Modern Romance May 2019: Books 5-8

by Cathy Williams

  Disliking the uncertainty, he showered and dressed, but once downstairs he stopped some distance from the concierge desk. Ettie was in her uniform—filling out that crisp monogrammed T-shirt and parading the prim black trousers that on her embodied sexiness. She hadn’t seen him; she was too busy pacifying a puce-faced resident.

  ‘I’m so sorry that happened.’ She sent the resident her most charming smile. ‘Don’t you worry, I’ll straighten it out with George—he doesn’t need to know most of it.’ She picked up the box on the desk. ‘How about we get Joel to come up and help you lift the dresser back into place?’

  It was Saturday. Was she supposed to be working? Even if she was, why hadn’t she bothered to wake him and say goodbye? Anger burned beneath his skin, but he turned to leave, fishing out his phone as it pinged with a message.

  At the sound of an almighty clatter he glanced back. She’d dropped whatever it was in that box. Now she was flushed in the face and completely avoiding looking in his direction. Which meant she’d seen him. Her obvious discomfort eased the chill in his bones. So she felt awkward? Good. So she should.

  She’d sneaked out early this morning and was now attempting to act as if nothing had happened. While he could respect her need to keep her private life private, he wasn’t going to ignore her. And where was Toby? He almost missed the sleepy thing.

  Ettie wasn’t butter-fingered. Ever. Yet she’d just dropped an entire box of old cutlery, creating the loudest crash ever heard in the lobby. And Leon Kariakis was here to witness it. Of course he was.

  Perspiration slicked over her skin. She couldn’t look at him, but she could still see him from the corner of her eye and apparently he was busy scrolling through some vitally important message on his phone. At least he wasn’t laughing at her openly.

  She’d woken up stupidly early this morning and got hit right in the head with the reality hammer. He was fast asleep beside her—a vision of hot, sleepy sex-god—and she instantly realised how completely out of her depth she was. The one and only other time she’d woken next to a man, it had turned into one of the worst days of her life. Her ex had rejected her in the most humiliating, personal of ways the morning after. And then he’d done it all over again in public. The last thing she needed was to hear even any of that horror again from Leon.

  She’d lain there frozen, becoming more and more terrified of the moment when he’d wake and see her in the cold light of day and realise his mistake. Sleeping with the sexually clueless concierge girl?

  Her blood had iced at the prospect of the inevitably awkward—or worse—goodbye that would ensue. She couldn’t bear to have any discussion or polite platitudes.

  In the end she hadn’t been able to stand the anxious torture. She’d slipped from the bed, wriggled into her dress and run—taking Toby with her before he barked his need to go outside. She’d been terrified of bumping into someone she knew in the lift. Of course, it stopped before the basement, ending her chance to escape to the staff locker room unseen. Jess had entered with her trolley. She’d stared at Toby and then at her.

  ‘You should wear your hair loose more often.’ Jess had smiled brightly after a horribly silent moment. ‘It looks lovely. I didn’t realise how long it had got.’

  That was because Ettie couldn’t afford to get it cut. And Jess had been lying—it didn’t look lovely, it hadn’t even been its usual wavy mess, but totally tangled, mussed-up bed-hair. That model had been seen exiting Leon’s apartment only the other day in that supposed lift-ride of shame…and now she was doing the same? She pushed away the public humiliation. It wasn’t worse than the horror she’d escaped years ago.

  But she just couldn’t face Leon. Her skin almost blistered with embarrassment at the thought of awkwardly extricating herself from his apartment. Because the last thing she could remember from the night before was his throaty laughter as he’d taken her apart again at some insane hour of the morning and now she couldn’t work out if he’d been laughing with her or at her. She’d been his light relief for the night. And hardly his toughest challenge…in fact she’d been so easy she’d almost come in the taxi.

  He wouldn’t want a repeat. He’d probably been feigning sleep and just hoping she’d leave quietly, right?

  But with every step she took, the tenderness between her thighs reminded her of his skilful passion, as did the sensitivity of her skin at her collar from the gentle grazes from his evening shadow…

  One night only.

  And she was not letting anyone know. Ever.

