Time seemed to stand still. His lips seemed to draw closer and his eyes became all slumberous. Heat spread through her, languorous waves that made her want to touch him, to see if he felt it too.

“I don’t think that’s a very good idea,” she said. Her breasts ached. They felt heavy and she wanted his hands on her. Oh God, she was a hussy. A slave to her lust, all over a man she’d only met twice before, yet wanted to jump as soon as she’d seen him. All three times.

“Then it’s a very good thing I’m of the same opinion.” He stood, letting his hands fall away. “I’ll transfer half of the amount you require to your account within the hour. The rest will be transferred upon the ending of our engagement. Afterwards, you will notify me should more bills suddenly appear and I’ll make them go away.”

Make them go away? God, it must be nice to have that kind of power and freedom. “Now what do we do?” she asked, slipping past him. Her skin felt overheated. She poured herself a glass of water and drank greedily.

Tilting his head to one side, he let his eyes roam her body. Her nipples tightened and desire pooled in her belly, spreading low between her thighs.

“We pretend to fall in love. I’ll be by Wednesday for your answer, and to sample your next menu offering. Think tropical.” With that, he strode to her door and grabbed his coat along the way.

“And Daisy,” he asked, pausing at the door.

“Yes?”

“I would have kissed you, if you’d asked me.”

She wanted to wipe away the smug smile that appeared on his face. “Guess you’ll never be kissing me then, because I will never ask you.”

For a moment, his smile fell. She blinked and it was back, maybe her imagination had wished it had fallen. “Never say never.” Then he opened the door and left, letting the door close softly behind him.

“Oh God, oh God, oh God,” she chanted, rushing to her phone. Forget emailing Jules. She had to talk to him now.

***

Sebastian glanced at his phone as it buzzed and climbed inside the limo.

Daisy: Are you there? Do you have a minute or five million?

Jules: All my time belongs to you.

Daisy: You’re not a Duke or something, are you?

He grunted. Oh, he was something all right, but Jules would only answer her Duke question.

Jules: Not for at least thirty more years.

His mother’s father was bound to live for at least that many years, and Vladimir had made the Duke of Everham sign a binding contract that his title and the estates would go to him upon his death. Only Vladimir was dead and Westmoreland was still kicking.

Rather poetic justice, Sebastian thought.

Daisy: Good.

Jules: Why?

The text bubble had the … in it while she typed.

Daisy: I met someone.

Jules: Should I be jealous?

Daisy: No, kittenpartybasketbagel

He made a face. What the hell was that?

Jules: What the hell was that?

Daisy: Ugh. Autocorrect. Can I call you? It would be easier.

Oh hell no. She’d hear his voice, recognize him, accuse him of being a liar (rightly so), and never speak to him again. There was no way he could let that happen.

Jules: Sorry, darling, but I’m actually in a meeting.

His driver opened his door, and he got out, heading inside a chain restaurant on the outskirts of town. Some meeting he was having.

Daisy: OMG. I’m so sorry.

He smiled. Now that he’d heard her voice again, he could actually hear her saying the words.

Jules: No worries.

Daisy: Talk to you later?

Jules: Of course. I’ll text you ASAP.

Daisy: Jules?

He sighed. Whenever she typed his name like that, she had something serious to ask or tell him.

Jules: Yes?

Daisy: I like it when you call me darling or love. Just wanted you to know.

He frowned. Yet, Sebastian wasn’t allowed to call her anything but her given name. Why should he? Sebastian didn’t know Daisy, not like Jules did. But he was also Jules, so he did in fact know her as well as Jules did.

“Oh good God,” he muttered. He was becoming jealous of himself.

Jules: Laters, darling.

He took extreme satisfaction typing that last word out before pocketing his phone. Sebastian Romanov might be on the outs with the sexy little caterer, but Jules Westmoreland sure as hell wasn’t, and he would use that to his advantage.

***

“Still no butler,” Sebastian said with a frown as his brother greeted him at the door.

