CHAPTER ONE
It was unusual for Kate to have an ungenerous thought, but as she took to the stage, her mind was swimming with them.
How in the world could Melania have ever thought Kate capable of this?
To stand up in front of all of these people and auction herself like a …
like a piece of meat? What on Earth did she have to offer anyone?
Okay, she was a decent secretary thanks to Melania, but she’d taken this job out of desperation.
It was hardly her career goal, and she considered that she spent a lot of time pretending she knew what she was doing rather than feeling flush with confidence.
“You just have to stand there and smile,” Melania had insisted, in that blasé way she had. “It’ll all be over in a minute or two.”
Kate had nodded dumbly, without offering the very true argument to this point: the auction might conclude swiftly enough, but what about whomever bid on her?
What would they require of her and how long would it take?
What if everyone found out, finally, that she was a fraud?
That her name wasn’t really Kate Jones? That she had never worked as a secretary for more than a few weeks in her life before taking up this job for Melania — and even then, she’d only been given the job because Melania had been utterly desperate after her previous assistant had called in sick one morning and never returned.
If Melania had been given more time to reference-check Kate, might she have discovered the truth herself?
Kate resisted the urge to fidget — she had been told again and again that it was one of her worst habits — and plastered a smile on her face. Fortunately, the crowd was simply a spotted field of silhouettes; the overhead lights made it impossible to see definition in any face.
At least she presented somewhat nicely, she thought with a natural gratitude for small mercies. If it hadn’t been for Saphire Arana she would have fronted up looking like a truly frumpy maven of nothing in particular.
She ran her hands over the pale blue fabric of the dress and fixed her gaze on a point in a distant corner of the room.
“Kate Jones is the go-to girl for our founder Melania. She types, she schedules, she organises, and all without breaking a sweat. She can turn any administrative nightmare into a smoothly-run paradise of calm in the blink of an eye.” At this, Kate blinked rather obviously to make light of the praise and the crowd tittered in laughter.
Benedetto did not.
Every ounce of his being was concentrated on the woman.
She was so like him.
Oh, she was beautiful and feminine and were it not for her unpalatable family connection he might have found her desirable enough. But there was something about her that would forever remind him of the man he’d sworn to ruin.
The bidding started at a lowly sum but escalated quickly. Kate did her best to look embarrassed but Benedetto suspected she had always believed she would be the hit of the event. Why else would someone like her agree to be auctioned off in a manner such as this?
As bidding began to slow, he leaned further forward. Her smile was so self-satisfied. She looked inordinately pleased with herself.
She had no idea, he surmised, that her world was about to come crashing down around her ears.
“All bids are final, ladies and gentleman. If you are looking for an organisational wunderkind to streamline your life, then don’t let this opportunity pass you by.
” The auctioneer’s small eyes flitted around the room.
“Going once, for eighty-seven thousand pounds.” Another scan of the room. “Going twice.”
Benedetto lifted his hand casually; just a small gesture that drew the trained eyes of the auctioneer nonetheless.
“A bid, sir?”
Benedetto’s attention remained pinned to his prize. “Two hundred thousand pounds.”
The room was silent. Not a single person spoke. Even the auctioneer seemed momentarily knocked off balance by this unexpected increase in bidding price.
“The bid is for two hundred thousand pounds for two days of Miss Jones’s time; did I hear you correctly, sir?”
Benedetto indicated with the smallest nod that his bid was in earnest.
The auctioneer scanned the room but it was a formality now. “Very well. Any further offers?” A nervous laugh amongst the other guests.
For her part, Kate could barely think. Her eyes were locked to the direction of the voice, but all she could see was a large shadow. A man, sitting, who’d spoken with a thick accent was all she could make out.
That, and the fact he was obviously obscenely wealthy. Her stomach sank with disapproval. That kind of overt wealth had never interested her. It reminded her too much of the world she’d grown up in; the world she’d spent the last few years running as far and as fast from as she could.
“Going once, going twice,” the auctioneer sprinted through the final countdown. After all, who in their right mind would increase this bid?
“Sold!”
And though it had been the whole purpose of the exercise, a shiver of anticipation ran down Kate’s spine.
