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Evie looked at him stupidly. ‘Here?’
‘Why not? Rio isn’t arriving until tomorrow afternoon. Your shift ends at midnight and begins again at seven in the morning. It makes perfect sense for you to stay here. Sleep on top of the bed if it bothers you. I’ll make sure you’re not disturbed.’
Evie stared at him, her instincts on full alert. ‘You’re suggesting that I stay in the Penthouse?’
‘Why not? It isn’t doing anyone any harm and I owe you a favour.’ He hesitated. ‘Evie, I apologise if I came on a little strong a few weeks ago. I misread the signals.’
She hadn’t given him any signals. ‘I’d rather forget that.’ Evie, feeling horribly awkward, was nevertheless relieved by his surprise apology. Perhaps he wasn’t trying to find reasons to fire her. ‘How is your finger?’
‘Healing.’ Carlos flexed his bandaged finger and gave a rueful smile. ‘Seriously, Evie. Stay here tonight. It’s in the interests of the hotel—you’ll get more work done if you’re here on the premises.’
What he said made sense.
So why was she hesitating? She’d have somewhere warm to stay and she could start searching for another place tomorrow. ‘All right. Thanks. If you’re sure.’
‘Do you have any dry clothes?’
Evie thought of the bag of belongings she’d left in the basement. ‘I have a…a bag downstairs.’
‘I’ll arrange for someone to collect it. Where did you leave it?’
Flanked by his security team, Rio Zaccarelli left his private jet under the cover of darkness and slid into the waiting car.
‘No press—that’s good.’ Antonio, his senior bodyguard, scanned the area. ‘No one knows you’re coming. Do you want us to call ahead and warn the hotel? They’re expecting you in the afternoon, not at four in the morning.’
‘No.’ Rio lounged in the back of the car, his eyes hooded as he contemplated the surprise that would no doubt accompany his unexpected arrival. ‘I don’t want to announce myself.’
Knowing never to question the boss, Antonio simply slammed the car door shut and slid in next to the driver. ‘Shouldn’t take us long to get there at this hour. No traffic. I suppose it’s because it’s Christmas. Lots of people have already stopped work.’
Rio didn’t reply.
A cold feeling spread across his skin. A feeling that had nothing to do with the dropping temperature and the swirling snowflakes outside the car. He looked out of the window, keeping his expression blank.
Christmas.
Twenty years had passed and yet he still hated this time of year.
If he had his way, Christmas would be scrubbed from the calendar.
Blocking out the endless twinkling lights and Christmas decorations adorning the dark streets, Rio was for once grateful for the endless demands of his BlackBerry.
Anna, the ballerina, had sent him fourteen messages, each one more desperate than the last.
He read the first three, saw the word ‘commitment’ and deleted the rest without reading them. Christmas, commitment—why was it that his least favourite words all began with C?
The car pulled up outside the hotel and Rio sat for a moment, surveying the elegant architecture. It was the most expensive few acres of real estate in the world.
You’ll never make anything of yourself, Rio. You’ll amount to nothing.
Rio gave a grim smile as he surveyed ‘nothing’.
He owned it. All of it. Every last brick. Not bad for someone who had once watched his life ground into the dirt.
Leaning forward, he spoke to his driver in Italian. ‘Take me to the rear entrance.’
‘Yes, sir.’
Rio sprang from the car and walked through the rear door of the hotel, his mouth tightening in disapproval as no one challenged him.