Christian raised his brows. “Your powers of observation are truly frightening.” He gestured for Sebastian to come inside. “Now that you’re back, maybe you can help me with something.”

Sebastian followed his brother into the living room. “Diffusing the situation between your bride and her mother not enough?”

Turning to face Sebastian, Christian gave him a look. “You only helped, because it served your purpose.”

Removing his coat, he draped it over a large, flowered chair by the fireplace and sat down. “And?”

“So don’t pretend you did me any favors.”

“But I did do you a favor.”

His brother’s mouth opened and shut. Taking a deep breath, Christian moved to stand beside the fireplace mantle. “Doing me a favor was still self-serving.”

Why did it bloody matter what the purpose was or who it served? “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

Christian rubbed the back of his neck. “Good to know some things don’t change.” He picked up the Owl Whistle Pez Dispenser and held up to the light. “Don’t suppose you’d care to share how this suddenly appeared in my collection?”

“That’s your predicament—magically appearing candy dispensers? How incredibly wonderful that’s your only pressing problem in life.” His brother peered at him, identical blue eyes growing frosty as a winter morning in St. Petersburg as Sebastian’s insult hit its mark. “Truly fascinating.”

An evil grin lit Christian’s face. “It was you.”

Indeed, but claiming ownership didn’t signify in the greater scheme of things. Sebastian loosened his tie. “Any Russian Standard in your cupboard?”

“Oh no. You’re not getting out of this.” Christian carefully placed the dispenser back on the mantle and clapped his hands, briskly rubbing them together. “I thought Vlad had destroyed my entire collection, right after Francesca left him. Thank you for returning it to me.”

Sebastian remembered the day well, though he chose to keep the memory locked away, but his damned brother had a way of making him remember all those things best left in the past.

All of twelve, Sebastian hadn’t shown a lick of emotion when Lady Francesca had tearfully kissed and hugged her sons good-bye. He hadn’t hugged her back, merely stood there in his Eton uniform and had told her to take an umbrella for the storm on its way.

Utter drivel he’d spouted. As for the events that had eventually followed…

“Jesus,” Christian said, pulling Sebastian out of his bitter memories. “Can’t you be human for once?” He slammed his fist on the mantle. Crystal fairies clinked together and Pez dispensers toppled over. “Stop pretending nothing bothers you.”

“I’m not pretending.” He couldn’t to let anything bother him. Hell, he’d been trained from birth to be the perfect, non-temperamental golden child.

“Fuck it.” Slashing his hand in the air, his brother’s jaw clenched. “Are congratulations in order for you and Daisy?”

“They will be.” Sebastian would fly to New York City tomorrow just for the hell of it. Just to make anyone who was tailing him think that he was shopping for jewelry. Only he didn’t need to shop for a ring. He’d already purchased it, before he’d left England, with Daisy in mind.

“I can’t believe you went through with it and talked her into your mad plan as well.” Christian shook his head. “God help Daisy Barnes, and God help you if you hurt her.”

“She’s an adult, fully aware of the lack of emotions I possess.” Gazing into the fireplace, he said, “It’s a business transaction, nothing more.”

“Good to know Vladimir Romanov’s legacy lives.”

“What makes you so bloody different? You married Zoe to improve your image,” he snapped, without thinking. Well, that wasn’t entirely true. His twin had fallen in love with Zoe and married her—in Vegas of all places.

Though they’d gotten off to a dreadful start, with Christian and Sebastian’s father’s interference in the marriage, his brother and Zoe had gotten through it.

And because his brother was so enamored with his wife, he was giving her a real wedding, with all the pomp and ceremony she could ever want.

Firelight and disgust highlighted Christian’s face. “I should kick your arse out, but—and it pains me greatly to say it—you are more than welcome to sleep in our guest room.”

It might have pained his brother to say it, but it shocked the hell out of Sebastian to hear it. “Thank you, and I apologize for my thoughtless words. It’s been a rather trying few months.”

