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‘No gossip,’ Ettie whispered loudly, but softened her rebuke with a smile at the maid.
The news didn’t surprise her. Of course he’d bed models. He was as striking as a model himself. He’d have no trouble getting any woman he wanted into bed. Even she’d responded to him on a purely primal level. He was so handsome it was almost painful. He was extraordinarily uptight, though, and he had a way of looking as if he could see right through her, while at the same time revealing nothing of his own thoughts.
Unabashed by Ettie’s warning, Jess just laughed. ‘Well, I think he’s gorgeous. I’d do him.’
‘He’s an unsmiling ogre,’ Joel grumbled. ‘An arrogant jerk who thinks he’s special.’
Well, with his obvious physical strength as well as his business success, he was a bit special. He had it all—looks, wealth, women…success.
‘He was unfairly harsh with you, Ettie,’ Joel added. ‘And as for George…’
Yeah, it was no surprise that her boss was nowhere to be seen—hiding out until the dust had settled, no doubt. But she smiled at the hint of protectiveness in Joel’s voice. ‘He’ll be even harsher if I don’t get all that stuff up to his apartment within the hour.’
‘Do you want help?’
She shook her head. ‘We’re behind down here already—you get on top of this for me and I’ll deal with the ogre.’
She had to go into his apartment. Repeatedly. Her heart beat stupidly quickly at the thought. The range of inappropriate images that rioted through her head at the prospect of turning up to his apartment early tomorrow morning… Would he be awake or sleepy? She’d bet her life he didn’t bother with pyjamas…but what if he had another dishevelled model-type with him? Ugh.
Get a grip and act like a professional.
Somehow she had less than fifteen minutes until the hour he’d given her was up, and she was not being late a second time today. With the dog in one arm and pushing a trolley with all his other stuff, she took the lift. She knocked but got no answer, so keyed in the security code.
‘Hello? Mr Kariakis?’ She walked into the apartment, but the room was silent.
Was she supposed to leave Toby alone in here or wait with him? Gritting back a frustrated sigh, she popped the dog down and turned to lift all his paraphernalia from the trolley. As she struggled with full arms, she noticed Toby wandering off towards a bedroom. She called to him quickly, dropping his water bowl as she hurried to catch him. And at that worst possible moment the ancient rubber band securing her ponytail snapped, sending her hair flying about her face in a mess of half-curls and straggle. She dumped the dog’s gear down in the middle of the room and glanced about for something to use. She spied a pen lying on the nearest table and quickly swiped it up. She twisted her unruly hair into a knot on top of her head and secured it with the pen. Thank heavens perfect Leon Kariakis wasn’t there to see her in such a debacle with the dog, basket, blankets and bowls all in a muddle at her feet.
‘Ms Roberts.’
She froze. And wasn’t that just her luck?
She swivelled to face him as he strode through from the bedroom. Usually it was at this point that she’d offer her first name to a new resident. Something held her back from doing so with Leon Kariakis, however. The grim look of disapproval on his face perhaps?
He still looked impeccable in that charcoal suit. She quelled the smidgeon of disappointment that he might’ve relaxed a little in his own space; it wasn’t to be.
‘You’re late,’ he said.
‘Actually, I’m right on time.’ She held up her watch and then walked further into the lounge, trying not to let her confidence plummet. Remote and controlled, he relentlessly watched her progress as she self-consciously set up Toby’s basket in a corner of the room with a stunning view of the city out of the floor-to-ceiling windows.
‘Is that my pen in your hair?’
She froze. Could his voice be any more arctic?
‘Sorry, my hair tie broke.’ She looked at him and registered the astonishment in his eyes. ‘It’s a special pen?’
‘It can write upside down.’
Was he kidding? She couldn’t contain an impish grin at his perennial solemnity. ‘You do handstands and take notes?’
Was that an answering glint of humour in his eyes now?
‘It’s my pen.’ He ignored her little joke. ‘You stole it.’
‘I borrowed it.’ So much for any chance of a sexy librarian look with the whole hair-tied-in-a-bun thing. The man didn’t soften an inch. She sighed. ‘You’d like it back right away?’
‘If you wouldn’t mind.’
Seriously? He was that uptight about a pen?
As she took it out her hair tumbled into chaos. She was too aware of his gaze lingering on the unruly mess and then he returned to look at her eyes. Suddenly she felt hotter than when she’d been furious about what was going to happen to Toby.
She held the pen out to him. Wordlessly he took it and put it into the breast pocket of his jacket. Over his heart.
