The Art of Retaliation by Arabella Kingsley Read Free Book Online Page B

    Pity.

 
      Mara jerked, startled by
her inner voice.

 
    “Good I hope it won’t,” she replied without emotion.

 
    Stephane pulled
Ryan’s engagement ring from his pocket and placed it on the table in front of
her.

 
    “I thought you might want this back,” he said carefully.

 
    She moved her hand to the object to give it further inspection and
then withdrew as though its stones were coated with a fatal poison.

 
    “You were wrong,” she said frostily.   “It means nothing to me.   Give it back to Ryan when you see
him.   I will be ready to leave in
half an hour.”

 
    Stephane watched
her leave the room and pocketed the ring bringing his coffee cup to his lips to
hide the satisfaction at her words on his face.

 
 
 
 
    Mara dressed in a black trouser suit complimented by a white
shirt.   She clutched the briefcase
she was holding tightly as though it contained the crown jewels and descended
the stairs.   Stephane’s eyes travelled the length of her body as he waited for her at the bottom.   She pretended not to notice maintaining
an air of aloofness always her best defense she had found in such
situations.   He took her arm before
she took the last step and led her out into the courtyard where a black
Mercedes was waiting.   She pulled
her arm into the air trying in vain to shake off his hold.

 
    “Must you always be touching me, Stephane .   Where the hell do you think I am going
to go. ”

 
    “I don’t know, Mara.   But
you have a way of surprising me and I need to keep you close because of it,” he
grinned.

 
    An hour later they ripped through heavy Paris traffic.   The car drew up outside the office in
the Rue de Paix .   Mara grew nervous this might be her only chance and she had to get it
right.   Somehow she had to let them
in the office know what was going on so they could help.   She quickly opened the door before
someone else did it for her but felt a restraining hand on her shoulder drawing
her back against the seat.   Stephane leaned over her and cupped the side of her face
lifting it up to him.

 
    “Remember, Mara don’t try anything.   I still have Maxine and you wouldn’t
want anything to happen to her would you?’ he spoke huskily making her catch
her breath.   “Besides,” he continued
trailing his thumb over her lips.   “Even if you did succeed in letting someone know, who are the police
going to believe?   The Count of Albain or an Englishwoman?   Anyway if you did escape I would track
you down and when I found you I would cage you so you could not escape me
again.   Don’t doubt me.   I always carry out my threats.”

 
    Her lips parted, her mouth too paralyzed by the caress to retaliate
with words, waiting eagerly for penetration despite his intriguing threat.   She could feel his masculine power
radiating out from him overwhelming her, melting her resistance.   How could she feel this way when he had
threatened to cage her?   Yet it
excited every sense she had.   What
was happening?

 
    He brushed her lips with a kiss and then pulled away.

 
    “Yes, I understand.”

 
    Mara clenched her teeth wishing she could wipe the aristocratic smug
smile from his lips and stop the ache that was now throbbing hot and wet
between her thighs feeling played as he sat back.

 
    “I won’t try anything.   Let me out now,’ she snapped.

 
    Mara got out of the car attempting to regain some form of
semblance.   In an instant he was at
her side holding her arm and leading her towards the entrance.

 
    “What do I tell them about you?” she asked suddenly stopping.

 
    “Just say who I am and tell them that you are here to discuss a
business transaction and proposal that I have to make to Matisse.   I will make it up as we go along.”

 
    He gently pushed her forward clearly impatient for the charade to
begin.
    Mara breathed a sigh of relief when the young receptionist bought
the story she was hardly