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Leonie shivered, the interior of the car feeling suddenly cold. ‘What do you want, then? I can’t pay you, and I’m not telling you my name, so all you can do is call the police and have me prosecuted. And if you’re not going to do that, then isn’t it easier to let me go?’
‘But then how would I be recompensed for my inconvenience?’ He shook his head slowly. ‘No, I’m afraid,gatita, I can’t let you go.’ He paused, his green eyes considering. ‘I think I’m going to have to put you to work instead.’
CHAPTER TWO
THELITTLEREDHEADtreated this suggestion without obvious enthusiasm—which Cristiano had expected.
He still didn’t know why exactly he’d said it. Because she was right. He could afford the paltry amount it would take to get his limo repainted. And as for his supposed inconvenience...
He glanced out through the window to the two lovely women he’d wanted to join him for the night. They were still out there, waiting for him to give them the word, though for once he felt a lessening of his own enthusiasm for their company.
It was a bit mystifying, since he never said no to anything or anyone—still less two beautiful women. Nevertheless, he found himself more interested in the littlegatitasitting opposite him. She was a puzzle, and it had been too long since he’d had a puzzle.
He wanted her name. And the fact that she wouldn’t just give it to him was irritating. Especially when that familiarity kept tugging on him, rubbing against his consciousness like a burr in a blanket.
Women never denied him, and the fact that she had was annoying.
And then she’d muttered that thing about men, and he’d realised that letting her go meant letting her go back on the streets at two in the morning. Admittedly she’d been with a crowd earlier, but they’d all vanished, so she’d be on her own.
That she was used to looking after herself was obvious, but it didn’t mean he was going to let her. He wasn’t a gentleman, despite the fact that he came from an ancient line of Spanish nobility. Not in any way. But he was enough of a man that he couldn’t leave this young woman alone in the middle of the night.
Because, no, he wouldn’t be surprised at what men wanted from such a delectable little morsel such as herself. He was one of those men after all.
That left him with only one option: to keep hold of her in a way she’d accept.
He could, of course, simply ignore her protests and take her back to his Paris mansion and keep her there. But, again, dealing with the protests that would no doubt entail would be tiresome, and he preferred to avoid tiresome things. Things that left less time to do the things he liked doing. His own personal pleasure always took priority.
It would be easier all round if she agreed, therefore work it was.
If only he had something for her to do...
He had estates and acastilloback in Spain—which he avoided going to whenever possible—and numerous companies he’d invested his considerable fortune in. But he already had a number of staff managing all those things—and besides, they weren’t the kinds of things a Parisian street urchin could manage, no matter how feisty she was.
No, the only work he could conceivably give her was domestic, by adding her to his housekeeping staff. He already had a large contingent, but one more wouldn’t hurt. House-cleaning, at least, required no extensive training, and it would keep her close until he’d uncovered her mysteries.
Which he was going to do, since he currently had a dearth of mysteries in his life.
‘What kind of work?’ she asked, still suspicious.
‘I need someone to clean for me.’ He tilted his head, studying her. ‘I have a house in Paris that’s very large and needs attention. You may work out what you owe me for the car and my personal inconvenience there.’
‘But I—’
‘Did I mention that I have rooms set aside for my staff? You will be required to live on-site for the duration.’
‘Don’t guys like you already have a lot people doing your dirty work for you?’
‘Yes.’ Her scorn didn’t bother him. He tried not to let anything bother him, since it was very dangerous for all concerned when he was bothered. ‘But I could always do with one more. Plus, I pay my staff very well for doing my “dirty work”.’
At the mention of pay, something changed. Her eyes lost that wary look, and a calculating gleam sparked in their depths.
He knew that gleam and he knew it intimately. It was hunger. And not in the physical sense, of needing food, but in the sense of wanting something you could never have and wanting it desperately.
Money—she wanted money. And who could blame her when she didn’t have any? Money was power, and she didn’t have any of that, either, he’d bet.
Sure enough, she said, ‘Pay? You pay them?’
‘Of course. That’s why they’re my staff and not my slaves.’
