Grimly reining in the control that seemed to be slipping from him, he strode to his desk and picked up the top folder. A sliver of guilt rose inside him but he quashed it.
Enough. He'd done what needed to be done. He refused to feel guilty for protecting what was important to him. Nothing mattered except keeping his family safe.
He picked up the phone and called his brother's doctors. Once he'd been updated on Rafael's condition, he placed another call.
Fifteen minutes later he slammed down the lid of his laptop and pushed away from the desk, at peace with his decision.
Feeling a sense of rightness, he returned to the bedroom and slid into bed, his need for Sasha overcoming the wish to let her rest. With a soft murmur she wound her supple body around his. The sense of rightness increased, making his head spin.
'I missed you. Where have you been?'
Another wave of guilt hit him-harder than before. Inhaling the seductive scent of her, he pushed away the disturbing feeling. 'I needed to take care of something.' Bending his head, he placed his lips against the smooth skin of her neck. His body stirred, transmitting its persistent message.
'Um. And have you?' she murmured.
'Sí.' His voice emerged gruffer than he wished. 'It's all taken care of.'
CHAPTER TEN
SASHA WATCHED MARCO turn the page of his newspaper, a frown creasing his brow before it smoothed out again. Watching him had become something of a not-so-secret pleasure in the last few weeks. On cue, she experienced the slow drag of desire in her belly as her gaze drifted over the sensual curve of his lips, the unshaven rasp of his jaw and the strong column of his throat to the muscled bare torso which she'd caressed to her heart's content last night and this morning.
As if sensing her gaze, his eyes met hers over the top of the paper. One brow lifted. 'You want to go back to bed?'
He laughed at her less-than-convincing shake of the head. The remnants of breakfast lay scattered on the table, long forgotten as they basked in the South Korean sun.
'I didn't know you could read Korean,' she said, eager for something to distil the suffocating heat of the desire that was never far from the surface.
Marco smiled and folded away the paper. 'It's Japanese. I never quite mastered Korean.'
'Wow. You're freely admitting another flaw? Shocking!'
He shrugged. 'It was down to a choice of which was the most useful.'
She wrinkled her nose. 'Useful? Do you ever do anything just for pleasure?'
His droll look made her colour rise higher.
'Besides sex,' she mumbled.
'Sex with you is all the pleasure I crave, mi corazón.'
'You have other interests, surely? Everyone does.'
His throaty laugh made her pulse pound harder. 'What did you have in mind?'
'Some culture. An exhibition. Something other than...' Flustered, she waved her hand towards the severely rumpled bed beyond the sliding doors leading into the master suite, trying not to think of all the other places-the highly polished teak floor, the wooden bench in his outdoor bathroom, the hammock overlooking the stunning beach-where Marco had pleasured her during the long night.
Leaning over, he slid a hand around her nape and pulled her in for a hot kiss. 'I'd much rather spend the day with you in my bed. But if you insist-'
'I insist.'
Because Sasha had woken up this morning with a fearful knowledge deep in her heart. She was in danger of developing feelings for Marco de Cervantes. Feelings that she dared not name. Feelings that threatened to overwhelm her the more time she spent locked in his embrace.
At least away from this place, real life would impede long enough to knock some sense into her. To remind her that she couldn't afford to lose her head over a man like Marco-a man whom she knew deep down grappled with his guilt for being attracted to her. After all, hadn't it taken him three weeks to decide he could be with her?
He was also a man who believed her father to be guilty of fraud, a small voice added.
A sharp pang pierced through the concrete she'd packed around her pain. She hadn't been able to raise the subject with Marco since that night in Singapore. Somehow knowing he'd painted her father with the same brush of guilt as everyone else hurt so much more. Which made her a fool. Why should he believe any differently? Just because they were sleeping together it didn't mean the taint of her name had disappeared.
'You have fifteen minutes to get ready.'
She roused herself to find Marco ending a call. 'Ready for what?'
He tossed his phone on the table and brushed his knuckle along her jaw. Sparks of pleasure lit along her skin.
