Captive but Forbidden Page 2

  She sliced a hand through the air impatiently, shoving the pain down deep into her soul. “I’m fine.”

  The lights flickered again. He looked up, frowning. “We really should return to your room before the power goes out.”

  “We aren’t going anywhere,” she snapped.

  He looked at her as if he pitied her. “That is not your choice to make.”

  Veronica stared at him for a moment, undecided, while anger built into a solid wall inside her. How dare he? How absolutely dare he?

  Energy exploded inside her like a wave collapsing and racing toward shore, until it sent her striding forward, intending to push past him if necessary.

  He anticipated her, caught her bare arm in one strong hand. The shock of skin on skin sizzled into her core, and Veronica gasped. It was too much, too many raw emotions welling to the surface all at once. She couldn’t bear it, couldn’t bear to be touched by him.

  She twisted hard, her open hand swinging up to connect with his cheek.

  She missed. At the same time, her body spun out of her control—and then she was pressed against him, her back to his front, one strong hand clasping her wrists together behind her back while the other snaked around her waist and held her tightly.

  Fury welled inside her as she jerked uselessly against the bonds of his iron grip.

  He was so solid, so warm and hard. It took her a moment to realize that her bottom nestled in the cradle of his hips. That his body was responding to the way she squirmed against him. If she weren’t wearing heels, she wouldn’t be tall enough.

  But right now, she was.

  Her skin was hot, so hot. She wanted to press back against him, wanted to feel his heat pass into her cold body.

  The thought horrified her so much she pulled forward in his grasp, trying hard to minimize the contact between them. Her back arched, her breasts straining against her gown as if they would pop free at any moment.

  “Let me go,” she groaned.

  “I’m here to protect you,” he said, his warm breath whispering against her ear. A shudder traveled the length of her spine. She had no doubt he’d felt it.

  “Protect me from what? From you?” she flung at him as the evidence of his arousal grew against her.

  He managed to put a little distance between them, though not much. The loss of contact disconcerted her in ways it shouldn’t. What was wrong with her?

  “From yourself,” he growled in her ear. “From the incompetence of your staff.”

  “A funny way you have of doing it,” she snapped, trying so hard to concentrate on what was wrong with this picture instead of what felt right.

  His touch. His breath in her ear. The scent of him. The solid feel of him standing behind her. Veronica fought for control. “I have protection, in spite of what you might think. That man will be fired immediately. Another will take his place.”

  “Very good, Veronica. I’d thought you would be soft on him.”

  “I’m never soft,” she said as another tremor passed over her. His fingers began to slide slowly across her abdomen.

  “Are you quite certain?” His voice was seductive and beautiful in her ear. So much in that sentence. So much she couldn’t begin to speak to.

  “You can let me go,” she repeated.

  “I’m not so sure.” His fingers moved slowly, so slowly. The pressure of them against her body was light, yet she felt them as if she was naked and he was stroking her like a lover.

  She closed her eyes, swallowed hard. My God …

  The lights flickered once more….

  And then snapped out, plunging them into darkness.

  CHAPTER TWO

  THE sudden silence was crushing. Veronica could hear his breathing, but nothing else.

  “Now what?” she asked, her voice so loud to her ears. Catching at the end. Sounding husky. Needy.

  For this man? A stranger to her?

  It was unfathomable, and yet nothing was as it should be. Nothing had been as it should have been for months. In truth, her entire life had spun out of control and had yet to spin back.

  “We wait,” he said, his fingers stilling.

  “For what? Don’t you have a flashlight or something? For all your fine talk about being the best, you seem unprepared.”

  “I am definitely prepared,” he growled in her ear, his breath tickling the fine hairs on her nape.

  “Prove it,” she said, her voice even huskier if that were possible. Dear God, what was she up to? There was no way on earth she was truly egging this man on, was there? She might find him amazingly attractive—devastatingly so—but she was not about to lift her gown and wrap her legs around his body in reality.

  No matter what Brady seemed to think she was capable of. No matter what she might have done a little over a year ago when confronted with a man of such beauty and power as this sexy tiger in black.

  The old Veronica would have made him blush.

  “I’m beginning to understand you,” he said in her ear. “You challenge those around you as a way to deflect attention from yourself. And yet you’ve been elected to a very public position. Odd, is it not?”

  A stone dropped inside her stomach. It was too close to the truth. Too close to who she’d been before she’d lost her way. “Save yourself the trouble of trying to analyze me, Mr. Vala.”

  “Don’t you think you should call me Raj now?” His hand around her wrists was hot, his skin still burning hers with his touch. Though it was dark, she closed her eyes.

  Raj. It was exotic, like him. She wanted to say it aloud, wanted to try it on her tongue.

  But she would not.

  “I see no need,” she said. “As soon as the lights come back on, I don’t ever intend to see you again.”

  “You need me, Veronica. Whether you wish to admit it or not.”

  She swallowed. “I don’t need anyone.” She’d made sure of it over the years—and she’d only been wrong once.

  His hand dropped from her waist. A moment later, she felt the tips of his fingers sliding along her spine where her dress opened, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. “Mr. Vala …”

  “Raj.”

