Duty At What Cost? Read online

  ‘Wolfe, we probably shouldn’t do this again,’ Ava breathed, wishing there was a little more conviction behind her words.

  Wolfe lowered his mouth to hers and nudged her thighs further apart with his knees, grabbed his last condom and slipped inside her wet, welcoming heat. ‘We probably shouldn’t have done it in the first place,’ he said on a long groan.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  WOLFE SCOWLED AS he marched across the circular driveway of the château towards the outer cottage, the quartz driveway crunching loudly beneath his boots in the morning air. It was still early, the sky etched in palest blue with a ribbon of orange rimming the horizon.

  Why the hell had he invited her to dinner? And would she take it to mean tonight?

  He wasn’t even meant to be in town tonight. He had a huge meeting first thing tomorrow morning in Hamburg. He didn’t have time to wine and dine a woman. So he’d tell her. Apologise. Explain that he’d forgotten about the business meeting.

  He winced inwardly. She’d no doubt think it was an excuse...but what else could he do?

  An image of waking up beside her caused him to clench his jaw. After years of practice his body had clicked on just before dawn, and he’d come instantly awake to find a warm, sexy woman curled into his side, with her head cushioned on his numb shoulder and her hand curled over his heart, the soft skin of her upper back silky smooth beneath his rough hands.

  No.

  There was no way he could have dinner with her—tonight or any other night. The sex had been great—more than great—but he rarely visited Paris, and even if he did he’d have very little time to see her again. And the last thing he needed was another ear-bashing from a woman who wanted more than he could give.

  Would Ava be like that? Start accusing him of using her even though they’d both agreed on short-term? He didn’t know. And then he almost missed a step as he realised that he and Ava hadn’t agreed on anything last night. They’d been too busy ripping each other’s clothes off.

  Wolfe grinned. Blew out a short breath. Last night had been something else. She had been something else. Hot beneath all that regal perfection. He knew if Gilles found out he’d slept with her he’d hop into him, but... His smile turned to a frown. Had Gilles ever held her so intimately? Come to think of it, had he ever held a woman so intimately after sex? Didn’t he sleep on his stomach as a general rule?

  No.

  Entering into an affair with his friend’s ex-fiancée wasn’t going to work for either of them. Better to nip it in the bud now. Tell her it had been wonderful—more wonderful than he’d had in... What did that matter? It had been great. She had been great. But they were adults whose lives were vastly different.

  Hell.

  He stopped with his hand on the cottage doorknob.

  He had to take her out to dinner. He might not have been one hundred percent truthful when he’d told her he had been thinking about asking her last night, but he wasn’t a complete bastard. The least he could do after the night they’d shared was take her out for a meal.

  So, okay, they’d go out. He’d choose a nice little out-of-the-way restaurant, make her feel special, take her home, maybe finish the night off with more sex—not that that was a deal-breaker—then he’d leave and his world would be right again.

  Nice and simple. Job done.

  He turned the knob and greeted his men as he entered the cottage, not at all sure whether he should be bothered by the unusual level of excitement he felt at the thought of seeing her again.

  * * *

  Ava woke alone and realised immediately from the heat in the room that it was late. Then memory kicked in, facilitated by the lingering scent of Wolfe on the other pillow and the fact that she was naked.

  She didn’t know what had possessed her to sleep with him last night, but she knew she had definitely not been thinking with her head screwed on straight. No way would she have done all those things if it had been. No way would she have given herself so completely to a man she hardly knew if... A wicked thrill raced through her as images of Wolfe’s magnificent body filtered through her mind and she frowned. She wasn’t into cavemen, no matter how charismatic, and she had never been one to drool over a gorgeous face and body.

  Before, a little voice chirped annoyingly.

  Ever, Ava countered decisively.

  She pushed her hair back from her face and smoothed out some of the knots caused by Wolfe’s warm fingers. Her core pulsed with remembered pleasure and she groaned at her body’s willingness to relive every erotic moment. Yes, there was definitely something to be said about all the dips and bulges of warm, sold muscle, and the man certainly knew his way around the female body. But so he should. According to Anne, he had enough experience for ten men. And she didn’t have time in her life for someone like that. She was over shallow hook-ups where the male wanted sex and the female wanted a relationship.

