Page 21 of Modern Romance January 2025 5-8

She whirled, her bare feet dancing on the covers, her mouth agape at his unannounced entrance. ‘It’s only eleven-thirty in the morning,’ she stated suspiciously.

‘And you’ve proved that you’re too frail for long stretches of hard work.’ Not entirely true but... ‘I won’t have you near collapse. Break. Now.’

‘Sugar versus vinegar. You’ve heard which one gains you better results, right?’ She walked on the balls of her feet to the edge of the bed.

Jario barely registered that he’d moved and was holding out his hand to help her down. A gesture she refused, one leg sliding down the side of his bed with absorbing poise, then the other, all as she glared warily at him.

‘One rots your teeth and lulls you into a false, temporary sense of pleasure. The other leaves no doubt as to your intentions. But if you insist, you can keep working.’

Liquid brown eyes examined him and he sensed what was coming before she spoke. ‘Trust me, I’m far from frail. But fine, I’ll take a break. On condition that you answer one question.’

His heart thumped hard as he turned away from the sight of her maddeningly alluring body and walked to the door.

‘No. You’re in no position to request conditions.’

He wasn’t entirely sure why he was withholding the information. Because he wanted her to experience a fraction of the suffering he’d endured all these years? Or was it something else?

A visceral reluctance to catch even a sliver of pity in her eyes? Because wouldn’t he be opening his deepest wound? Laying it bloody and vulnerable to her judgement? Enduring the same pity he’d had no choice but to face when he’d first lost his father? When he’d been carted off to foster care because his mother had been too broken to care for him for months at a time? Jario didn’t want to recall the taunts from false friends who’d suddenly realised they had something to laud over him and viciously wielded it, nor did he want to relive the pity from their parents he’d received in those harrowing years.

Of course, none of them had lifted a finger to help the boy whose family had been shattered by one selfish man’s decision.

His stomach clenched hard in rejection at the thought at the same time as he was devising ways to make Willow pay if she so much as looked at him with any of those much-loathed emotions. Because Jario knew he would tell her sooner rather than later. Paul Chatterton had hidden in the dark long enough. His deplorable actions needed to be laid bare.

For now...he intended to enjoy this little game he was playing with his daughter.

‘Are you coming?’

Her elevated chin gave him a glimpse of her smooth skin, her delicate jaw. The pulse that continued to leap so frantically at her throat.

The throat that had attempted to close last night, spiking terror he hadn’t felt since—

Enough.

It wasn’t his fault that she’d failed to mention she had allergies.

‘You can stop with all the glaring. I’m very aware you hold the power. For now.’

Her taunt almost plucked a grin. He managed to kill it just in time. ‘For now? You expect the balance of power to change?’

She shrugged, approached him slowly, the roll of her hips far too entrancing as her fingers flicked between them. ‘I’m not going to do this with you forever. Besides, I’ve only been here a little over a day and you’ve confirmed there’s a connection between you and my father. If you don’t answer my questions, I’ll find out some other way. And this will end one way or another.’

Surprise—and a touch of unwanted disquiet—punched him hard in the gut, both at her continued defiance and the fact that for the first time since her arrival, his reaction didn’t come tinged with anger.

Instead, he was...intrigued. By her confidence and daring.

By how far he could push this woman.

By what it’d take to test her. To see if underneath all the bluster, she wasn’t as fickle and lily-livered as her father.

Is that all?

He ignored the snide query as he led them down one level, then another to the sea-level deck where some of his favourite toys were laid out, awaiting his pleasure. He considered then discarded the most obvious toys like his super jet ski and water skis.

Then he turned to her. ‘First things first. Can you swim?’

She frowned. ‘I thought I was taking a break?’

He let loose a smile he was sure didn’t look at all amiable. ‘From your duties, not from me. Answer the question.’