'You want culture, mi encantadora. Korea awaits.'
* * *
'Oh, my God,' Sasha whispered as her bare feet touched the wet flagstones that led to the ancient lake temple, unable to tear her gaze away from the magnificent vista before her.
'I'm finding that I don't like you using that expression unless it relates directly to me, pequeña,' Marco complained, releasing her hand as she leapt onto the next flagstone.
'Are you jealous?' she asked on a laugh.
He raised a mocking brow. 'Of your insane adoration of old temples and ancient monuments?' He rolled up his trouser cuffs and stepped on to the flagstones, bringing his warmth and addictive body up close and personal. 'Not a chance. But I suggest you alter your phraseology, because every time you say Oh, my God in that sexy tone I want to flatten you against the nearest surface and have my way with you.'
He grinned at her gasp and his head started to descend.
'No.' She pulled away reluctantly.
He frowned. 'Qué diablos?'
'Shh, we're in a holy place,' she whispered. 'No kissing. And no swearing.'
She giggled at his muted growl and skipped over the rest of the flagstones until she stood in front of the temple.
'Wow.'
'Wow I can live with.'
'You'll have to. I have no other words.'
From where they stood the small temple seemed to float on the water, its curved eaves reminiscent of a bird in flight. In the light of the dying sun huge pink water lilies glowed red, their rubescent petals unfurled to catch the last of the sun's rays.
'It's all so beautiful. So stunning.' With reverent steps Sasha approached the temple doors. 'Can we go in?'
He nodded. 'It's not normally open to visitors. But on this occasion...'
Unbidden, a lump rose to her throat. 'Thank you.'
'De nada. Go-explore to your heart's content.'
With legs that felt shaky, and a heart that hammered far too hard to be healthy, Sasha paused to wipe her feet, then entered the temple.
Like every single place Marco had taken her to since he'd summoned his car after breakfast, the temple was breathtakingly exquisite. The shoji scrolls lining the walls looked paper-thin and fragile, causing her to hold her breath in case she damaged the place in any way. Examining one, she wished she had a translator to explain the three lines of symbols to her.
'"Peace through wisdom. Wisdom through perspicacity,"' Marco murmured from behind her. 'This temple was originally Japanese. It changed owners a few times before the Shaolin monks took over in the fourth century.'
'It puts everything into perspective, doesn't it?'
'Does it?'
'You said nothing lasts for ever. This temple proves some things do.'
For a long moment he didn't answer. His hooded gaze held hers, but in the gathering dusk she couldn't read the expression in his eyes.
'Come, it is time to leave. Romano will think you've kidnapped me.'
'What? Little ol' me?'
He laughed-a sound she was finding she liked very much. 'Romano knows you have a black belt in Jujitsu.'
'I'd still think twice before I tried to drop-kick a man of his size. So you're safe with me.'
'Gracias.' He threaded his fingers through hers, then signalled to Romano to bring the car round.
She waited until they were in the car before leaning over to press her lips to his. 'Thank you for showing me Seoul.'
His hand tightened around her waist and pulled her closer. 'The tour isn't over yet. I have one last treat for you.'
Pleasure unfurled through her. 'Really?'
'The night is just beginning. I know a little place where, if you're really nice to the staff, they'll name a dish after you. Will you allow me to show it to you?' He picked up her hand and kissed the back of it.
Watching the dark head bent over her hand, Sasha experienced that irrational fear again. Only this time it was ten times worse. Her heart hammered and her pulse raced through her veins as the reason for her feelings whispered softly through her mind.
No. She wasn't falling for Marco de Cervantes. Because that would be stupid.
And reckless.
Marco didn't do relationships. And she'd barely survived being burned once.
His lips caressed the sensitive skin of her wrist.
At her helpless sigh, he smiled. 'On second thoughts, a Michelin-star-chef-prepared meal on the beach sounds very appealing.'
Resisting temptation was nearly impossible. But Sasha forced herself to speak. 'It's not fair to dangle the opportunity to have a dish named after me and then withdraw it. Now it's on my lust-have list.'