Then a boat horn trumpeted far below, the sound muted by 117 storeys.

‘Compromise?’

‘Certainly.’ A superb negotiator, he knew better than to refuse.

‘If I’m uncomfortable, we’ll leave.’

He liked how she said ‘We’. He liked even more that her compromise didn’t involve reneging on the six days. ‘Agreed,’ he affably said.

‘Very well.’ She took a small breath. ‘I’m good.’

He didn’t say, ‘I would have taken you there no matter what.’ He said instead with exquisite courtesy and a winning smile, ‘Thank you.’

As if she actually could have said no, she silently admitted, when Dominic Knight dispensed pleasure beyond the limits of any measure known to man. And not just sexual pleasure – the full gamut of creature comforts and joy.

‘They’re bringing up coffee at eight, along with some other food I ordered. Do you want anything?’ He had what he wanted; he was willing to indulge her every whim. He smiled. ‘Bacon sandwiches, perhaps?’

‘Bacon sandwiches sound wonderful. I’m starved. You worked me like a field hand last night.’ With all the vexing issues of wanting someone too much dismissed, she stretched lazily like a cat in the sun, satisfied and content.

Don’t touch, he warned himself, as she sensuously arched her back and her large, luxurious breasts rose in flagrant display. Not yet. ‘We could argue about who worked whom harder,’ he said with a smile. ‘But I enjoyed myself, Miss Hart. I just want you to know.’

‘Thank you, Mr Knight,’ she said, lowering her lashes coyly in play. ‘I thoroughly enjoyed myself as well.’

He chuckled. ‘Very tempting, Miss Hart. Virtuous maids are in short supply.’

She gave him a seductive little glance. ‘Please be gentle, sir.’

He dragged in a breath, slowly blew it out, reined in his libido. ‘We’ll have to wait on this game. Unfortunately, I have too many calls to make, too many messages to retrieve. And,’ he added with a grin, ‘if you don’t mind my mentioning it, you could use a shower.’

‘It’s not my fault,’ she said with an answering grin. ‘You were the one who came in me all night.’

‘With great delight, I’ll have you know.’ Giving in to temptation, he rolled on his side, slid his hand between her legs, slipped two fingers up her sleek cleft. ‘Ummm … nice and wet.’ He shut his eyes, called on every shred of will-power he possessed, then rolled away with a grudging sigh. ‘You have an incredibly tempting pussy, Miss Hart. But I’ve probably forty emails by now that need answering. So duty calls.’ Throwing his legs over the side of the bed, he grabbed his phone from the bedside table and came to his feet. ‘Let’s say breakfast in my suite at eight.’ He started to walk away. ‘It’s the corner one down the hall.’

‘Would you care to join me in the shower?’ She wanted him every minute, every second. It was awesome and terrifying.

He turned and glanced up from scrolling down his messages. ‘Next time.’ His voice was distracted, his gaze returning to his phone. ‘Dammit. I thought I dealt with that yesterday. If you’ll excuse me.’ And he strode away, indifferent to his nudity, the phone to his ear.

*

He called his driver next and made plans to have them driven to the launch. ‘I’ll call you back when I know the exact time.’

After that, he spent fifteen minutes dealing with the most pressing of his messages.

Then he called the concierge for a number and at seven-twenty he made one of the calls he needed to make before they left the hotel.

‘I apologize, Mrs Hawthorne, for ringing you at home so early in the morning, but I have a rather urgent request. I’m Dominic Knight. If you could accommodate me, I’d be most grateful.’

It came as no surprise when he heard a warm, cultivated English accent say, ‘How may I help you?’ Money always talked.

‘I understand your shop is the best in the territory,’ he pleasantly said. ‘And I need your help. I have a guest staying at my house and I’d like to supplement her wardrobe. Let’s see.’ He glanced down at the open folder on the dining room table. ‘She’s five foot five, 110 pounds – that’s about … what, fifty kilos – and – ah – here it is … she’s an American size eight or nine. Does that help? She has very large breasts, by the way, so bring whatever you have in those sizes.’

‘I’m not quite sure what you want. Could you be more precise?’ Her male clients were generally unaware of anything other than they wanted something black and risqué.

‘Whatever women wear under their clothes, Mrs Hawthorne. You’d know that better than I.’

‘A full selection of lingerie, then?’ That was unusual.

‘Yes, and some nightwear too. Robes, pyjamas with buttons. Bring whatever you have in your shop. I’ll buy it all. And come alone. I don’t want any gossip.’

He didn’t ask about price, but price probably wasn’t an issue to someone who said, ‘I’ll buy it all.’ ‘When would you like me there?’ Mrs Hawthorne inquired. No one in Hong Kong had to ask where Dominic Knight lived. He owned the original governor’s mansion on The Peak.

‘Say ten thirty? Is that time enough for you to collect the things we need?’

We. If her livelihood didn’t depend on complete discretion, that word would have been broadcast around Hong Kong within the hour. Dominic Knight was notorious not only for his wealth and the latitude of his vice, but for his lack of interest in normal female relationships since his wife’s death. ‘I’ll be there at ten thirty’ Anxious to meet this paragon of womanhood who had wrought such a major upheaval.