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“You’re very good at hiding it, but you’re actually very softhearted.”
Her first instinct was to deny this, but then she saw his clown face, and a truth suddenly struck her. This was Acheron Simonides getting his face painted on just for the sake of taking her to work – and she couldn’t even admit to being softhearted where he was concerned?
Teeth gnashing, she fought against the usual wave of shyness as she forced herself to say, “I’m only softhearted for people…I care about.”
Seeing her practically choke on the words had Acheron realizing in amusement that Pippi was determined to be more expressive than usual.
Well, then, if that was truly what she wanted, far be it for him to stand in her way…
Pippi nearly lost her footing again when she felt Acheron casually slip an arm around her waist, with his fingers splaying possessively on her hips as he drew her close. Every inch of her was now plastered against his side, and she was all at once on fire and on edge.
All her life, she had steered clear of men like Acheron Simonides, and yet now she was letting him stake a claim on her body, and in full public view of their town’s early risers no less.
Acheron chuckled when Pippi practically dove into the backseat of the car, and the sound had her making a face as soon as he joined her and pulled the door shut on her still-gawking neighbors.
The way the billionaire had held her might not have raised a single eyebrow in Miami, but with Isla de Flores being a sleepy town of less than 2,000 permanent residents, Pippi was glumly certain that Astrid would soon find herself besieged with questions about this morning’s clownish visitor.
“I thought we were supposed to keep things under the radar,” she muttered.
“Which we are,” Acheron answered easily, “by hiding in plain sight.”
“Plain isn’t exactly the word that comes to mind when—” Pippi’s body swayed slightly as the car made a right turn, and she stopped speaking as she turned her anxious gaze towards the driver’s seat.
“Good morning, ma’am.” Wickham’s respectful gaze met Pippi’s through the rearview mirror, and her shoulders sagged with relief even though Acheron’s factotum looked even more menacing in daylight. However sinister Wickham appeared to be, she knew Acheron trusted him, which was enough for Pippi to trust the other man as well.
“I hope you find the vehicle sufficiently comfortable, Ms. Jones.”
“It’s very comfortable.” And even if it wasn’t, Pippi would still say otherwise. With Wickham reminding her of Voldemort on steroids and Acheron still in the process of getting rid of his clown makeup with a wet tissue, Pippi couldn’t help feeling like she had tumbled into a Purge-inspired Wonderland.
And one wrong word, she thought wryly, might just get her neck snapped.
“…one of our strategies is to not use any vehicle owned by Mr. Simonides or the company when picking you up.”
It took more than a second for Pippi to realize Wickham was talking to her, and another second to understand what he was saying. “So this isn’t your car then?”
Wickham named a ride-sharing company and explained after, “It should help shake off anyone that might be on your trail or Mr. Simonides.”
This made a lot of sense, but wasn’t it just a little too much? She started to ask Acheron this herself, but hearing her phone sound out the ringtone she had assigned for the office had Pippi temporarily setting her concerns aside.
“Was that Collins?” Acheron asked when the call ended.
She nodded. “He wanted me to know beforehand that my temporary transfer had been approved.”
His gaze narrowed. “I haven’t heard anything about this.”
“Which is only natural?” Considering the number of individuals Simonides Inc. employed, his desk would be drowning with unnecessary paperwork if he had to be informed of every single transfer request in their workplace.
“It’s a project-based thing,” Pippi felt obliged to add with his silence, “and I’ll be under the direct supervision of the marketing VP…”
Acheron stiffened. “Do you mean Gareth Evans?”
“Umm, yes. Do you know—Acheron!” His name came out in startled protest as he pulled her across the backseat and she suddenly found herself straddling the billionaire. “What do you think you’re doing?’ she hissed.
“Doing something more preferable to listening to you talk about another man.”
“I wasn’t—”
“You are.”
Oh God, it was that voice of his again.
“And I don’t like it.”
Rough, deep, and low, the sound so sexy Pippi was terrified of how easy it could have her do any of his bidding…like now.
He had taken hold of her hand, and she could only watch with helpless fascination as he slowly brought one finger to his lips.
And then it happened, his tongue circling her finger just before he started to suck, and her body melted.
“Acheron.” Her voice shook. “P-Please.” But he just kept doing it, and she just kept melting. “W-We’re not alone—”