  Last night had been... Last night had been sensational, yes. But it was an aberration. One of those things out of the box that you couldn’t quite explain but you knew you probably shouldn’t have done. Too much champagne, too much anxiety about being at the wedding, too much overpowering testosterone in the form of one blond, godlike male.

  Jumping out of bed to distract herself, Ava winced as long-unused muscles registered all that godlike male possession. He was just so big. So strong. When he’d manacled her hands and held her prisoner... Ava shivered and rejected her body’s instant softening. But he’d just played with her and then he’d left. His actions spoke more loudly than his words ever could.

  That old insecurity she’d thought long gone raised its knobbly head like a sleepy dragon and yawned. But she wouldn’t go there. She’d dealt with that childish feeling when she’d moved to Paris, and it was no longer relevant to who she was now.

  Maybe this whole business—her father’s phone call combined with her emotional response to the wedding—had affected her more than she’d allowed herself to consider, made her act out of character.

  Another one of Anne’s comments snuck into her consciousness. ‘Women drop like lemmings around him,’ she’d said at lunch. ‘But he lives a fast-paced life. According to Gilles, the man is never in the same city for longer than a few days at a time. It’s like he’s combing the globe for some holy grail.’

  More like variety in his bed, Ava thought with a burst of asperity. And good luck to him. She hoped he enjoyed himself.

  He did invite you to dinner, that devil’s voice reminded her.

  Yes, out of some sort of guilt, she told herself. He’d sensed her uneasiness after the sex and had made the invitation on the spur of the moment. It had been a nice gesture but his voice had lacked conviction. And his actions this morning only backed that up.

  No.

  She wouldn’t be having dinner with Wolfe. He didn’t really want to take her out and it would only be prolonging the inevitable. Also, she could think of nothing worse than forcing someone to do something they didn’t want to do. That was her father’s modus operandi, not hers.

  Okay.

  Shower. Get dressed. Hire a car. Drive back to Paris. She had a meeting with a new artist she was sure was going to be a pain in the backside but who had the potential of van Gogh and she couldn’t be late.

  She didn’t have time to dwell on a man who had taken as much pleasure as she had without any promises for the future.

  When the right one came along she would know it, and until then—well, she was nearly thirty. She didn’t have time to waste time on casual encounters with ripped Australian security experts. And if fate was kinder than it had been yesterday she wouldn’t run into him this morning and would be spared the whole awkward morning-after thing.

  Feeling more like her normal self after a shower, she smiled as she crossed the marble foyer and propped her small suitcase beside the front door. Bending down, she’d retrieved the thank-you note she’d written to Anne and Gilles, which she planned to leave with Gilles’s butler, when she heard a dark vo
ice behind her.

  ‘Leaving so soon?’

  Ava wheeled around, her hair flying over her shoulders in a slow arc. Wolfe stood in the arched doorway, ruggedly handsome in worn boots, black low-riding denims and a basic white T-shirt that drew her eye to every solid inch of him.

  Placing her hand against her chest, Ava tried to smile into his hard face. ‘You scared me.’

  He crossed his arms over his chest. ‘Obviously.’

  ‘I...ah...’ God, she sounded like a silly debutante! And why did he look so angry all of a sudden? It wasn’t as if she had been the one to walk out on him before the birds had started chirping. ‘I have a busy day lined up.’

  * * *

  Wolfe could tell instantly that Ava had put last night behind her. It was in the regal tilt of her head, the squared shoulders and the way her gaze didn’t quite meet his. Not to mention the small, reserved smile she bestowed on him, as if all that had passed between them last night had been polite conversation instead of intimate body fluids. It was the same smile he’d seen her give plenty of other men the night before, and to say he felt infuriated by it would be a grand understatement.