She quickly turned away, wishing he’d just leave her to it. Instead he watched the fall of her hair, and her every other move as she set out Toby’s blanket and bowl. Toby padded straight into his basket and curled into a small ball.
Leon leaned against the wall, still watching intently as she gave the dog a couple of soothing pats.
‘Is there nothing you can’t do?’ he asked.
She was unwilling but unable to resist looking up at him. She wasn’t sure if he was being sarcastic or not, but she resolved to treat him as she did any other difficult client—with respect and distance.
‘There’s plenty I can’t do,’ she muttered softly. Keep her hair under control for one thing.
‘You’ve thought of everything.’
She straightened. ‘It’s my job to think of everything.’
‘And you’re very good at your job,’ he drawled.
She looked him directly in the eyes at that. ‘Yes, I am.’
Which was why he wasn’t going to sack her for her earlier mistake. Which was why she was going to maintain a professional distance from him now.
Ophelia needed her to keep this job. She needed to remember that. She’d ignore the silent, magnetic pull.
‘I assume Security has given you your own access code so it doesn’t matter if I’m here or not.’ His huskiness somehow built that sense of intimacy in the moment.
She nodded, momentarily fascinated by the discovery that his eyes weren’t completely wintry; there were almost amber lights in them. Warm ones.
‘This is a short-term solution,’ he said. ‘Until we can get him rehomed in a more suitable environment.’
‘Of course.’
Focus, Ettie.
She looked around the room and then sent him a sideways look. ‘Though this environment seems pretty suitable.’
Leon walked over to her and hunched down by Toby’s basket. ‘Is he always this subdued?’ He patted the dog gently again. ‘I wondered if he wasn’t well.’
Ettie smiled at him, pleased he was concerned. ‘He’s old and quiet and missing Harold. He’s probably wondering what on earth is going on…’
Leon absently scratched the dog’s ears.
‘His quality of life is good, though.’ Ettie looked at him earnestly.
‘Don’t worry. I’m not about to summon the vet.’
For a split-second Ettie relaxed, but she was then hit by a flood of intense pleasure at seeing this powerful man almost kneeling at her feet. It was dizzying. ‘I’ll leave you two to get to know each other, then.’ On an irresistible impulse, she teased him. ‘Perhaps you could smile at him? Make him feel welcome?’ That stupid suggestion had popped out before she’d thought better of it.
He suddenly stood. She’d not realised how near he was. Now he towered over her.
Don’t prod a grumpy beast.
‘Bare my teeth at him, you mean?’ he muttered quietly. ‘I’m not sure it’s wise to do that to a wolf.’
That low pull tugged deep in her belly—purely physical, animal magnetism that set off a melting sensation deep within. Restless, inappropriate desire. With it came recklessness.
‘One wolf to another?’ she nudged dangerously. ‘Don’t you ever just smile?’
Oh, yes, she’d crossed a line now.
He didn’t answer other than to stare down at her as if he couldn’t believe what he’d heard. As if he was contemplating what kind of retribution he was about to mete out…
He liked to take the time to think, right?
Ettie had forgotten how to think. Or move. Or even breathe. She just stared right back at him for an endless moment. He really was far too handsome. And far too serious. She was utterly mesmerised. ‘Thank you for taking care of him,’ she whispered.
Something fierce flared in his eyes. ‘Contrary to what you thought earlier, I’m not a monster.’
No, he wasn’t. And she guessed he was allowed to be as serious as he liked, in his own home and all.
‘I’m sorry for that mistake,’ she finally apologised. Flushing with heat, she brushed a lock of her rebellious hair back from her face. Again.
He watched her movement as intently and inscrutably as ever. ‘Thank you.’
She didn’t feel forgiven, she felt flayed.
She didn’t know if he stepped closer, or if she swayed, but suddenly there seemed to be no space at all between them. Her breath stalled in her lungs. He was so very close. But he was also utterly, inhumanly, still. He had such intensity of focus—expressionless, but not remote—and having that focus solely on her was more than dizzying, it was like being in the path of a lightning strike. She was going to get burned, but the chance to get lit up…?
Another long moment passed before her brain kicked back into operational mode. Oh, heaven, he probably thought she was waiting for him to make a move. He must get so many women throwing themselves at him. Models in the lift, remember? He’d never look twice at her. Mortified, she desperately clawed back her sanity and her dignity.
‘I’d better get back downstairs,’ she croaked, turned tail and fled.
* * *
Leon was hanging on to his control by the thinnest of threads. He’d spent the day determined to forget Antoinette Roberts. And for the first time in a very long time he’d spent a day failing.
