She strode towards the desk, innately elegant, placing her coffee cup on the edge then closing the distance between them. Two feet from Noah, she stopped walking and extended her hand.
“Deal, Mr Storm. Shall we shake on it?”
His eyes held hers, and something deep within him answered the silent, compelling challenge in her gaze, the promise of her parted lips and gently undulating breasts. The stirring of desire, unmistakable and fierce, should have been enough to warn him. This was a bad idea. He couldn’t protect someone he was attracted to. He couldn’t allow any form of distraction.
But Noah Gray had never met a situation he couldn’t triumph over; this would be just the same.
He held out his hand, curving his fingers over hers and pulling ever so slightly, just enough to draw her body nearer to his so a hint of her vanilla and lemon blossom fragrance reached him, imprinting on him in a way that spelled disaster.
* * *
It took every ounce of Max’s focus to keep a neutral expression locked on her face. The last twenty four hours had scuttled her composure, but she suspected that had nothing to do with the raging fever in her pulse, nor the way her nipples were tingling and taut inside the lace of her bra. Noah’s hand, so much larger than hers, wrapped around hers, his thumb moving rhythmically over the skin of her hand until flames seemed to be licking the soles of her feet. She pulled her hand away hard, her eyes flashing a warning she hoped he’d heed. Or did she?
She pushed the traitorous thought away. He might be hotter than hades, deliciously handsome and the embodiment of alpha-male strength, but she wasn’t the kind of woman to be impressed by stupid superficial traits. She refused to be impressed by his looks and physical strength. That was just dumb luck.
“I presume you’ll need to take a day to catch up? You must be tired from your flight.”
His lips quirked in a smile that made her stomach ache. Beautiful, yes, but he was also laughing at her, mocking her, and she hated that. “Perhaps I wasn’t clear. I’m shadowing you. Effective immediately.”
A throb of pleasure radiated from her belly. She spun away, swallowing hard.
“I’ll have Rachel send you my calendar. I have a busy few days planned, Mr Storm. I hope you don’t suffer jetlag.”
“I’ll cope.”
Why was she baiting him? It was clear he wouldn’t rise to it. He was too cool, too professional. It would be better for all of them if she simply accepted this arrangement. She steeled herself then turned to face him. “Well, if you’ll excuse me, I have work to do.”
Noah nodded and she held her nerves together, assuring herself she’d be alone, soon, sure that Gray would walk out with his friend. Only it was Gray that moved to the door, offering one last ‘thank you’ in Noah’s direction before disappearing, leaving the two of them alone.
If she’d thought he was attractive before, seeing him like this, just the two of them in her office, was more than overwhelming. The air around them seemed to grow thick, and she was conscious of every breath, every movement. While outwardly doing all that she could to appear natural and poised, she felt clunky and wrong, completely out of place. His scrutiny didn’t help matters.
“You can’t mean to stay in my office and stare at me?” She asked, cursing the unsteadiness of her voice.
“I’ll start with an inspection of your space,” he said curtly. “Then, I’d like to take a look at your phone, laptop, ipad, any other communication devices. I’ll need access to your digital diary, your calendar of past events, and I’d like to interview your executive staff, as well as anyone who has access to this floor of the building.”
“Is that all?” She asked, incredulous.
“I will need to interview you as well,” he responded, setting her pulse going all over again. She gripped the back of her office chair, hoping it sent a message of calm when actually she was using it for support.
“What about?”
“Any detail you might have forgotten to mention to your security detail in the past. These incidents began twelve months ago. That’s a long time for someone to have stalked you without slipping up.”
“You think he’s made a mistake and I just haven’t noticed?”
“Why would you have noticed?” Noah brushed aside her concerns. “You’re not a security professional. I presume you don’t have much experience with stalkers?”
“None whatsoever,” she responded with a shiver.
“Then relax. I’m not accusing you of covering this up. I’d like to evaluate the investigations to date, that’s all.”
“What exactly is your experience with stalking?”
She’d hit a nerve. Fascination burst through her. She wanted to press on it, to press him, to make him uncomfortable and uncertain, to shake some of his arrogance from his handsome face. But a second later, he was himself again, so she almost wondered if she’d imagined his response.
“I’ve worked private security for over six years. In that time, I’ve had many clients engage me for purposes similar to this.”
“And do you always catch the bad guy, Mr Storm?”
“I intend to catch this bad guy.”
It was a deflection. She analysed that, him, her eyes probing his face, his eyes, even when she knew, somehow, that he wished to remain closed off to her. Yet he didn’t look away. He stared back unflinchingly, and her heart sped up, crashing hard against her ribcage.
“Well, our tete a tete will have to wait. I have a jam-packed day of meetings. I’m afraid your shadowing is going to be a little boring.”
Chapter 2
IT WAS AN UNMITIGATED disaster.
She had a hectic day of meetings, both face to face and via zoom, and yet she found it nigh on impossible to concentrate. Far from being her shadow, Noah Storm had become something of a horizon all of his own. He was a whirlwind of activity, setting up a command center in the boardroom attached to her office, he worked as though she weren’t even there, barely raising a glance in Max’s direction.
