“Until I began researching piracy I didn’t realize that until recently, few countries worked together … that for the most part, most countries just focused on their own pirated vessels,” Morgan answered.

Rowan shrugged. “Typical nationalistic reaction.”

“How so?”

“Every country has its own navy, military intelligence and sources, so it’s not easy getting everyone on the same page. Governments are protective of their military and don’t want to share resources,” he answered her.

Morgan frowned. “But you’re military?”

“Former, yes. Just as most of us in maritime intelligence have served in one arm of the navy or another.”

“Were you in the Royal Navy?” she asked.

“I’ve actually served in both the U.S. Navy and the Royal Navy, but at different times and in different capacities.”

Morgan glanced to Drakon and then back to Rowan. “How is that possible?”

“I have dual nationalities … I was born in Northern Ireland to an Irish mother, and an American Greek father, giving me both American and British citizenship.”

“Irish, too,” Drakon said.

“They let you have all those passports?” Morgan asked, rather amazed.

Rowan shrugged. “If you’re good at what you do.”

“And you are good, I take it?”

His lips curved but the smile didn’t reach his eyes. “Have to be. There’s a lot at stake—” He broke off as the sound of high heels clicking briskly on hard tiles echoed in the hallway.

They were all listening to the footsteps and Morgan stiffened, her shoulders drawing back as unease rolled through her in a huge dark wave.

Bronwyn.

Morgan went hot and then cold. But no, it couldn’t be. What would Bronwyn be doing here?

And yet no one else walked that way. No one else sounded so fiercely confident in high stiletto heels.

Then there she was, appearing in the dining room doorway as if she owned Villa Angelica, as tall and blonde and statuesque as ever, dressed tonight in a formfitting red jersey knit that clung to her curves, making the most of her voluptuous body. Bronwyn, a stunning blonde with brilliant blue eyes and a dark golden tan, knew how to make an entrance.

“Hope I haven’t kept you waiting,” she said, smiling, as her gaze swept the dining room, before lingering on Drakon.

Morgan’s stomach hurt as she saw the way Bronwyn looked at Drakon. Drakon had always said that Bronwyn was just part of his management team, a valuable employee and nothing more, but from the possessive expression on Bronwyn’s face, Morgan knew that Bronwyn was fiercely attached to Drakon.

“You haven’t kept us waiting,” Drakon answered, rising and gesturing to a chair at the table. “Join us. Have you eaten? Would you like coffee? Something sweet?”

Bronwyn flashed Drakon a grateful smile as she moved around the dining room table to take an empty chair. “A glass of wine would be perfect. You know what I like.”

Morgan ground her teeth together as she glanced from Bronwyn to Drakon and then back to Bronwyn again. How could he have invited her here, now, when they were in the middle of a crisis? How could he possibly think it was appropriate?