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“Right.” He nodded once, eyes narrowing slightly. “I don’t want to risk it, with Ellie. I can’t have her thinking something’s happening between us, possibly getting attached to you, especially when we both know this is temporary. We’re adults, we can get our heads around that. I’m not so sure she can; I don’t want to risk it.” She ignored the strange looping in the pit of her stomach. “It’s better to keep things businesslike with her.”

“You’re a client, she’s a client. Got it.”

His brow furrowed, indicating that hadn’t been exactly what he’d meant to say. But Dimitrios wasn’t a man who apologized. Chloe had known that about him almost from the first moment they’d met. Besides, what did he have to be sorry for? She pushed up onto her knees then, moving across the bed to where he stood, so they were close enough to touch.

“This is exactly what we said would happen,” she reminded him. “Besides, some space is probably a good idea.” The words were out before she could stop them, and for a second, she held her breath, worried at what the implication of that might be. That she needed space because it was becoming too much? Only, that wasn’t the case. They’d both been so careful to keep this casual, and they’d done a brilliant job of it. Four nights did not an emotional minefield make.

“I’m glad you agree.”

Had she?

“I’ll be home with Ellie around five o’clock. Dinner is six-thirty.” He hesitated. “You are welcome to join us?”

But it was exactly what they’d just said wouldn’t happen. Chloe pulled a face, laughed softly, ignoring the fact it all felt a little like an act. “It’s fine, Dimitrios. I’m actually looking forward to a quiet night.”

“Are you?” He moved closer, wrapping his arms around her waist, his gaze latched to hers. “Then I haven’t done a very good job.”

“Of what?”

“Making myself irresistible.” He said it with a smirk, because he knew—of course he knew!—that he was precisely that: irresistible. Impossible to say ‘no’ to. And so, she didn’t. When he kissed her, she pressed her body forward and ran her hands down his back, holding on almost as if she didn’t want to let go.

Her plan had been to make herself scarce before Ellie arrived. She never really liked seeing the client’s reactions to her decorations, and given that this was still very much a ‘work in progress’, it felt a little like allowing someone into the process well before it was time.

So she’d intended to take a thick book to the local pub and drink cider by the fire, eat something deliciously indulgent and while away the night in the kind of solitude she liked best: surrounded by strangers. The happy hum of chatter with no need to partake in it herself.

But Dimitrios must have got the timings of his afternoon wrong. It didn’t seem likely—the man was like a Swiss chronometer—but what else explained the fact that his car pulled up on the gravel drive just after four? Right when Chloe was almost ready to make her escape?

She’d been putting the finishing touches on the living room—the one complete space, with beautiful, locally-sourced, hand-poured festive candles lit, creating a glorious fragrance of pine and nutmeg. She’d baked gingerbread cookies—her mother’s recipe—and laid them out on a sterling silver tray with sugared plums she’d dipped that morning. There was a box with ingredients for hot chocolates, including star-shaped marshmallows, and the tree was lit with its beautiful golden fairy lights. The whole room suddenly looked cozy despite its size. Next week, she’d swap out the sofa cushions and throws for festive themed furnishings, but they were yet to arrive from London.

In any event, the scene was set to delight anyone, let alone an adolescent, but Chloe had planned to absent herself well before their arrival.

So the sound of car doors closing had her moving to a window that overlooked the drive, a frown tugging at her lips as she watched Dimitrios retrieve a dark blue school bag from the trunk of his Range Rover, then move to the front passenger door. He opened it and stood patiently, and even in that moment, that simple, benign act, she found herself staring, practically drooling, pulse rushing.

Then, a girl who must have been Ellie stepped from the car, Dimitrios leaning forward to help her. The reason why quickly became obvious: her right arm was in a sling. She was different to what Chloe had begun to imagine. Dimitrios’s description of her as grief-soaked and always wearing black somehow seemed at odds with the teen who emerged, long blonde hair braided and pulled over one shoulder, school tunic a deep blue with a crisp white shirt beneath, and a blazer over the top. She wore grey tights and black shoes. It was the kind of uniform the toffee kids in her area used to wear, she thought with a nostalgic smile, remembering her own uniform—or lack thereof. She liked to push the boundaries as much as possible, opting for leggings and a shirt whenever she could get away with it. Then again, state schools didn’t police the uniforms as tightly as the fancy ones did.

She smiled up at Dimitrios as she moved away from the car, but it slipped a second later, her expression impossible to read.

“Shit,” Chloe muttered, looking around for somewhere to stand then realizing if she hurried, she could make it up to her room and at least wait there for a while before scampering out the front door.

“Whose car is that?” She heard Ellie ask, and even when she was willing her feet to move, she was sort of intrigued by his answer, and so she waited long enough to hear him say, “Someone I’ve hired for a couple of weeks.”

Casual and nonchalant, perfect.

The door opened and she’d lost her chance to escape, so she busied herself with straightening the curtains, to make her standing at the window appear purposeful rather than surveillance-ish.

“Chloe,” Dimitrios’s voice was businesslike enough but she’d heard him say her name too many times, with too much passion, to ignore the effects it had on her. “We didn’t mean to interrupt; we’re earlier than I said we’d be.”

He wasn’t one to apologise and yet it was there, implied by his explanation.

“I was just on my way out,” she murmured, grateful he’d given her the excuse. But how could she ignore the little girl standing silently at his side, studying Chloe with obvious interest? She had nieces and nephews this age, she was no stranger to how their minds worked.

“You look like you’ve been in the wars,” she said, grimacing sympathetically.

Ellie winced. “I fell over.”

Chloe couldn’t have said why she glanced at Dimitrios but she did, and she saw in his expression a look of such obvious worry that her own heart thumped. “Is it broken?”

“Just a buckle fracture,” Ellie demurred.