She kept appearing in his thoughts—gorgeously fresh, her beautiful, wavy hair shimmering with every turn of her head. He never should have made her give his pen back because now he was beset with the fantasy of having that glorious hair spread across his pillows as the rest of her arched up to…
Leon stalked out of Cavendish House, his body aching. It was late in the evening but he’d not bother with dinner, he’d walk and wear himself out that way. Toby was fast asleep in his basket and too old to keep pace with him. He knew Antoinette had returned earlier to walk the dog and given him food. Leon had deliberately stayed away at the time, but the scent of her lingered in his rooms, sending his brain back into the direction he’d been trying to avoid all day.
Since when did he lose control over his own damn pulse? Ice-cool control was the one thing he always maintained. Antoinette Roberts threatened it with one fiery glance. Maybe it had been too long since he’d taken a lover. He should’ve taken up that offer last night.
Grimacing, he walked along the footpaths. The shops were open late and crowds milled about. He glanced sightlessly into the windows as he threaded through the masses. But through one immaculate window display he swore he recognised the gleaming rich hair of the petite woman standing with her back to him.
Great. Now he was seeing her everywhere.
But then he heard her voice as well—her lilting humour as she asked a customer if she needed help. He stared into the store, listening through the open door. Either Antoinette Roberts had a doppelgänger, or she’d come straight here after her shift at Cavendish and was now helping some woman choose a set of thank-you cards.
He walked in, quickly taking in the high-end stationery supplies the shop was stocked with. A couple of minutes later the female customer walked past him on her way out carrying a beautifully wrapped parcel and a satisfied smile on her face.
Leon walked up to the woman behind the counter. ‘Ms Roberts?’
It was definitely her. And he definitely couldn’t stop staring. Gone was the utilitarian, practical Cavendish concierge uniform and now she was in a lithe little black dress. He could finally see something of her legs and, just as he’d suspected, they were smooth, shapely and gorgeous. He’d known that if she could make those black trousers look sexy, she’d be dynamite in a dress. This one had a slightly scooped neckline, which meant there wasn’t anywhere near enough cleavage, but there was skin—creamy, silken-looking skin and the suggestion of sweet curves beneath the fabric. And her glorious hair was freed from that bouncing mess of a ponytail and now cascaded in glossy wild waves down her back. It looked lush, as if it’d be soft to touch and he’d bind it around his wrists—
‘Oh.’ A blush flooded her smooth cheeks and she licked her lips. ‘Mr Kariakis?’ Then her wide-eyed gaze narrowed. ‘You left Toby alone?’
The beseeching reproach in her eyes made him feel guilty even when he shouldn’t. ‘You know he ate a good dinner; now he’s fast asleep. He’s not missing me.’
The inward tension he’d been trying to settle tightened again. He’d needed to get out of that soulless apartment. He’d wanted to exorcise the ghost of her standing there, challenging him with that sassy look in her eyes as she’d flicked his stupid pen back at him. He’d been hopelessly distracted by the memory—but he was thrown back into that whirling web of desire again now.
‘What are you doing here?’ he asked irritably.
‘What do you think I’m doing?’ Her tone cooled to match his.
His tension spiked, he released it on her insane workload. ‘You’ve worked all day already.’
She stiffened. ‘Lots of people work more than one job. I’m sure you work long hours too.’
But there was a hint of tiredness in the backs of her eyes.
‘You’re tired.’ He refused to believe she wanted to work fourteen or more hours a day.
‘Oh, no,’ she answered airily. ‘Actually as soon as I’m done here, I’m going clubbing.’
‘Are you?’ He fired with her challenge. ‘Excellent. Take me with you—I’m new to town and don’t know all the cool places.’
A disconcerted expression crossed her face and he inwardly laughed. He couldn’t lie to himself any more. His offer to care for the dog was based in selfish motivation: to see more of Antoinette. He wanted her in his bed. Ideally tonight. It had hit in that first second—lust at first sight. Lust that was only increasing the longer he spent in her company. Perhaps if he satisfied the urge, it’d disappear as swiftly as it had come.
And her reaction to him? He could tempt her.
‘I…’ She glanced at her watch and that flush across her delicate, high cheekbones built.
It was five minutes until closing and he wasn’t planning on leaving. ‘You like working here?’
He made conversation to ease her embarrassment. Despite those delicious feisty flashes, she displayed hints of shyness. He found the combination unbelievably tantalising.
‘It’s nice.’ She nodded.
