CHAPTER FIVE
At the top of the hill Gabriel pulled the Norton up on the side of the icy road and checked his GPS. Not far to go now. The hotel should be just up ahead and around the corner. Kicking down the stand of the bike, he raised the visor of his helmet to take a good look at the surrounding view. Mountains and forest heavily covered with snow, an icy lake to his left. The snow lent a muffled, dense quality to the silence around him that reminded him of his lodge in the Rockies. A peace that he’d never found inside a church, much to his mother’s disappointment.
But it had always been that way with him. Once, a teacher at school had shown him a book about nature and there had been pictures of mountains, forests, and lakes. Places the noise and the dirt and the squalor of the city hadn’t touched. Afterward he used to dream about going to such places because he imagined them to be cleaner, purer than the shitty tenement he lived in with his mother. Quieter, too. More peaceful.
Dreams about going and living in a cabin in the woods, by a lake. Where he’d fish for his mom and they’d be happy.
Fuck, what an innocent he’d been back then.
Gabriel sat back on the bike, inhaled, then let it out, his breath clouding in the cold air. Alex had his clubs and the women he lost himself inside of. Zac had his Caribbean island. And Eva … well, who knew what Eva had since she never revealed anything about herself. But this was his. The forest. The silence. A break from the anger that seemed to devour him whole whenever he was in the city.
The ride from New York had taken him over five hours, but he hadn’t minded. Speed and the wilderness and silence in his head. Sometimes that was all he needed.
At that moment his phone buzzed in the pocket of his motorcycle leathers. Briefly, he debated not answering it since when he was away, he was damn well away, but then again, it could be Honor.
Dragging the phone out, Gabriel glanced down at the screen. But it wasn’t from Honor. It was from Alex.
You want to go out tonight? Second Circle. 9 p.m.
Gabriel hadn’t told his friend about this week he’d planned with Honor. He hadn’t told anyone except a few of his people, and as far as they were concerned, he was in an important meeting for a week and wasn’t to be disturbed. No one needed to know what he was doing or what his plans were.
He stared at Alex’s message. The guy clearly kept tabs on his sister but did he know Honor wouldn’t be around this week either? Would he put two and two together? He might, considering Gabriel had already made it known he was interested in Honor’s investor quest.
Perhaps a different kind of man might have felt guilty about using his best friend’s little sister in such a way. But guilt was the one emotion Gabriel never let himself feel. Not when his mother had had enough for both of them.
Besides, it wasn’t as if he had anything to feel guilty about. He had his rule. He wouldn’t harm her. What he wanted was information and he’d use whatever he could to get it. Even the attraction that burned between them. Christ, he’d be stupid not to.
No, Gabriel texted Alex back at last. I’m out of state this week. Catch you when I get back.
There was a moment’s pause, then a reply pinged back.
All the more chicks for me then.
Gabriel snorted and stuck his phone in his pocket. Then he kicked the bike’s stand up, opened the throttle, and pulled out onto the road.
Ten minutes later he turned onto a long driveway that led through densely packed, snow-clad trees. Eventually it opened out onto a wide sweep past an elegant wood-and-stone building—the main lodge.
Gabriel cast a professional eye over it as he pulled up and parked his bike, approving the simplicity of the architecture. The building wasn’t fussy, with clean lines, a steeply pitched roof, and wide eaves. It had clearly been built to a high-spec and from what he could see, the workmanship was solid. There was nothing cheap or shoddy about this place. Tremain had obviously spent, and spent big on it.
A valet ran out as he got off the bike but Gabriel warned the guy off with a look. No one touched the Norton, let alone drove it. Grabbing his only piece of luggage, a battered leather kit bag, Gabriel slung it over his shoulder and headed for the entrance, pulling off his helmet as he went.
The interior of the hotel was all dark wood, thick carpet, and subtle lighting, giving it an air of quiet, discreet luxury. As he approached the reception desk, the concierge, a precisely coiffed blond woman, looked up and gave him a welcoming smile. “Ah, Mr. Woolf. Good afternoon. We’ve been expecting you. Are you ready to check in?”
Gabriel didn’t bother with pointless niceties. “Is Ms. St. James here yet?” he asked brusquely.
The woman’s smile didn’t falter, which was kudos to her professionalism. “Not as of yet. She did say she’d be here about four, which is any moment now.”
