There’s a line to walk here. I can’t fight Travis with the easy insults and brutality that I used on L.J., and, considering my goals, a little flirtation and seduction are fine . . . But I don’t want to sleep with this man. It shouldn’t be necessary. In fact, if he is in pursuit rather than satisfied, he’ll be easier to manipulate.

Sleeping with Lander was a prerequisite to getting into his home. And now I’ve managed to convince Lander to hide his relationship with me from his brother, a detail that will be very useful in the days and weeks to come.

Plus, with Lander the act is not . . . unenjoyable.

But being with Travis?

I shift my eyes to the window, hoping to push out the image of him laboring on top of me. The brothers look so much alike, but while Lander makes me want to throw him on the bed, Travis makes me want to throw him down a flight of stairs.

“If I were Jessica, I would be very grateful,” I say carefully. “She’s an incredibly lucky woman.”

“Luck has nothing to do with it. She earned her place . . . just as you’ll earn yours.”

He steps forward, lets his hand brush against my hip. “I’m a very generous man . . . or at least I can be when people do what I want them to do.”

I slide my eyes back to him. “And when they don’t?”

His hand moves to my ass. “Things go badly for them. But we don’t have to worry about that, do we, Bell? You’ve proven yourself to be very . . . obedient.”

I open my mouth to respond before I know exactly what I’m going to say—

The intercom buzzes then. “Mr. Gable?” It’s the voice of the receptionist. “Your father wants you to bring—wait, I have it here—the Ramirez report to his office right now. He wants the hard copy, he doesn’t want you to email it.”

“Your father works here?” I blurt out. “In the New York office?”

Travis glares at the intercom. “He usually works in London, but he’s back for a few weeks.” He jams his finger against the intercom. “Tell him I will be there in a few minutes.”

“He wants to see you now, sir.” The receptionist sounds almost chastising.

Travis snatches up the phone but then seems to think better of it and slams it down again.

“Wait here,” he growls before striding past me and leaving me alone in his office.

For a second I don’t move. Edmund Gable is the only Gable I’ve actually spoken to before all this. I was ten, but still there’s always the chance he’ll recognize me.

He was supposed to be in London!