“Five miles.”

  Five miles there, then a good thirty miles back to the construction site.

  Minutes later, after driving through a deep gorge, Constantine picked up the radio handset again, tried the frequency then set the handpiece down. “That’s it. We’re out of radio range for the next few minutes. Now we can talk.”

  His voice was curt as he outlined the business plan for Ambrosi Pearls. He had taken a look at the structure and none of the staff would go, although that would be open for review. Given that the business had been tightly run and had only stumbled because of the debt load imposed by her father, redundancies weren’t an option at this point. “Ambrosi Pearls stays in business.” There was a brief, electric pause. “But you have to go. Lucas is taking a block of shares. He’ll be stepping in as CEO.”

  Blankly, Sienna wrenched her gaze from Constantine’s profile, her mind fixed on his statement that she would have to go.

  “Let me get this straight, you want me out of the company completely?”

  “That’s right, and I’m not asking.”

  She stared at the stark line of the horizon, rugged hills and more rugged hills threaded by the road they were presently following. She had been braced for demotion. She had not expected to be fired.

  She peeled her dark glasses off and rubbed at the sudden sharp ache in her temples. She could feel Constantine studying her, the ratcheting tension.

  Although she should have expected this.

  Constantine lived on Medinos, therefore it would be difficult for her to remain based in Sydney.

  Constantine slowed to a crawl as he drove across a stretch of road that looked like it served a double purpose as a streambed during the wet season. “We signed a contract. You agreed to be my wife.”

  Her jaw set. “At no point did I agree to give up my job.”

  Ambrosi Pearls was her baby. She had nursed it through bad times and worse, working crazy hours, losing sleep and reveling in even the smallest victory. She knew every aspect of the business, every employee personally, and their families; they were a tight-knit team. Despite the stress and the worry the company was hers. She was the captain of the team. Ambrosi Pearls couldn’t run without her. She felt the cool touch of his gaze.

  “I want your loyalties to lie with me, not Ambrosi Pearls. We’ll be based in Medinos. Running an Australian business won’t be an option.”

  She stared at the road unfurling ahead, the blinding blue intensity of the sky, the vastness of the sea in the distance. “You run any number of hotels and companies from Medinos.”

  “Each one has a resident manager. In this case it will be Lucas.”

  He was right—she knew it—but that didn’t make relinquishing Ambrosi Pearls any easier. From childhood she had grown up with the knowledge that, love it or hate it, she would run the family business. “I’m good at what I do. I’ve studied, trained—”

  He braked, allowing a small herd of goats to drift desultorily off the road. “I know how focused you’ve been on Ambrosi Pearls. No one better.”

  “Plenty of women juggle a career and marriage.”

  “Ambrosi Pearls will not be part of this equation.”

  “Why not?”

  His gaze sliced back to hers. “Because I refuse to take second place to a briefcase filled with sales orders.”

  Sienna jammed her dark glasses back on the bridge of her nose, abruptly furious at Constantine’s hardheaded ruthlessness. “You still don’t trust me.”

  Less than an hour ago she had let him kiss her. He had manipulated her into agreeing to a lot more, despite knowing he was going to sack her while they were driving. “Looking after Ambrosi Pearls has never been just about business. It’s part of my family. It’s in my blood.”

  Gaze narrowed, she stared directly ahead, searching for a place where Constantine could comfortably turn the truck around. “I’ve changed my mind. I want to go back.”

  “No. You agreed to this.”

  “That was before you fired me.”

  “We’re spending the night at a beach house up ahead. I’m taking you back in the morning.”

  Her head snapped around. “I did not agree to that. I do not, repeat, do not, want to spend the night with you. Take me back to the construction site. There must be some kind of regular transport service for the workers. If I’m too late to catch whatever boat or helicopter they use, I’ll use the satellite phone in the office to call in my own ride.”

  “No.” His voice was calmly neutral. “The beach house is clean, comfortable and stocked with food.”

  She could feel the blood pounding through her veins, her temper increasing with every fiery pulse. “Let me guess, no landline, no cell phone network, no internet connection…just you and me.”

  “And no press, for approximately twelve hours.”

  With movements that were unnaturally calm, given that she was literally shaking with fury, she unlatched her briefcase and retrieved her cell. She stared at the “no service” message on the screen. Any hope died.

  The pearl facility was sited on the western side of the island, tucked into a sheltered bay directly behind the range of hills that was presently looming over them, blocking transmission. “Turn the truck around. Now.”

  She repeated her request that he turn around immediately.

  When he ignored her for the second time, she studied the tough line of his jaw, the dark glasses that hid his eyes, and gauged her chances of yanking the key out of the ignition.

  “I don’t want to spend the night in some beach house,” she said, spacing the words. “I don’t want to drive one more mile with you. I’d rather crawl across the island and die of thirst, or swim to Medinos. And if you think I’m going to have sex with you, you can think again. Think dying or rabid thirst, because either of those two things will happen first.”

  The stare he gave her was vaguely disconcerted, as if he was weighing up which parts of her statements she would actually carry out. It was then she realized that he really did think he was still going to be having sex with her.