Sold.
Only she wasn’t. It was just a couple of days. Like the temp jobs she’d done when she’d first left home. She could do that.
With a deep breath, she sent one last smile into the audience and moved elegantly from the stage.
Only once in the relative privacy of the anteroom beyond the main hall did she give in to her anxiety.
She pressed her back against a thickly papered wall and lifted her hands to cover her eyes.
She breathed in deeply, but her body was shaking.
What the heck had just happened? How could anyone have bid that amount on her?
And what would they do when they realised she wasn't exactly the organisational genius she’d been made out to be?
What if they wanted her to redesign their software storage solution or to implement a new book-keeping protocol?
She had no skills beyond being able to joke and laugh her way through just about anything.
A knotted feeling was pooling in her stomach.
But it was done.
She couldn’t get out of it.
And so she straightened off the wall, peeling herself back to normal height, and squared her shoulders. It was only two days.
Somehow, she’d get through it. Just like always.
* * *
If she were asked to describe him in a single sentence, she would have failed miserably.
Everything about this man was perfect. He was tall, and large.
Though there wasn’t an inch of excess weight on him, he was big: pure muscle and strength.
His skin was tanned — she could see it in the Vee exposed by his shirt and the backs of his hands.
Large, capable hands that spoke of a viral physique.
Yes, his body was a thing of perfection, but beyond that his face was the work of a true master. From his square jaw to dimpled cheeks, to eyes that seemed to speak to her even though he said nothing, he was handsome, stunning, gorgeous and most definitely trouble with a capital T.
His eyes were perfect. Dark and light; silent but curious. Kate’s throat was dry. Her heart was pounding boom boom boom inside her chest. Her fingers shook as she brushed her blonde hair from her cheek.
“Hello.” She spoke softly, her accent cultured by her upbringing and the Australian nanny who’d basically raised her.
“Kate Jones,” he said, his voice deep and gravelly.
She nodded, thinking how much better it suited her than the Katherine Beauchamp she’d been christened and lived as for the first nineteen years of her life.
He was to die for. Stunning. It unnerved her; she wasn’t sure she’d ever felt more anxious.
And yet she had years of experience at feeling out of her depth.
She blinked up at him, her expression giving nothing away of her inner-turmoil.
“And you are?” It came out with more hauteur than she’d intended.
“Benedetto Arnaud.” He studied her face carefully, examining her for any hint of comprehension.
There was none and that fact both bothered and pleased him in equal measure.
She apparently knew nothing of his connection to her, which meant his plan to use her to his advantage would succeed.
And yet it felt wrong that her father had ruined a perfectly good man’s life and never suffered for it.
Well, that was about to change.
“Your bid was exceptionally generous, Mr. Arnaud.” Her words were cold. She was cold. He wondered what it would take to break through that ice-like barrier and make her scream with pleasure. To send color into her cheeks and passion into those hateful eyes.
“It served its purpose,” he shrugged, plucking a glass of champagne from a passing tray and handing it to her. Kate sipped it gratefully. Her heart was pounding like a trapped bird. She needed something to soften her nerves.
“Did it? And what was that?” Her lips had left a perfect red impression on the edge of the glass. His eyes were drawn to it and he felt an answering kick of anticipation in his gut. Would she leave marks like that on his body?
“It got your attention, didn’t it?”
Her eyes, already enormous in her pretty face, flew wide at the statement.
“Oh.” She swallowed and pursed those cupid’s bow lips together in what he could presume was disapproval. It amused him. She was so proper — he ached to unsettle her. And he would. He knew it was simply a matter of time and gamesmanship before she was his. “And why would you want my attention?”
His smile was a whisper of promise. “Why do you think?”
When she frowned a tiny line formed between her brows.
“Finish your champagne.”
Her frown deepened. “Why?”
“Because I told you to.”
Her mouth dropped open at the presumptuous command. “So?”
He leaned forward, so that his mouth was almost touching her ear. His breath was a warm caress. “Finish your champagne so that we may dance.”
“Dance?” She stepped backwards, her whole body instantly electrified by his proximity.