Modern Romance June 2019 Books 5-8. Andie Brock

she had known from the first call of alarm into the garden what she would have to do.

      Executing those actions, however, had taken nerves of steel and hours of careful coding into the night. There was no room for error—and likely no forgiveness from this man no matter how things played out.

      Gabriel paused inside the opulent foyer, taking in the mosaic tiles beneath their feet, the inlaid wood in the stair banister, the priceless art and the arrangements of fresh flowers. All his now.

      Luli halted as well, waiting until he glanced at her expectantly.

      “Mrs. Chen’s office is the third door,” she murmured with a nod toward the hallway.

      In a confusing war of chivalry against her effort to be subservient, he waited for her to go first then fell into step beside her.

      “I’m very sorry about your grandmother,” she said. “We’ll miss her deeply.”

      “It sounds like it was very swift.”

      It had been. They’d all known the quick, anxious efforts of Mae’s nurse were futile. Even as Mae’s helicopter had airlifted her from the garden where it had happened, a blanket of subdued reflection had hung over the entire house.

      Luli brought him into Mae’s office. The room was designed along spare lines, more staid than the other rooms, but still had feminine touches in the pastel color scheme and the English teapot that Luli filled for both of them every afternoon.

      It felt terribly empty in here. Who would she drink tea with now? What was going to happen?

      Her future was no longer in the tight, but secure hands of Mae Chen. Luli could kid herself that she was taking her destiny into her own hands, but that wasn’t true. The way this man reacted once he learned what she had done would dictate how the rest of her life proceeded.

      His hands were long-fingered and lightly tanned. They looked powerful. Deadly.

      Luli stood beside the rolling chair at the delicate writing desk that was her workstation, waiting for him to sit. He took in the room, glancing beyond the windows to the garden, and gave each painting and vase a brief, incisive glance.

      She found herself holding her breath, waiting for his assessing gaze to come back to her, hoping for a sign of approachability in him. Approval on some level. Something that would reassure her.

      “I thought you were a form of AI, but there’s nothing artificial about you. Is there?” His head turned and his expression eased, revealing a slant of something that invited and appreciated, even as it caused her inner radar to tingle with caution.

      She had the most bizarre sensation of being chased, breaths growing uneven despite not moving. Her middle filled with fluttering butterflies, but they weren’t fear. They were the excitement of the unknown. Of playful pursuit.

      This was sexual awareness, she realized with a pressure in her throat that was an urge to both laugh and scream. She understood sexual attraction in a very abstract way. She had been exposed to the feminine tricks of making herself appealing to the opposite sex far too young, but she wasn’t trying any of them right now. She was barefaced and the only reason she stood tall and sucked in her stomach was in an effort to seem confident and competent.

      And she had been judged on her external attributes from an early age, but hadn’t felt it, not like this. If anything, she’d been repulsed by older men studying her and assigning her a score. Occasionally, since being here, one of Mrs. Chen’s visitors had noticed her and made a remark before she was shooed out of sight. She had been an odd duck, if not an outright ugly duckling.

      She hadn’t realized a man’s gaze could make her stomach wobble and her blood feel as though it fizzed in her veins. That a force field could encompass her like a cup over a spider, so she could be scooped into the palm of his hand to be crushed or freed on his whim.

      The butler came in with the tray, breaking their locked gaze.

      “How shall I prepare your kopi, Mr. Dean?” the butler asked, pouring from the carafe into a jade-green cup with a gold handle that he balanced on its matching saucer.

      “Black.” His sharp gaze touched on the single cup and swung back to Luli. “You’re not having any?”

      The butler didn’t react, but Luli read the servant’s affront in the angle of his shoulders and the stiffness beneath his impassive expression. They’d been at war for years because she had Mae’s confidence in ways he didn’t. He’d been incensed that he had learned from Luli who Mrs. Chen’s grandson was—after Luli had informed Gabriel.

      What could Luli have said, though? She doesn’t trust you. She doesn’t trust men. Mae had encouraged Luli to trust no one but her and Luli had given her the loyalty that Mae craved.

      None of which changed the fact that if the butler had to fetch Luli a cup right now, he would die.

      If she was a small person, she would force him to do it, but she was saving her energy for a greater revolt. A more daunting target.

      “You’re very kind,” she murmured. “But that’s not necessary.”

      “The bell is here if you require anything further, Mr. Dean,” the butler said, glancing darkly toward Luli before he closed the door firmly on his way out.

      Gabriel waved at the arrangement of sofa and chairs, all upholstered in silk brocade, and waited for her to lower onto a cushion before he sat across from her.

      Honestly, this regard he was extending to her was laughable. Her conscience writhed as she folded her hands in her lap. He was going to explode when he realized how undeserving she was of this respect.

      Despite the fact she would have to take control of the discussion eventually, she waited for him to lead. There were so many ways this could go, some of them life altering—maybe even life-threatening. Her research had revealed he was a black belt in kung fu. Her morning tai chi in the courtyard with Mae and the rest of the household was no match for the lightning-fast and lethal moves he no doubt possessed.

      “After signing papers at the hospital, I met with my grandmother’s attorney,” he informed her. “My power of attorney was finalized so I could assume the helm during probate. A press release has been issued to announce our connection. Legally and publicly it is accepted that I have taken possession of Chen Enterprises. Yet, when I arrived at the head office, very few of my instructions could be fully executed. I was told that every instruction and transaction goes through Luli.”

      He sipped his coffee while his gaze stayed pinned on her.

      “They couldn’t even run me a comprehensive list of her assets and accounts, so I could begin contacting the banks for access.”

      A coal of heat burned in her center, but she said nothing, knowing that stammering out explanations when he hadn’t yet asked a question would betray her nerves.

      “You realize I’m not the only person under the impression you’re a sophisticated task-management app?”

      “I believe that is the impression your grandmother preferred to cultivate.”

      “Why?” His voice was whip sharp. She had to concentrate not to flinch as it landed on her.

      “Among other things, it forces people to express themselves in writing,” she explained in an unruffled tone. “It creates a traceable trail. She told me once that when your grandfather died, his business manager attempted to take advantage of her. She wasn’t able to prove his wrongdoing and she wasn’t able to take control of the wealth she had inherited. Not without a terrible fight.”

      “Those who don’t learn from history are doomed to repeat it. Apparently.”

      Bam-bam-bam. Her heart threatened to crack open her breastbone.

      “Since then, it has been her practice to maintain tight oversight with regard to her finances. She personally approves all but the most routine transactions.”