Lucien studied her over the brim of his steaming coffee cup.

"Pretty much."

He was utterly unapologetic, but then why wouldn’t he be? It was a dream lifestyle, and Google had reliably informed her that at thirty-one, Lucien Knight was the complete self-made man. His business acumen was much documented and lauded, even if his history before Knight Inc. was a blank page.

"Don't you ever want more, though?"

"More? One private jet is enough, even for me," he said dryly.

"No... I didn't mean..." - she waved an arm around the luxurious cabin -  "…this. What about family? What about love... kids one day, maybe?"

Lucien blew out a breath and shook his head. "Not my bag, Princess. Ties don't do it for me."

"Everyone needs love, Lucien."

"Yeah, and Santa really exists." Lucien pushed his plate away. "Where's love got you, Sophie?"

Sophie dipped her head, stung by his words. Or stung by the truth behind his words. Love had got her precisely nowhere. Maybe he was right. He'd built a life for himself that was all about fun without heartache. What was so bad about that?

"But don't you get lonely sometimes?"

Lucien shrugged. "I own seven clubs and twenty nine retail shops around the country, and I have a staff of over five hundred, including a terribly distracting PA. I don't have time to be lonely."

Much as Sophie wanted to dig deeper, something in Lucien's face had shut down. His glittering eyes had dulled to a flat blue, and a muscle twitched along the hard set of his jaw. His answers had told her precisely nothing, and she got the distinct feeling that they had been structured to have exactly that effect. The man should be a politician. Who are you, Lucien Knight?

However intimate they had been over the last few days, in any way that counted, the man sitting opposite her was a complete stranger.

Lucien closed the bedroom door quietly, relieved that Sophie had accepted his suggestion that she change into jeans and try to catch up on some sleep for the rest of the flight. Her questions over breakfast had unsettled him. He wasn't lonely, and the last thing on his agenda was being shackled to someone else.

Why did anyone ever think monogamy was going to work? It wasn't natural. People were sexual beings, marriage artificially suppressed nature’s desires. It warped those who tried to conform to the rules, and made villains and victims out of those who failed.

Sophie's marriage was a case in point. Her husband was half way around the world enjoying the carnal pleasures of another woman's body, while his wife lay in bed recovering from her latest orgasm en route to the Arctic Circle. Where was the honesty there? Where was the love, and the much fabled respect?

Lucien glanced towards the bedroom door. He was determined that Sophie would enjoy far more carnal pleasures before she went home and into battle with her cheating husband.

Daniel Black was a worried man. He couldn't get hold of his wife. He could hardly make a scene about it with Maria, but Sophie's silence could only mean one thing. He wasn't a dramatic man, it didn't occur to him that anything untoward might have happened to her. Gut instinct told him that Sophie was choosing to avoid his calls. Cold fear wrapped clammy fingers around his heart at the thought that she knew about his affair.

Never in a million years did he entertain the idea that Sophie herself might be too busy in the arms of another man to listen to his ever more desperate pleas for her to pick up his messages.

Back in suburbia, their ordinary little semi stood neglected, the flashing red of the answering machine the only light in the place.

Red for hazard. Red for danger. Red for trouble ahead.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

"Are you sure I’m not going to die of hypothermia?"

Sophie cast an anxious glance at Lucien as the jet taxied to a halt on the small runway. Lucien had yet to elaborate on exactly where they were, but by the looks of the dramatic, snow-peaked landscape they'd flown over, they were somewhere extremely cold.

Lucien wound a soft black woollen scarf that smelt deliciously of him around her neck, having reached it down from an overhead locker.

"You'll be fine.” He cast a doubtful look at her feet. “Your shoes wouldn’t be most people’s choice for the Arctic Circle, but you'll be fine."

He pulled his leather jacket on and opened the aircraft doors with the ease of someone who did it often. "Welcome to Norway, Ms. Black. Mind your step."

He paused momentarily at the top of the steps, inhaled deeply, then headed down onto the tarmac with his head bowed. Sophie followed, relieved to feel the cool but by no means freezing wind on her cheeks as she breathed in the fresh crystal air.

Norway. Once again, Lucien had managed to do the last thing she'd expected. Any other playboy might have chosen Paris, or perhaps Venice. Not Lucien. For some unfathomable reason, he'd decided that the Arctic Circle was the appropriate setting for seduction.

He hustled her straight into the warm leather interior of a waiting limousine, and within seconds they were easing out of the small airport and onto the open road.

Sophie watched in wonder out of the window, exhilarated by her first glimpse of Norway. Snow-peaked mountains reared up into pale blue skies, fringed all around with lush early autumn greens and golds. It looked like a scene out of a picture book, too perfect to be real.

"It's breathtaking," she breathed, as much to herself as Lucien.

"Those are the Lyngen Alps.” Lucien gestured out of the window at the majestic mountains. "We're up in the very north of the country, high above the Arctic Circle."

"It's very beautiful." Sophie murmured. "I feel like Maria from The Sound of Music."

"Wrong country – that’s Austria," he corrected her, and slid an arm around her shoulders and pulled her against him in the plush rear seat of the car. "You can dress up as a governess if you like though. Or a nun."

Sophie rolled her eyes. "Do you ever not think about sex?"

"Where's the fun in that?"

Sophie looked back out at the beautiful scenery. He'd been joking, but she envied Lucien his outlook. He worked hard, played hard, and he never had his heart broken. As far as she knew, anyway. Wasn't that a better plan than most people's? Do a job you hate, watch too much TV, and lay yourself open to the devastation of love and loss?

"Do you come here often?" As soon as the words left Sophie's lips, she regretted them. She'd intended to ask a genuine question and managed to make it sound like a come-on. But Lucien didn't pull her up on the innuendo.