ISLA SPENT THE rest of the day wondering what she’d got herself into. Orion didn’t emerge from his office all day, which was fine because quite frankly she needed a break from his overwhelming presence, not to mention some time to think.
Despite Orion’s assurances that he’d ‘dealt with it’, she used her phone to email David to tell him that she was okay, though she couldn’t quite bring herself to confront him about the deal he’d made with Orion and why he hadn’t told her about it. After all, she was the one who’d agreed to marry for the sake of the company and for David. She could hardly complain about a change of groom when she didn’t have any feelings for said groom either way.
She was annoyed however when she got his reply that the board were pleased about her marriage to Orion, regardless of the impulsive nature of the wedding. They had been unsure about her being kept on as CEO, but Orion’s assurances that he’d keep the company intact for the next year at least had allayed some fears.
That did not help Isla’s temper. Of course the addition of a man made her being CEO much more palatable and it rankled.
She wanted to do right by David, to prove that he’d made the right choice when he’d adopted her, but his lack of support only added to the feeling that what she was doing was making things worse not better.
One thing was clear to her though; she couldn’t just leave. If the board thought her marriage to Orion was a good thing, then throwing a tantrum and flying home today wouldn’t help her cause. That would be letting her anger get the better of her and she couldn’t do that.
Also, she could hardly refuse the idea of Christmas presents, since that was what Kendricks’ was all about. Except Christmas for her wasn’t about family—David for all that he was the ‘Christmas magnate’ didn’t celebrate it. Not when Christmas was the busiest time work wise for them. In fact, she couldn’t remember a time where he had celebrated it with her. Usually, Christmas meant donating her time to work in a homeless shelter or something similar. She didn’t mind that, having come from nothing herself, but she didn’t much like the cynical way David always turned it into a media circus.
Yet that was the way he ran things and she couldn’t argue. She wasn’t any blood of his, only the girl he’d adopted because his wife before she died had wanted him to find a daughter to leave the company to.
Not a daughter to love.
Her heart ached at that thought, but it was an old pain and so she put aside. The most important thing was how she was going to handle Orion for the next twelve days, because she was going to have to keep him at a distance, not let him get too close.
She was also going to have to figure out what to get him as a ‘gift’. Not something sexual since she’d already decided she wasn’t going to sleep with him again, and anyway, she didn’t want to give him something he’d expect. She also didn’t want to give him something that would add to the power he already had, which meant it not only had to be unexpected, but also shake that supreme confidence of his in some way.
‘It has to be something you think I would like.’
Except she didn’t know what he would like. She didn’t know anything about him, beyond him being a ruthless corporate raider. There were bios of him floating around on the internet, but she hadn’t read any of them. She’d told herself she wasn’t interested. She’d heard that he’d been an orphan like she was, but again, she hadn’t wanted to find out any more because she hadn’t wanted to feel sympathy or kinship towards him.
Besides, what did you get a man who had everything he could ever want?
He doesn’t have you.
The thought refused to go away. And even though she spent the day in the little library she’d spotted, accumulating a nice stack of books to read and distracting herself now and then with stares out the window at the beauty of the snowy landscape beyond the glass, it was still there by the time night fell.
She was curled up in one of the chairs in the library when she heard the door to Orion’s office open and then sometime later, shutting again. Half of her was relieved he hadn’t bothered to come and find her, while the other half was annoyed. Not that she wanted him to. Of course, she didn’t want him to.
Yet that left her alone with her thoughts and the fact that if she wanted to give him something she knew he would like, it would have to be something to do with her.
It could be a secret...
She didn’t have any secrets, though. There was nothing of interest about her, and why he was so fascinated with her she didn’t understand. Still, she had to give him something.
That night she ate her dinner alone, then indulged in a bath in her ensuite before going to bed.
She slept like a log and when she woke up the next morning, she lay there going over what she was going to give Orion today.
Perhaps it would have to be a kiss. She didn’t want to give him one, not when she knew she was too susceptible to it backfiring on her, and besides, she had to hold something back; it wouldn’t do to give him everything he wanted straight away. Yet what else did she have?
When she went downstairs, breakfast was waiting for her and this time so was he, sitting at the table, casually sipping his coffee. His amber gaze was intent as it met hers and she found her heartbeat accelerating the way it always did when he was around.
