Princess in the Iron Mask - By Victoria Parker Page 0,11

blunt fingers. Heat flushed through her core and her breasts grew strangely heavy. She stroked her clavicle and felt the burn sear her palm. Oh, great. Her body wasn’t complying with the new hate programme.

‘Accompany me to Arunthia, Claudia,’ he said, in a persuasive drawl that made her quiver. How was she meant to stay sane with a man who made her spontaneously combust? ‘Despite what you think, I understand your desire to crack the elusive code of an illness that must’ve been difficult for you, but surely you can continue to work from home during your stay? With your family’s support?’

Support? She almost choked. The very last thing she would ever get from her parents was support.

Lucas’s gaze dropped to her hands and she realised she was tugging at her cuffs with the tips of her fingers. Again. Her stomach nose-dived to the floor. His eyes were like fidget-seeking missiles. She couldn’t think straight around him. Instead of controlling her habits, which she usually managed to hide unerringly, she kept being distracted by him. Her attention constantly snagged on his long, powerful legs, his huge, masculine hands, his utterly contemptuous handsome-as-sin face. And no matter how hard she tried her traitorous mind kept imagining things—like those big hands touching her in all the places she felt warm and sensitive. Kissing her. Caressing her.

Heat slapped her cheeks. This had to stop!

Her life was crumbling before her eyes—her career, her life’s work, slipping through her fingers like grains of salt—and all she could think about was being kissed. If that wasn’t bad enough, she wanted the man who’d plotted her destruction to do it! She was seriously beginning to question her mental faculties.

Panic fired a shot of adrenaline down her spine, surging to every extremity. Her feet were the first to move and she swerved around the desk, walking towards the door with no forethought to her destination. But getting away from Lucas sounded like paradise.

Before she made it past he bolted forward, one hand outstretched, reaching for her. ‘Claudia. Dios! Stop. Do not walk away from me,’ he growled. ‘We are not done.’

Oh, God. She flinched, jerked backwards, and almost lost her footing. ‘Oh...’ Steely hands closed around her upper arms, steadying her, and she scrunched her eyes shut, unable to look at his face for fear of what she might see. Pity? Or, worse still, disgust?

Through two layers she could feel the heat of his palms, and the power of his grip fired a blaze of sorcery through her bloodstream. His breath tickled over her face and the scent of warm strong coffee wafted over her, making her crave a caffeine fix. As soon as she regained her balance his hands fell away and Claudia yearned for them to come back. Which was crazy for all kinds of reasons.

The noise of his throat clearing told her he’d moved back a pace or three, and Claudia opened one eye to check. Sure enough, he stood a few feet away, fists clenched, eyes raging with a storm. Darkness tainted his tone. ‘Where are you going, Claudia?’

Somewhat safer, she opened her other eye and practically ran towards the door. ‘I have to see Ryan Tate,’ she murmured, grateful for the excuse that flashed into her brain.

‘What?’ His thunderous voice became a distant blur as she swerved into the corridor. She imagined him standing there, his gorgeous blue eyes glittering with ire, his fists balled to stop himself from wrapping them around her throat.

‘Claudia, wait!’ he hollered. ‘We need to finish this. Now!’

‘Go to hell, Lucas.’

She kept on walking, blinded by a mind-fog, and within minutes, oblivious as to how she descended three floors, she was standing in front of Ryan Tate’s door, her fist hovering over the solid oak panel.

And then she saw it. The violent tremble in the hand poised in front of her. Then she felt it. The pain searing up her legs, crippling her entire body. Quickly she turned and leaned against the wall before her knees surrendered. Tipping her head back, the beige paint a glorious pillow, she closed her eyes and swallowed hard.

Come on Claudia, get a grip, she mouthed silently. Three weeks. Three and a half million pounds. Keep your distance. Stay away from Lucas the Devastating. You can do this.

She just had to remain strong and self-reliant. Always self-reliant.

You don’t get close, you don’t get hurt. Breathe, Claudia, breathe.

Time ticked by, the trembling subsided, and the pain dulled to its usual ache. Finally able to