His Rules: Ludlow Nights - Book1 (A Ludlow Nights Romance)

by CC MacKenzie

  "Plenty happened. You know it. I know it. This is natural. Attraction. Chemistry."

  She realized it wasn't just football he played well.

  He was good at this type of seduction, too.

  Very good.

  The man had a deadly attraction.

  Anastacia took a very deep breath, then exhaled.

  "Save it for one of your bimbos. Do you seriously believe I'm the kind of woman to fall for all of that crap?"

  The words, her irritation, just rolled off him like water off a duck's back.

  "You deny your own feelings. I do not. You are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen. But what happened between us was more than that. The first time our eyes met something fell into place between us. I felt it. You felt it. Deny it all you want." His eyes held hers and no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't look away. "The kiss was something very special. Intense. Wild. "

  The last thing Anastacia had expected from Olivier Conti was a man honest and in touch with his own feelings. He was right. Something had happened. The kiss had been intense. Surely she needed to step-up and match his integrity with her own?

  "You're right." She held up a hand to halt whatever he'd been about to say. "But here's a newsflash. I do not want or need a relationship with you. And I have valid reasons for..."

  "You have a boyfriend?"

  "No. I don't have a boyfriend," she said through gritted teeth. "I'm one hundred per cent focused on my career. I don't have either the time or the emotional will to have an affair with you or anyone else. And I never, ever, date clients."

  He nodded his head as if he understood, agreed even.

  And Anastacia wondered what on earth was the matter with her that she felt somehow... disappointed, that he'd given in so easily.

  "I admire ambition, independence, in a woman. My mother and sisters are going to adore you." Olivier grinned when her jaw dropped.

  "Dream of me, my beautiful Anastacia, as I will dream of you. Ciao, cara."

  Chapter Six

  The next morning, a cranky Anastacia (not enough sleep) stalked into her office, her heels clacking on the floor of ivory marble. Today she was dressed in a sleeveless shift of taupe silk. A dress that showcased toned arms and long and lean thighs. Slung over her arm was a black patent bag the size of Texas.

  Linda was at her desk, fingers dancing over her keyboard. Over the vibrant green reading glasses perched on her nose, she took one look at Anastacia's face and raised pencilled black brows.

  At the same time an office junior made herself scarce.

  Linda knew the drill.

  At the best of times Anastacia Morgan could never be called a morning person.

  Anastacia on a tear was a person best avoided.

  Since Linda was fearless and had worked with Anastacia from the very beginning, she wasn't bothered by her glorious leader's thunderous expression.

  Linda waited five minutes, no more, no less.

  Armed with tray holding a full pot of strong black coffee, and a plate of Oreos, she entered the lioness's den.

  Anastacia was sprawled behind her huge desk, with a face like a spanked bottom. A small foot encased in black patent pumps with five inch ice-pick heels tap, tap, tapped on the floor.

  Without saying a single word, Linda poured and placed the delicate cup and saucer of white china at Anastacia's right hand, poured one for herself, whipped an Oreo from the plate and sat down to wait for the explosion.

  It didn't take long.

  "Bastard."

  Linda didn't have a lot to go on regarding the identity of said bastard, but by a careful survey of the clues; the file open on the desk, the ten by twelve glossy picture of an Italian footballer, and the fact that her illustrious leader had defaced the picture of said footballer with black ink - a twirly moustache and pointy beard. Linda deduced that the 'bastard' referred to was one Olivier Conti.

  Linda knew that if her boss didn’t want Olivier for the advertising campaign, then Anastacia would be on a collision course with Nico Ferranti. There had been times when they'd clashed, which wasn't surprising since both were, in their own way, control freaks. But their clashes had never ended in bloodshed. Until now.

  Oops.

  "So," said Linda, carefully testing the waters. "We're not using the footballer for our campaign?"

  The way her leader pouted, as if she was five years old, tickled Linda's antennae.

  Oops.

  Trouble.

  "Yes, we're using him," Anastacia growled.

