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An Innocent, A Seduction, A Secret
ABBY GREEN


The virgin’s Christmas surrender…And a life-changing consequence!When brooding Argentinean Seb Rivas spies elfin Edie Munroe’s talent for lavish interior decoration, he makes an irresistible job offer—to spend the festive season decorating his opulent home, no expense spared! Their desire flares hotly and, snowed in together, Edie becomes the sensual gift Seb wishes to unwrap. But in taking her innocence, neither realizes their overwhelming passion could have such shocking results…Indulge in this intense pregnancy romance!







The virgin’s Christmas surrender...

And a life-changing consequence!

When brooding Argentinean Seb Rivas spies elfin Edie Munroe’s talent for lavish interior decoration, he makes an irresistible job offer—to spend the festive season decorating his opulent home, no expense spared! Their desire flares hotly and, snowed in together, Edie becomes the sensual gift Seb wishes to unwrap. But in taking her innocence, neither realizes their overwhelming passion could have such shocking results...

Indulge in this intense pregnancy romance!


Irish author ABBY GREEN ended a very glamorous career in film and TV—which really consisted of a lot of standing in the rain outside actors’ trailers—to pursue her love of romance. After she’d bombarded Mills & Boon with manuscripts they kindly accepted one, and an author was born. She lives in Dublin, Ireland, and loves any excuse for distraction. Visit abby-green.com (http://www.abby-green.com) or email abbygreenauthor@gmail.com (mailto:abbygreenauthor@gmail.com).


Also by Abby Green (#uaab1ea3b-4a5b-5790-9cde-bcf2f944b88a)

Awakened by Her Desert Captor

An Heir to Make a Marriage

Married for the Tycoon’s Empire

Claimed for the De Carrillo Twins

The Virgin’s Debt to Pay

Claiming His Wedding Night Consequence

Rulers of the Desert miniseries

A Diamond for the Sheikh’s Mistress

A Christmas Bride for the King

Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk. (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


An Innocent, A Seduction, A Secret

Abby Green






www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


ISBN: 978-1-474-07281-6

AN INNOCENT, A SEDUCTION, A SECRET

© 2018 Abby Green

Published in Great Britain 2018

by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF

All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.

By payment of the required fees, you are granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right and licence to download and install this e-book on your personal computer, tablet computer, smart phone or other electronic reading device only (each a “Licensed Device”) and to access, display and read the text of this e-book on-screen on your Licensed Device. Except to the extent any of these acts shall be permitted pursuant to any mandatory provision of applicable law but no further, no part of this e-book or its text or images may be reproduced, transmitted, distributed, translated, converted or adapted for use on another file format, communicated to the public, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher.

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www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


This is for Jamie Mulhall,

thanks for your insight into luxe shopping,

displays and dressing! xx


Contents

Cover (#ufbfa3d40-9523-59fe-a288-88ef329a6ef1)

Back Cover Text (#ue71eda1f-fdd0-5b9d-a9fd-65b658447c8f)

About the Author (#u24841f06-fef0-5c93-a945-0865dc2ecab3)

Booklist (#u9be3bded-4c4b-5936-8f6b-b5d8951331f1)

Title Page (#u313b6e12-1ad4-5437-b1c5-ef2c690e3656)

Copyright (#ufc684c2a-9318-5344-ba0c-17c83f5b2833)

Dedication (#u9c7cd86d-3746-52a1-b61a-f6ade96e11e1)

CHAPTER ONE (#u3aface26-056b-5f30-bdb3-f9bcd6efcb7d)

CHAPTER TWO (#u8564d8ec-441b-5d51-873a-661c99562d81)

CHAPTER THREE (#uad645f26-f92e-5591-83a4-b5182dbd0275)

CHAPTER FOUR (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER FIVE (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER SIX (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER SEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER EIGHT (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER NINE (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER TEN (#litres_trial_promo)

EPILOGUE (#litres_trial_promo)

Extract (#litres_trial_promo)

About the Publisher (#litres_trial_promo)


CHAPTER ONE (#uaab1ea3b-4a5b-5790-9cde-bcf2f944b88a)

‘JUST A COUPLE more questions, if I may, Mr Rivas?’

Sebastio Rivas gritted his teeth but forced himself to smile. ‘Of course.’

The words of his solicitor and chief advisor rang in his ears.

‘I know you hate this, Sebastio, but since your father died a year ago you’re now the face of Rivas Bank and everyone wants a piece of you. You’re going to have to do a certain amount of letting the media in...and the public. They want to meet the man who has single-handedly turned one of the world’s most debt-ridden institutions back into a respected and successful bank.’

His smile must have been scary, because the journalist from one of the world’s leading financial broadsheets was looking at him nervously.

Sebastio’s suit felt constricting, his tie too tight. It was at moments like this that he longed most for his past—to be wearing the colours of his country, with fourteen teammates behind him and nothing but the reverent hush of a vast rugby stadium as everyone waited with bated breath to see if he could deliver the ball over the bar.

He missed the simplicity of working with a team with one aim in mind. Winning. Being the best they could be. Coming together in a fluid cohesive unit that was unstoppable. He’d never come across that amazing feeling of solidarity again.