That was good. If she wasn’t here yet, he had a chance to check on the accommodations she’d arranged for them. Because he was betting she’d placed herself a long way from where he was, and that just wasn’t going to happen. He wanted them to be close together. Mainly so he could unsettle her, get under her skin, because people who were unsettled often let slip things they didn’t mean to say.
“What rooms have you got us in?” he asked, leaning an elbow on the desk.
The woman’s gaze flickered over him in a way he’d long come to recognize. Helpless interest. Lucky for her, she wasn’t his kind of prey.
“Ah … Ms. St. James has organized one of the cottages by the lake for you and a room in the main lodge for herself.”
Of course she had. “Change it,” Gabriel ordered. “Ms. St. James will be in the cottage with me.”
The only surprise the receptionist betrayed was a slight tightening of the mouth. Good. Perhaps she’d be allowed to keep her job when Gabriel became owner.
“Certainly I can do that,” the woman said. “But perhaps I should check—”
“I think you’ll find Ms. St. James will be perfectly happy with the arrangement.” He let his mouth curve, giving the woman a meaningful look.
She picked up on his meaning right away, at least judging from the flush that crept over her face. “Oh, I see.”
“I’m sure you do.”
“I’ll change the arrangements immediately, Mr. Woolf.”
He let his smile linger. “Excellent decision.”
“What’s an excellent decision?”
Gabriel didn’t move for a second, keeping his back to the hotel’s entrance, anticipation curling tight in his gut. So Honor had arrived. What perfect timing.
Slowly, he turned around.
Honor stood in the middle of the foyer, small, fine-boned, and immaculate in a tailored black trench coat belted tightly around her narrow waist. In one hand was the handle of a little wheeled suitcase, following behind her like a dog on a leash, while the other held her cell phone. The cold had brought a flush to her cheeks, making her blue eyes seem even bluer. She tucked away her cell into the purse she wore over one shoulder and raised an eyebrow at him in that way he remembered from their meeting at the club. Imperious and slightly mocking.
He leaned back against the reception desk on his elbows, taking in the sight of her and not bothering to hide it. Shit, he couldn’t deny there was chemistry between them. Intense chemistry.
How long since he’d experienced attraction like this? A long time. Maybe never …
“Were you trying to tease me, baby?” he drawled.
A wary look flickered in her eyes. “Tease you?”
“Yeah. With the sleeping arrangements.” He gave her a slow smile. “You had us in separate rooms.”
The flush in her cheeks deepened. She glanced at the receptionist briefly before looking back at him, and he could see she was already assessing the situation, trying to figure out what was going on. After a moment she said, “I thought you would prefer it.” Her expression gave absolutely nothing away
Goddamn but she was good.
“After one little argument?” He shook his head. “Sweetheart, no. What I prefer is you in my bed.”
Her jaw tightened, her gaze flicking to the receptionist again, gauging the woman’s reaction a moment before coming back to him. “I see.” Her voice was rock-steady and still as cool as the fall of snow. “Well, by all means, change it if you like.”
So. No protest. No argument. She wasn’t going to give him any of the expected reactions, was she? Interest curled like a hook, digging into him. Fuck, that was good. No, that was fantastic. Because he didn’t want this to be easy. Things were always so much sweeter when you had to fight for them. He should know. He’d fought like a bastard for everything he had.
“Oh, don’t worry. I already have. You and I will be in the cottage near the lake.”
Honor smiled and it wasn’t the smile of a lover. It was sharp as an icicle and just as cold. “That’s wonderful.” Her attention turned to the receptionist and her smile became much warmer. “Thanks, Heather. Hope it wasn’t a bother to change.”
“Not at all, Miss St. James. Shall I get Sam to bring your bags down?”
“That would be great.” Honor’s gaze caught his and she raised that eyebrow again. “Coming, Mr. Woolf?” The delicate sarcasm that edged his name was a challenge of the subtlest kind. And Christ, if she thought it would go over his head, she was dead wrong.
She had no idea who she was taking on, she really didn’t. And if he had any decency at all, he would stop right now and leave her alone.
But he wasn’t going to stop. Because the fact was he had no decency. None at all. Decency was one luxury he’d never been able to afford.
