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Ah well, that didn’t matter right now either. She’d stumble into bed and deal with it later, like she would with Augustine. She could manage him. She’d been doing that for five years now and had been very successful. The best personal assistant he’d ever had—or so he’d told her at her last performance review. He never gave out compliments, at least he didn’t give her any, so she’d treasured that one. Even thinking about it gave her a little glow.
Pathetic. He doesn’t even seeyou as a person yet you regularly lie down on the floor like a rug and let him walk all over you.
Winifred hung her towel carefully on the rail and walked back into the bedroom, squinting in the dark for the bed.
Ridiculous. She wasn’t a rug. She’d set out to be the best personal assistant he’d ever had, and that’s exactly what she’d become. Yes, she tried to anticipate his every need, and sometimes that was difficult, but the bottom line was that this job was important. She needed the money it earned her, which she was steadily saving for the express purpose of sending to her two sisters. They’d be coming out of foster care soon and she wanted them to have something, money for a house or college, or whatever else they wanted to do.
Anyway, she loved working for him. She never wanted to leave.
Correction: you love him.
That was also true. An unfortunate side effect of the job. But when you worked for the most charismatic, charming, handsome king in the entire world, falling in love with him almost wasn’t a choice. She was his right-hand woman, the first person he went to with a problem, the one he could count on to get him whatever he needed. The only person in the world who knew him better than he knew himself, and that was intoxicating.
So yes, she loved him. But she knew too, that nothing would ever happen between them. He was an inveterate playboy, yet he had strict rules when it came to his employees and he never broke them. So even if hehadbeen attracted her—and he wasn’t, she was certain—he’d never have done anything about it.
It was fine. Her job was more important than any sleazy affair anyway and not something she’d ever put at risk just for sex.
She put out a hand and found the bed, then slipped into it, nearly moaning in relief at the feeling of cool, crisp sheets against her skin.
After the plane journey from hell, a hot shower, a comfortable bed and clean sheets were bliss.
She burrowed into the softness of the pillow and closed her eyes.
Then just as she was about to drift off, a large, warm hand settled on her hip.
‘Hmmm,’ a deep, masculine melted-honey voice murmured in her ear. ‘There you are. I thought you’d never come.’ There was movement in the bed and the heat of another body behind her. Warm breath against her neck. ‘Though I have to say, not coming is something you’ll never have to worry about with me.’
Winifred froze, utterly still with shock.
She knew that voice. She knew it like she knew her own name. She heard it every day at work, though at work it didn’t usually sound so...warm and husky and sexy.
Yet the undeniable truth was that Augustine Solari, King of Isavere, had the most beautiful voice in creation.
Augustine Solari, King of Isavere, who was also apparently in her bed.
Her mind reeled. That was impossible; he shouldn’t be here. He couldn’t be here. Yet there was no denying the warm pressure of that hand on her hip.
What on earth was he doing in her bed?
He wouldn’t be. So are you sure you’re in your bed?
Winifred took a long, slow breath, staring into the darkness of the room. Perhaps she wasn’t. Perhaps she’d got so lost that she’d somehow stumbled into this room,hisroom. And that hand on her hip, that note of welcome in his voice... He must have been expecting someone. Someone he’d met at the ball, maybe? Someone who clearly wasn’t her.
At that moment, his hand on her hip slid down to her stomach, long fingers spreading out over her bare skin, the powerful length of his body shifting and then pressing against hers.
Every inch of her came alive.
Her breath caught, her heartbeat accelerating.
She’d been in love with him for years. The instant she’d met him, she’d fallen under his spell, and as those years had gone by, the spell had only deepened.
She wasn’t sure why, because he’d never given her the slightest bit of encouragement and so feeling the way she did about him meant she had to be very careful with her emotions. She’d become very good at hiding them.
It was only that he had a persona that he projected to the world, the charming, dissolute, disreputable Playboy King, but she knew that wasn’t him. Because he wasn’t like that in private. He was...serious. Intelligent. Sharper than a knife. He had difficulties that he hid, and only she out of everyone in Isavere, knew that about him.
Only she, out of everyone in Isavere, was permitted to know.
Yet she wasn’t an idiot about her feelings. She’d known right from the start that kings didn’t love women like her. Kings barely even noticed women like her. Also, he was her boss and not only would he not cross that line, neither would she.
