by CC MacKenzie
Anastacia’s brow creased.
“Did not.”
“Ana Banana,” whispered Danni. “Say it isn’t so.”
For Dutch courage, Anastacia took a hefty gulp of wine.
“Did not.”
“Oh yeah?” T.C. held up her cell, turned it to show Danni and Anastacia a Facebook page. “Then what the feck is this?”
This, was another pic of her and Olivier in the hottest clinch of a hot kiss.
Anastacia felt hot just looking at it.
“Omigod. Shit,” she whispered.
“You’re in the shitter alright,” T.C. went on, relentless, as she thumbed through her cell. “Check out Twitter and your very own trending hash tag.”
The blood fled from Anastacia’s face as she read, “#Olivier’sLatestLay. Omigod.”
T.C. screeched, “And a footballer? Seriously, Banana?”
Anastacia banged her forehead on the table. “He’s a client.”
Danni placed a finger in her ear and wiggled it.
“’Scuse me? Did I just hear Anastacia Morgan admit to kissing a client? Am I living in a parallel universe?”
Anastacia lifted her head, stared at her friends. Friends who’d seen her through the worst that life could throw a person. Friends who were there for her twenty-four-seven. Friends who were closer to her than sisters.
“I know. I know. It was a mistake...”
But T.C. wasn’t having any of it.
Again her finger, the nail painted a screaming red, arrowed accusingly into Anastacia’s face.
“Not only that, but you snogged him in public. In public. What on earth were you thinking?”
Anastacia groaned.
“I wasn’t bloody thinking, that’s the trouble.”
“Aww, that good, huh?” Danni reached over, rubbed her arm as she studied her picture on her cell. “I must say he looks like a man who knows how to kiss. Was that it? Or did you, as it says here on Twitter so it must be true, give him a spectacular blow job?”
Anastacia felt sick.
“Not. True,” she said through gritted teeth.
T.C.’s fingers danced over the phone keys. “I’ll sort out those troll beeitches.”
“Don’t!” Anastacia almost screamed the word. “You know the rules. Ignore it. No comment.”
T.C. tossed her an evil grin. “Gotcha!”
Anastacia’s heart was pounding in her chest as she polished off her wine then slumped back in her seat with utter relief. If T.C. had responded to a troll on Twitter, the whole thing could so easily light a firestorm. When active on social networking sites, the key was to never, ever, comment negatively. Especially about dating or sex.
There were times, and this was one of them, when T.C. drove her crazy.
“Anastacia?” A deep voice she knew well growled her name.
Chapter Eight
Anastacia jerked upright as if someone had zapped her with forty thousand volts.
Every part of her from her toes to her head went too hot too fast.
T.C. and Danni’s eyes bugged out their head as they watched her spin round.
Olivier’s dark eyes gazed down into hers and no matter how hard she tried, she just could not look away. The sensation of falling into him caught her breath as, just like the night before, her torso was almost drawn to his by an invisible cord.
That sexy mouth kicked and there was the dimple.
She was quite sure she heard Danni sigh.
And Anastacia didn’t blame her since she had to swallow a very long and very deep sigh herself.
He was wearing beautifully cut jeans, black, that hung low on his hips, but fitted his long muscled thighs. His untucked shirt was fitted, Armani, in soft white cotton and rolled up at the sleeves. The color enhanced the lovely gold of his smooth skin.
Then Olivier cut the connection as he turned his head to steadily regard her friends.
The girls sent him big wide smiles and crazily fluttering eyelashes.
When his gaze returned to Anastacia, the message in his eyes was crystal clear, introduce me.
She knew that, Please, just go very far away, wouldn’t cut it with Olivier, or with her friends.
Trapped, she inhaled an irritated sigh.
“Olivier, this is Danni,” Anastacia snapped her fingers in front of Danni’s dropped jaw. Then Danni blinked dug a sharp elbow into T.C.’s ribs to bring her back down to earth, too. “And, Teresa, aka T.C. Girls, this is my client, Olivier Conti.”
Olivier flashed his signature smile times ten.