* * *
Honor waited until Sam had delivered their bags into the wide, open living area of the cottage. Then, as the door closed behind him, she turned back to the man whose overwhelming presence made the spacious room feel like a tiny closet.
He stood over by the huge picture window that looked out toward the lake, the backdrop of the icy expanse of water and the surrounding snowcapped mountains behind him, and for a second she didn’t know what was more impressive, him or the view. Dressed in black motorcycle leathers, a white T-shirt stretched over his powerful chest, he looked big and mean and downright intimidating. Which should have warned her off. Yet somehow, she found that just as compelling and magnetic as she had the night they’d met.
This is a job, remember? You have to keep things professional.
Yes, this was business, wasn’t it? Then again, there was no business-related reason she could think of as to why he’d changed their accommodations or made it look like they were sleeping together.
No, the only reason she could think of was that he’d done it to screw with her, get some kind of reaction. To up the game he was playing.
Fine. She’d come prepared. He could up whatever the hell he wanted, she could handle it. She hadn’t gotten where she was today by being a pushover.
Honor folded her arms, betraying none of the anger she felt. “So, I assume I’ll take the second bedroom?”
He studied her for a long moment. “You’re not going to mention the fact I just blatantly changed your booking?”
“No. Did you want me to?”
A smile curved his sensual mouth. “Oh, very good,” he murmured approvingly. “You’re learning. And I suppose you’re not going to let on how angry you are about the fact I let the receptionist believe we’re lovers either?”
“I’m not angry. I don’t care what the receptionist believes.”
His dark eyes swept over her. “Bullshit. You’re angry, sweetheart, but you’re trying very hard not to show it.”
Honor kept her expression absolutely neutral, determined not to let anything slip. She lifted one shoulder in a casual shrug. “Does this really matter? Look, if you want us to share the cottage then fine. It’s no skin off my nose.”
“Uh-huh.” He was still a second, watching her. Then he shrugged off his leather jacket in a smooth movement and tossed it carelessly down on the couch. With a slow, easy stride, he crossed the room toward her and in spite of herself, Honor’s breath caught, a surge of adrenaline rushing through her. Her body wanted her to run but she held her ground. Flight had always been more Alex’s style than hers; she was fight all the way.
Gabriel stopped inches away, looking down at her. There was something disturbingly perceptive in his gaze that made her feel like he’d peeled her open, laying bare all her fears and desires. Her darkest secrets. She forced herself to look back, meet him stare for stare.
“You’re not going to give me a thing, are you?” he murmured, his dark, husky voice making the words sound intimate. Sensual. “Do you have any idea how much of a challenge that is to a man like me?”
Her heart began to race, but she’d had a lot of practice at staying cool under pressure. “I’m not here to challenge you, Mr. Woolf.” Thank God her voice was steady as a rock. “I’m here to discuss this investment and that’s all.”
“Bullshit you’re not here to challenge me.” The light was behind his tall figure, gilding the blond spikes of his hair and shadowing his face, making his eyes seem even darker. “Standing there all cool, calm, and collected in that tight little trench coat. Acting like I don’t affect you in any way. What’s that if not a challenge?”
Dammit. There was no escaping her physical reaction to his nearness, her heart racing faster, an ache gathering tightly down low inside her. She could feel his warmth and he smelled of leather, a rich, spicy scent that made her think of what it would be like to ride with him on the back of that massive black motorcycle she’d seen parked outside the front of the hotel. Her thighs spread on either side of his, her arms around his lean waist, pressed up against his back, leaving everything behind. Her mother, her stepfather, her business …
No. Don’t go there. Don’t even think it.
God, no. Not when she kept the weakness deep inside herself. The wild, irresponsible part of her that loved a challenge, a game, an adrenaline rush. It was a vulnerability she and Alex had inherited from their father and she knew where it ultimately led: to destruction. She indulged it every so often with a little harmless credit-card abuse at her favorite shops, but that was it.
Control. That was the key. It had kept her away from the abyss for years. She could not afford to let it slip now.
“You don’t affect me.” She kept her arms tightly folded and her voice cool and steady. Telling him. Telling herself. “Which is why I don’t give a damn where I sleep. But all that aside, haven’t we got more important things to do than trade double-entendres?”
His laugh, a soft, lazy sound, felt like the brush of velvet over her skin. “Don’t worry. We have plenty of time for all those important things. I’m not interested in talking business right at the moment.”