  “Raj,” she said, giving in to his demand because she hoped it would stop the insane stroking of her skin. It did not.

  She wanted. And yet she couldn’t allow this side of her nature to surface, not now. Not ever again. The only way to protect herself from harm was to suppress her feelings. Feelings of need, of loneliness, of desire.

  Human feelings.

  No.

  Veronica sucked in a shaky breath, fighting for control. “This isn’t very professional, is it? Do security consultants usually attempt to seduce their charges?”

  The torturous track of his fingers ceased. Her heart hammered in the thick darkness. She’d scored a hit, but it didn’t make her feel any better. In some ways she wanted to take the words back, wanted him to continue the light stroking of her skin.

  He did not. “Forgive me,” he said, his tone clipped—but whether it was with anger at her or himself, she wasn’t certain.

  A moment later she was moving sideways, falling—but just as she was about to grab for him, about to wrap her arms around his neck so she didn’t fall, he eased her down on a bench and let her go. She searched the blackness for him, but could see nothing. Panic filled her until she willed it away.

  “Don’t leave me here,” she said, nearly choking on the words as she did so. She hated to admit weakness, hated to admit she did need him, at least for the time being.

  “I’m not leaving,” he replied, his voice coming from across the room. But she could hear the door easing open. He was going to leave her alone in this dark, lonely room. She would be lost, as lost as she’d been at sixteen when her father had locked her in a closet to punish her for trying to run away.

  Blindly, she shot upright … and fell forward as her foot hit a nearby table.

  Somehow, she managed to catch herself, but not without bending her wrist
too far. She cried out as needles of pain shot through her arm.

  “What are you doing?” Raj demanded.

  She groped her way back onto the bench, relief flooding her as she held her wrist, sucking in deep breaths to keep from crying. “I thought you were leaving.”

  “I told you I wasn’t.” His voice sounded closer now. A second later, light illuminated the small room.

  She blinked up at him. “You have a light.”

  “Yes.”

  “Why didn’t you use it to begin with?”

  “Because I needed to be sure no one was outside first.” He bent in front of her, his dark head close as he took her arm in his hands and probed her wrist. She didn’t bother to ask how he knew she’d hurt herself. Veronica hissed as he found the tender spot. “It’s just a light sprain,” he said.

  Then he stood and the light blinked out again.

  “Why do we have to sit here?” she asked. “Why can’t we use your light and go to my room?”

  “So now you want my help,” he said softly, almost teasingly.

  “You have the light,” she replied, as if it were the most logical thing in the world to say.

  She felt movement, felt a solid form settle on the bench beside her. He reached for her arm, finding it so surely that she swore he must have a cat’s night vision.

  His fingers danced over the skin of her wrist, his thumbs pressing in deeply, making her gasp—and yet it felt good, as if he were easing the sprain out of her by touch alone.

  “This is what we are going to do,” he said. “We’re going to spend the next twenty minutes here, while pandemonium reigns in the hotel, and hope the lights come back on. If they don’t, we’re going to your room.”

  She hated being told what to do, and yet she’d tacitly agreed to it when she’d panicked over being alone in the dark. “Did Brady hire you?”

  His soft snort was confusing. “In a manner of speaking. I’ve done work for him in the past. Protecting his celebrity clients.”

  She had to bite back a moan as his fingers worked their magic on her. “I appreciate your diligence, Mr. Vala, but Brady should have known better.”

  “He cares about you.”

  “I know,” she said softly. Brady was a true friend. She knew he’d always wanted to be more than that, but she’d never felt the same in return. In spite of it, their friendship flourished. Brady was a good man, the kind of man she should have been interested in. Life would have been a whole lot easier if she had been.

  The pressure of Raj’s fingers was perfect, rhythmic. Why did she always want the kind of men who were terrible for her? Men like this one, handsome and dangerous and incapable of seeing past the facade of her outward appearance to what lay beneath?

  It was her fault they could not. She’d spent so many years building a wall, becoming someone interesting and compelling and, yes, even shocking, that she no longer knew how to be herself with a man. She had no idea if the real Veronica was even worth the trouble.

  And she wasn’t planning to try and find out.

  Raj’s voice startled her. “After what happened tonight, do you still trust your staff?”

  A chill slithered down her spine. That was something she hadn’t wanted to think about. Because how could she admit that she didn’t know? That she was out of her depth and uncertain where to turn?

  She thought of the letter she’d gotten that morning, and shivered. It had been so simple, one word in cutout letters: slut. It had been nothing, really. The work of a former rival. Who else would go to the trouble?

  But the one question she’d kept asking herself today was how had the letter penetrated her security and found its way onto her breakfast tray?

  She’d interrogated her secretary. The guard on duty. The maid. The porter. No one seemed to know.

  Then, in a moment of weakness, she’d told Brady about it. She regretted that now, as it was surely the impetus for him to call this man.

  “Yes, I trust them,” she said, because she could say nothing else. Was she supposed to run scared over a simple letter? Her bodyguard abandoning his post tonight was an unrelated incident. That didn’t mean the rest of her staff was incompetent.

