‘But we’re not solving this problem.’
‘There isn’t a problem,’ he replied with stubborn simplicity. ‘You’re making a problem where there isn’t one. You don’t need to work today, Ettie. You’ve worked all your life. You’ve been responsible all your life. Why not take a day to have a break? You’re still working—you’re growing a little human.’
‘I can’t sit around doing nothing,’ she argued. ‘I’ve never done that.’
‘So learn how to relax. Read a book. Watch TV. Sleep. Anonymously blog about your misfortunes. Whatever, just rest.’
She glared at him and then couldn’t help laughing, as she knew he’d intended. ‘Anonymously blog?’
‘Yeah.’ He put his hands on his hips, warming to the idea. ‘My life as a billionaire’s bought bride…’
She giggled again, but then realised what she actually wanted more than anything was for him to stay with her today. She enjoyed his company. But he was off to maintain that millionaire income and she had to keep this as light and ‘easy’ as he was.
Stay in your lane, Ettie.
‘I promise I’ll be here for when you return, oh, lord and master,’ she cooed. ‘In bed,’ she added on an impish urge. ‘Naked.’
‘Hot and wet and ready for me.’ He slammed a scorching kiss onto her lips. ‘Perfect.’
‘I’m getting rid of all the stupid rules,’ she informed him when he lifted his head. ‘Starting with pets.’
‘Oh, I knew that already.’
With a wriggle that was more sexual restlessness than resentment, she threw a pillow as he laughed and left the room.
* * *
No way was Ettie spending the day sitting about doing nothing. Not when her brain was fizzing with ideas for Cavendish House. She fossicked through Leon’s study, marvelling at his sleek, luxurious stationery supplies. The guy had a thing for fancy fine-liner pens. Smirking, she twisted her hair into a bun and secured it in place with one and grabbed a handful of others. In the kitchen she collected some crackers, cheese and juice. She spread sheets of thick paper over the dining table to brainstorm on. It took her a while to work out the fancy ‘smart house’ sound system, but she got music playing eventually. Sunlight streamed through the window. She stared at the room for a moment, stunned anew. It was a gorgeous place to work. Then, energised and excited, she got down to it.
‘Wow—could you make your lists any longer?’
‘Oh!’ Startled, Ettie glanced up to see Leon standing on the other side of the table. Her heart pounded faster at the sight of him than from the initial fright. It was impossible not to react to his presence. ‘I didn’t hear you come in,’ she muttered, trying to regulate her breathlessness. ‘What time is it?’
‘After six,’ he said, amusement quirking his lips.
‘No.’ She looked out of the window and saw the changing sky. ‘Where’d the day go?’
‘Into all those lists,’ he answered drily. ‘Is there any paper left?’
‘Uh, some.’ She glanced down. She’d smothered the table in papers, which in turn were smothered in her scribblings. ‘What do you think?’
‘I think you haven’t rested at all today. Have you eaten?’
His concern warmed her as much as it irritated her.
‘Actually I’ve been snacking all day and this is restful. I’ve been perched on this stool the whole time.’ She saw him read through her most recent, refined list. ‘You like what I’ve planned?’
‘Yeah.’ He quickly scanned her bullet points. ‘You should set up a meeting with the residents’ group. They’ll be excited.’
‘I’ve already emailed invitations from my phone.’
‘Of course you have,’ he murmured. ‘That’s why you got the job.’
‘I can’t change everything all at once,’ she said earnestly. ‘I know I’ll need to go slow so they have time to adjust…’ She trailed off as his gaze narrowed on her.
She flushed at being the focus of his intensity all over again. Every time, even though he outwardly appeared expressionless, he wasn’t remote. It felt as if he was so attuned to her needs, her desires, before she was even aware of them herself. Dizzying, dazzling…confusing.
‘Sometimes an acute, complete change is a good thing,’ he said, his gaze laser-sharp on her.