“So what are you interested in talking about then?”
He tilted his head to the side, his gaze following down the line of her body and back up again, making it very, very clear what he was interested in. “I would very much like to talk about when we start fucking.”
The word was a harsh, sharp jolt. But there was also a brutal eroticism to it that touched something raw inside her. That wild part …
Honor took a small, silent breath to steady herself. “Charming, as ever, Mr. Woolf. I’m flattered, obviously. But you should know that sex isn’t part of my negotiating method.” She managed a patient smile. “Besides, I never mix business with pleasure.”
The expression on his face didn’t change. “That’s a shame. And ordinarily, I’d leave it at that. But in this case, you’re ignoring one very important variable.”
“I am? Well, don’t keep me in suspense, please.”
Without any hurry at all, Gabriel reached out and deftly pulled open the belt that held her trench coat closed. Then he settled his large, shockingly warm hands on her hips and tugged her right up against him.
He did it so slowly. She had plenty of time to get away. And afterward, she couldn’t understand why she hadn’t. Why she hadn’t stepped back, told him not to touch her ever again. But she didn’t. Her arms unfolded and she just stood there, her mind utterly blank as her body settled against his, as the heat of him burned like a furnace through the layers of leather and wool and silk. Burned until she was sure she could feel it against her bare skin.
“Sexual chemistry,” he said. “That’s the variable you’re forgetting, Honor.”
She didn’t move. To be honest, she couldn’t move. Even thinking was difficult right now. She didn’t know where to put her hands so she kept them by her side, trying to keep her fingers relaxed and loose. But it was difficult with his body right … there. Oh yes, right there …
“What about it?” she asked, struggling and failing to stop the huskiness from creeping into her voice. To stop herself from melting against the hard expanse of his chest.
His fingers flexed on her hips, squeezing gently, and her breathing almost stopped. God, she wasn’t that hard up that his slightest touch could steal everything from her, was she?
“Sweetheart, if you have to ask me that question,” his voice was soft, rough, and hypnotic, “then you’ve never felt it before.”
She could feel his hips against hers, the ridge of his cock pressing between her thighs. Large and hard, just like the rest of him. She found herself looking up into his eyes. They were black as night, a velvet kind of darkness that would wrap her up and drown her in sensuality. In heat …
He’d be rough. Would probably hold her down. And he’d fuck her, make her take him and she’d love it. The ultimate rush …
He gave another one of those husky laughs. “Looks to me like we’ve got an interesting week ahead of us, hmm?” Then before she was ready—way, way before—he let her go, stepping back and turning toward the door to the bedroom. “Think about the answer to my question, Honor,” he said casually as he went ahead and pulled it open. “I want the answer as soon as I’ve finished my shower.”
She couldn’t think. Her brain felt fuzzy, the blood hammering in her veins. How on earth had that happened? “What?” Her voice sounded all thin and breathy. Dammit. “What question?”
“I thought I was clear. But if you need me to repeat it, I will.”
It was a struggle but she managed to pull herself together enough to say, “Oh, you mean the question about us fucking?” She was pleased with herself as to how casually she said the word, since she almost never cursed. “I can tell you the answer right now. Never, Mr. Woolf. You and I will never start fucking.”
Gabriel’s smile was that of a predator. “Keep telling yourself that. But you and I both know I could have had you over the arm of that couch not five seconds ago. And you wouldn’t have stopped me.”
She had no answer to that. Because she suspected the bastard was right, she wouldn’t have. Which was a warning sign. If he could overwhelm her control as easily as that then she needed to be doubly on her guard. Her body might crave him, but that didn’t mean she had to give it what it wanted. That was how addiction began.
Honor lifted her chin and gave him back the cool stare she’d patented years ago. “Would you have even asked?”
She thought she saw something that was less than his usual arrogant assurance flicker in his eyes. Something that was almost like … unease. “I always ask,” he said flatly. “Always.” Then he turned and went into the bedroom, pulling the door shut after him.
Honor stared. And for some strange reason, it felt like she’d won.
* * *
Gabriel sat in the guest library of the hotel later that evening and stared at the screen of his laptop. He was supposed to be checking e-mails, but for some reason he couldn’t seem to concentrate. His fingers tightened around the crystal tumbler of single malt he’d brought in with him and he raised it, swallowing a mouthful. The alcohol burned, joining the other fire already burning in his gut, making it impossible to concentrate.