  He recalled the way she’d told him he could leave her room after sex. At the time he’d thought she had been politely trying to give him an out, but what if she’d been trying to get him out instead?

  ‘On a Sunday?’

  Her chin came up, most likely because of his sceptical tone. ‘Yes.’

  ‘And what about dinner?’ he asked casually.

  It appeared she had a guilty conscience, because her gaze cut to the left before returning to his. ‘Tonight?’

  Damn.

  Wolfe read her meaning in that single word and knew she had no intention of having dinner with him, that night or any other. He didn’t like it. ‘Yeah. You, me, a bottle of red. Or do you prefer champagne?’

  ‘Actually, I have a meeting with someone this afternoon, so I won’t be able to make tonight.’

  Someone she was sleeping with, perhaps?

  Wolfe raked her slender figure in a floaty summer dress and lightweight sandals and tried to rein in his uncharacteristically possessive response as his mind immediately stripped her naked.

  On some level he knew he was behaving completely irrationally. Really, he should be rejoicing that she didn’t want to complicate things between them by prolonging the inevitable, because—well...he knew his interest in her would wane at some point.

  ‘And it’s probably better this way, don’t you think?’ she said a little too quickly.

  ‘Better what way?’ He refolded his arms and rocked back on his heels. No way would he make this easy for her.

  Her gaze snapped irritably to his and then cast over him, lighting little bushfires in its wake. ‘Better if we forget dinner. Forget last night.’

  ‘Forget last night?’ Wolfe wasn’t sure if this had ever happened to him before. A woman waking up after a night of phenomenal sex who not only didn’t want to have dinner with him but looked as if she never wanted to see him again either.

  ‘Oh, come on, Wolfe.’ Her slender hands fitted around her hips just as his had done last night. ‘I’m sure this isn’t a novel concept for you. In fact it’s probably a relief.’

  His eyes rose to hers as he forced himself to focus. A relief? Yes, it should have felt like a damned relief. The fact that it felt more like an insult only increased his aggravation.

  ‘You think I pick women up and sleep with them every time I go out?’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  And she didn’t care, if he read her tone correctly.

  ‘But why are we arguing? Did you want more from last night than just sex?’

  He stiffened, suddenly uncomfortable as she turned the tables on him. Saying no just felt wrong, but... ‘No.’

  She nodded quickly, as if she’d expected his answer. Wanted it, in fact. Did she do this all the time? Pick up men for a night of no-strings sex? The idea made his stomach knot.

  ‘Great, so we’re on the same page. Last night was lovely. I had a good time. Hopefully you did, too.’

  She shrugged almost apologetically and he had an unpleasant moment of wondering if this was how women felt when he walked away from them. But then with all the previous women in his life he’d established the parameters from the start. Perhaps he was just reacting badly because this time he hadn’t done that.

  ‘What more is there to say?’

  Ava’s challenging question brought his mind back to her.

  ‘Clearly nothing,’ Wolfe ground out. ‘You seem to have it all worked out.’

  She mashed her lips together, as if confused by his tone, and Wolfe warned himself to stop being stupid. This was the perfect scenario, wasn’t it?

  The sound of footsteps coming down the grand staircase drew his eye, and then he heard Ava swear in French.

  ‘Gilles is coming. I don’t want... Can we just pretend this never happened?’ She tinkled a laugh. ‘Yes, the wedding was gor— Oh, Gilles. Bonjour. Where’s Anne?’

  Wolfe thought about telling her never to try her hand at acting. She looked as innocent as someone trying to make off with the family jewels.

  He narrowed his eyes as Gilles put his hands on her waist and gave her a kiss on each cheek, disturbed by the unexpected urge to pull him off her.

  ‘As quaint as Anne finds the ancient staff bell in our room, it didn’t work this morning—so I’ve been sent in search of coffee.’

  ‘What a fantastic idea.’ Ava nodded enthusiastically. ‘I think I might join you.’

  ‘You want one, Wolfe?’ Gilles rubbed his eyes, as if he hadn’t had much sleep.

  Wolfe knew how he felt.

