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don’t have all day.’
    ‘Thank you, Roman.’
    Her attempt at meekness earned her a withering look. Lion’s head handle. No doubt the handle on his door was a fist.
    Building bridges? Not blasting them sky high...
    She felt his gaze following her as she ran up the stairs. Roman was so confident in his masculinity he made her feel awkward and inexperienced, as if all her past failed encounters with men were an open book to him. No doubt he was having a good laugh at her expense. She had left it too long to risk intimacy with a man. She didn’t like to do anything unless she did it well, and intimacy was one skill she didn’t possess.
    ‘Don’t look so worried, Eva.’
    She gasped as he bounded in front of her, taking the stairs two at a time.
    ‘You couldn’t be safer than you are with me.’
    His voice was deep and husky and vaguely amused. He did sense her embarrassment, and he was laughing at her.
    So let him. She shrugged as she reached the landing. ‘I don’t know what makes you think I’m worried. I can handle myself.’
    ‘So I hear,’ he said dryly.
    She hated herself for reacting so violently. All the tiny hairs on the back of her neck lifted, and heat pulsed insistently through her veins. The power emanating from him flowed around her, embracing her whether she liked it or not. Her sisters would be amazed to see her shaken like this—when they’d stopped laughing. What was so special about tall, dark and perfect, anyway? Why was her body insisting on behaving like this? Roman was so not her type. He was autocratic and overbearing. He was the most insufferable man she’d ever met.
    And the most attractive.
    He showed no interest in her as a woman, which was a relief. An absolute relief. But it wasn’t normal. He could at least pretend. That would be the polite thing to do. And weren’t aristocrats supposed to be courteous? Weren’t they all raised to behave differently from other people by ferocious nannies with thick rulebooks on how to behave?
    ‘Turn left, I said,’ he called out to her.
    I knew that. She casually retraced her steps, vowing to keep her thoughts restricted to what she had to do—which did not include fixating on Roman Quisvada.
    She checked each door down the long and airy corridor, longing to be safe behind one of them, and away from him, so she could calm down and cool off. Roman had disappeared somewhere in the opposite direction. Good. She’d had enough of Count Roman Quisvada and his sardonic face to last her a lifetime. But look at it this way: she only had to get through tonight at the wedding party. She would just have to bite her tongue.
    So long as she didn’t bite anything else, that should work.
    * * *
    He groaned with pleasure beneath an ice-cold shower. To his overheated skin the freezing water felt like soothing balm. His senses were heated thanks to Eva. She infuriated him. She attracted him, and that was distracting. There was unfinished business between them. Strength and fire had been his first impression of her at her sister’s wedding. His impression of her hadn’t changed, but Eva was more complex than he had first thought. She was elusive and thoughtful, passionate, and doggedly determined. And he had always liked a challenge. Eva Skavanga needed taming or she would continue to plague his mind.
    Quitting the shower, he grabbed a towel and rang one of his trusted aides in Skavanga. He needed more detail about her.
    ‘Mark? I need a briefing. Yes. Eva Skavanga. She’s here. What do you mean you knew that? Why on earth didn’t you tell me?’
    He listened to some rambling excuse and quickly realised that young Mark had fallen under Eva’s spell. ‘Well, now we both know.’ He cut his aide off impatiently. ‘Yes, of course she’s all right. Which brings me to my next question. You seem to be an admirer of this woman. Why? She seems to me to be more trouble than she’s worth?’
    ‘Don’t write her off,’ Mark advised. ‘Eva’s a hothead