Hired: The Italian's Convenient Mistress

Only Ainslie herself wasn’t soothed. Clemmie and Jack had both regularly woken in the night and, used to sleeping light, she’d woken when Guido had first whimpered. She had been stumbling down the hall by the time his screaming had started, and had been able to quickly soothe him—deliberately not turning on the light, so her strange presence wouldn’t alarm him. Instead she’d replaced his blanket, as Elijah had mentioned, and patting his back had gently hushed him. And then Elijah had come to the door, breathless, as if he’d been running.

‘He’s nearly back to sleep,’ she whispered as he came over quietly. Ainslie lowered her head back into the crib.

Suddenly she was glad for the dim lighting in the room, because her face was one burning blush at the sight of Elijah wearing nothing more than a towel, and she was absolutely aware of his presence as he stood beside her till she was happy that Guido was asleep.

Of course he’d be wearing nothing, Ainslie scolded herself as they crept out of the bedroom. He hadn’t exactly had time to pack, and she couldn’t somehow see a man like Elijah rummaging through his dead brother-in-law’s clothes to find something to wear.

But that wasn’t the problem and she knew it—hell, she’d caught Angus, her old employer, on the landing in nothing more than a pair of boxers loads of times, and it had done nothing for her, nothing at all, had barely merited a thought. But walking along the landing behind Elijah, seeing the taut definition of his muscled back, the silky olive skin, inhaling the soapy masculine scent of him, well, it merited more than just a thought.

‘Goodnight.’ He turned to face her, his hair all rumpled from falling asleep with it wet, still unshaven, his incredibly beautiful eyes dark wells of anguish as he hesitated to go. ‘Do you think he knows? Do you think he knows that they are gone?’

‘On some level, perhaps.’ She was helpless to comfort him—had been wondering the same thing herself as she’d soothed the little boy back to sleep. ‘He’ll know things are different, he’ll be unsettled and he’ll want his parents. But so long as his little world is safe he’ll be okay.’

‘Will he remember them?’ He delivered a slightly mocking laugh to himself. ‘Of course he won’t.’

‘I don’t agree,’ Ainslie said gently, because it was up to Elijah now to turn the fragile images Guido held and somehow merge them into his life. ‘I mean, there will be pictures, DVDs with them on it that he can watch over and over. I don’t know much about child grief, but I think…’

‘I can hardly remember,’ Elijah said, explaining the mocking laugh. ‘I can hardly remember my mother at all—and she died when I was five. Guido is not even two. He’s only fifteen months old.’

‘Did your father talk to you about her?’ Ainslie pushed, but she already knew the answer. ‘You can make it different for Guido.’

‘Can I?’

Her hand instinctively reached out for his arm, touching him as she would anyone in so much pain. Only the contact, the feeling of his skin beneath her fingers, the hairs on his arm, the satin of his skin against her palm, the touch that had been offered as comfort, shifted to something else entirely as her eyes jerked to his.

At any point she could have reclaimed her hand. At any point she could have said goodnight and gone back to her room. Only she didn’t—couldn’t. The air thrummed with the thick scent of arousal—grief and shock a strange propellant, one that forced a million emotions into the air in one very direct hit, accelerating feelings and blurring boundaries. The day that had left them both reeling, forced them to go through the motions, to run on sheer adrenaline, was at an end now, and now they paused—paused long enough to draw breath before the impossible race started again. A race neither wanted to resume.

Just easier, far easier, to ignore the pain for a moment, to stand and instead of facing the future face each other.

Elijah stared into her eyes as he tried to picture the last few hours without her in it. Always he had a solution—another plan to initiate if things didn’t go his way. There was nothing that truly daunted him. But walking out of that hospital, holding his nephew in his arms, he had felt the weight of responsibility overwhelm him. Gripped with fear, not for himself but for Guido, he had had no glimmer of a plan, no thought process to follow, had just clung on to his nephew as he’d clung to him. And then she had come along—an angel descending when he’d needed it most. And he needed her now.

‘Why did you stop?’ His voice was low, his question important.

‘Why wouldn’t I stop?’ Ainslie blinked. ‘You needed help.’

‘But no one else did.’