  ‘No. I’ve had enough coffee to last me a lifetime.’ Ava’s pout firmed, and Gilles threw him a quizzical look.

  Deciding it was past time he left, he shoved his hand into his pocket for his keys and felt the phone he’d put there to give to Ava.

  ‘This is for you.’ He held out a silver smartphone. ‘I took the liberty of placing your SIM card into a spare after my men found yours broken in your car.’

  ‘Oh.’ She looked confused by the gesture. ‘You didn’t have to do that.’

  He knew he didn’t. He’d wanted to.

  He turned it on and passed it to her, before informing Gilles of his plans to hit the road earlier than he’d intended.

  While Gilles tried to convince him to reconsider, Ava’s phone beeped a string of incoming messages. They both turned to see her frowning at it.

  Wolfe immediately felt his guard go up. ‘What’s wrong?’

  ‘My father has left ten messages. Excuse me while I retrieve them.’

  She dialled a number and pressed the phone to her ear at the same time as Gilles’s butler hurried into the foyer.

  Momentarily distracted when he handed Gilles a piece of paper, Wolfe returned his gaze to Ava in time to see the colour leach out of her face.

  She turned almost blindly to Gilles, her breathing erratic. ‘Frédéric has been involved in an accident. Gilles...’ Her voice trailed off when Gilles looked at her, and if possible she lost even more colour. ‘Quoi?’

  Wolfe didn’t think she’d realised that she had reached out and was gripping his forearm in a talonlike hold.

  Gilles shook his head as if in a daze.

  Hell.

  ‘I need to speak with my father. Find out what hospital he is in.’ Ava’s shaky hands fumbled with the phone, and it would have dropped if Wolfe hadn’t swiftly bent to catch it.

  ‘Ava, he’s not in hospital.’

  ‘Ne sois pas absurde, Gilles. The accident sounds serious.’ She shook her head, unable to say more.

  Wolfe cursed under his breath.

  ‘Ava—’

  ‘No.’ She held up her hand and cut him off, backing away from both of them, so disorientated she would have bumped into the wall if Wolfe hadn’t reached out and grabbed her by the elbows.

  ‘Breathe, Ava,’ he instructed
levelly. ‘In. Out. That’s it.’

  Her gaze cleared a little and her body went rigid as she pushed his hand away. ‘I’m fine.’

  Wolfe’s mouth tightened. ‘Give me the phone,’ he ordered. ‘I’ll call your father.’

  She swallowed heavily, her navy eyes bruised. He would have wrapped his arms around her then, pulled her in close, but she was so rigid she might as well have been wearing armour. He’d thought he’d sensed fragility in her—the same as he’d sensed last night—but if he had it was long gone.

  Ignoring the voice in his head that told him he should butt out of her affairs and mind his own business, he scrolled through her phone. When he couldn’t find an entry under ‘Dad’ or ‘Father’ he glanced at her. ‘What’s his name?’

  ‘It’s listed under “The Tyrant”.’

  Her chin came up, as if defying him to make a comment; the action told him that the moniker hadn’t been given in jest. But was her father really a tyrant? Or was she just another spoilt little girl who threw tantrums when things didn’t go her way? And why did he even care?

  Dumping a lid on the list of questions forming in his mind, he quickly dialled the number and introduced himself when the King answered on the first ring. ‘Your Majesty, this is James Wolfe, head of Wolfe Inc. I have your daughter here. Yes, Gilles is with her. Ava?’

  She took the phone with a shaky hand. ‘Sir—’

  Her voice trembled and despite trying to keep himself detached the sound of it cut Wolfe to the quick.

  ‘Of course. Oui. I can get a flight. Yes. Okay.’ She rang off and frowned at the phone as if she didn’t know what it was doing there.

  ‘Ava?’

  She glanced at Gilles as if she didn’t know what he was doing there either.

  Shock. She was going into shock. Wolfe recognised the signs.

  ‘I have to...’ She gave a tiny shake of her head, collected herself. ‘I... Frédéric has died. He... I have to organise a flight home.’