Danni gulped.
T.C. turned wide eyes to Anastacia and mouthed, Christ on a crutch.
“It is wonderful to meet you," said Olivier in a deep and sinfully sexy Italian accent. "I believe I have you to thank, Danni, for my wardrobe for the ad campaign.”
Danni’s mouth just opened and closed like a stranded fish.
It was so not a good look.
Oh boy.
It appeared that Olivier had indeed read through the reams of information on the campaign Linda had sent him.
And okay, maybe Anastacia had sort of exaggerated, just a little bit, that the famous Danni Pebbles had indeed chosen his wardrobe for the campaign. She'd have got around to asking Danni to help with Olivier's wardrobe... eventually.
“You do?” Danni turned to give Anastacia a hard stare. On the whole, Danni was pretty easy going, except when it came to her business. “I did?”
“You gave me some really great ideas,” Anastacia’s eyes went wide giving her friend the signal, back me up. “Remember?”
After a lengthy pause, “Vaguely,” was all Danni could come up with.
Again Olivier turned to stare at Anastacia.
When she said nothing and simply stared back, dark brows rose into his hairline, this time the look in his eyes clearly stated, Invite me to sit.
Not a chance, sunshine.
She never mixed her working life with her private life and she sure as hell wasn't going to start now.
“What are you doing here?” she asked in an icy tone filled to the brim with suspicion. Something told her Olivier turning up here was not a happy accident. Anastacia Morgan did not believe in coincidences.
Olivier’s dark eyes narrowed at the tone and her rudeness.
“I am here with friends. Come, I will introduce you.”
She opened her mouth to say, "No thank you."
But someone beat her to it.
“Oooooh, thank you,” said Danni in a high girly voice, refusing to meet Anastacia's gimlet eye. She bounced up like a jack-in-the-box, grabbed her drink, her purse. “Lead on,” she sang and followed where Olivier led.
Tonight was girl's night.
And girl's night was sacred, even from Olivier and his friends.
Anastacia was so going to kick Danni's ass.
After the day she'd had, she didn’t want to meet Olivier’s friends.
But it was too late.
With an over-bright smile, T.C. joined Danni in the ranks of betrayer. She grabbed her glass, the wine bottle and her purse and sashayed after Olivier and Danni. Then she turned to look over her shoulder at a horribly scowling Anastacia and gave her big, big eyes.
“Oh my. He is hawt.”
“Yep.”
“Wicked.”
“Evil,” corrected Anastacia.
“Whatevs.”
"Why are you talking as if you're five years old?"
The question was ignored because the next comment she heard from T.C. was a whispered, “Whisky. Tango. Fekking. Foxtrot.”
T.C. spun round to face Anastacia.
Who frowned at the sheer lust in her friend’s blue eyes.
The woman had no shame.
“Olivier's here with Chris Hudson and Fabio Febrizzio,” T.C. gasped.
Who?
The music stopped.
“Who?" said Anastacia, then added quite clearly into the sudden silence. "Febrizzio sounds like the name of a laundry detergent."
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Cue a very stunned silence.
Five people, Olivier and two very handsome men and her two best friends simply gazed at her in awe and wonder.
Olivier’s dark eyes welled-up before he threw his head back and roared with laughter.
Very cold dark eyes, eyes belonging to one Fabio Febrizzio stared deep into Anastacia's.
To say he looked annoyed and highly offended, would be an understatement.
She winced.
Dear God, please, please, just close her big mouth.
“You do realize,” Fabio drawled in a deep and sexy Italian accent that had T.C. trembling in her Jimmy Choos. Olivier was slumped on a leather couch holding his sides. Fabio sent him a dark look before he turned his attention once more on mega-mouth Anastacia. “That my team-mates will, for ever more, call me Laundry or Detergent?”
Anastacia had never, ever, in her professional life offended a person, ever.
Now she placed a small hand on Fabio’s strong arm and looked up into his very attractive face.
“I am terribly sorry. It was incredibly rude of me. In my defence all I can say is that the thought of working with Olivier every day for six weeks has brought out the worst in me.”