He was just as gorgeous as he’d been yesterday, still dressed in jeans and a casual shirt of some soft-looking black textured fabric. The neck of the shirt was open, revealing the smooth olive skin of his throat, and she couldn’t drag her gaze away from it.
She’d kissed him there that night they’d spent together and tasted the salt of his skin. The memory made her mouth go dry and her face feel hot.
As if he knew exactly what she was thinking, he gave her one of those slow-burning smiles that made her insides melt and something insistent throb between her legs. ‘Good morning, Snow White.’ His voice was on the edge of a purr. ‘I trust you slept well.’
She pulled out the chair opposite and sat down, while he pushed a cup of coffee in her direction. ‘Thank you,’ she muttered, trying to calm her racing heart. ‘Yes, I did.’
‘I’m excited about my gift.’ He took a sip of his own coffee, watching her, his dark golden eyes glinting in the cool winter sunlight coming through the windows. ‘I’m assuming you’ve thought of something.’
Her heart was beating far too fast and she knew abruptly that she couldn’t give him the kiss she’d been planning on. If he could make her this flustered simply by looking at her, she couldn’t risk a kiss. It was a loss of control she couldn’t allow herself.
‘Yes.’ She tried to make the word calm and cool. ‘I’m going to give you a secret.’
It wasn’t much of a secret, but she couldn’t think of anything else.
He smiled, though, and the gleam that lit in his eyes was genuine interest. It was as if she’d offered him the rarest of jewels.
He put his coffee down and leaned his elbows on the table, expression expectant. ‘A secret? I’m assuming it’s a secret about you?’
She blushed helplessly. ‘Yes, but it’s silly. It’s not even a secret.’
‘I’ll be the judge of that.’
She sighed and glanced away, cupping her coffee mug in her hands and pressing her fingertips against the hot ceramic. He was going to be disappointed. ‘My favourite artist is Vincent Van Gogh,’ she said hesitantly. ‘And... I know everything about him.’
‘Do you now?’ He didn’t sound...uninterested.
‘Yes. I used to love going to art galleries and museums as a kid and looking at...beautiful things. And when I found a piece I particularly loved, I liked reading all about it and the person who made it.’
‘Is that why you were able to explain Van Gogh’s painting so eloquently?’
Bracing herself, Isla finally looked up from her mug and met his gaze. He had that intent look on his face again, focused on her as if he’d never heard anything as fascinating as what she was telling him. It made something that had knotted tight and hard in her chest loosen slightly.
The most luminous thing in that gallery in that moment was you...
He’d told her that on their wedding night and she’d been so shocked by it. Because no one else had thought she was luminous when she talked about art. In fact, she never talked about it to anyone, because no one had ever been interested.
‘It’s one of my favourite paintings of his,’ she said, still feeling shy. ‘I love his use of colour.’
Orion’s gaze didn’t waver from hers. ‘Tell me more.’
Her cheeks felt hot. ‘You can’t be interested.’
‘Of course, I’m interested,’ he said. ‘I never say anything I don’t mean.’
‘It’s nothing you won’t already know.’
‘But I don’t,’ he said gently. ‘I know nothing about art or artists. The creative impulse baffles me, but I’d like to understand it. That’s why I asked you to tell me about it.’
How could she say no to telling this supremely confident man something he didn’t know? To help him understand something?
So she began to explain, hesitantly at first and then with more confidence, about Vincent Van Gogh’s life and his early work. His mental health battles and his lack of acknowledgement from the art world. And Orion asked her more questions, about who else she liked, and so she told him about Millais and Rossetti, and the other Pre-Raphaelite artists, as well as Michelangelo and Titian, and then about some Greek sculptures she’d seen at the British Museum.
Orion listened the whole time, his attention never wandering, asking her questions and prompting her for more explanations. He appeared to be completely fascinated.
‘And have you ever drawn anything?’ he asked, after they’d both finished eating and were relaxing with the remainder of the coffee.
She shook her head. ‘No. I don’t think I have the talent.’ And it wasn’t that it hadn’t occurred to her, it was just that drawing and art hadn’t been appreciated by the foster families she’d been placed with. ‘And it’s not as if it’s a viable career anyway.’
‘How do you know if you haven’t tried?’ His mouth was curved in that half smile again, letting her know that it wasn’t a challenge, more a question. And she realised with a sudden start that she hadn’t felt unsettled or angry in his presence this time, not once. Only pleased to be talking with him about something she was passionate about.