Hundreds had passed him that day—had jammed against him on the underground, hadn’t made room as he’d lifted the stroller, had squashed into Guido as if they didn’t even notice he was there. At the platform before he’d met her many had seen him struggle, and out of all of them she was the only one who had tried to help. He didn’t want to picture how this night would have been without her kind concern. Didn’t want to envisage stepping into this house alone with Guido. Didn’t want to think about any of it for even a second longer…

His breath was getting faster now, the nightmare coming back, and he struggled to surface from it, to drag in air and escape. He needed her now just as much, if not more, than then. He drew comfort in the only way he knew how. He lowered his mouth and claimed hers, the bliss of contact fulfilling a craving, a need for escape—such a balmy escape—the medicine so sweet, the feel of her in his arms like a haven.

For a second she resisted, fought the urge to kiss him back. The speed of it all, the inappropriateness, flitted into her mind, then flitted out—because maybe she craved oblivion too. As his tongue parted her lips and his skilled mouth searched hers Ainslie thought that maybe it was because she’d never been so thoroughly kissed before. The wretched, wretched day was fading—the sting of Gemma’s accusations, the panic and fear that had gripped her when she’d found herself alone in a strange city—all was abating as with his mouth he soothed and excited.

In this crazy day he had helped her too—was helping her now.

This heady, blinding kiss was frenzied almost—like an anaesthetic, dousing pain, dimming thought. His hands knotted in her hair as he drank from her mouth, his mouth so hot on hers there was a delicious hurt. Deep lusty kisses both claimed and bestowed, and each breath she took was his, each breath she gave he gulped in. It was a dangerous kiss that could only lead moreto more. Yet somehow he made her feel safe, his strong arms holding her, his hands clutching her to him, his lips grazing her neck, the scratch of his chin on her sensitive skin making her weak. She’d never been kissed like this before—never been wanted or wanted so badly herself. The heady rush fizzed in her veins, racing around her body—stroking her pelvic floor like an inner caress. And it had to stop, because if it didn’t then they wouldn’t.

Pulling back her head, though his arms still circled her body, she called a reluctant halt. Both were staring, both breathing as if they had run a mile. The delicious shock doused her, her own body’s response astonished her— every encounter in her life laid end to end didn’t come close to matching this.

‘Don’t…’ He husked his response to her unvoiced statement—disparity evident as her body thrummed in his arms.

‘I have to.’ She could hardly speak, her whole body so drenched with arousal, so utterly opposed to her mind, that it took every ounce of effort she possessed to walk from his room, to lie on her bed…to walk away from his.

It was just a kiss. She told herself. A kiss because…

Only she couldn’t answer that one. Ainslie’s fingers moved to her mouth, feeling it swollen where his lips had been. She could still feel the tender flesh of her neck where his chin had made her raw.

And it wasn’t just a kiss—kisses had never left her weak like that; kisses had never left her lost. Which she had been, completely lost in the moment with him.

She tried to put it out of her mind, to focus on her problems instead of letting her imagination wander, to tell herself to let it go.

But her body said otherwise. And the slightly open bedroom doors channelled their want as they both lay alone in the oppressive silence. Ainslie, her body twitching with desire and thick, greedy need, lay there rigid, almost in desperation for the escape they had briefly found, willing herself to relax, to sleep. Trying to ignore the man who lay just metres away, who was, after one kiss, the only man who had utterly moved her.

CHAPTER FOUR

‘WHEN did all that come?’ Exhausted, dishevelled, and still coming to terms with yesterday, Ainslie had tripped over a pile of luxury luggage in the hall.

‘While you were sleeping,’ Elijah said, not looking up. Dressed only in a pair of grey hipsters, unshaven and tousled, he still managed to look absurdly sexy as he shared a bowl of cereal with Guido—one spoon for his nephew, then a larger one for Elijah. ‘I arranged some belongings to be couriered over yesterday.’ He glanced up at her raised eyebrows—raised because, with all that had taken place, how could he even think about clothes? ‘I couldn’t face putting on my suit again today.’

‘Oh!’ Ainslie said, feeling horribly small all of a sudden, as she tried to work out the kitchen. She knew how adrift she felt without all of her belongings—but at least she had clean knickers.

Elijah turned to face her. ‘I’ve also arranged a driver—Tony. He’s going to be staying in a room on the third floor, so he’s available whenever you need him—that is if you stay.’

