Did it really matter how he wanted her, as long as he did? Dru found herself pacing the small space that was her kitchen in agitation. She wished he'd handled it differently back in Bora Bora. She wished he'd lied and told her he wanted her, needed her-and not only as his assistant. She might not have believed him, but she'd have wanted to. And maybe it would have been enough.
But she couldn't marry him when he couldn't even pretend to love her. It turned out that was her line in the sand. Her single remaining boundary.
"A girl has to have some standards," she said out loud, shaking her head at herself. At the things she'd clung to all her life, like her belief that she would never be like her mother-and here she was, alone in her flat, halfway to Miss Havisham, arguing her way back to a man who could never love her the way she deserved to be loved.
But that was the problem. Dru didn't simply want to be loved. She wanted to be loved by Cayo. And she couldn't see how it made any kind of sense to do without him entirely. Maybe a sliver of Cayo really was better than nothing at all-because nothing else would do. The thought of another man was laughable. What would be the point? Another man wouldn't be Cayo.
Why couldn't they continue as they'd been? She considered it now, scowling fiercely into her sink basin, and the truth was, she couldn't even remember why she'd been so angry with him. Or why she'd been so desperate to get away from him. These weeks were the longest she'd gone without seeing him since she'd started to work for him five years ago. And she hated it. She craved the simple solace of his dark gaze, his impatient voice. Him. She missed him.
He might not want her the way she wished he could. He might only have proposed to her as some last-ditch effort to hold on to something he didn't want to lose, the same way he might feel about a particularly limited-edition racecar, for example. Dru understood that. And it wasn't that it didn't hurt. It was that being without him hurt more.
She wanted him more than she wanted her self-respect, it turned out, whatever that made her. A fool. Her mother. A very sad woman destined for a sad life of slivers. She supposed she would spend the rest of her life dealing with the fallout of this choice she couldn't seem to help making today. One way or the other.
But in the meantime, she knew exactly what she had to do.
* * *
Dru strode back into his life, and into the center of his office, on an otherwise unremarkable Wednesday afternoon.
She looked casual and chic in tight black trousers tucked into high, gleaming boots with dangerous heels and a very complicated sort of burgundy jumper that tied like a scarf and was somehow carelessly elegant. Her glorious hair was swept back into a low ponytail. She'd clearly spent more time in the sun, and it suited her. She had a healthy glow about her, and her eyes were clear as they met his.
Mine, he thought, with a nearly vicious surge of desire.
He wanted his mouth on her. He wanted to be inside her. He wanted her with a savagery that should have taken him out at the knees. Instead, Cayo thrust his hands into his pockets and stood there behind his desk, watching her, as the fury he'd been tamping down began to boil.
"I know how little you like it when people drop in on you without appointments," Dru said in that calm, easy voice of hers that had been haunting him for weeks. "I apologize." She smiled that damned smile of hers. The one he hated. "Your new assistant seems lovely."
"She is perfect in every way," Cayo agreed, his voice all but a growl. "A paragon, in fact. Truly the best personal assistant I've ever had."
"I'm delighted to hear that," she said, so very pleasantly. As if he was just another rich man she had to placate. As if she was working. "Though, if memory serves, you are a bit free with that particular bit of praise. It does render it rather meaningless, I'd say."
He didn't say anything. He couldn't.
"I went back to Bora Bora, as planned," she told him quietly, her gaze searching his, though he didn't know for what.
"I hope your flight was pleasant." He couldn't help his sardonic tone, or the way his brow lifted. "Fly commercial, did you?"
"It took over forty hours." There was the hint of a rueful smile on her lips, which was closer, at least, to something real.
He was meant to respond to that, he knew. He should have. Her eyes met his as if she was encouraging him simply to talk to her, as he might have done before. But he couldn't do it. She'd wrecked him in ways he still didn't understand. She'd left him. He'd let her leave. He still couldn't comprehend either one of those things.
And beyond all that, he wanted her. Pure and simple. Despite knowing exactly how much wanting her destroyed him.
"Dru." He said her name with all the fury and betrayal and longing inside him, letting it pour out of him, not even caring how it hit her. "Why are you here?"
He watched her swallow, hard, as if she was nervous. It became physically painful that he still wasn't touching her.
"I've come to interview," she said, and her voice didn't quite shake but still, he heard emotion there beneath it. A better man might not have taken that as some kind of victory-but he had no such pretensions.
"Interview?" he echoed. He could hear the chill in his own voice. "For what?"
Her chin rose, those gray eyes of hers glittered, and once more, she was hiding from him. He could see it.
"My old position, of course."
He'd dreamed of this. Exactly this. He couldn't help but smile, and he didn't have to see her reaction to know it wasn't a very nice smile at all.
But she didn't break. Not his Dru.
"I'd like my old job back," she said, very distinctly. Politely. She folded her hands in front of her like the passive and obedient underling she had only ever pretended she was, and walked straight into his hands with her head held high. "I've come to beg for it, if necessary."
CHAPTER TEN
HE LOOKED AS though he wanted to take her apart with his teeth. Dru fought to control herself-her pounding heart, her galloping pulse, that heaviness in her stomach that couldn't decide if it was desire or anxiety. Or some combination of both.
"If you would like to beg, don't let me stop you," Cayo bit out after a long moment, though his midnight amber eyes gleamed. "You can begin on your knees."
She remembered that day in Bora Bora with picture-perfect clarity. She remembered crawling to him across the polished wood floor, smiling up at him from between his strong legs. Wanting him more than her next breath. She still did. Heat flashed over her, and she was afraid she turned bright red. His eyes were narrow and hot, and she knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that he was remembering the same thing.
"Sweet memories," he said, deliberately provoking her, but she couldn't seem to react the way she might have before. She couldn't seem to breathe past the sheer force of him. It was if she'd dulled the intensity of him in her memory, to protect herself. He was shocking and bold, dark gold eyes and jet-black hair, and all that mouthwatering muscle and masculine grace. His suit was perfectly tailored and made him look sleek. Predatory. But not at all tamed. Not Cayo.
And now she knew what he could do with every last inch of that beautiful body. She found she'd lost her voice completely.
His eyes gleamed even more molten gold than before. He stepped out from behind his desk and roamed around to the front, leaning back against it so he was only a foot or two away from her. She schooled herself not to react, not to step away or show anything on her face, even as the back of her neck prickled in warning. In desperate, mindless want.