‘I wasn’t adopted to be an artist.’ She smiled back because she couldn’t help herself. ‘David wanted a CEO.’
And he didn’t get one, did he?
The thought echoed uncomfortably in her head. Perhaps it was best if they changed the subject.
‘Anyway,’ she went on, ‘that’s my gift to you. Some boring art facts. If you want more, you’ll have to wait for another day.’
Orion slowly sat back in his chair, giving her an enigmatic look. ‘I suppose I can’t argue with that. Though, for the record, I do want to know more and hearing you talk about it would definitely constitute a gift I would like to receive.’
The knot in her chest loosened further, something warm sitting there instead. She tried not to take any notice of it. ‘Noted,’ she said.
‘Well,’ he said. ‘I liked my gift very much. Now it’s time for yours.’
She tensed. If his gift was a kiss, she didn’t know what she’d do. A gift couldn’t be refused and she’d agreed to that. And if he kissed her, she’d... Well, she’d lose herself again, she just knew it. And that couldn’t happen.
Orion smiled. ‘How do you feel about a tour of an active volcano?’
He hadn’t known what to expect when he’d given her his gift. He’d mentioned it as an activity he’d planned, but he hadn’t known how she would take it. A gift couldn’t be refused, yet if she’d really been afraid of the idea, he’d have thought of something else. Even her being afraid would have told him something about her.
But he suspected she wouldn’t be. And he was pleased to find out he was right.
They started with an aerial tour in a helicopter flown by a local pilot, along with a geologist who gave them a rundown of the particular volcanic field they were visiting.
Given how much she’d enjoyed the painting in the gallery, he’d wondered if she’d like the colours of the landscape, the violent glow of lava and the pristine white of the snow. The deep mineral blue of the volcanic lakes and the black rock that surrounded them.
Then, after she’d talked to him at breakfast, about Van Gogh and the other artists she liked, about their histories and their inspirations and their methods, he knew she’d like the colours. And she did.
As they sat in the helicopter, flying around one of Iceland’s most recent eruptions and he watched her stare out the window, there was no mistaking the glow of wonder that lit her face. The same glow he’d observed in the gallery.
Steam rose in clouds, thick moving lava glowing from underneath the black rock, and she watched it all with rapt, open-mouthed attention.
It made desire twist hard in his gut, along with a satisfaction at his own efforts to recreate that moment of luminous delight he’d seen that night at the gallery.
He still didn’t understand why it affected him so intensely, though. It might have been a simple response to her beauty, because she was lovely when she looked like this. Then again, he’d seen plenty of lovely women before and he’d not felt this same, almost...visceral punch whenever he looked at her.
It was puzzling.
She’d intrigued him still further, though. He knew her background, that she’d been a foster kid like he had, except she’d been adopted, while no one had ever wanted him. He’d been too volatile as a kid, too hungry, too intense, and people seemed to sense that in him and shy away from it. He didn’t blame them.
He was different now, of course, and he could see why David had chosen Isla to be his successor. She had a hunger too, though she probably wouldn’t have said so, and the way she’d pursued the things that interested her struck a chord with him also. She wanted to understand things the way he did, researching all about those artists of hers and their lives. Trying to understand the art they made.
He’d thought that discovering one of her secrets might have dissipated some part of his fascination, but it didn’t. If anything, it only made him even more intrigued.
The helicopter landed on a flat bit of rock and the geologist took Orion and Isla across the sharp ground to get a close-up view of a lava flow. Her face was rapt under her helmet—they both had on protective gear—as the geologist guided them across the sharp volcanic rocks, Isla peppering him with questions.
Once, she stumbled on the uneven ground and Orion instinctively slid an arm around her waist to steady her. She was so caught up in the tour she didn’t seem to notice, leaning into him briefly before giving his arm a little pat, as if he was a dog, before pulling away to continue walking. And he found himself amused and aggravated in equal measure that she was so involved in the tour that she hadn’t seemed to notice his touch.
You’re a fool to let it matter to you this much. You’ve slept with her. What more do you need to know?
He couldn’t have said. Only that sex was merely a part of his interest and that interest hadn’t been satisfied yet. One thing he was sure of though, was that he couldn’t move on from this obsession until he found the key, and so yes, it mattered. She mattered.
