Lizzie bites her lip, looking a bit uneasy. “He owns the whole building.”
I shift on my feet, almost jumping. “What? Really? Shit. That’s a lot of real estate.” The low rumble of her father’s voice continues from the other room as our conversation continues in hushed voices. “How did I not know this?”
“You never asked.”
Of course I didn’t.I hate talking about my family, my dad especially, and in case my friends feel the same way, I never ask about their families. I remain in the dark, happy to be there.
“I love that you never asked,” Lizzie continues. “Sometimes, all people want to talk about is my dad. Rafe Bastion this, Rafe Bastion that. Where is he? What’s he doing? Ooh, your dad is so hot, et cetera, et cetera.” She performs an elaborate eye roll. “It’s so annoying.”
A million questions bubble through my mind. Before I can ask any of them, Lizzie ushers me into the wide open plan living area, with its huge sofas and low glass coffee tables. But it’s the tall man, silhouetted against the window, the sun setting behind him, that snares my attention. He has his phone pinned to his ear, his other hand in his hair.
Even from behind, I can tell he’s stressed. Tension spills from his tight shoulders, spiralling unseen through the room and forming a tight knot in my gut.
“No, I will not do that,” he continues. “Absolutely not. Fuck’s sake. There has to be a boundary somewhere.”
“He’s busy,” I say, elbowing Lizzie in the side. “Let’s go.”
Lizzie doesn’t yield, and before I can move, he turns.
The world slows as I catch sight of his face.
It’s him.Him.
I tense as memories bombard me. Him, naked. Thrusting into me. Taking me from behind. The raw, masculine noises he made as he fucked me into oblivion. The contrast with him now, wearing a navy suit that’s perfectly sculpted to his frame and a crisp white shirt that’s undone at the neck, is enough to make my head spin. He looks corporate. Powerful. Terrifying. The kind of man who could destroy your business with the click of his fingers. My legs turn to jelly, and before I know what’s happening, I’ve dropped to the ground behind the sofa. I’m almost hyperventilating.
What the actual fuck?
How is this possible?
Lizzie crouches beside me, her dark eyes wide and worried. “Are you okay? What are you doing?”
“That’s your dad?” I gesture wildly with one hand, spitting the question out like poison.
She frowns. “Yeah. That’s him.”
“He lives here?”
Lizzie lets out a shaky laugh, staring at me like she thinks I’m losing my mind. “Yup. Me and him. Is that okay?”
My breathing is still too fast.I scrabble to say something that makes sense, but all that comes out, in a desperate, obviously freaked-out tone, is,“He’s American. You didn’t tell me your dad was American.”
Her frown deepens. “Do you have a problem with Americans?”
I shake my head, trying to snap myself out of this unholy panic. “No. Nope. No problem with Americans. In fact, I like them. Love them. My mum is American. Fucking love Americans.”
Shut up, Diana.
“What’s wrong then?” she asks.
“Nothing.” I sweep my hands over the carpet. “Dropped an earring.”
“You’ve got both your earrings in.”
I touch my ears one at a time. “Oh. Yeah. Silly me.”
Her father is still talking on the phone, and the deep rumble of his voice is doing weird things to my body that I have no control over. Yes, he sounds angry… but also,dominant.
Oh, God. The man not only has a face to die for, but he has one of those sexy, in-charge businessman voices.