Fabio bit down hard on his bottom lip as warmth, thank the good Lord, entered eyes the color of black coffee. “Apology accepted. And you are?”
“Oh sorry, I’m Anastacia Morgan of Ferranti Communications.”
In a smooth move that made her cheeks go hot (she decided that all Italian men must learn to be smooth right from the cradle) Fabio took the hand still clutching his arm and brought it to his lips.
“A beautiful name for a beautiful woman.”
Yep.
Smooth as double cream and just as damaging to the heart.
“Would you like a glass of champagne?” Fabio asked her now.
Was the Pope Catholic?
“I would love some, thank you.”
Anastacia loved champagne, even if champagne did not love her.
But God knew she needed a drink.
Badly.
Fabio gestured to a small couch built for two just behind him, and indicated she sit.
Anastacia sat.
And she absolutely refused to catch anyone’s eye, especially Olivier's.
Fabio handed her a glass of champagne.
Anastacia took a tiny sip.
“So,” she said, as she relaxed and beamed up into Fabio’s very handsome face. “Do you play football too?”
Fabio blinked and stared into her eyes with a dazed intensity that made Anastacia frown.
What was his problem?
It was a simple question.
Then she became aware of the fact her girlfriends were looking at her aghast.
And that Olivier and Chris were hanging onto each other crying with laughter.
“Honestly, Banana," T.C. snapped in a tight little voice. "Fabio’s a superstar. He's one of the top players in the Premier League." Then she turned and beamed at a stunned looking Fabio. “You must forgive her. She doesn’t get out much and knows absolutely bugger all about football.”
"And yet," said Fabio. "She is working with Olivier?"
Olivier moved to perch his very fine ass on the arm of the couch next to Anastacia.
"Si, and I believe we will work very well together, will we not, cara?"
She leaned back to toss him the look.
His response was a quick flash of that lethal smile before he bent down and moved in fast to taste her mouth.
It cost her.
It did.
Her belly trembled and her heart trembled.
But she remained unresponsive.
Olivier lifted his head, dark eyes filled with sheer wickedness stared into hers, almost daring her to do something about the kiss.
Her heart might be going crazy in her chest, but Anastacia Morgan had never backed down from a dare in her life.
Her eyes held his for so long that she eventually heard T.C. swear.
Anastacia gave in first.
She leaned back towards Fabio who put his arm around her shoulders.
Now Anastacia turned to study Fabio.
Fine looking man.
Dressed well.
Nice mouth.
Smelled fantastic.
And there was not a flicker of attraction.
Not one.
Whereas her lips were still tingling and other parts of her were revving like a Ferrari engine on the starting line after Olivier's kiss.
Now she turned to send her tormentor another stony stare.
“Don’t you remember our conversation about inappropriate behaviour between work colleagues?” she said in a tone that would melt solid steel.
His dark eyes warmed as he smiled into hers.
The dimple flashed.
And immediately parts of her went warm, too.
Oh no, she was not attracted to this man.
“We are not working now, piccolino. Or should I say, Ana Banana?”
His hand reached out, his fingers playing lazily with a silky curl.
The move was one of possession, as if he had a right to touch her whenever and however he wanted.
Anastacia’s hand seriously itched to swipe that supercilious look off his too handsome face. But then a black-eye would mean he’d be damaged goods for the campaign, and Nico would most certainly fire her.
“Unless you grew a vagina since the last time I saw you, only close girlfriends get to call me Banana. Trust me." Her eyes narrowed on her two grinning girlfriends who were watching the scene unfold with big eyes. “I have nicknames for them, too.”
“Don’t you dare,” T.C. warned her.
Anastacia turned to Olivier, glared and jerked her hair from his roving hand.
“And no touchy feely stuff either.”
His response to the bad tempered snap in her tone wasn't what she expected. Instead of annoyance, his eyes went all soft and gentle.
“Anastacia,” Olivier purred her name deep in his throat. She felt the vibration shimmer through her whole system, from her scalp, right down to her toes. “Be a good girl.”
