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His gaze dropped down to her breasts again. ‘You certainly are.’
Okay, that was enough. ‘Jerry, I’m tired. I’m going to bed. I suggest you do the same.’ How much wine had he drunk with dinner? His eyes weren’t entirely focused when he finally managed to look up at her face.
‘Aw, come on. Just a quick nightcap. After all, we missed out on after-dinner drinks.’
‘I really don’t think that’s a good idea,’ Faith said, slipping her keycard into the door. ‘Early start and all tomorrow. Goodnight, Jerry.’
A hand appeared above hers on the door, pushing it open, and the first pangs of panic stabbed in Faith’s chest. Focusing on her breathing, she grabbed the handle and yanked it closed again, almost catching Jerry’s fingers in the door as she did so.
‘I said goodnight, Jerry.’ The words came out much calmer than she felt. Her heart pounded against her ribcage and she wanted to kick out, stamp on his feet in her one remaining red heel, the way the self-defence classes had taught her.
But he was Dominic’s client. And he hadn’t actually done anything yet, except make her feel desperately uncomfortable.
Of course, if his hands moved from the door to her body, she was taking him down.
Fingers, hot and sweaty, landed on her hip and Faith didn’t waste time thinking any more. Stamping down with her right foot, she tried not to smile in satisfaction as Jerry let go and howled.
‘Oh, I’m so sorry. Was that your foot?’ she asked, her voice syrupy sweet.
‘You bitch! You wait until I tell your boss about this.’ Jerry was practically curled up over his foot, his face shining red, his eyes furious.
Faith managed one moment of relief before a figure appeared at the edge of her vision, coming around the corridor from the lift. And, before she could even look, she heard Dominic say, ‘Tell her boss about what?’ and her heart plummeted.
CHAPTER EIGHT
JERRY HAD SCAMPERED back to his room before Dominic could get any coherent account of what had happened, which he supposed meant he’d have to trust Faith’s version of the story to be fully accurate. Normally, he hated only hearing one side. But on this occasion...he trusted Faith a hell of a lot more than the man he’d been doing business with for nearly three years.
‘Tell me what happened,’ he said as Faith let them both into her room, kicked off her ruined shoes and headed straight for the minibar.
‘Pretty much exactly what you think happened.’ She pulled out a small bottle of Scotch and reached for the glasses on the counter above.
‘I don’t know what happened,’ he said reasonably as he took a seat in the armchair. ‘All I saw was my client on the floor, practically crying in pain.’
Faith shrugged. ‘I stood on his foot.’
Dominic’s gaze dropped to the ridiculously high heels she’d discarded in the corner. The one with the intact heel certainly looked as if it could do some damage. ‘Why?’
‘Would you believe me if I said it was an accident?’ Faith poured the whisky evenly between the two glasses and handed one to him.
‘No,’ he said, taking a sip. Not as good as his, but not bad.
With a sigh, Faith dropped onto the sofa, curling her legs up under her. ‘He was drunk. He got...ideas. And he didn’t appear able to comprehend the word no.’
Dominic stopped, stared, his blood heating up. He’d kill him. How could he even think for a moment that Faith—Faith!—would want to...?
‘You don’t believe me.’ Glancing over, he saw Faith’s wide eyes looking at him with disappointment.
‘Oh I believe you,’ he said, the words scratchy in his throat. ‘And that bastard is on the next flight home.’ Pushing himself to his feet, he let his anger carry him towards the door, but Faith stopped him before he got there, her small hand on his arm, a touch he hadn’t expected.
‘He was drunk,’ she repeated. ‘And stupid. Very, very stupid. But I took care of it.’
‘You shouldn’t have had to.’
‘No, I shouldn’t. But, trust me, it’s not the first time it’s happened. Guys get ideas in hotels, for some reason. But I learnt to look after myself, and no one has ever got any further than a hand on my waist unless I wanted them to, I promise.’
She sounded so calm, so certain, that Dominic’s blood started to cool, just a little. ‘I still want to punish him.’
‘Oh, by all means,’ Faith said, giving him a lopsided smile. ‘Just find something more subtle than getting yourself arrested for grievous bodily harm, yeah?’
Dropping back down onto the couch, Dominic realised that he would have done. He’d have gone to that bastard’s room and pounded him to a pulp, without caring what the police would do, or what the press would say, what damage it would do to the business, to these negotiations. Three years of strategising down the drain, and the Beresford name on the front of every paper for all the wrong reasons again.