  He turned back to the road, his jaw set. “We’re almost there.”

  The landscape had changed, flattening out as they neared the coast. Blunt outcroppings smudged with grayish-green scrub and the occasional gnarled olive tree dotted the roadside.

  He negotiated another bend and suddenly they were driving alongside the deep, green river again.

  Her frustration escalated. Apart from throwing a tantrum, she was almost out of options—and she didn’t do tantrums. She liked coolness and precision—pages of neat figures, relationships that progressed logically. She liked forward planning because she liked to win.

  Briefly, she outlined plan B. Drive to a place where she could get cell phone service—there had to be a viable high point on this island somewhere—and call in a helicopter. Out here, with the primitive lack of any telephone or power lines, it could land virtually anywhere. If Constantine did what she asked, she wouldn’t take this to the police or the newspapers. But if he kept driving all bets were off, and she would sue his ass.

  Constantine had the gall to laugh.

  A red mist actually swam before her eyes. Her hand shot out and grasped the wheel. He was momentarily distracted while she lunged at the key.

  Any idea that she could get out of the truck and make it to a high point on her own was just that, a wild idea. All she wanted was to jolt Constantine out of his stubborn mind-set, stop the vehicle and make him listen.

  Constantine jerked her hand off the wheel. Not that that was any big deal, because the maneuver was only a distraction while she grabbed at the elusive prize of the key. Unfortunately, when she had lunged forward, the seat belt had locked her in place, so she’d had to regroup and try again, which had cost her valuable time. Even then her fingertips could only brush the key.

  Constantine said something hard and flat. Her head jerked up, not so much at the word, but at the way he’d uttered it.

  She saw the washout ahead, which had gouged a crescent-shaped bite out of the road, a split second before the front wheel dropped into the hole. If Constantine had had his full attention on driving, he would have negotiated the hole. A floodplain fanned out on the driver’s side. He could have detoured for fifty meters without a problem.

  Constantine swung the wheel and gunned the motor, but with the ground crumbling under the rear left wheel there was no way he could pull them back on an even keel.

  With a lurch, the truck tilted further.

  There was a beat of silence, because Constantine had achieved what she had been trying to do and had turned the engine off. For an endless moment they teetered on two wheels then, with a slow, lumbering grace, the truck toppled sideways.

  Fourteen

  The distance from the road to the river below wasn’t horrendous. From the vehicle it had looked tame, just another eroded riverbank, softened by time and not even particularly steep. But, like the moment when a roller coaster paused on the edge of a drop, no matter how small, the distance suddenly seemed enormous.

  Sienna’s seat belt held her plastered against the seat as the truck made a clumsy half revolution. Her glasses slid off her nose and a dark shape tumbled past her jaw—her briefcase. The vehicle rocked to a halt. They had stopped rolling, but they had ended upside down, hanging suspended by the seat belts. And they were in the river.

  For a heartening moment they bobbed, the murky waterline changing as the truck settled lower. The light began to go as they were almost completely submerged by tea-colored water, tinted, she realized, by the mud that had been stirred up when the truck had disturbed the riverbed.

  “Are you all right?”

  She turned her head and stared at Constantine. He had a welt on his cheekbone, but otherwise he was in one piece. Apart from the fact that the truck had turned into a submarine and there was something trickling across her scalp—at a guess, blood, which meant she must have banged her head—she was good to go. “Just show me the exit sign.”

  “Good girl.”

  The truck was stationary, which meant the roof was sitting on the bottom of the river. That indicated that the depth was shallow, probably not even deep enough to cover the truck fully, but since water was hosing in at various points, getting out was a priority.

  A sharp metallic click drew her attention away from the swirling mud and she realized that Constantine had been talking in a low voice. She forced herself to pay attention.

  Constantine had already unclipped his seat belt. Using the steering wheel as a handhold, he lowered himself to the roof, which was now their floor, and reversed his position so that he was upright, his back and shoulders wedged against the dash. To do so he had to slide right next to her, because the steering wheel and the gear shift made maneuvering his big frame in the limited space of the cab even more difficult. There was no way he could stand upright.

  Constantine leaned across her. She realized he was checking out her door. “The roof crumpled slightly when we went over. Not much, but enough that the doors won’t open, so we’re going to have to go out through the windows.”

  He unsnapped her seat belt and caught her as she fell, torpedoing into the deepening puddle of water. With her nose squashed against one rock-hard thigh, she hooked her fingers into the waistband of his jeans and awkwardly jackknifed in the confined space while he kept a firm grip on her waist, holding her steady. She ended up plastered against him from nose to thighs, his arms clamped around her like a vice and with the back of her neck jammed against the edge of the seat. But at least she was finally up the right way, which was a relief, although with her head in the darker floor cavity, the feeling of claustrophobia had increased.

  “We’re going to have to swim for it, but that shouldn’t be a problem since we both know how good you are in the water.”

  Was that sarcasm? But with water creeping up her ankles she couldn’t drum up an ounce of righteous indignation.

  Constantine reached across her. She realized he was groping for the window which, luckily, was a manual wind-up type and not electric.

