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She opened the door to the second dressing room and gasped as she found herself peering inside the closet of her dreams. It was perfect! She took a step inside and as she turned slowly in a three-sixty, her breath caught in her throat. The room was almost exactly like the pictures she’d posted on her blog. Her heart beat forcefully at the sheer coincidence of the interior design that so mirrored her own ideas. Was it coincidence?
A chaise lounge with feminine lines sat in the center of the room—exactly as she’d always wanted. Underneath, a spacious Oriental rug with a gorgeous design added another layer of comfort to the room. But the crowning glory? A delicate mini chandelier hung from the ceiling and cast the perfect light—so different from the bold lighting in Max’s dressing room.
The small room was almost completely empty except for the few clothes that had been in her suitcase and which were now hanging in a lone corner, all washed and pressed. The space was definitely larger than a normal walk-in closet, at least four times the size of her closet at home. It contained a selection of built-in drawers and sleek-looking shelves that lined three of the walls.
Everything was done in soothing colors and she was infinitely relieved to know that she wouldn’t have to share a closet with Max. Letting her mind wander, she realized that the chaise lounge would undoubtedly make it convenient to sit and put on shoes or stockings. She pictured herself doing just that and was immediately blasted with a barrage of conflicting emotions when she pictured herself as the mistress of this house—it was enough to make her back out of the room and shut the door.
Looking around the bathroom that Max undoubtedly expected them to share, a quiver of unease shook her. There was a double vanity of white marble, and on closer inspection, she saw that the gold tray on top already contained the few personal items that had been in her cases. Glancing away from the alarming vision, she made sure the door was locked before jumping into the shower. She quickly ran through her ablutions before applying a small amount of makeup for the sole boost that it gave to her self-confidence.
After dressing in one of her conference outfits, she dug through her large handbag. She pulled out her wallet and checked that her credit and debit cards were where they should be. She counted her cash and found she had a reasonable amount that made her feel more secure—even if they were American dollars. But as she dug around deeper, she began to panic—her passport was missing. Max had taken it? Fury and panic exploded in her head and bled down her spine. Bastard had taken her passport. So. Not. Good.
Her fingers sank around the comforting weight of her phone, knowing damn good and well he could have taken that lifeline as well. The battery was still good, and although it seemed to be roaming, she had full bars. Just the weight of the phone in her hand made her feel more confident, but before placing the phone call to her mother that would seal at least her immediate future, she left the suite and sought out the man who’d orchestrated her presence in his country.
Finding a maid in the great room, she was pointed in the direction of a study with a solid wooden door that stood only partially ajar. She stood to the side a moment, trying to get her nerves under control. She could hear the deep rumble of Max’s voice and assumed he was on the phone. Pieces of his conversation floated on the air but she didn’t try to put any of it in context—until she heard this: ‘No, are you kidding me? Take it down. I have a wife now—I never needed an interior designer.’
As the words pierced through her consciousness and she realized exactly what they meant, she fell back against the wall and tried to remain composed. Her heart was racing so quickly it was almost scaring her. The bastard had posted that job opening to bait her into working for him? She knew it! The job had been too perfect.
And if she’d applied for the position, what was his plan after that? Undoubtedly he’d meant to get her to Argentina one way or the other—and here was more proof of what kind of man she was up against.
As he ended his conversation, it took her a moment to get her pulse settled, and when she moved to the door opening, she saw Max seated behind an enormous desk of solid mahogany. Clutching her phone tightly, she cleared her throat, trying to contain her frustration and nerves. He glanced up and as their eyes caught and held, her stomach fell to the floor at the look of charged lust displayed so openly on his features.