  "Okey-dokey," said Linda in a cheery voice. For the moment collision course avoided. Today was a good day. She munched happily on her Oreo. "Saw the match last night, he played well."

  "Oh, yeah. He has all the right moves."

  Again, Linda's antennae twitched at the throaty growl.

  "I'm assuming he can indeed speak in declarative sentences?"

  Anastacia's shoulders slumped.

  Her eyes joined her mouth in a sulk.

  "Yeah. Perfect English."

  "No squeaky voice?"

  Now her leader crossed her legs, jiggled her foot.

  "He sounds like a younger version of Nico."

  Linda's eyes went wide.

  "Seriously? So, he looks good, can move, and sounds good. What's up?"

  Anastacia used both hands to flip back her hair, gripped and pulled.

  Uh oh.

  The grip and pull was a dead give-away.

  It seemed Olivier had seriously pissed off her fearless leader.

  Linda was just about to ask what he'd done when she received the answer.

  "He kissed me."

  Linda's jaw dropped.

  Silence.

  "Fuck me. Has he been hospitalized? Castrated?"

  Anastacia pressed her fingertips into tired eyelids.

  "I kissed him back."

  Silence.

  "Wow. I'm like... stunned."

  Anastacia blew out a breath, looked Linda dead in the eye.

  "You're not the only one. I don't know what came over me."

  "Sounds like Olivier Conti came all over you."

  That remark earned Linda a very hard stare.

  "You're disgusting. It was a kiss, not sex."

  "Aha! It's been a while for you. That's why you're so mad and pissy. Unrequited lust. You should've used your Rabbit, got it out of your system."

  "You know, there are plenty of really good PA's out there. PA's who don't curse. PA's who treat their boss with respect. All looking for a job."

  "I know there are, but there isn't one who knows you and loves you the way I do."

  It was nothing less than the truth.

  Now Anastacia snatched an Oreo off the plate and nibbled the edge.

  "I didn't use my Rabbit. I also didn't sleep a wink. But nothing's gonna happen between us."

  Linda waggled her brows.

  "Sounds to me like something already has."

  "I never mix business with rumpy pumpy."

  Linda grinned. "Rumpy pumpy? Now those are words we don't hear every day."

  "Shut up. After Jake..."

  Linda made a face, remembering the nuclear fall-out of Anastacia's last long-term relationship. If six months could be considered as long-term.

  "Babe, it wasn't your fault."

  Unhappy vivid blue eyes met hers.

  "Wasn't it?"

  Linda leaned forward.

  "You know it wasn't."

  Logically, Anastacia knew Linda was right.

  But logic didn't help guilt.

  A guilt that burned bright and deep.

  "I broke his heart."

  Linda nodded in agreement.

  "Yeah, well, shit happens. In life we don't get to choose the person we fall in love with. Love isn't a personal choice."

  "I don't think I'm capable of falling in love."

  Linda rolled her eyes to heaven.

  "Bullshit. If you were a heartless bitch, you wouldn't be sitting there eaten up by guilt f
or something you had no control over."

  "This thing with Oliver... it's different."

  Linda's eyes went huge.

  "It's already a thing? Must have been some kiss." Linda studied Anastacia's pale face, the anxious deep blue eyes. "Did you explain the rules?"

  "Yep."

  "And?"

  "He said he plays by his own rules."

  Linda thought for a while.

  Then sent Anastacia a big toothy grin.

  "You know, I've never met the man, but I like him. I like him a lot."

  "Fat lot of help you are." Anastacia sulked for all of ten seconds, then lifted her chin. "Right, let's get this show on the road. First up, London. Have we managed to get Ed to direct?"

  Linda grabbed her notepad, flicked back a couple of pages.

  "Yep, but only for London. He can't commit to Paris and Rome. His wife is due to deliver their first baby in four weeks."

  "First babies are notoriously late. Shouldn't be a problem."

  "Soeth speaketh the childless."

  Anastacia ignored the snark. "Let's just pray that she hangs on."

  Linda stared at her over her glasses.

  "We need a back-up, just in case."

