King's Ransom. Jackie Ashenden

As if it knew that he would protect me if anything went wrong, which was strange since I knew that men in general weren’t particularly safe to be around.

      ‘We’re looking for Miss Imogen White,’ Colin was saying. ‘She was in the—’

      ‘Don’t know, don’t give a fuck,’ Ajax said casually, continuing to walk with me in his arms down the corridor. ‘Go check the damn bathroom yourself. There’s no one in there now.’

      ‘But you must have—’

      ‘If you hadn’t noticed, I’m busy.’

      There was more silence after that and, given that Ajax hadn’t stopped, it must have meant my guards hadn’t realised it was me in his arms. The suit jacket and cap now made sense; he’d been trying to hide my identity.

      I’d relaxed totally against him, but curiosity stole through me and I began to turn my head, only to have him say gruffly, ‘Keep your head where it is. We’re not out of the building yet.’

      I nodded and closed my eyes, inhaling warmth and spice and the faint smell of laundry powder from his shirt. His heart was beating beneath my ear and I could hear the rhythm of it, steady and strong and sure.

       Like him.

      Odd thing to think about a man I’d only just met and didn’t know. Maybe I was drunk. Maybe I was high. On him and his magical scent. Whatever, I accepted the thought without protest.

      Not that it mattered. He could have been Jack the Ripper and I would have been okay with it if he could get me out of the building without being seen.

      The thought of freedom being so close made excitement surge through me and if I hadn’t been held so securely in his arms I would have wriggled.

      Keeping still was something I found difficult at the best of times, but most especially when I was excited or angry or sad.

      A fidgety chatterbox, all the nannies had said about me.

      A mess, said my father, looking at me with the disapproval that used to cut me so badly when I was a kid and longing for his attention.

      My mother had died when I was born and if she hadn’t, things would have been different. Dad would have been different. But she had and he wasn’t, and all I remember wanting was his love.

      He didn’t like my insatiable curiosity or the way I couldn’t stop moving. I used to try to stay still, to not piss him off by jogging my leg or humming or asking questions, or any of the other things I did that irritated him, but it had always been a constant battle.

      But it wasn’t until I was eighteen that my inability to check myself had consequences. Terrible consequences.

      Since then I’d tried to stay in the box Dad had put me in, but the fight against my restless nature was never-ending and quite frankly exhausting.

      I didn’t feel exhausted now, though. Now I could have lain quiet and still in Ajax’s arms all day.

      I rubbed my cheek absently against the cotton of his shirt, wanting to get closer to him, and he made a growling sound. ‘Fuck’s sake, don’t move until I tell you. Your hair will come down and people will see it and they’ll guess who you are.’

      I stilled obediently. ‘Who do they think I am now then?’

      ‘Some girl I’m carrying back to my cave to screw.’

      The words travelled down my spine like an electric shock. ‘Really? Do you often carry girls out of balls to screw?’

      ‘You can stop talking now.’

      ‘But what about—’

      ‘Quiet.’

      There was a note of deep authority in his voice that calmed me, not that I needed extra calming right now. I was so calm I was nearly catatonic, lulled by his heat and the feeling of being held gently and carefully. As if I was something precious he didn’t want to drop.

      A large group of people passed by us, their conversation loud, and then cooler air brushed against my bare legs, the glare of neon and streetlights illuminating the white of Ajax’s shirt.

      We must be outside.

      It felt like we were walking down some steps and I could hear cars.

      Regret gripped me. Being outside meant he was going to put me down and I would lose his heat and that blissful sense of peace.

      I didn’t want to. I wanted to stay here, in his arms, against his hard chest, listening to the certainty of his heartbeat.

      There was the sound of a car door opening and his arms were loosening, and sure enough I was being let go and bundled into the back of a featureless black van.

      ‘Go,’ Ajax ordered the driver as he climbed in behind me, slamming the door closed. Then he pushed me down onto one of the bench seats, grabbed a seat belt and buckled me in as the van took off in a screech of tyres.

      I clutched the seat belt as the van lurched, while Ajax sat down himself and did his own belt up.

      The warmth that had held me so safe and still was seeping away, making me feel cold, the restless part of me stirring to life again.

      ‘Please tell me that’s it.’ I stared out the window as the building receded behind us, my heart racing, waiting for my guards to come spilling out. ‘Please tell me they’re not going to come after us.’

      ‘Oh, they might come after us,’ Ajax replied with infuriating calm. ‘But locating us is going to be a different matter.’

      I turned to find his gaze on mine, satisfaction gleaming in his icy blue eyes.

      My breath caught again.

      He was sitting in a casual, arrogant sprawl, long legs outstretched, the material of his shirt pulled tight across his muscled shoulders and chest, as if he didn’t care that he was taking up as much room as possible. As if he was expecting me to move if I didn’t like it, but he certainly wasn’t going to.

      He was like a king on his throne, staring at me as if I was a new country he’d just conquered.

      Through the remains of the warmth left over from his touch, a shiver shot through me.

      And all of a sudden it crashed down on me what had just happened and what it meant.

      I was free of my father, but I wasn’t free. Not when I’d been kidnapped by Sydney’s baddest billionaire.

      And I had no idea what he was going to do with me.

       CHAPTER THREE

       Ajax

      I SAW THE moment the realisation hit her. The realisation of exactly what she’d got herself into. And, for the first time, wariness crept into her gaze.

      It wasn’t fear, but I’d take wariness and about fucking time.

      She’d been curled up in my arms, all warm and soft, relaxing as if I was her own personal hero all set to save her. And that shit wasn’t happening. Not when I wasn’t anyone’s goddamn hero.

      Especially not when all I could think about was that tempting mouth of hers with that fascinating little mole just above her top lip. I wanted to kiss it. I wanted to lick it. I wanted to bite her bottom lip then suck gently on it, watch it get even redder and fuller than it was already.

      Not that I would. She might be proving to be unexpectedly tempting, but I had a plan and I wasn’t going to deviate from it. Not when her continued virginity was such an important part.

      She stared at me, that mesmerising energy she threw off still crackling all around her.

      It was good that she was wary. Because I was dangerous.