Stifling the urge to laugh was impossible. It slipped out of me. He made me smile and laugh with the stiff-upper-lipped, civilized British sarcasm he used so liberally in his speech. Even more when arguing a point—which, I might add, he did often. It seemed that Ivan had no problem at all offering up plenty of arguments for why his way was the right and correct decision. Must be the politician in him. My lord indeed. A lord in life and in personality really existed on the earth. Somehow, I’d found a unicorn. Or… the unicorn had somehow found me.

Just listening to Ivan talk was enjoyable to me for some reason. That voice of his… A mercurial beast in a Brunello Cucinelli suit. A sophisticated savage. A Greek god—my Eros asking for permission to worship at my temple. When he spoke, the words that came out of his mouth were something just so very beautiful—

Words saying, I was sexy and gorgeous. Words commanding me to take him inside me and submit to his desires. Words so very filthy, but also perfectly placed in divine moments of deliciously dirty fucking. Words kissed over my body and caressed into my skin reverently. Words laughed back at me for something witty I’d said. Words of compliment, but also of the most brutal honesty.

“The little laugh you just gave me tells me all I need to know, Miss Hargreave. Thank you for that. Because now I know you’re going to sign that contract, and then we can negotiate the rest. I will require a non-disclosure for privacy reasons. Which will cover the collection’s contents as well as your relationship with me, and also extend to any time you’re here in residence at the estate. You can’t discuss any of it with anybody. The non-disclosure takes precedence over the contract for the art evaluation, I’m afraid. I hope you won’t have a problem with that.” He stared down at me, probably trying to read my reaction to his requirement of a non-disclosure agreement for being here at Donadea, regardless of what I was doing. Evaluating his art collection or working off the sexual tension surrounding us like a brewing storm cloud which never quite blew clear through. I’d be doing both if I accepted and signed. Yes, maintaining his privacy here at this lovely aristocratic oasis perched among the wildness of the North Irish coast was indeed extremely important to Ivan Everley. Even I could deduce that significant fact at this juncture just from our limited encounters with each other up till now. God, the night I showed up here in the rain and surprised him… He was so enraged at his privacy being breached, mistaken identity or not. It was a trigger for him. One I’d have to remember.

But it was important for me to make one more thing clear to him before he started asking for signatures on contracts. He needed to know. “Ivan, as long as you understand that the submission happens behind the door for me. It won’t ever cross over into the rest of my life, or my work. During sex is the only time I feel the desire—when I feel like giving up control to another person. The only time.”