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and when Morgan glared at him he thought that she’d worked out what he was thinking. ‘Of course. Nice to see you again, Morgan,’ he said, in his smoothest, blandest voice.
    Wish you were naked, by the way.
    ‘ Noah,’ Morgan said. Her eyes flicked over him, narrowed, and then she gave him a ‘you’re a bug and I’m desperate to squash you’ look.
    What was her problem? He hadn’t asked her to proposition him... Was she still annoyed because he’d said no? Come on, it was eight years ago—get over it, already.
    Noah held her defiant stare. He’d perfected his own implacable, don’t-mess-with-me stare in the forces, and it had had more than a couple of recruits and higher-ranking officers buckling under. When Morgan started to flush he knew had he won their silent battle of wills. This time.
    ‘Take a seat everyone.’
    Noah turned back to the table and pulled out the chair next to him for Morgan, gestured her into it. She narrowed her eyes at him, yanked it back another couple of inches in a flouncy display of defiance and dropped into it. Noah could smell her scent, something light and fresh, and felt a rush of blood heading south, making him feel almost light-headed. She still wore the same perfume and it transported him back to that night so long ago, when he’d tangled with temptation and by the skin of his teeth escaped.
    ‘Right, the first item of business...’ Hannah said, in a crisp, no-nonsense voice when they were all seated and looking at her expectantly. ‘I’m handing over the responsibility of the ball to you, Morgan, and it’s not under discussion. Make me proud.’

THREE
    When she was very tired, stressed or emotional Morgan saw dots in front of her eyes and the letters on a page danced and shuffled about. However, this was the first time the room had ever moved, that faces had bopped and objects jiggled.
    Morgan closed her eyes and wondered if she had imagined the last thirty seconds. She’d thought she’d heard her mother say that she wanted her to take over the organising the Moreau Charity Ball—the most anticipated ball on the international social scene, held once every five years, displaying the full collection of gemstones and jewellery the Moreau family had acquired over many generations.
    There were only three thousand guests attending, five hundred of whom were invited by Hannah herself from among their loyal customers, long-time business associates and preferred suppliers. For the rest, whether they were royalty or the average Joe, they had to place a bid for a double ticket and the highest bids won the highly sought after tickets.
    It was outrageous how much people were prepared to pay for a double ticket. Simply inconceivable... And that was why, along with the auction, the Moreau Charity Ball raised tens of millions for the various causes they supported around the world.
    But for their money their guests expected the best entertainers, visually stunning dress sets, Michelin star quality food—the whole gilt-plated bang-shoot.
    It was rich, it was exclusive, it was the social highlight of the half-decade. And if you wanted to be part of the experience then you paid, stratospherically, for the privilege of being there.
    And Hannah wanted her to run it? Morgan felt her throat constrict. She lifted her left hand and didn’t realise that she was groping for Noah’s hand until his strong fingers encircled her palm and squeezed.
    ‘Breathe,’ he told her, his voice authoritative even though it was pitched at a volume only she could hear. ‘Again; in and out. There you go.’
    Morgan felt the room settle as oxygen reached her brain and lungs. When she thought she could speak she licked her lips and considered removing her hand from Noah’s strong grasp. But since it seemed to be her only tenuous link to reality, she left it exactly where it was.
    Morgan made herself look at her mother, who had the slightest smile on her face. ‘Is this a joke?’
    ‘Not at all,’