Chapter Three #2
Massimo didn’t know how his simple reconnaissance mission had exploded with such spectacular force.
Fireworks were still going off inside him but he’d veered so far off course he couldn’t find the way forward.
All he could do was stare. Her hazel eyes flashed fire; her porcelain cheeks filled with reddened fury.
She had every right to rage at him, but not everything that had happened had been planned.
And he sure as hell had never been anyone’s damned cherry on top.
A little something juicy and sweet? That description suited her. Entirely.
For all his warnings to Emiliano, he was the one who’d messed up. Hell, he’d not acted on impulse like this in years. Now he couldn’t even get her into the car to have this deeply awkward conversation in private. He’d lost all control and he wanted to start over. He wanted the impossible.
‘If you get in the car, the driver will get out,’ he muttered. ‘At least we’ll then have privacy while we talk and I’ll answer all of your questions.’
She blinked. ‘The driver gets out first.’
He supposed he couldn’t blame her for being so mistrustful.
A minute later Lily shot daggers at him as she climbed into the rear passenger seat and slammed the door behind her.
Massimo took a moment to breathe before getting in from the other side, his body rebelling against the small distance between them.
He’d only intended to find out about her.
Instead, he’d devolved—dived headlong into the fastest, hottest sexual encounter of his life.
He’d not lost control like that in years, and he was making it worse with every moment now.
‘Why didn’t you say anything?’ she asked again. ‘You knew who I was, but you didn’t think to be honest with me. Why not?’
Her biting tone spurred him into defensive mode. ‘I was tired, I’d barely woken and you were practically in my lap and—’
‘Are you suggesting you weren’t capable of consent?’ Her pupils flared and her cheeks flushed even more scarlet.
Oh no. He’d been so willing, because she’d been so overwhelming. She’d shredded his brain in a way that had never happened before and for that, in this instant, he blamed her. ‘You kissed me first.’
‘So I seduced you?’
‘Didn’t you?’ It stung that she had such obvious regrets. ‘You were the one who didn’t want a brake point. You wanted us both to get the chequered flag.’
As fast as possible. And they had. And it had been worth it. Until now.
‘That’s true, I wanted that. I wanted you,’ she acknowledged. ‘Because I didn’t know who you were. If I had, then I never—’
‘I’ll work something out,’ he said hurriedly, not wanting to hear her vociferously reject him yet again. ‘I’ll arrange—’
The look on her face stopped him in his tracks.
‘Are you that used to buying anything and everything you want?’ She positively dripped with acerbic judgement.
Honestly, he didn’t have to buy. These days he was given pretty much everything he wanted, because of the money he had. Money meant power and influence and control.
‘You can’t buy my silence.’ She leaned forward. ‘You can’t buy me.’
‘That was never my intention.’ He did deals every damned day but somehow he couldn’t see a way through this. Her proximity—her energy—smoked his ability to think.
‘No?’ She mocked him softly. ‘But I bet you want my signature on an NDA. Isn’t that what rich jerks like you do—contract your way out of trouble? Manage reputational risk with an oversize cheque here and there? Pay to make the little problem disappear?’
His lawyers might recommend that but as this was a first for Massimo, he didn’t know and he wasn’t about to ask them. And she wasn’t a little problem; she was a damned bomb—
‘Do you honestly imagine that I would ever want a single living soul to know what just happened between us?’ She furiously exploded when he failed to answer.
‘Do you think I want to sell my sky-high-sexcapade-with-a-billionaire story to the press?’ She overflowed with scornful derision and kept spitting more.
‘Do you think I’m going to blog about every amazing detail? Do—’
‘I’m glad we agree it was amazing,’ he interrupted coolly.
She gaped. Silenced. Good. His control trickled back. His clarity. He met her furious glare and felt the wicked need to be honest about something. Better late than never after all. ‘It was amazing,’ he repeated defiantly.
She could lay off the anger and outrage; he would do nothing to get in the way of her work.
They could handle this like adults—calmly, rationally, reasonably.
The bare fact of the matter was that he’d forgotten who he was for five minutes and he’d loved it.
He’d been no one—just a guy in the dark with a girl.
A traveller with no responsibilities and obligations, nothing but the freedom to do what he wanted.
And he’d wanted her. Maybe she thought he’d used her and maybe he had, but she’d used him, too.
