"I've got this. Thank you for your help."
It was a dismissal and Emilio instantly stood. She didn't want him to leave her alone in the room with Ricco Ferraro. It was dangerous. The tension in the room was tangible and growing more so every moment. Mariko kept her head slightly down, just as she'd been taught since she was a child, a respectful position when the men were talking, but her eyes were moving, noting everything about them, body positions, the way they moved, Emilio like a fighter, Ricco like a panther.
This was the most difficult thing she'd ever done. Sit quietly, absolutely still, feeling more vulnerable than she ever had in her life with the exception of once, but that was a very long time ago when she was a child. She was an adult and fully capable of choosing her own fate. She had come to this place determined to get this job – and she was still determined. She just hadn't expected to feel so defenseless or susceptible to Ricco Ferraro.
There was silence after Emilio closed the door, leaving her alone with the panther. She counted her heartbeats but refused to raise her eyes. Her body was already humming, alive, a strange rhythm she'd never felt before, one that not only alarmed her but puzzled her. Physical attraction to date, at best, had been mild. This was anything but mild. It was shocking in its intensity, her body reaching for his. She could barely breathe with him so close. She'd never been so aware of another human being.
"Look at me."
She didn't dare lift her eyes to his. She had to gather her courage first before she went into battle. This one she had to win or she might be dishonored for all time.
"If you can't even look at me, Mariko, how do you expect this to work?"
His tone was mild, but there was a hint of a reprimand in it and she winced. She didn't like that voice, but it wasn't because she wasn't used to the tone, it was more she didn't want to disappoint him – or herself. Swallowing hard, she lifted her gaze to his.
At once she fell into those dark, dark eyes. She'd never seen anyone with eyes so compelling. Her heart drummed even louder. Fight or flight? She was frozen and couldn't do either. She touched her tongue to her lip, a leftover childhood habit she'd been beaten for. The moment she did it, she was ashamed of herself. She forced air through her lungs and held his gaze.
"That's better. You said your mother was a rope model so you know what it entails." He made it a statement.
She nodded just slightly.
"You're going to have to actually speak to me."
She was an idiot to think she could do this, but she was already in the situation. She hadn't expected to feel anything. Certainly not attraction. To hell with her childhood and all the voices whispering in her head. She moistened her lips, watching him watch her. That slight action of her tongue on her lips, the nervous giveaway. "Yes." The single word came out low and husky.
His lashes didn't so much as flicker. He had long lashes. Beautiful lashes. His mouth was pretty amazing as well. It was just that he was far more daunting than she'd expected.
"Have you seen a performance?"
She nodded. He kept looking at her. Waiting in silence. The color slid under her skin. "Yes."
He remained silent.
"After I was given the book, I studied the art and went to several demonstrations. I guess I wanted to feel closer to her." She'd wanted to understand her mother.
"What did you think?"
What had she thought? She'd been taught that her mother was a slut. A whore. That she'd destroyed an entire family, dishonoring them. She'd been told time and again that her mother had made her living whoring, that she had abandoned her two children to the streets. It hadn't been an image she wanted to think about. Until now. Until she learned everything she knew might not be real. The ground had shifted out from under her and now she was here, trying to figure out what she could do next.
"I thought the art was beautiful. I didn't understand why or how she could do it." The photographs were stunning. But to be tied up at someone's mercy. That was disturbing. Mariko wasn't certain she could actually do it.
"For this to work, you have to trust me. Implicitly. You have to know that I would always take care of you in any circumstance."
She blinked. The breath caught in her lungs and felt trapped there. She trusted no one. Especially not a man like Ricco Ferraro. She'd done her homework before applying for the position. No one else seemed to know Ricco was the rigger, but she'd suspected all along. There weren't that many real rope masters in the United States.