He shifted in the old leather armchair, grimacing. Trying to get the hard-on in his jeans to lay the hell down and leave him alone.
He hadn’t had it so bad in years. Honor St. James and her sexy little body. He hadn’t been wrong about their sexual chemistry, and yeah, he’d lost his head a bit, wanting a reaction from her, some kind of fucking acknowledgement instead of that cool stare she kept giving him. He, whose self-control was always ironclad.
Christ, he was an idiot. Sure, he’d known there was attraction there, but he hadn’t realized until he’d touched her how strong it actually was. She’d felt … so good against him. Her warmth and softness at odds with her cool, calm exterior. Then she’d looked up at him, her blue eyes gone dark and deep. Smoky with desire. And he’d felt something inside him shudder and wake up.
A beast he kept chained and locked away.
“Would you even have asked?”
Abruptly Gabriel closed the laptop, dumped it onto the table beside him and drained the scotch in his tumbler. Then he pushed himself out of his chair and began to pace around the room, propelled by a strange kind of restlessness he didn’t have a name for.
The hotel library was the same as most he’d been in, lots of tall bookshelves and wood-paneled walls. A huge fireplace with a fire burning bright. A few high-backed chairs and sofas scattered around. A bit like their meeting room at the Second Circle.
There were no other guests around so he gave in to the restlessness, pacing over to the fire then to the bookshelves, to the heavily curtained windows then back to his chair again.
He’d fucked up. Pushed her too hard, been too blunt. Let their attraction get in the way. He wanted information from her and that meant he needed her open and receptive, not offended and pulling away. Even worse that she was the one who’d gotten under his guard rather than the other way around.
He hadn’t liked her dig about him not asking. It made him uncomfortable, made him aware of his own boundaries and how he was testing them with his plans for her.
Damn woman was too smart and too perceptive for her own good, and it was going to mean he had to get a firm grip on this chemistry. Change his approach. Find a new game plan.
He stopped near the fire as his phone began to ring. Digging it out of his back pocket, he checked the screen. Eva. Interesting.
Hitting the accept button, he answered it. “What’s up?”
“You at the hotel?”
“Yeah.”
“Does it look promising?”
“Your stock, standard luxury resort so far. I’ll know more once I have a chance to look around the property.”
“Okay, well, I found something … interesting. I’m not sure if it’s anything to worry about yet, but I thought you should know.”
“What is it?”
“I wanted to see their computer system, check out their level of security, etcetera.”
Gabriel knew what was coming. “You hacked in?”
“Their security is shit.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Good thing they’re wanting Void Angel’s investment, that’s all I can say. Anyway, so I was checking out the reservation system—not just this hotel, but the whole chain—having a look at guest numbers and things, and I noticed that they’ve had a quite a few cancellations.”
“So? That’s unusual how?”
“They were all cancellations less than twenty-four hours before the guests were due to arrive.”
Gabriel stilled, staring sightlessly at the fire. He knew crime. These days he was all about the straight and narrow, but over the years he’d developed a kind of sixth sense when it came to suspicious activity. And this had suspicious written all over it.
“How many cancellations are we talking about here?”
“For each hotel not more than two or three, but the chain as a whole? Worldwide? Enough that I noticed. I mean, it could be nothing. Bad hotel reviews maybe or just coincidence.”
“But you don’t think that.”
Eva paused. “No, I don’t.”
“Any ideas about what’s going on?”
“A few. I’ll keep investigating and see what I can come up with. I’m beginning to think that the financials aren’t the only thing sketchy about Tremain Hotels.”
Intriguing. Was Tremain up to something other than just bad management? “Let me know if you find anything then.”
After he’d ended the call, Gabriel stuck his phone back in his pocket, continuing to stare into the fire for a long moment.
If there was something sketchy about Tremain, then Eva and her hacking skills would track it down. But she wasn’t the only one who had resources. He had a valuable source of information all of his own, a source who was, right at that moment, down in the cottage, probably getting ready for bed.
He smiled. Honor St. James might turn out to be even more useful than he’d thought. All he had to do was find the key to unlocking her.
And he would.
He always did.