  And she was not going to be able to look him in the eye again either. Ever.

  Naturally, it was at that exact moment that he walked up to her desk.

  ‘Where’s Toby?’ he asked briskly.

  She fiddled with the box of cutlery the earlier resident had wanted her to return to the shop he’d purchased it from and just knew the man was not smiling.

  ‘Harold’s neighbour was away yesterday and only learned about what happened this morning. She’s asked to take Toby. She cares for him very much.’

  ‘That makes sense.’ His reply was clipped.

  ‘Actually, a number of the residents offered to take Toby when they heard what had happened,’ she said meaningfully. ‘I think a lot would like the “no pets” rule to be lifted.’

  She glanced up then and saw winter had returned to his deep brown eyes. There was no hint of the intimacies they’d shared in his expression. There was nothing at all but cool control.

  ‘Why are you on duty? It’s Saturday. Haven’t you been working all week?’ He fired the questions like bullets.

  So that was a no to pets, then. And a no to any kind of smile.

  ‘One of the others called in sick and, as I was here early to check on Toby…’ She glanced at Joel, working near by, concerned he could hear them.

  ‘Of course.’ Leon nodded. ‘Thank you.’

  ‘It really is the best thing, I think,’ she babbled anxiously because he had such a remote expression in his eyes and she felt him distancing himself even as he stood there. ‘He’ll be well cared for. She knows him and…’ She licked her lips, dying of mortification, and tried to smile. ‘I’ll have his things cleared from your apartment shortly.’

  He shot her an ice-cool look. ‘You’ll send one of the porters?’

  ‘Of course.’ Nervously she nodded. Because he didn’t want her back up there?

  Of course he didn’t. Could the earth just open up and swallow her whole? Now? She’d made the right decision to run.

  The second Leon left, Ettie leaned against the desk and breathed out, appallingly weak at the knees. That was it. There’d been no real goodbye. Nor was there any glow of amusement in his eyes—no sense of shared intimacy. If anything she had the odd feeling she’d somehow let him down. But that was impossible, wasn’t it? He’d had what he wanted. So had she. And now there was no need to have to talk about it or anything mortifying like that. They could just pretend it had never happened.

  It was over.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  ‘WHERE’S ETTIE?’ THE beautifully clad woman demanded an answer from the youngest concierge. Joel—according to his monogrammed shirt.

  Leon paused at a distance, unable to resist listening in for the answer.

  ‘I’m sorry, Ms Welby, Ettie is away sick.’ Joel offered an apologetic smile.

  The woman laughed. ‘Ettie is never sick. Just as Ettie never takes holidays. Ettie is simply always here. That’s her job.’

  ‘Well, she’s not here now,’ Joel said firmly.

  No, she wasn’t. She hadn’t been at the desk for the last two days. Leon had noticed. He’d more than noticed; he’d missed her—missed seeing her smile and hearing her lovely chat with the residents.

  He’d tried to avoid the concierge desk as much as possible initially. Unfortunately, he’d soon discovered that it was the heart of the operation. He’d pushed back—spending long hours at his office headquarters, taking more meetings. But he’d always glanced over
when he’d walked in. And as the weeks passed, he’d walked through the lobby a little more often than was really required. But she still didn’t look at him.

  And now, even though it had been over three weeks, even though he knew all he needed to, he couldn’t bring himself to move out of the penthouse and go home. Ettie still irritated him—rather, the way he kept thinking about her still irritated him—and that was a problem, given what he’d discovered about the way Cavendish House was run.

  Awareness of her absence—two days running—sharpened his curiosity. And a chill of warning slithered down his spine because he saw the protectiveness in Joel’s eyes as he referred to Ettie being ill. The young guy was concerned about his colleague. So what was wrong with her exactly, if Ettie was never ill?

  ‘May I help instead?’ Joel asked the resident awkwardly. ‘Ettie’s been schooling me in sorting dry-cleaning, you know.’

  But the woman dropped her bundle of clothing on the desk and leaned towards Joel. ‘Is Ettie actually okay?’

