Chapter 7
MAGNUS SEVERIN DIDN’Twait for people.
He’d built an empire on that principle. Men waited outside his office. Rivals waited for replies that never came. Even storms seemed to hold their breath when they rolled across his territory.
Tonight he stood at the dining room windows and watched the curve of the drive as lantern light washed gold over the gravel, and he told himself he wasn’t waiting.
He was measuring.
There was a difference.
The car from the spa appeared at the far bend. Its headlights cut through the trees before sweeping toward the house in a slow arc. Magnus tracked its progress without moving, his hands loose behind his back, his posture relaxed in a way that would have fooled anyone who didn’t knowhim.
He’d sent her to the spa to rest. To unwind. To remember she wasn’t a bargaining chip anymore.
He hadn’t anticipated how aware he’d be of her absence after such a short period of time.The househad been quieter without her. Not empty. Just quieter in a way that made him conscious of the space she occupied when she washere.
The vehicle stopped. The driver stepped out and opened the rear door.Elia stepped into the lantern light.
Bronze.
The bronze blouse and skirt glowed as it traced her waist and curved over her hips before falling in a clean line to her knees. The spa had left her hair loose, dark waves spilling over her shoulders as though someone had freed it from whatever discipline she usually imposed on herself.
She paused beside the car and tilted her face toward the night air. For a moment she looked younger. Unburdened.Then she began walking toward the house.
She didn’t move like a woman owned by debt anymore.She moved like a woman aware she was being watched.
Magnus stepped away from the window before she reached the front door. He didn’t need her seeing exactly how closely he’d been tracking her return.
The house had never been designed for casual arrivals. The front doors opened into a long entrance hall of stone and dark wood that ran the length of the structure before turning toward the private rooms. Anyone entering had to cross that stretch first, past the staircase and the tall windows that overlooked the inner courtyard. Only then did the hall open into the main roomsof the house.
Magnus heard the door close somewhere down the hallway. The sound carried faintly through the corridor. Amoment later the softer rhythm of footsteps followed, measured and unhurried, moving deeper into the house.
He didn’t turn yet.
He could picture the path without looking. She would pass the staircase first, then the long console table where a single lamp burned in the evenings. The corridor would guide her toward the glow of candlelight spilling from the diningroom.
The footsteps slowed as she reached the threshold.“I wondered if you’d still be working.”Her voice carried a hint of teasing curiosity. “But you’re not.”
Magnus turned.
The spa had relaxed her. There was color in her cheeks, afaint sheen along her lips that made his attention settle there longer than it should have. The neckline of the blouse framed the delicate curve of her collarbone. Her shoulders were loose, but her eyes were sharp.
“You’re back,” he said, and even to his own ears the words carried more significance than they shouldhave.
She stepped fully into the room, letting the archway frame her. “You sound surprised.”
“I don’t get surprised.” He held her gaze as he said it, because that had always been true. Surprise meant vulnerability, and vulnerability meantleverage.
“That sounds exhausting.” Her tone was light, but there was a flicker of concern beneath it, her eyes searching his face as if she were trying to gauge whether she’d stepped into something she didn’t fully understand.
“It isn’t.” He let his attention move over her without apology, taking in the lines of her shoulders, the way the fabric shifted when she drew air. “You look different.”
“Better or worse?” She didn’t fidget under his scrutiny. She stood there and let him look, which told him more than any answer could.
“More vulnerable.” The word came out gentler than he intended, because whatever the spa had done, it hadn’t polished her into something different. It had thinned the armor. She looked easier to read. Less shielded. Less prepared for ablow.
Her brows lifted slightly. “That’s the spa. They’re very good at convincing women to relax.”