‘A live-in driver!’

‘It’s impossible to park in London.’ Elijah shrugged, lying easily. She didn’t need to know he’d actually arranged a bodyguard for Guido—there was no way he was risking the Castellas coming to take him. ‘And I don’t like walking. Actually,’ he conceded slightly, ‘he’s just broken up with his wife and he needs a live-in job. It was either him or rely on taxis.’

‘You’ve been busy.’

‘I always am.’ Elijah waited till she came over before continuing. ‘Look, I really don’t want to push, but I need to know if you are willing to work for me.’

His eyes met hers when finally she joined him at the breakfast table. There had been no mention of what had taken place last night. He’d shown not a trace of awkwardness when he’d greeted her. In fact he was so cool, so completely together, Ainslie even wondered if she’d imagined the whole thing—like some strange erotic dream that made her blush to think about it. She was actually starting to wonder if anything had happened, because Elijah didn’t look at all fazed or embarrassed.

Or maybe he was just used to it, Ainslie mused as she sugared her coffee. Perhaps he was so used to snogging the hired help whenever it took his fancy it didn’t merit a second thought.

It had merited more than a second thought for Ainslie. Problems like finding work and somewhere to live in a strange country just a few days before Christmas, like coming up with some quick money to pay off her debt, had all become mere irrelevancies as she’d lain in bed and relived his kiss over and over.

And now he was asking for an answer as to whether she would work for him—an answer that, on several levels, she was hesitant to give.

‘Can I have some time to think about it?’

‘Unfortunately, no—I have already received a rather irate call from Guido’s case worker. It would seem that I should not have taken him without the Social Services department’s approval.’

‘Well, that would have gone down well!’ Ainslie couldn’t keep the note of sarcasm out of her voice.

‘It didn’t.’

‘So how did you respond?’

‘I said that perhaps they should question their procedures rather than me!’ He gave a tight smile. ‘That didn’t go down too well either! And Marco and his wife, Dina, have arrived, and have made it clear that they will be applying for custody. Guido’s case worker is coming to meet with me here this morning—it would be helpful to say that I already have arranged childcare, and if you can’t work for me I can at least call an agency and be able to say that I have lined up some interviews.’

‘I understand that…’ Ainslie stirred honey into some porridge and attempted to feed a less than impressed Guido, who was far happier sharing his uncle’s bowl. ‘I just don’t think it’s going to be possible for me to work for you.’

‘Because you have another job to go to?’ She could hear the sarcasm in his voice.

‘No.’

‘Because you would rather spend Christmas in a youth hostel?’

His arrogance didn’t faze her.

‘Maybe because I’d prefer to have a few days off over

Christmas and New Year rather than being treated like dirt while I mind some rich family’s child!’ She gave him a sweet smile over Guido’s porridge, but it didn’t meet her eyes. They both knew that wasn’t the reason.

‘I would not treat you badly. And there would be no repeat…’ He didn’t elaborate. He didn’t have to. The colour roared up her cheeks as for a dangerous second they both revisited last night, as her erotic dream was confirmed as reality. ‘The top floor is self contained—you could have that. We could draw up a contract…’

‘That’s not the only issue…’ Ainslie swallowed hard, her face burning as she wondered if a lie was a lie if it was by omission. It would be so, so easy to accept his offer. The thought of spending Christmas at a youth hostel, of searching for work at the most impossible time of the year, was daunting to say the least. She knew Elijah was desperate, that he probably wouldn’t get around to checking her references for a while, but still integrity won, and Ainslie knew she had somehow to tell him her truth without revealing Gemma’s indiscretion. ‘You might not want me looking after Guido.’ Two vertical lines deepened on the bridge of his nose, but that was the only reaction she took in before she quickly looked away. ‘It wasn’t a mutual parting of ways—I was actually sacked yesterday.’

‘For?’

It was a reasonable question—a very reasonable question—and one Ainslie didn’t know how to answer. To tell him the truth, the whole truth, felt disloyal to Angus and especially to the children—privileged information gathered when you worked in someone’s home, whether good or bad, wasn’t hers to divulge. Yet to be labelled a thief, to have her own reputation tarnished, posed for Ainslie an impossible conundrum.

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