‘You aided and abetted Mr Clarke in keeping Toby a secret, didn’t you?’
They all had. But Ettie lifted her chin; she wasn’t about to offer excuses or drag her friends under with her. ‘Are you going to sack me for it?’
He remained impassive but she sensed his assessment. And his judgment. ‘That depends. What other rules do you break?’
‘Just the stupid ones.’
He watched, waiting for her to expand on her answer, but she refused. She was not going to desperately fill the awkward silence he was deliberately leaving. And she was not going to let his stunning looks have a stupefying effect on her brain any longer either. She was here for Toby—for the last thing she could do for old Harold Clarke.
‘He needs to be in a familiar environment,’ she said. ‘Given he’s not a nuisance to anyone, you should allow Toby to remain in Cavendish House, don’t you think?’ she asked with more defiance than deference in her voice.
Because more than anger bubbled within her at his silent appraisal and that stern stare beneath those slightly pulled strong eyebrows.
She tore her gaze from him and desperately looked around Harold’s apartment to remind herself of her mission. The old man had been their longest resident. He’d mostly kept to himself, but he’d been kind and his dog had been his world. He’d protected the vulnerable even when he was vulnerable himself. ‘We owe it to Harold to take care of Toby.’
‘We?’
‘Yes.’ She lifted her chin pointedly and looked back at him. ‘Why can’t you take him?’ she challenged directly.
There was another moment of total silence, but as she gazed into his eyes, the amber light within them flared. ‘No reason that I can see,’ he muttered.
She blinked. ‘Pardon?’
‘Toby will move to my penthouse. You’ll take him for fresh air.’
Her jaw dropped. He wanted her to go to his penthouse? ‘You want him to sleep in your apartment?’
‘It’s a temporary arrangement,’ he said brusquely. ‘On the condition that you walk him. You feed him. I do nothing but provide the space.’
The sizzle she felt was just her, right? She gave herself a mental shake. Just because he was insanely good-looking didn’t mean she had to turn into a twittering ditz. She’d pull herself together and get the job done. ‘You want me to—’
‘Morning and night obviously. Yes.’ He turned that cool demeanour on her and dared her to object.
Ettie was so stunned, she couldn’t help questioning him. ‘Why can’t you walk him?’
The coldness that entered his expression now stunned her. ‘We’ll find a more permanent solution in a few days. In the meantime, there’ll be no disturbance to the other residents.’
She was shocked. ‘You really want me to—’
‘Do I really need to repeat myself?’
‘No. Of course not.’ She stilled, annoyed with his superciliousness. Usually she’d say ‘sir’, but she was struggling to suppress her rebellion and tell this guy what for again. He couldn’t walk or feed the dog himself? Was he for real?
And yet he’d just offered up his own space to ensure Toby’s safety and security, so that the vulnerable little dog could stay.
* * *
What the hell had forced that foolish suggestion from him? Leon Kariakis smothered his growl and gritted his teeth. He didn’t want anything to do with the dog. The ancient, arthritic creature was most probably incontinent and most definitely going to be a pain. Except he was a sweet-looking thing with the saddest eyes Leon had ever seen, and there was no way he could resist reaching out again to soothe the boy with a gentle pat. As he pulled back, he inadvertently brushed his fingers on Antoinette’s arm. He glanced up to her face. Sea-green, luminous, emotion-drenched eyes glared back at him.
Why was she looking so angry again now?
He was the one who ought to be put out. And truthfully he was still oddly angered by her assumption he was the selfish bastard who’d issued the instruction to destroy the innocent creature. Somehow he wanted to make her pay for the conclusion she’d so swiftly, and unjustly, leapt to.
Not somehow.
His body knew exactly how he wanted her to pay. He wanted her to keep looking at him with those overly emotional green eyes, but not with anger and judgment. He wanted to see hunger and willingness. Desire.
Basic instinct roared. Because he knew it was there within her too. She’d studied him anew once she’d realised her error. And she’d responded on the same basic level as he had—the sparkle of awareness in her eyes, the flush in her face, had given her away.
He wanted her beneath and about him. His primal response to her passion shocked him. He wanted her in the most animal, basic of ways.