  “Then you are either naive or stupid, Madam President,” Raj Vala said.

  “I am neither one,” she replied, bristling not only at the way he’d pronounced her incompetent, but also at the condescending tone he’d used to say the last two words. As if he didn’t think her worthy.

  She might not be, but it wasn’t his place to say so. He was not Alizean. “Not everything is as straightforward as you might think. There are many options to be considered.”

  His thumbs worked magic. Tingles of sensation streaked up her arm, over her scalp. Down into her core. She couldn’t stop the little moan that escaped her.

  Damn him. And damn her reawakened senses.

  Wrong time. Wrong place. Wrong man.

  It was the situation, she told herself, the fact she now found herself alone with a dynamic, sexy stranger who touched her as if he had a right. Because she’d allowed no man to get close to her since the miscarriage, she was now suffering from sensory overload.

  “Would you like me to tell you the best option?” he asked.

  “Do I have a choice?” she snapped.

  “You always have a choice,” he replied evenly. “Except in instances where your immediate safety might be at stake.”

  She wanted to tell him to go to hell. Who was he to walk in here and try to take over this aspect of her new life as if he had a right?

  But he kept rubbing, soothing her sore wrist, and she didn’t say a word because she selfishly didn’t want him to stop.

  A minute later, the fingers of one hand slid up her arm, over her jaw, her chin, across her lips. She didn’t know why she allowed it—

  No, that wasn’t quite true. She allowed it because it felt shockingly perfect to let him touch her. He made her feel normal, and that was something she hadn’t expected to feel ever again. It felt surprisingly good to be touched after all this time.

  She trembled at the featherlight stroking of his finger across her mouth, and she bit down on her lip to keep from nibbling him in return.

  Oh, he was good. Good enough that she began to wonder if he hadn’t missed his calling in life. Gigolo seemed a perfectly acceptable occupation for a man with his skill set.

  “Then tell me this option,” she stated, hoping she sounded businesslike and cool as she dragged her attention back from the summit. “Let’s see how good you are.”

  His fingers slid along her jaw now, so light, so erotic. His soft laugh was a sensual purr in his throat, and she knew she’d made a mistake. A dreadful, heart-pounding mistake.

  “It’s quite simple. You need to acquire a lover, Madam President.” His voice was so sexy, so mesmerizing, his slight British accent combined with another she couldn’t quite place.

  Everything inside her stilled. Her stomach clenched painfully. Of course.

  He might be here to help her, but he wasn’t above helping himself, either. Men like him made her sick. Always wanting something in return. Brady might truly care, but this man did not.

  “It’s out of the question,” she said, her voice tight. “I don’t want to hear another word of this—”

  “Ah, but you will listen. Because you’re smart, Veronica.” His fingers continued their damning track across her skin. She felt his presence in the dark as a solid wall of heat, and she tilted her head back, sensing somehow that he loomed over her, that his mouth was only inches from hers.

  She should pull away, and yet she couldn’t seem to do it. “Flattery will get you nowhere.”

  “Why deny the truth? You know it as well as I do.”

  Heat suffused her from the inside out. Somehow she managed to scoot backward on the bench, to put distance between them. Was she that transparent? “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  But she did. Because he touched her so lightly, so expertly, th
at her body was tightening like a bowstring.

  There was definitely something there, something between them … something that would combust if she let it. Part of her desperately wanted to let it …

  “Yes, you do,” he said softly. His tone was that of a lover.

  Did he feel it, too?

  “Maybe …” she breathed.

  But his next words shattered that illusion.

  “Your presidency is too new, Aliz is in turmoil and you aren’t safe.”

  Every word was like a blow. Embarrassment flooded her in bright, white-hot waves. She’d been preoccupied with the way he made her feel when he touched her, and he was nothing but business. Damn him for making her forget, even for a moment.

  “Those things are none of your concern,” she said evenly, thankful he couldn’t see her flushed face. Thankful there was no light to give her away. “Nothing you can do will fix it overnight.”

  “This isn’t a game, Veronica. You can’t quit this party when it no longer amuses you.” Raj heard her draw in a breath. He’d probably insulted her, but he didn’t give a damn.

  Because Veronica St. Germaine was precisely the sort of woman he had no sympathy for.

  She was a slave to her passions, her wants, her desires. She was the worst kind of person to be entrusted with the welfare of a puppy, let alone a nation—yet here she was.

  And here he was, damn Brady to hell. Raj hadn’t wanted to do this job, but Brady had begged him.

  For old time’s sake. And since Raj owed at least a measure of his success to Brady’s faith in him when he’d been fresh out of the military and working his first security job so many years ago, he couldn’t say no.

  So now he was sitting in the dark with a too-sexy, spoiled society princess and arguing over whether or not she needed his help.

  He should just kiss her and put the matter to rest. He wasn’t unaware of her response to him. He also wasn’t unaware of her reputation as a woman who pursued her appetites relentlessly, be they clothes, shoes, fast cars or men.

  And at least one part of his anatomy didn’t mind the prospect of being an object of her desire.

  Not that he would allow himself to go down that road.