During the tour, he’d provided her with a camera since he thought she might want to take some better pictures than she could from her phone, and she hadn’t protested. Not only had she asked the guide a million questions, but she’d spent just about every second taking photos of the rocks, the lava, the mountain and the snow, and once or twice, she’d even taken a couple of pictures of him.
He hadn’t minded. If she wanted pictures of him, who was he to argue?
They spent a couple of hours exploring the mountain, and then a glacier, and in the helicopter afterwards, as they flew back to the lodge, she turned to him, her face alight, her blue eyes glowing. ‘That was amazing! Honestly, I had no idea I’d enjoy getting that close to an active volcano. And all those colours... They were incredible!’
She wasn’t self-contained now. The cork was out of that champagne bottle and she was fizzing everywhere, and not bothering to hide it. And he was seized by the almost uncontrollable urge to kiss her. He wanted to get a taste of her excitement and her joy, just a small taste, because it had been so long since he’d experienced anything like it, he couldn’t remember what it felt like.
Have you ever experienced anything like it?
Possibly not. His life had had precious few moments of joy and wonder. Even his childhood had been lonely and isolated, the one bright spot being when he’d met Cleo. Except that had all gone to hell in a handcart and afterwards he’d decided he didn’t need moments of joy. Satisfaction would do for him.
It would have satisfied him immensely to take a kiss from Isla, yet he held himself back. She’d been quite clear that she didn’t want to sleep with him again, despite being still very attracted to him, and he found that for the second time in his life he didn’t want to take something just because he could—and he could take that kiss. She wouldn’t protest, he was sure of it.
Yet...he didn’t want to. He wanted her to give a kiss to him of her own free will. Because she wanted to, because she wanted him, and not because he’d forced her into anything.
Especially after you forced her into marrying you.
Something uncomfortable shifted inside him. He’d told her that he hadn’t regretted his threat to get her to marry him, but maybe he did. Maybe that hadn’t been the correct course of action. Maybe that hadn’t been the right opportunity to take.
He didn’t like the feeling, just as he didn’t like his own reluctance to take what he wanted from her. His ruthlessness, his edge, was what set him apart from others in the business world and he didn’t want to lose it.
Except not enough to put his hand behind her head and draw her in for a kiss.
It was quite the conundrum.
‘I thought you might like it,’ he said instead, controlling himself firmly. ‘From an artistic point of view.’
‘Yes. I think I took about fifty million photos.’ She grinned, her cheeks flushed with delight. ‘Did you enjoy it too?’
It took him a moment to process the question, since he couldn’t remember anyone ever asking him if he’d enjoyed anything. And it made the tight thing inside him shift yet again. Not only had she thought about him, she’d been interested enough to want to know if he’d shared her enjoyment. As if mattered to her.
For a second, he couldn’t think. Had he enjoyed himself? Or had the entire day been more about his own satisfaction at putting that look on her face?
Yet deep in his frozen heart, like a small ray of midwinter sun rising on a cold dawn, came the realisation that, yes, he had enjoyed himself. He’d enjoyed watching her glitter and sparkle like sunlight on snow, and he’d enjoyed her company. Her questions and her smile, and how she’d taken photos of him as if she’d wanted to include him in her record of this day. He’d also enjoyed sharing with her something that he found beautiful himself and having her think so too.
Slowly he said, ‘I did. Very much.’
She grinned. ‘What was your favourite part?’
When you stumbled and I caught you, and you leaned against me. When you smiled and took my photo. When you asked the geologist a question he didn’t know and he got a little irritated. When you watched the lava flow, your whole face alight.
The tight thing in his chest turned heavy, though he had no idea why, so he ignored it. ‘Oh,’ he murmured. ‘I couldn’t pick just one.’
Isla laughed, the sound surprisingly husky, whispering over his skin like velvet. ‘Really? Come on. What do you like about volcanos?’
He thought about it for a moment and surprised himself with the honesty of his answer. ‘I think it’s very bracing to see nature’s power close up. It’s very easy to only think of the world as a collection of cities full of humans, yet we live on a planet. And that planet only allows us to be here on sufferance.’
Interest sharpened in her gaze. ‘Yes, it’s so easy to forget we’re sitting on top of a living planet, isn’t it? Is that why you chose to have a lodge here? For the landscape?’
Perhaps he should have bargained with her for the information, but he didn’t even think about it. ‘I have a few different houses in different places. But I come back to Iceland a lot. I like the isolation. The landscape is so wild and untamed and primal, and I like that too. Nature can’t be tamed, all you can do is sit back and watch it with awe.’ He smiled. ‘It also has the gift of putting one’s own problems into perspective.’