‘Rapid change can also be scary,’ she responded pointedly. ‘The staff might feel overwhelmed or defensive if they feel it’s a criticism of the way things were…’
He considered it for a moment and his rare smile suddenly flashed. ‘Go with your instincts; they’re good.’
Excitement for her work flooded back. ‘I can’t wait to get started.’
‘On your not-rapid changes.’ He laughed and reached out, plucking the pen from her hair. ‘Mine.’
She ran her hand through her messy tangle of waves with a grimace. ‘Possessive about your pens, aren’t you?’
‘You think I was talking about the pen?’ That wicked smile flashed on his face again as he fished in his pocket for his phone. ‘You okay with Italian for dinner?’
She needed a moment to catch her breath. He was just teasing, keeping it playful. Light and easy. So she’d do the same. ‘Are you talking pizza or fancy?’
‘How about fancy pizza?’
‘Perfect.’ She hopped off the stool and stretched out the cricks in her back from leaning over the table all day while he tapped a message on his phone. ‘It’s Friday tomorrow, then the weekend. Do you actually take weekends off or do you work through as if every day’s Monday?’
‘You know already.’ His answering grin was rueful. ‘But we could go to a recital on Saturday night if you like?’ He flipped his phone around to show her the promotional information for a concert on at a nearby concert hall.
She read the headliner and stilled. It was an oboe soloist. That was her instrument. She looked up and saw his expectant expression. ‘How did you know?’
‘Saw the instrument case in your flat,’ he replied. ‘The music book had your name on the front. Why didn’t you mention it? You’ve told me all about Ophelia, but you’re reticent about your own dreams, Ettie.’
‘You’re calling me reticent?’ Her jaw dropped at his temerity. ‘I’ve told you about my ex-fiancé, my mother—’
‘But not about your music. Why?’
Because it had been her secret, childish dream and she’d had to bury it. How had he picked up that it had been important—was he some kind of mind-reader? But that was impossible because she never thought of it now—it hurt to remember. What he’d exposed was a skeleton shipwreck of a dream that couldn’t be resurrected.
‘Do you wish you played now?’ he asked, still intently watching her.
Her heart ached. Did he have to discover all her secrets? ‘It’s too late.’
‘We could convert one of the lounges into a music room. You could play again.’
‘No.’ She chuckled softly to hide her sadness and embarrassment. Truthfully she’d been a fool to think she could’ve made a go of it once. ‘I was never that good. I stopped when I took on a part-time job when Mum got ill. I haven’t played in years. I never play now.’
‘But you were good.’ He looked sombre. ‘That music was extremely complex.’
‘You read music?’
‘Sure.’ He nodded.
Of course. He probably spoke more than two languages as well, only she didn’t yet know it. It wasn’t fair that he knew everything about her and she knew so little about him. He hadn’t even left clues in his own home—nothing here told her anything more about him.
‘So what instrument do you play?’ she asked, determined to get an answer.
‘Piano. It was compulsory to learn an instrument at school.’
‘Boarding school?’ She glanced at him sideways, almost afraid that if she faced him he’d fall silent again.
‘Yes.’
‘For your teen years?’ Her curiosity burned. She wondered about everything. What were his parents really
like? He had no photos of them at all here. Were they really not close? Did they really only see each other every six months or so? Had he always been this isolated?
‘I went there when I was eight,’ he said brusquely. ‘It was good.’
She waited hopefully but he didn’t add anything more.
‘It’s good for Ophelia too,’ she said after a while. ‘She gets an education and opportunities she just wouldn’t otherwise.’ But Ettie missed her sister hugely. If she’d won a scholarship from a day school in town, that would have been so much better. She nibbled her lower lip, thinking about her own child’s future education. ‘I don’t want our baby going to boarding school though,’ she realised with quiet conviction. It was too bad if Leon had some schooling tradition going back generations. ‘I won’t send him or her away. I don’t care how good the school might be, there’ll be schools just as good here.’