  She’d gone from demanding customer to concerned busybody in a flash. That the woman genuinely was concerned for Ettie underlined everything Leon had learned: that everyone adored Ettie and relied on her completely.

  ‘She should be back tomorrow.’ Joel’s smile wasn’t reassuring enough. ‘Let me take this for you in the meantime.’

  The woman scooped up the dresses with a laugh. ‘Thanks, but I don’t trust anyone except Ettie. I’ll wait for her to return.’

  ‘If you’re sure, madam.’

  ‘You know I am.’ She turned and caught sight of Leon watching her and her expression lit up with a huge smile. ‘Oh, Mr Kariakis, it’s lovely to finally meet you. My name’s Autumn; I’m in apartment twenty-three.’

  Leon nodded. ‘Is everything okay for you, Autumn?’

  ‘Well, apparently Ettie is away sick, which is hopeless, because she runs this place, Mr Kariakis; I hope you’re aware of that.’

  He nodded. He’d rapidly become aware of the fact, as it happened. In every conversation he had with either resident or management, it was Ettie to whom they referred for fixing problems. Which was why the fact that he’d taken her to bed was more of a problem than he’d expected it would be. That and the fact that he still couldn’t get her out of his head. ‘I’m glad you appreciate the service the Cavendish offers.’

  ‘I appreciate Ettie,’ she said firmly. ‘Ettie is simply the best.’

  Yes, she was. He never should have slept with her.

  ‘How long has she been away?’ Leon asked Joel as idly as he could after Autumn had headed towards the lift.

  ‘I’m sure she’ll be back tomorrow,’ Joel said with a valiant defence. ‘Ettie’s never sick.’

  That didn’t answer his question, but Leon let it slide. He’d give her until tomorrow to return; if she didn’t, then he was going to have to investigate.

  He couldn’t stop thinking about her. It had only been one night and he’d had many one nights with many women, so why was he stuck thinking about her?

  Was it simply because she now seemed to be missing? Why wasn’t she at work? He disliked unanswered questions. Just as he disliked messy endings and tearful women. They were why he stuck to one night.

  Ettie was the first woman who’d left him. No tears, no mess, no reference to it at all, in fact. If it hadn’t been for the sweet scent of her lingering in the air, he might have imagined the whole thing. Except he dreamed of it every night too.

  Not turning up to work wasn’t something she often did. Nor were one-night stands. When he’d approached her in front of her colleagues that next day she’d been dying of mortification; he’d just been too annoyed to pay attention to it properly at the time. She was shy. Inexperienced. Sweet. And he was a fool for having lost his head and seducing her. Especially now it had become clear she was the main asset of this entire enterprise and he needed her to take more of a leading role.

  A horrible thought hit him: was he the reason she was away now? Was she so embarrassed by what had happened she was off hunting for another job? Or had he hurt her in some way and not realised—was that why she’d run off so early that next morning? And how was it possible he felt the loss of that damn dog when he’d had custody over it for less than twenty-four hours?

  A sharp memory impinged on his mind. A memory he’d blocked for years—of a tiny puppy he’d adored more than anything else in his life. Only it had been snatched away from him just as everything important had then. He’d been betrayed again by the most important person in his life. He swiftly, curtly reminded himself that pets, like people, were not permanent. The loss of them hurt. Which was why he kept them at a distance.

  Emotions—all emotions—were a weakness. He’d learned that lesson long ago and he’d remember it well now. Never admit to them, never show them.

  It was barely eight in the morning when he went down to the concierge desk the next day. He’d hardly slept. He wasn’t going to rest properly until he knew. That fact irritated him. He didn’t allow other people’s problems to affect him. He didn’t let his own problems affect him. He just fixed them.

  ‘Still no Ettie?’ he asked Joel bluntly.

  ‘No, sir,’ the concierge answered awkwardly. ‘But she’s never had a day off before in the entire time I’ve been here.’

  Leon spied the battered book open on the desk and recognised Ettie’s handwriting. He reached across and spun it round to flick through the pages.

  ‘They’re Ettie’s lists,’ Joel hurriedly explained. ‘She designed the systems for us. This is our bible.’