It was the most inappropriate thought of his life. Lusting after her was wrong. He was staying in the building for only a week or so to understand its processes first-hand before deciding on what changes needed to be made. The last thing he should do was flirt with one of the staff who was literally in his firing line. She was off-limits and he was never that out of control. Ever. This was a situation that required a swift conclusion. Yet he couldn’t resist getting involved directly.
‘You’ll need to bring the dog and all his accoutrements.’ He checked his watch and then glanced back at her.
‘Yes, of course.’ She lifted her chin.
The action didn’t make her any taller. She remained a smidgeon shorter than the average woman and slight through the shoulders. Her dark blonde hair was swept off her face into a loose, messy ponytail and her wide green eyes offered unusually clear reflections of her feelings.
She wasn’t the sleek automaton he’d envisaged when he’d been told about her. She wore barely any make-up—as far as he could tell, there was little more than a slick of lip gloss. Yet her skin was smooth, unblemished and glowing. The uniform black trousers and monogrammed T-shirt she wore did little to reveal much of her figure, but what they did show was slim and the suggestion of fit. His overall impression was of supple, fresh femininity. He’d been accosted by another of the more elderly residents in the lift this morning who’d been at pains to tell him that Antoinette Roberts was the only reason he’d remained at Cavendish House in recent years.
One look at her and Leon understood why.
But she wasn’t his type. She’d spoken to him in a way no one else dared to. Tearing strips off him with blunt, brutal honesty, not stopping to censor herself or having the slightest hesitation in telling him what she really thought. Her heart wasn’t just on her sleeve, she was waving it on a flag in front of him.
It was extremely novel. In his life, communicating emotions had not only been discouraged, but also punished. As his parents had ruthlessly taught him, any kind of emotional display was a weak loss of self-control.
Yet he didn’t want Antoinette to start picking her words with care now. He liked knowing, without any uncertainty, exactly what she was feeling. And it was her fierce protectiveness that riveted him. Like a lioness protecting a lone cub, she’d held her corner and not given an inch, no matter the possible personal cost to herself. She’d fully expected him to fire her. But Leon knew people made mistakes. He’d give her one chance to redeem herself.
‘Be on time. Always. I don’t like to be disturbed,’ he said roughly.
‘I can be discreet,’ she answered defiantly.
He simply stared at her. As if she could come into his apartment unseen? Unheard? As if she could ever be anything but disruptive?
A thread of wicked amusement trickled through him as she stilled in the face of his silence. He knew the exact moment she mentally replayed her words and realised an alternative innuendo. The same intimacy-drenched scenario he was imagining. A deep rose burnished her creamy skin—her cheeks, her neck, even the small hint of skin he could see at the vee of her high-collared T-shirt. But then he registered the rebellion in her gaze again—together with her less than subtle attempts to suppress it.
He didn’t want
her to suppress anything.
The urge to haul this petite emotional tornado close and kiss her into a frenzy of desire almost felled him. Grimly he fought the need to provoke her into taking everything else she might want from him. He knew he could. He saw the awareness in her eyes. Women found him attractive and sex was a fun relaxant. But he’d bet that sex with Girl Friday here wouldn’t be as much fun as mind-blowing. If the incandescence of her anger was anything to go by, in bed she’d be unrestrained and utterly responsive.
Sex of the best kind. The kind that was irresistible.
He knew she felt the sparks. They were why she’d flushed over her choice of words. Why she’d trembled at his inadvertent touch before. Why she was looking at him with unrestrained rebellion now. Because she didn’t want this chemistry either. And that irritating rejection was precisely why he couldn’t resist making what he knew would be a massive mistake.
He roughly pushed the request past the tightness in his throat. ‘I want you in my apartment in one hour.’
CHAPTER TWO
‘WHY DIDN’T YOU tell me?’ Ettie groaned to Joel as soon as she safely got back into the small concierge office, Toby still in her arms.
‘I didn’t have the chance…’
Of course he hadn’t. Ettie shook her head and stopped him, regretting her unfair question. ‘Sorry, I know you didn’t.’
‘Don’t you think he’s out of this world?’ Jess, one of the housemaids, leaned over her desk. ‘Chloe saw a model-type leaving his penthouse late last night. She was in the lift. Really dishevelled.’ She waggled her eyebrows in a suggestive gesture. ‘First night in and he’s already—’
‘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 no
t.’ 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?’
Modern Romance May 2019: Books 5-8 Page 35