Increasing ferocity fired colour into Ettie’s expression, reminding Leon of her passion and protectiveness over the dog the day they’d met. His skin seemed to tighten. He understood why she had mixed feelings about boarding school—she obviously missed her sister. But she didn’t know that for him boarding school had been a blessed escape. It had been so much safer and happier than his own home.
‘Okay,’ he said, needing to draw a line beneath the subject. ‘School here.’
He didn’t want to think about the years ahead. Right now was tough enough. She’d guessed correctly: he usually worked every day as if it were Monday. But now she was here and yeah, rapid change could be unsettling. His home was altered. Not because she’d brought in a lot of stuff, but because she’d recast the entire atmosphere—with her scent, her laughter, her smile…
Leon hadn’t lived with anyone since school. He had no idea how to live with someone. No idea what he was going to do with her all weekend. He could hardly keep her tied to his bed the whole time, as appealing as that thought was. The oboe recital had been a random grasp and mainly he’d been keen to see her reaction because he was insatiably curious about her now. She fascinated him.
He gazed at the colour washing her cheeks and the sparkle shimmering in her eyes. She still glowed with the vivacity and enthusiasm that she’d worked hard all day with. Even when he’d told her not to, he’d known she would. And now that vivacity was enhanced by the filter of pure passion as she fought for something so far in the future it didn’t even matter yet. She was so spirited, and so protective of their child’s future.
That curling tension tightened—constricting his throat, his chest. He couldn’t resist the need to get nearer to her. He wanted her heat, her willingness, her total surrender to his touch. There was something deeper too, something so powerful that he couldn’t examine it too closely.
Just want.
He reassured himself. But it was strong.
The weekend plans were irrelevant. Suddenly he had no spare thought for the past, or the future. His immediate need was too intense.
He pulled her against him. He didn’t know how else to release the heavy pressure crushing his chest, threatening to cleave him open. He didn’t want to be torn apart and have any of this emotion exposed. Not memories. Not pain. He wanted nothing but pleasure with her. Now.
He slid his hand into her glossy hair and tilted her head back to expose her pretty neck. Her soft lips parted and emotion glittered in her eyes. Emotion he refused to analyse. He didn’t know how. He certainly didn’t stop to examine his own. He was only seeking her consent—to lose them both in that fiery desire. And he got it—there in her crystal, cloudless eyes.
She might appear vulnerable, but she was strong. He could see her energy pulsing in that soft space at the base of her neck. He bent his head and kissed her hard and deep, releasing all the passion and lust into her, until that weight blocking his chest eased and heat swirled in its place. She was so intoxicating, he sank to his knees, determined to gift her every ounce of pleasure he could. Nothing else mattered. Nothing but now. Here. Her pleasure. Her sighs.
He cupped her full breasts, knowing they were tender and more sensitive, teasing until he felt her need deepening, until he heard her breathy little pleas. Then it was that sweet, wet, secret part of her that he couldn’t resist baring, touching, tasting.
‘Lean on me,’ he muttered as he felt her trembling response.
She was hot and lush and he craved every inch, every lick of her. She pressed her hands on his shoulders for balance, her legs spread as wide as they could against the constraints of the panties he’d pulled halfway down her thighs. He revelled in her quivering, in her desperate cries. His blood flowed freely now—warming him, releasing him from that tight, painful pressure. This was what he wanted. He pressed closer still and destroyed her.
* * *
Ettie woke late and saw the fresh juice, plain crackers and sliced fruit on a tray beside the bed. She smiled ruefully. Leon was unfailingly attentive and good at anticipating almost every one of her needs. She could hardly bear to think of those insane moments last night when he’d knelt at her feet and made her mad with desire. In that dangerously seductive stance, she’d felt like his queen, as if he couldn’t exist in that moment without touching her. He’d made her feel wanted in a way she’d never felt wanted before. And he’d made her feel such thrilling, intense pleasure, such total exhilaration, that she’d screamed until she was hoarse.
In the aftermath she’d been so dazed she could barely stand. Her wits had been too scrambled for her to be able to lighten it at all, to even think of reciprocating. He’d straightened her clothing and told her to go and tidy herself quick-smart, because their restaurant booking was soon.
