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‘I’ve heard all about the secret passage to your residence.’
‘Have you, now?’
‘I’m just saying, given that your signing of the Document of Intent is imminent, now might be the time to be careful.’
‘And there I was thinking you were here to tidy up my image, not police it.’
‘You’re right,’ Beatrice conceded. ‘I shouldn’t have said anything.’
‘Then why did you?’
He watched Beatrice as she looked skywards and took in a breath. She even opened her mouth to answer, but then closed it, clearly changing her mind.
And suddenly he saw the difference he had been unable to articulate earlier.
Those pale blue eyes were obscured, as if by two black saucers, and it wasn’t just lust. She was angry—so angry he could see her attempts to contain it. He actually stood there, watching her trying to reel in all her unseen emotions. Like some teacher with a whistle, she was demanding they all get back in line, back in neat order.
But order could not be restored.
‘I’m going to go,’ Beatrice said. ‘You’ve got an early flight.’
‘Am I being told it’s my bedtime now?’
‘Julius, stop.’
‘Stop what?’ he checked insolently, as if he didn’t know what the issue was...as if he couldn’t feel the charge in the air between them that would not dim.
There was not a chance in hell of her being able to endure this every day for the rest of her working life, Beatrice knew. She was angry—but not with him. She was angry that she could not escape her own desire for him. She was angry at the circumstances that had brought her to this point.
And suddenly she could no longer hold it all in. She no longer wanted to.
‘I don’t really have a partner to discuss things with. I was trying to find a polite reason to turn the job offer down.’
‘What’s the real reason?’
‘Believe me, you don’t want to know.’
‘Believe me, I do.’
Despite her inexperience, Beatrice instinctively knew that what she said next meant either goodnight or bed...
And Beatrice wanted it to be the latter.
She wanted to be the on-the-ball, confident, sexual woman he thought she was.
Just for one night.
Just to know.
Then she would be able to move on.
And she reminded herself in that dangerous moment of indecision that she’d once considered paying a stranger for that knowledge. One night with this reprobate prince meant she could get it for free. And not with a stranger.
Yes, she was angry. And suddenly all her carefully tamped-down emotions came boiling out of her in a rush.
‘I’ll tell you why I’ll be turning your job offer down. I am so through with looking at pictures of you all day and reading about your sex life, watching the game you play of pretending to behave—’
‘No one’s pretending,’