  Leon knew exactly what it was. She was insanely over-competent. But basic details were all he needed. A phone number, an address. And, as he’d suspected, Ettie had the staff roster in the back of her book. And, with the roster, full contact details. Feeling like some gumshoe detective—or stalker—he employed his photographic memory and left.

  The drive took longer than he’d guessed it would. She had to spend a while on the trains in the mornings and evenings, which meant that on those nights she worked her other job she got home horribly late. He climbed the stairs of the rundown housing block, trying not to judge the grime and smell. He knew he was from a privileged background. He was luckier than almost every other damn person in the world. Quelling his concerns for her personal security, he knocked on the door. A few moments later, he heard the locks being pulled back.

  ‘Mr Kariakis?’

  Leon tensed. He hadn’t been Mr Kariakis when she’d been screaming her pleasure beneath him. But he shoved the resentment aside, because she looked horribly unwell.

  ‘What are you doing here?’ She peered past him as if expecting to see someone else. ‘Has something happened?’

  ‘What’s wrong?’ He pushed the words out.

  It was a searing pleasure to see her, but he was also hit with a sharp pain at how fragile she looked… Her eyes were huge in her pale face and she was swamped in an ancient woollen jumper, black leggings beneath, warm wool socks on her feet.

  ‘Do you need me back at work?’ She looked so guilty and anxious, he felt bad.

  ‘Of course not,’ he said curtly, keen to dismiss her guilt. ‘Not when you’re clearly ill.’

  Her eyes widened. ‘Did you think I wasn’t?’

  He drew in a sharp breath. ‘Ettie,’ he growled. ‘Invite me in.’

  She didn’t want to—that truth was written all over her beautifully expressive face. But she stepped to the side. The atmosphere intensified as she closed the door behind him. Something was bundled up inside him too tightly and he had to turn away from her.

  She lived in a small, dingy apartment. There was no television, just books, and an old laptop on the dining table. He noticed an instrument case on the bookshelf together with a pile of sheet music. The sofa looked old and lumpy. But she’d tried to brighten the place up with a throw and cushions and three little pot plants on the narrow windowsill. It was immaculately clean and tidy. That made sense.

 
He’d seen the organisation and management systems she’d put in place for the concierge desk. Everything was written up neatly—processes and information. Perfection. No wonder every resident had been asking where she was these past few days.

  ‘You noticed my absence?’ she asked huskily.

  He’d noticed her absence when he’d woken that morning and found her gone. He’d been noticing it ever since. ‘I was concerned you might have been embarrassed about what happened between us. I didn’t want that affecting your ability or desire to remain at Cavendish House.’

  Her chin lifted. ‘I’m not ashamed. And I’m not pining after you, if that’s what you were thinking.’

  ‘No.’ He almost smiled because hadn’t that been one little wish? ‘So you’re not planning on leaving Cavendish?’

  Her brow furrowed. ‘Did you think I was off having interviews or something?’ She shook her head. ‘Of course not. I love my residents.’

  He stilled. He should have remembered that about her—loyalty, passion. That tension soared. It took everything he had not to take two steps and haul her into his arms.

  ‘How did you find out where I live?’ she asked, wrapping her arms around herself in a self-conscious gesture.

  ‘I might’ve looked at your personnel roster.’ He glanced at her.

  She still looked shell-shocked and paler than he could’ve imagined. He had the urge to scoop her off her feet and abduct her. He’d take her back to his apartment, he’d…what?

  Leon gritted his teeth. Not appropriate. Not allowed.

  Ettie swallowed hard, still unable to believe Leon Kariakis was standing in the middle of her tiny flat. It was mortifying. Worse than that, it was…exciting in an appalling, illicit way. She’d wondered if she was hallucinating when she’d first answered the door. Now adrenaline surged and she fought not to be driven towards his innate sensuality, fought to settle the sizzle stirring in her blood. Yet her heart beat with more vigour than it had in weeks.

  It’s not why he’s here.

  ‘It was nice of you to be concerned, but it’s just a stomach bug,’ she said unevenly. ‘I think the worst is over now, but you don’t want to catch it.’