understand.”
“I think you do, and I’m tired of asking you the same question. I believe I’m getting to know you, and then I realize I don’t know you at all.” His gaze dropped to her mouth. “You should trust me enough by now to share your concerns. Did I mention that you’re also a hopeless liar?”
She couldn’t meet his gaze and looked away.
“It’s impossible to be as close as we’ve been without sensing the change in someone.”
“I haven’t changed,” she insisted.
“Haven’t you?”
His look of disappointment cut deep. The last thing she wanted was to pile one lie on top of another, but she couldn’t risk her plan failing. “If I asked you to go back to the mountains of Eastern Europe to search for survivors and round up that gang, what would you say?”
“I’d say we wait until we have all the intel we need to carry out the mission to maximum effect.”
But Marissa’s fate was less certain every day. This couldn’t wait. She had to bring things forward. “So you do intend to go back.”
“Blood and Thunder has never left a job half-completed. Of course we’ll root out the slavers at what we believe is their base. Is that all that’s worrying you? I will find out what you’re keeping from me, even if it takes all night.”
She had no doubt, and knew a clean cut would have been better, but that was out of the question now Diego’s palms were tracing the lines of her arms to her hands, where he linked their fingers. It was such an intimate thing to do, she felt worse than ever knowing she must deceive him. Lifting her face to his, she saw exactly what she stood to lose.
They needed a distraction. Letting go of his hands, she freed the tine on her belt, and lowered her zipper. Stepping out of her jeans, she stood in front of him in her underwear. His cool inspection made her cheeks blaze red. She was hardly dressed to seduce in the serviceable panties she’d chosen for traveling, but they would have to do.
Diego’s physical response was immediate and obvious. It excited her and built her confidence too.
“I love the shape of your body,” he murmured as he stripped off her top. He caressed her breasts, and then lightly touched the needy place at the apex of her thighs, making her gasp with pleasure. “I particularly love this part of you. It’s so soft and plump, like a cushion for me to sink into. And as for these very big panties—”
“Sensible,” she argued as he removed them.
“Sensible? I’d say so,” he agreed. “They outline your body to perfection.” Turning her around, he pushed her forward from the waist so she was resting over the arm of the sofa and he was behind her.
She gasped when his big hands stroked her buttocks and she opened her legs a little more at his prompt. He took firm hold of her bottom. “Such a responsive area,” he approved. “And so clearly defined in this lightweight fabric.”
“You’re doing it again,” she complained softly as her mind lost focus.
“Teasing you?” he laughed as she thrust her hips toward him in search of more contact, more pressure, more pleasure.
He touched her over her panties with more intent now, and she whimpered in time to each delicious stroke. It didn’t take her long to come, and her release was so powerful, she lost her balance and Diego caught her.
“Better?” he murmured. “Or still not enough?”
He didn’t wait for her answer. He swung her into his arms. Opening the door, he carried her out of the room, crossed the hallway, and jogged up the stairs. He turned on the first landing to walk down a broad corridor. This area was discreetly lit, its walls lined with watercolors of polo players, and there were what she presumed were priceless Persian rugs underfoot. He took her into his bedroom. Some might think the room austere, but to Celina’s eyes, it was perfect. The enormous bed was dressed with crisp white sheets and the furniture was elegant polished wood. There was more quality around her than she’d seen in her lifetime. The air was cool and lightly scented with sandalwood and beeswax. There was no clutter or photographs. It was a luxurious, controlled environment, the personal territory of an extremely private man.
“Make yourself at home,” Diego suggested dryly as he lowered her down on the bed.