But she glanced at him. More than glanced. She found her eyes wandering to him more often than she liked to admit, studying the lines of his face, the strength of his body, wondering about his workout routine, his habits, his life. He’d dropped everything and come to London at a moment’s notice, simply because Gray had asked it of him.
They were good friends, but that kind of loyalty spoke of a dedication that made her heart hurt. Jealousy? Or resentment? Because, despite being twenty six years old, Max couldn’t have said with any certainty that she had a friend who’d do the same for her. Not even close. Oh, she had dozens of buddies, people she liked to hang out with, go to parties with, attend club openings with, but this was different. This was a willingness to upend your life because someone asked it of you. And she’d never known what that was like.
It was summer and the sun stayed high in the sky well into the evening. Sometime after eight, Max stifled a yawn and pushed shut the lid on her laptop.
“I’m finished.”
Noah looked up at her, his eyes a little bleary, a tangle of paperwork spread out around him. “Give me five minutes.”
She compressed her lips, biting back a desire to point out having him shadow her was one thing, but dictating her schedule quite another. But he was Gray’s friend, and he’d upended his life just for her, just for Gray. She couldn’t be rude to him, no matter how scared and pissed she was.
“Fine. I’ll freshen up.”
Her own bathroom was attached to her office; Noah had already done a preliminary inspection, so she slipped inside and bolted the door, pressing her back to it as she met her own eyes in the mirror. She couldn’t have described what emotions she saw there. She was a mess.
And was it any wonder?
Since finding her car, her life had taken on a surreal quality. She felt as though she were at the centre of a space ship that was hurtling wildly out of control, loose in the galaxy, flotsam, gaining weight and jettisoning her to some unknown destination. No
ah Storm should have been an anchor of sorts but he wasn’t; he was propulsion, flame, speed, terror. There was nothing safe about a man who could make her heart rate shoot up like this.
He was ready when she emerged a few moments later, his laptop packed into a slimline leather bag. “Where’s your car?”
“Garage,” she murmured. “Underground.”
“You drive yourself?”
“I have a driver – Felix.” And then, for no reason she could think of, she added somewhat defensively, “I use the commute time to work.”
He nodded curtly. “How do you notify your driver you’re ready to leave?”
“My keycard.” She lifted a credit card size piece of paper from her purse. “When I swipe it in the lift, it alerts him.”
“Efficient.”
Why did she feel as though there was condemnation in the neatly-drawled word?
“I’m going home to shower and change, then out for a thing.”
“Where?”
She named one of the hardest to get into rooftop bars. “A friend is launching a drink.”
“A drink?”
“It’s a gin mix.” She ignored the feeling he was laughing at her. “I told her I’d go.”
“Because where you go, publicity follows?”
“Because I’m being supportive,” she responded, annoyed that he was right and that yes, it had been a calculated choice.
“Has your presence been advertised?” He asked, opening the door wider for her to step through. As they moved out of her office, into the executive level of Fortescue Tower, he looked around, his eyes not simply scanning the room but pinging through it as though for danger. A shiver ran the length of her spine and unconsciously she moved a little closer.
The top level was deserted though.
“Maxine?”
“Max,” she responded, striding towards the lift as though she didn’t have a care in the world, forcing herself to remember her number one mantra: you are as you seem. “Only my parents call me Maxine. And I hate it.”
“Fine, Max,” he said, with no idea how hearing him say the shortened version of her name made her veins flow with lava. “Has your presence been advertised?”
“It’s not like that,” she said, a hint of impatience in her words as she pressed the lift button. “It’s not like the guest list runs in the Times the day before or anything.”
His eyes seemed to bore through her. “Believe it or not, I have a reasonable working understanding of celebrity events.”
“Then why ask if my presence is advertised?”
He compressed his lips in frustration. “Is it widely known that you will attend?”
“Yes,” she clipped. “To industry insiders. I can’t back out.”
“I’m not asking you to back out. I’m asking who might have the information, so I can ascertain the threat.”
The lift doors pinged open but Max didn’t step into them. “Threat?”
“You’re being stalked, remember?”
Her heart twisted uncomfortably for a wholly different reason now. “I’m – I have no reason to think he’s ever been – to an event.” She swallowed, hating how nervous she sounded! “This isn’t something just anyone can walk into off the street. It’s really exclusive. There’s no way he’ll be there.”
“So you know for certain that your stalker isn’t a member of your inner circle? Or a member of the staff of someone in your inner circle?”
Her lips parted and then, the hand at the base of her spine took her breath away, as he guided her forwards, into the lifts. It was a pragmatic touch, his hand dropped away as soon as they were inside, but that didn’t stop the lightning bolts exploding just beneath her skin. Desire quivered in the pit of her stomach.
“This individual has gained access to the foyer of your home, the interior of your car. It seems likely they will be there tonight.”
Fear – a familiar emotion she had sought to conquer time and again – spread like water over rocks. She stared straight ahead, refusing to give into it, refusing to allow it to dominate her.