She couldn't look away from the expression for her in his dark eyes. There was patience there and something like understanding, too. As her eyes locked on his, for Anastacia, the noise of the bar, the chatter of her friends, simply fell away.
A little voice whispered in her mind that this was so not good.
Not good at all.
Chapter Nine
“Oh my,” Danni breathed.
"Christ on a crutch. I never thought I’d live to see the day,” T.C. muttered into her drink.
It wasn't easy, but Anastacia blinked to sever the connection with Olivier and turned to her friends.
“What?”
“The day that a man defied not only the look, but got right in your face. I like him,” T.C. said.
The room was spinning and Anastacia wondered how much champagne she'd drunk.
She reached for a glass of water.
"Girls, would you care to join us for dinner?" The rumble of Olivier's deep voice seemed to make her whole body quiver. Maybe it was time to lay off the wine.
Anastacia opened her mouth to refuse his very kind invitation, but T.C. beat her to it.
"Ooooh, we'd love to join you, wouldn't we, Danni?"
"Deeelighted," agreed Danni in that annoying girly voice, deliberately avoiding Anastacia's eye.
"That's settled," said Olivier as he turned and waved to an attentive waiter.
Within minutes their little group was led into the dining area and a round table tucked away in the corner. Anastacia found herself sitting between Olivier and Fabio and decided to make the best of it. After all, she was starving and if Olivier wanted to spring for dinner then she was perfectly happy to let him.
The waiter took their food selection, the football players all ordered large portions of grilled chicken breast and salads without dressing. Danni ordered the same. T.C. (wh
o had a hate-hate relationship with food) hummed and hawed until she ordered grilled fish and steamed vegetables. Anastacia ordered a double beef burger with cheese, crispy bacon and a double portion of sweet potato fries.
T.C. turned to glare at Anastacia in utter disgust.
"I hate you. How can you eat that and never gain an ounce? It's not fekking fair."
"Probably because I'm not sitting on my ass all day and I have a fast metabolism. Plus I don't have a giant bowl of candy at my elbow. If you got rid of the sugar you wouldn't have a problem, babe."
"To me, you look like a goddess," Fabio said to T.C. in a deep and throaty Italian accent, and sounded absolutely sincere. His dark eyes took a leisurely and appreciative stroll over her hair and her face. It wasn't often Anastacia saw her friend lost for words, but T.C. was lost for words now and blushing like a girl.
Across the table, Danni made big eyes at Anastacia as if to say, 'How hot is Fabio?'
"You always look stunning, piccolino," Olivier murmured in Anastacia's ear. The way his breath heated her cheek made other parts of her heat, too. And she didn't care for the sensation at all. He continued, "I love your dress. I love your sense of style."
Deeply unimpressed, she turned to face him and spotted how his gaze had dropped to the amount of thigh she was showing. It cost her, but she refused to pull the hem of her dress down. She wouldn't give him the satisfaction.
"You've seen me twice."
His gaze drifted up her body, met her eyes. "Expensive. You must be paid well."
Nosy bastard.
Anastacia showed him her teeth.
"I'm worth it," she shot back. Her smile didn't reach her eyes. "It's written into my contract that I receive a quarterly clothes allowance. In this business I represent the Ferranti brand and it's important I hold my own."
"You are tiny."
There's news.
But what the hell, she wondered, did her height have to do with her ability to do her job?
"Yes... well, that also makes it problematic when buying clothes. In my world my appearance, my presentation, is a declaration of intent. A proclamation of purpose that matters, a lot."
"Yes, she is soooooo right," Danni interrupted in a chirpy voice that made her best friend want to belt her. "Ana's small, but she is mighty. I like to think of how I dress Anastacia as readying her for battle. Her clothes are almost like body armour. Exquisite tailoring, beautifully proportioned, constructed of the right fabrics and fit just for her. VB's designs are perfect for her shape. I've ordered a whole new collection for the summer season." Now she grinned at a glowering Anastacia. "You're gonna look fab, babe."