‘Problems?’ Amusement danced in her eyes. ‘You have problems? Please, what problems could the great and terrible Orion North have?’
The heaviness in his chest shifted again, gathering tighter. She was teasing him, with laughter in her blue eyes as she relaxed in the seat next to him, and she was just so...beautiful.
He almost couldn’t look at her, the urge to grab her and pull her into his arms nearly overwhelming him. In fact, it shocked him how tenuous his control was. If he wasn’t careful, the moment they landed, he really would grab her. He’d take her upstairs and rip her clothes off before she’d even had a chance to take a breath.
But he’d already decided he wasn’t going to do that, and not just with a kiss either. When they slept together again, it would be because she wanted him, because she’d asked for it, because she’d given herself to him. It wouldn’t be because he’d taken it.
So he forced away the tight feeling and gripped his control. ‘Why, none, of course,’ he said. ‘Men like me don’t have problems.’
The words must have come out less casual and more bitter than he’d intended, because she gave him a worried look. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to imply that you didn’t.’
He was being ridiculous. The only problem he had was her. Everything else had been relegated to a past he no longer thought of.
So he gave her what he hoped was a reassuring smile and said, ‘No need to apologise. My problems are purely of the business kind and aren’t very interesting I’m afraid.’
But the worried crease between her brows didn’t disappear. She opened her mouth to say something, then, clearly thinking better of it, shut it again. And as he watched, the excitement and the amusement died slowly out of her eyes, the glow in her cheeks fading.
You did that. You ruined it.
It made him feel suddenly as if he was back in the hallway at Cleo’s place, watching Luke’s family sing ‘Happy Birthday’, his heart burning with the knowledge that if he wanted to be part of Luke’s life, no matter what he did, it would involve throwing a bomb in the middle of Luke’s happy little family and blowing it to smithereens.
He hadn’t been able to do it. He hadn’t been able to rip his son’s life apart, purely to heal his own pain.
You never bring happiness to people, do you?
That didn’t matter. He didn’t need to bring happiness to people. Happiness didn’t interest him. The satisfaction he got from his business, the thrill of the chase and then the intellectual stimulation involved in stripping away the broken parts of a company to find the productive core was all he needed. That’s where he got his enjoyment. He pruned away the deadwood so the tree could grow, cut out the scar tissue so the patient could get better.
That was all he needed from life. That was what made him content.
Happiness required you to care and he was done with caring.
He decided he was better off not saying anything after that and so he stayed quiet for the rest of the flight back to the lodge.
Once they were back, he helped Isla out of the helicopter and into the lodge, then he took himself off to his office, needing some distance.
Or at least he tried to.
They were in the entrance way, having divested themselves of their protective gear, and he was just on the point of striding down the hall, when Isla put a tentative hand on his arm.
He stopped dead, her light touch holding him as surely as iron chains. He had a T-shirt on and unfortunately it meant her skin was against his, burning like the flow of lava they’d seen not a couple of hours earlier.
‘Did I...? Did I say something?’ she asked hesitantly. ‘In the helicopter? If I did, I’m sorry—’
‘No.’ The word was sharp but he couldn’t moderate his tone. ‘You didn’t. It was nothing.’
‘But you—’
‘Isla.’ He turned around and looked down at her, letting her see the heat in his eyes. It granted her more power than she should have to reveal the extent of the effect she had on him, but she had to know. He wouldn’t break his vow over something as meaningless as physical desire, however he wasn’t in the mood to make it harder for himself than it already was. ‘I wouldn’t touch me if I were you. Not right now.’
Her gaze widened as it searched his, a flush of colour in her cheeks. ‘Orion, I—’
‘I don’t want to take it,’ he interrupted yet again, because he had to end this little scene right now and with the truth. He didn’t want to hurt her if he could help it. ‘I don’t want to take you, do you understand? I want you, but if sex happens between us again, it will only be because you asked for it. I want it to be a gift you give me. But if you keep touching me like that, if you keep getting close to me, I might just change my mind and take it anyway.’
Her lush mouth opened, but he didn’t want to stand here with her so close, discussing sex. He’d said his piece and his control was already hanging by a thread.
He needed to find it again.
So before she could say anything else, or worse, touch him again, he turned and strode off down the hallway.