  "How about Tracy?" Anastacia suggested. "She'd be good with Olivier. Doesn't put up with any nonsense."

  "I'll give her a ring."

  Now Anastacia wrinkled her nose as she thought about female models who would gel with Olivier. Might as well bring out the big guns. It would be interesting to see how he behaved around a gorgeous blonde.

  "How about Mimi for the London shoot? She's tall, around five eleven. And she's a sweetheart, too."

  Linda thought for a moment, nodded her head, jotted down a note.

  "I'll see if she's available."

  "And I'm thinking about Tamara for Paris. She's got that chic French vibe going on."

  Linda nodded again, jotted down another note.

  "What about Rome?" she asked Anastacia.

  What about Rome?

  Anastacia kicked back in her chair, crossed her legs, jiggled her foot.

  Then she grinned in a way that had Linda shoot her a look over her glasses.

  "Lena. We'll use Lena."

  Linda's brows flew into her bangs.

  "Don't you think she's too old for him?"

  Anastacia's brow creased, thinking.

  "She's twenty-two. He's twenty-five."

  "Yep. But Lena's managed to cram four lifetimes into one."

  Anastacia's butter-wouldn't-melt smile flashed.

  "I know. She's a handful. Let's see how he handles her."

  Linda sat back to study her carefully.

  "You're testing him."

  Anastacia's cool blue eyes met hers.

  "Too bloody right I'm testing him. Let's see what Olivier Conti's made of."

  "We'll want to send him all the scene scripts well ahead of time, so that he can see what he's getting himself into," Linda reminded her.

  "I'm sure Nico's explained everything to him. However, I've no problem with Olivier being kept in the loop." Anastacia sat up in her chair to type notes on her laptop. "It's not as if he hasn't been in front of a camera before. He seems quite comfortable with his endorsements. We haven't heard a whisper that he's hard to work with."

  She looked at her PA for confirmation.

  Linda nodded. "On the contrary, all I'm hearing is how easy he is."

  "There you go. We've nothing to worry about."

  "Uh-huh. But what we want is not the same thing as him just standing there looking pretty. He'll need to act. And he might not be too happy with the bath scene in Rome."

  Anastacia just gave her big wide eyes.

  "Gimme a break. When have you ever seen a footballer shy about showing off the size of their package? Trust me, Olivier Conti will be just like the rest of them."

  Linda said nothing for a long time.

  "Well, he's thrown you, which is a first in my book. I'm just saying that we better be careful and make sure he’s clear about our needs."

  Anastacia's fingers flew over her keyboard as she glared at her assistant.

  "Fine, fine. Do what you need to do, send him the Rome script and even highlight the bathroom scene. But I bet you twenty quid he'll be more than happy to strip."

  "No need to get snarky, Ms. Cranky. Just protecting our butts."

  Now Anastacia grinned and wiggled her eyebrows in a move that reminded Linda forcibly of Nico.

  "He has a deliciously tight butt."

  "If you're a very good girl you might get to see that tight butt up close and personal."

  The remark wiped the grin from Anastacia's face.

  "Not a chance in hell."

  Linda rose, gathered her notebook, her pen, the empty coffee cups.

  "We'll see what we'll see," she said and sailed out the door.

  Ten minutes later, Anastacia's trusty PA sailed back into her office and plonked herself in the chair in front of the desk.

  Linda looked so pale, Anastacia broke off her chat with the TV film director, Ed Brookes.

  "What's the matter?"

  "Check your inbox, I've just sent you what's trending on twitter and Facebook." Linda stood and stalked towards a tall cupboard which held glasses and drinks in a mini fridge. "And while you're doing that, I'll get the brandy."

  Brandy?

  What on earth could have happened that needed brandy first thing in the morning?

  Wondering what the hell was going on, Anastacia did as she was told and clicked on the email link.

  Her eyes bugged out of her head.

  Omigod.

  She counted the pictures.

  Eight.

  Eight pictures of Olivier Conti and Anastacia Morgan in front of her apartment last night... snogging.