Once more, it wasn’t just any restaurant and it wasn’t pizza. It was award-winning, exclusive and so expensive they didn’t bother putting the prices on the menu. There was no choice as to what they got to eat either. That was because the food the world-renowned chef prepared was so exquisite, no one sane would ever think to complain or argue with the selection. Pure perfection. And absolute decadence.
She’d been so tired she’d fallen asleep on the drive home. She’d woken as he’d carried her up to his bed. And once there, she’d realised she wasn’t quite as sleepy as all that. He’d laughed, indulging her again in that searing, soul-destroying sex. Again. And then again.
Just sex, Ettie. Good sex. Stupendous. But just sex.
But thank goodness he seemed to be as hungry for it as she.
Now he’d gone to work and she had another day to herself before the weekend. Another day to come to terms with the fragile future they were building.
But there was imbalance between them and it wasn’t their bank balances. He knew everything. Her stupid mistakes of the past. Even her sorry childhood dream of becoming a musician. Every little secret. Furthermore, he’d done so much for her—the ring, the home, the job…and things so much more intimate than that. He turned her inside out, made her mindless with pleasure. He’d given her pretty much everything.
But what had she given him? What had he let her give him—other than her body? He didn’t open up, didn’t let her in. She breathed out and reminded herself it was very early days. He didn’t trust her yet and he had a thing about people always wanting things from him—he’d joked about it but there’d been a tiny truth there.
What if she was to give him something?
Problem was, it wasn’t as if he needed her to buy him anything and it wasn’t as if she had vast amounts of money to splash out either. And it wasn’t about a thing, it was about doing something thoughtful, to show that she was invested in making this work the same way he was. That she could be attentive too. But she knew so little, she couldn’t think of what to do or get, and she was good at getting things for privileged people.
With a sigh, she got out of bed and returned the plate and glass to the gleaming kitchen. She caught sight of the shiny new dog bowls sitting uselessly on the counter. She paused, her gaze fixed on them. Leon said he’d never had a puppy, but he’d bee
n surprisingly willing to take Toby. She’d had a feeling that he’d been more keen on that than he’d expressed. It hadn’t all been about getting her up to that penthouse in Cavendish House. She remembered how he’d gently patted the dog.
Her heart pounded as she turned over the wisp of an idea in her mind. It would be a huge risk. But instinct told her it would be worth it. It would be right.
Go with your instincts; they’re good.
She turned her back on the lists she’d left on the table and ran back upstairs to get dressed.
Ettie Roberts had a mission.
CHAPTER NINE
LEON TRIED TO stay at work. Tried to concentrate. Tried not to think about the weekend ahead. It wasn’t that he didn’t want her there, he did, but it felt as if the ground was shifting and he couldn’t quite hold his balance. In the end he gave up resisting and let the weight coiling within push him home.
‘Ettie?’ He rolled his shoulders, trying to ease that tension as he shucked off his jacket and shoes.
‘Leon?’ Her answering call was pitched high.
‘Who else?’ he asked drily, following the direction of her voice to the kitchen.
He fought to restrain the urge to go straight up and kiss her until the tightness in his chest eased again. Not two nights running—he had more control than that, right? But in the doorway he paused to draw breath. She looked amazing to his hungry eyes—jeans, T-shirt, hair twisted out of the way and secured with a pen again. His again.
‘I wasn’t sure what time you’d be home… You’re early.’ Her face was flushed but it wasn’t that usual blush of sensuality.
And she couldn’t quite maintain eye contact, which initially intrigued, then concerned him. He strolled closer, trying to take it easy, but his instincts were firing. Something was off. ‘What’ve you been up to today?’ he asked. ‘No more lists?’
The table was scrupulously tidy.
His pulse began to pound. Why couldn’t she look at him? Why was she so flushed? Why so silent?
Modern Romance May 2019: Books 5-8 Page 45