His brother gave him a look, as if he had expected him to say something different, which in the past would have been the truth. Finally, he said, “I’m going to bed.” Christian strode out of the room and down a hallway.

Sebastian heard a door opening, and then laughter as the door closed.

Sinking back in the chair, he crossed one leg at the ankle and rubbed the back of his neck. He supposed he could have admitted that he had given his brother the candy dispenser, but then he’d have to explain how it wasn’t actually Christian’s, but his—the one that hadn’t been tossed out with the rubbish.

Both of them used to collect the silly dispensers, but Sebastian hadn’t been the one to anger their father enough to ransack a room and throw away everything he held dear.

In any other circumstances, twins should have found solace in one another, bulwarks against the madness of Vladimir and his schemes. Unfortunately for both of them, that hadn’t happened.

At least he had Romanov Industries. Or he used to have Romanov Industries.

The floor creaked and he glanced up.

His brother’s wife stood in front of him, with a small smile on her face. “Thank you for giving his owl whistle back. It’s the only one I hadn’t been able to find.”

Damn, his twin was a lucky bloke. “Something the two of you do for fun?”

“I know you care about your brother.”

Perceptive woman, but he wasn’t inclined to agree with her out in the open. “I’m here to make nice so I can be President of Romanov Industries.”

“So you say.” Zoe’s eyes were dark, darker than Daisy’s, but their hair color and build were nearly identical.

“How exactly are you related to Daisy Barnes? She said your dad’s her uncle.”

She blinked at his change in subject. “My dad and her mother are…were brother and sister. Aunt Kaye died of stomach cancer a few years back. I’m surprised you haven’t done a background check on her yet.”

Trust Christian to spill all Sebastian’s secrets to his wife, but he couldn’t really blame him. Pulling out his iPhone, he waved it at Zoe. “Waiting and ready to be read,” he said dismissively, and then slipped it back in his pocket. There was no reason for a background check on a woman he already knew everything about. Besides, he wanted to be left alone at his pity-party for one. “Riveting information, I’m sure.”

A thick sigh left Zoe. “Well, good night.”

“Night,” he said, but she didn’t leave. For God’s sake, what would he have to say to get her to leave him in peace? “Yes?”

“Would you have donated the money if Christian had said no?”

He already donated money to B.T.S., but no one knew and he intended for it to stay that way. “It’s worthwhile organization, despite being headed by him.”

“That’s not an answer.” Shaking her head, she sighed again. How in the hell did his brother put up with her sighs? “I hope it’s worth it, in the end, when you’re all alone.”

“Thank you for that very heart-warming platitude.” Rising to his feet, he nodded. “I’ll be off to bed.”

“Night,” she said as he left the room.

He grabbed his overnight bag and climbed the stairs. Opening the door to the guest room, he went inside and placed his bag on the dresser, then pulled out his phone and texted Liam.

Staying at Christian’s. Daisy has all but agreed.

Liam’s response was swift and to the point, something Sebastian had admired about his friend for years.

Excellent news. Pictures?

Of course. Paparazzi would go mad for even a hint that he was seeing someone.

Will have to you in 15. Send to usual contacts.

By morning, the London papers would have him and Daisy linked together. Hell, he wouldn’t be surprised if they weren’t calling for an engagement before the weekend. Perhaps he should consider heading it off, or would it be better to play it close to the vest? Shouting his love and adoration for Daisy would be a dead giveaway of the farce, mostly due to the fact that he did not shout his love and adoration for anything.

Quickly, he made a mental list of all the events Daisy could attend as his fiancée. Taking her home with him was absolutely necessary. Maybe there, on his own turf, he could confess all to her.

Rolling his shoulders, he attempted to relieve the pent-up tension. What he wouldn’t give for a round with his bodyguard, Ivan. The man didn’t care in the least what title Sebastian held and tried to beat the shit out of him every time they sparred.