“Well then, I guess it’s a good thing you’ll be shadowing me.”
“I guess so.”
The lift began to drop, smooth and fast. The rush of adrenaline was familiar to Max. She enjoyed it for a moment – the evidence she had triumphed over her old fear of heights – then turned to face him. “So how exactly would you protect me?”
“In what circumstance?”
“Any.”
“It depends on the situation.”
“You’re what, a black belt in karate or something?”
“I’m trained in martial arts, yes.”
“Of course you are.” She kept her voice light, almost sarcastic sounding, because she needed to disguise the rush of heat pooling between her legs. Just the idea of him shirtless, performing martial arts moves, made her knees wobbly.
He wasn’t amused, if the set of his square jaw was anything to go by. She wasn’t intimidated though, mostly just curious. “Do you carry a gun?”
His eyes swung to hers, lancing her with the directness of his stare. His lips were a solid line and her eyes dropped to them without her consent, flooding her body with an awareness she didn’t want.
“Yes.”
“Where?”
The lift continued to plummet down, nearing the bottom.
His fingers caught at his shirt, removing it from his pants to expose not only a small handgun and a discreet holder inside his pants, but also several inches of midriff, tanned and taut, rippling with, as she’d guessed, muscles. Her mouth went dry and her lungs refused to cooperate.
“Is that legal?”
“I’m licensed to carry a firearm here.”
“Oh.” She spun away, her cheeks stinging with heat. What the hell was wrong with her? Max squared her shoulders and strode out of the lift, but a second later, his hand curled around her wrist, pulling her back. “Stay close to me.”
It was a security matter, nothing more, but they were close now, toe to toe, and her heart couldn’t handle it. She swallowed hard, hoping she didn’t look as flustered as she felt, but her nerve endings were going haywire.
“This is a secure garage.”
She heard how stupid that sounded, given what had happened to her car the day before in another supposedly secure garage.
“You’re my responsibility.”
A frisson of something hard to understand ran through her body. “This is all such an overreaction,” she said with a bluster she didn’t feel. “I’m fine. There’s no reason to think that just because someone slashed my car, he’d do anything to hurt me.”
“And you’re an expert on criminology?”
His rapier quick response took her breath away. “I don’t think we can presume to know what this guy is all about.”
He hadn’t released his grip on her wrist and she stood perfectly still, liking the way it felt to be this close to him, liking the way it felt to have his fingers wrapped around her.
“This is going to be a very long week if you second guess everything I say.”
“I’m not used to having the terms of my life dictated to me.”
“No,” he agreed, and for a moment she thought she saw something like sympathy soften the corners of his eyes. “But it’s the way it has to be.”
“Am I fighting you on that?”
His smile thundered through her, resonating as though she’d been struck with lightning. “Yes.”
“I’m not.”
“You have to trust me.”
“Perhaps you can understand why that’s not easy for me?”
He nodded, his thumb padding her inner-wrist. Did he realise he was doing that? “You’re being stalked. It’s natural that you can’t tell what’s safe and what’s not. You don’t know who to believe. But Gray does. He trusts me; you can too.”
Gray. This man was one of her brother’s best friends – she had to remember that. It was like being doused by a bucket
of ice water. She pulled her wrist free, rubbing the skin where his fingers had touched.
“I just want to get this over with, okay?”
They drove in silence to her Chelsea townhouse. He sat in the front of the car, beside Felix, her driver, and she in the rear, as always. She pretended preoccupation with her phone, updating her Instagram stories, checking the news bulletins, getting back to friends’ texts and emails, but work that usually absorbed her completely barely scratched the surface of her concentration now. She found her eyes flicking to the side mirror every few seconds, his reflection unfairly fascinating. He wore dark glasses, so it was impossible to know where his eyes were, but his head was dipped, and he had pulled a tablet from his bag when he’d got into the car, so she was presumed he was engrossed in his own work.
Questions fired through her brain – the kinds of questions she would have answers to if she’d hired this guy herself. She would have done her due diligence, ascertained everything she could about him, before appointing him to this position. Where did he go to school? Where did he grow up? What’s his training background? Experience? She knew only this: if Gray trusted him, he was a good guy, despite the whole gruffer than anything appearance.
As the car slowed down, ready to enter the security gates of her driveway, Noah removed his dark sunglasses, his eyes landing instantly, directly on hers. It was like being trapped. He wasn’t touching her, but he might as well have been using those big, strong hands of his to keep her face right where it was, her eyes locked to his in the small, square reflection of the side mirror.
It was Noah who freed her, after only a few seconds, moving his gaze from her face to the driveway, scanning quickly, scoping it out.
“I’ll get out here,” he said to the driver, his American accent more pronounced because no one had said anything for at least twenty minutes.
She watched as he strode from the car, his every step athletic and powerful. He moved to the sliding gate, watching as it opened, analysing it – for God knows what – before stepping in ahead of the car. More analysing, looking, searching. The car drove in, the gate swung closed.
Never Mine: The Rich List Book 1 Page 2