  She tried to shuffle sideways, allowing him more room. In the process the top of her foot nudged against a hard object—her briefcase.

  She had an instant replay of the sleek, black leather case flying around the cab—the probable cause of the stinging on her scalp. But the injury wasn’t what obsessed her in that moment. The accident, stressful as it was, had had a strange effect. Her fury had zapped out of existence and the tension that normally hummed between them was gone. For the first time in two years, stuck upside down in a cab with Constantine as he took control in that calm, alpha way of his, she felt content and almost frighteningly happy.

  It was a strange time to realize that despite the constant battles, at a bedrock level she trusted Constantine, and that two years ago when everything had gone wrong this was what she had needed from him.

  “You’re going out first,” he said quietly. “I’ll follow.”

  “No problem.” Now that the mud had settled she could see that they were only a couple of feet from the surface. The biggest issue would be the few seconds wait while the cab filled with water. The moment most people would panic would be when the water gushed in. The important thing was to stay calm and hold her breath while the cab filled, because the last she wanted was to swallow a mouthful of river water.

  “I’m going to unwind the window. Once the cab is full, you’ll have to squeeze out the window. Are you good to go?”

  Her head was throbbing a little, but she still felt pumped. Constantine’s gaze was inches from hers. With water creeping up her legs and the muscular heat from his body blazing into her, if she hadn’t been so at odds with him, she might have given into a Poseidon Adventure moment. “Just a second.”

  She bent her knees and slid down the front of his body. “Don’t get any ideas.”

  She felt around in the water. Her fingers closed around the briefcase handle.

  “Leave that.”

  Leave her laptop underwater? “No. I can use it as a flotation device.”

  “You can swim like a fish. You don’t need a flotation device.”

  Sienna’s head jerked up at his tone, connecting sharply with the back of the seat. A stab of pain shot through her. She had somehow managed to reinjure the same spot, which was now aching. She met his glare with her own version of a steely look. “I don’t see why I should lose something I love just because you think it’s a good idea.” And with any luck the briefcase would be waterproof enough that the laptop would survive.

  “I wonder whose idea it was to ‘lose’ the truck?”

  The dryness of his tone flicked her on the raw.

  Maybe the briefcase shouldn’t be a sticking point, but suddenly it very palpably was. She had lost her company and her career, there was nothing she could do about that, but the briefcase was hers. “I’m happy to take the blame for the truck. Just don’t blame me for the fact that you haven’t gotten around to repairing your road.”

  “Why did I ever think this was viable?” Constantine jerked her close and pressed a brief, hard kiss on her mouth.

  Adrenaline and desire shot through her. Constantine’s gaze locked with hers and she had another moment, one that made her heart simultaneously soar and plummet. Her head was stinging and she was angry at the way he had all but kidnapped her, but those considerations were overridden by one salient fact.

  No matter what he did, how badly he behaved, she still wanted Constantine. And not just in a sexual way. Her problem was that she wanted all of him—the overbearing dominance and the manipulative way he had pressured her into going into the wilderness with him so he could fire her then keep her prisoner until she forgave him. She wanted the aggravating challenge of his cold, ruthless streak and take-no-prisoners attitude, the flashes of humor. And last, and by no means least, she really, really wanted the heart-pounding sex.

  “What now?” he growled, although that didn’t fool her. He wanted her, too, and no amount of bad temper could hide that fact.

  “Nothing,” she snapped back. “As you can see I’m ready to go. I’ve been ready for ages.”

  A bare second later water flooded into the cab. The swamping flow would have shoved her sideways but Constantine held her firmly anchored against him. Closing her eyes and holding her breath, she counted and waited until the cold pressurized flow stopped. She opened her eyes on eight. The cab, now filled with water, was dimmer than before, although sunlight shafted through the windows.

  Keeping a firm grip on the case, she levered herself out of the window, and kicked to the surface, into blue sky and hot sunlight.

  She gulped air and treaded water while she got her bearings. The truck was completely submerged, the only sign of its presence in the river a muddy streak where silt and dirt stained the water. A raw gash on the bank marked the spot where they had gone off the road, but that, she realized was receding.

  The current was carrying her downstream at a steady pace. Crumbling banks, eroded by time and scoured by flash floods, rose on either side of her. Despite the sunlight, the water was icy, but that wasn’t her biggest problem. Constantine still hadn’t surfaced.

  Sucking in a breath and, yes, using the case as a flotation device, she kicked toward shore. She could swim against the current, but she would get back to the truck faster by getting onto dry land and jogging back.

  Seconds later, her feet found the bottom of the river. Slipping and sliding on rocks, she slogged toward the shore, scanning the smooth green surface as she went. It was entirely possible that Constantine had surfaced for air then gone back down to the truck to retrieve something—maybe the radio set—and she had missed that moment. When she had surfaced she had been too busy hanging on to the briefcase to notice.

  Setting the case down she jogged toward the gash in the bank that was now the only marker for the place the truck had gone in, since the muddy streak in the water had cleared. Simultaneously, Constantine surfaced from the now dimly visible shape of the truck, a pack in one hand.