‘I can only apologise for not telling you who I was sooner, but I genuinely lost track of everything when we were up there,’ he said.
‘You just wanted to get off.’
‘Yes.’ He refused to be ashamed of that. ‘Same as you.’
She stared at him, clearly waiting for more.
She was right to wait—he hadn’t told her everything, but he could hardly admit he’d been trying to find out about her because he was worried about her intentions towards his teenage cousin.
He’d been a fool. He did need to fix this.
‘I can assure you that this won’t affect your job—’
‘You’re right, it won’t. Because I worked hard to earn my place in P1 Global. I earned it on merit and I’m keeping my spot.’
That was a fair point. He’d been consumed by desire; he’d let emotions cloud his judgement. From the moment he’d seen her in that damned video, he’d acted completely on impulse—something he’d not done in years.
‘Why were you even on a cargo flight? Why weren’t you on your fancy private jet?’ She lifted her chin. ‘How did you know my name?’
‘I know all my employees’ names.’
It was a lie, but he didn’t want to admit why he knew hers.
Not confess he’d been there to quietly vet her motivations for being in the garage.
That he’d considered her a threat to his cousin would only make her more angry and his suspicion was insulting.
Even though where he came from, ulterior predatory motivations were totally common, she was hardly about to offer him any poor little rich boy pity. And he didn’t want it.
‘All five thousand of them? How very impressive,’ she drawled sceptically. ‘But you don’t give a damn about workplace ethics or abusing your power.’ Her gaze went right through him.
‘I didn’t abuse my power. You didn’t know who I was. I didn’t coerce you as your boss and I’m not going to now.’ Even so, Massimo hadn’t felt guilt like this in years. ‘What happened isn’t going to make a jot of difference to your job.’
‘Because I’m too low level for you to bother with?’
‘Lily—’
‘This didn’t happen,’ she snarled suddenly. ‘No one will ever know about this.’
He stared at her, ruthlessly suppressing his rising rebellion.
The gulf of rejection. Who was she to dictate terms to him?
He’d worked too hard for too long to gain complete control over his life, his family, his company.
He’d not set a foot out of line in years.
He’d been nothing but diligent and disciplined, driven to secure the family name, to recover the company, prove himself to those who’d disparaged him.
Massimo owed it to his father. For all his failings, his father had fought so hard for him.
But Massimo was not making the same mistakes.
Only he just had—indulging in weakness for a beautiful woman.
‘I don’t want anything from you. Absolutely nothing aside from your discretion. Do you understand?’ Distress whitened her face. ‘I’m not having the last five years of hard work wiped out by a single whisper of impropriety.’
He bit the inside of his cheek, waiting for her to finish.
‘We’ll never have anything to do with each other. We’ll stay fifteen feet away from each other at all times.’
We. Her language linked them like a team, a couple. Lovers. Triumph flickered, reigniting his crazy attraction. She was a slight figure of fury and spellbinding with it.
‘We’ll never discuss it.’ Her eyes glinted suspiciously. ‘In fact, we’ll never actually speak again. Ever.’
Despite it being justified, her judgement outraged him.
Even though she was insisting on a protocol that he’d have demanded from her had he spoken first, he was utterly frustrated by the harsh rules she was imposing.
Fully triggered, he didn’t want to agree to her requirements.
For the first time in years he wanted to rebel.
To do what he wanted, not what was expected.
But then giving in to that urge once tonight is what had him in this current untenable position.
Now she looked disturbingly pale. ‘Do you agree?’
He gritted his teeth. ‘Completely.’
‘Then I’m out of here.’
But that last little thing Massimo couldn’t agree to. ‘I’ll get out of the car. My driver will see you home safely.’
‘That’s not necessary.’
Of course she refused. Of course she was determined to have everything her own way—just as she’d had everything she’d wanted on that damned plane. But this time they didn’t want the same thing.
‘I’ve agreed to all your stipulations,’ he said softly. ‘Can’t you concede this?’
Her gaze clashed—locked—with his and they both remained immobile. The smallest satisfaction swept through him. He could spend all day staring at her. Except her lips trembled, and regret coursed through him.
‘You’ve travelled and worked long hours this week. It’s Hearnshawe’s responsibility to ensure you get home safe—’ He broke off, realising it was the wrong thing to say.
She stiffened, outraged and independent to the end. ‘I’m not and never will be your responsibility.’