  Her pulse kicked in her throat as perspiration beaded on her top lip.

  Omigod.

  The kisses weren't just hot, they were scorching.

  Dear God, had she really tangled her fingers in his hair like that?

  And had really she pressed her whole body against his like that?

  And had he really had his hands on her butt cheeks like that?

  Bloody hell.

  Linda placed the brandy glass at her elbow.

  Anastacia grabbed it and took a swig.

  And right on cue, her cell phone rang.

  She glanced at caller i.d.

  Feck, feck, fecking hell.

  It was Nico.

  Linda looked at her with big eyes.

  And Anastacia looked at Linda right back.

  She picked up her phone, slid the screen to accept the call and closed her eyes.

  She was sooooooo screwed.

  "Anastacia," Nico Ferranti drawled in her ear, his deep voice held a silky tone that made her wince.

  "Hey, Nico," she responded in an upbeat and very cheery voice. "What's up?"

  Linda rolled her eyes to heaven.

  Maybe too cheery?

  "I am delighted to see that you and Olivier are getting on so well together. I knew you would make a good team."

  Stunned, she blinked.

  Nico sounded pleased.

  Nico sounded... happy.

  Not what she'd been expecting.

  What about a lecture on professionalism at all times?

  What about a lecture on no fraternising with clients?

  Anastacia blinked again, her eyes glued to a wide-eyed Linda.

  "Um... yeah. We're... um... getting on well. Really well."

  "Anastacia," came the silky drawl again. A drawl that basically said, do-not-shit-with-me-sister. "You make a lovely couple. I am pleased and Bronte is pleased for you, too."

  They were?

  Alarm bells were ringing nice and loud in Anastacia's head now.

  Oh no, no, no.

  Nico Ferranti had a streak of something that was very unusual in a man.

  He had a romantic streak a mile wide.

  He'd finagled award
winning chef, Oscar Kamani and Emma Ludlow together.

  And he was very proud of the way he'd managed to get head of Ferranti Security, Marc Atelier and Elena Kennedy together, too.

  And now, it appeared it was Anastacia and Olivier's turn.

  No way in hell.

  No way.

  "Look, Nico. It was just a kiss. One kiss. It meant nothing. Honest."

  Anastacia knew she sounded desperate.

  And by the way Linda's brows winged into her hairline, her PA knew it, too.

  "Si, you are both young and ripe and ready for love."

  Ripe and ready for love?

  Jeez, her boss should take up a new career and start writing lurve songs for a living.

  "Nico," Anastacia said in a severe voice, asserting her shaky authority over a man she both liked and respected. But there was no way she was going to permit Nico Ferranti to start interfering in her private life. "Seriously, there is absolutely nothing between Olivier and me. I..."

  "And what is wrong with the boy?" demanded Nico, sounding outraged.

  Bloody hell.

  Her hand raked through her hair.

  "There is nothing wrong with him... exactly. It's just..."

  "Olivier comes from a wonderful family. He looks after his mama and his sisters. He is a good man."

  Now that Nico had the bit between his teeth, Anastacia just knew he'd be throwing Olivier and her together every chance he got.

  Oh God.

  How the hell was she going to get out of this?

  Now she thrust her hand into her hair and pulled.

  "Nico. I'm sure Olivier is a good man. But he's not the man for me. Capisce?" And with that, she hung-up on her boss and turned to a wide-mouthed Linda. "Right, we've wasted enough time on this nonsense this morning. Let's get back to work, shall we?"

  "You know you're going to have the paps on your heels as soon as they find out who you are and where you live and where you work."

  "The paparazzi are not in the least bit concerned with me," Anastacia said with a helluva lot more conviction than she felt. "They're concerned with Olivier Conti."

  "Actually, you're wrong there. And you know it. They're fascinated with any woman who's caught in a clinch with Olivier Conti. And since that would be you at the moment they'll be very intrigued with Anastacia Morgan."

  Which meant the gossip press might dig into her past and God knew what they'd find.

  The anxiety that now tickled her belly seriously annoyed her.