Because you ruined it.

The journalist cleared his throat, bringing Sebastio back into the present moment—which was just as well because he had no desire to take a trip down that memory lane today.

The journalist apparently couldn’t read Sebastio’s mind, because he said blithely, ‘Your life is very different now from the world you inhabited before—that of a professional athlete playing international rugby for your country. You never showed any interest in banking until a few years ago, and yet your transition has been successful, to say the least. You have returned Rivas Bank to profitability within mere months of your father’s death.’

Sebastio’s eyes narrowed warningly but the young man stared him down. Maybe he wasn’t so nervous after all. Sebastio had to concede that of course there was no way he wasn’t going to be asked to explore this avenue. He had been one of the most celebrated athletes of his generation, captaining Argentina against the world’s best teams, beating them again and again, ushering in a golden era for Argentinian rugby.

He was very tempted to cut the interview short, but knew he couldn’t, so he forced that smile again and said coolly, ‘I’ve always been interested in banking. The Rivas family were one of the first to open a bank in the Americas, so it’s been in my blood for many generations.’

‘And yet the Rivas bank fell into something of a decline in recent times.’

Sebastio’s smile turned even more forced. ‘That is true. However, that decline is in the past now.’

Sebastio didn’t need to be reminded of what had precipitated that decline. He’d lived it. Witnessed it all too closely. It had come about for many reasons—the main one being Sebastio’s parents’ very high-profile and scandalous divorce. Scandalous because of the flagrant infidelities on both sides. And because of the life of excess exposed by the court case. Not to mention the vicious custody battle over eight-year-old Sebastio.

When the dust had settled, and Sebastio’s father had been granted primary custody of Sebastio, he’d proceeded to drink and gamble his way through what had been left of the family wealth and profits from the bank.

Admittedly Sebastio hadn’t done much to help when, as the only son and heir, he’d turned his back on his inheritance to play rugby professionally—which had had as much to do with rebelling against his family as it had to do with his love of the sport.

Thanks to his glamorous background, good looks and sporting prowess, and his aversion to commitment, he’d developed a reputation as one of the world’s most eligible bachelors. And one of the world’s most notorious playboys.

When Sebastio had stepped away from the rugby field, however, the bank had convened an emergency meeting, in order to appeal to him to reconsider taking up his position on the board. And once he’d realised how many thousands of lives were supported directly and indirectly through the bank—how many lives his father had been playing roulette with—he’d had no choice but to take his place and regain control of the sinking ship.

He’d already had enough guilt on his conscience to last him a lifetime. He hadn’t needed the added guilt of watching thousands of lives decimated, thanks to his father’s weaknesses.

He’d spent the last three years assuming more and more responsibility as his father had entered into a decline brought on largely through self-destruction and bitterness. Hugo Rivas had never really got over the fact that the most beautiful woman in Argentina had wanted to divorce him.

People said of Sebastio’s stratospheric success that his innate ability to understand the intricacies of finance and manage a financial institution was genetic, but he considered it merely fortuitous.

The journalist’s voice cut into his circling thoughts. ‘You walked away from rugby after the tragic car accident involving Victor Sanchez and his wife. How much of a part did the accident play in your move back into the family business? And are you still in touch with Victor Sanchez?’

The question had the effect of a small but devastating bomb inside Sebastio. He had never spoken about the catastrophic accident that had claimed two lives, ruined a third and blighted his own for ever. And he certainly wasn’t about to start.

He stood up smoothly, buttoning his jacket as he did so. ‘If that’s all... I have a meeting to attend.’

The journalist stood up too, with a wry smile, and held out his hand. ‘I hope you don’t blame me for trying, Mr Rivas. My editor would never forgive me if I didn’t ask the question everyone wants answered most.’

Sebastio took the journalist’s hand and squeezed it firmly enough to make the man’s eyes water slightly. He bared his teeth in another cordial smile. ‘You can ask all you want—not that I’ll ever answer.’

He turned and walked out, trying to ignore the beat of anger pulsing in his blood that a stranger had opened this Pandora’s box of unwelcome memories. Memories of the worst night of his life.

The screeching tangle of metal on metal and the smell of leaking petrol was still vivid enough to make Sebastio break out in a cold sweat. And the image of his friend’s wife, thrown from the car and lying at an unnatural angle on the road, blood pooling around her head.

His mouth was a grim line as he pulled on his coat and exited the exclusive hotel in London’s Knightsbridge. He was thousands of miles from Buenos Aires and yet the past wouldn’t leave him in peace.

You don’t deserve it.

The line of his mouth got tighter. He didn’t deserve peace. So maybe he owed the journalist something for reminding him of that.

He saw his driver jump out of his waiting car and rush around to open the door and that feeling of constriction was back. He said, ‘It’s okay, Nick. I’m going to walk back to the office.’

The suited man inclined his head. ‘Very well, sir. Nice day for it.’

Was it a nice day for it? Sebastio watched as the driver pulled out smoothly into the snarl of London traffic. He supposed that yes, it was a nice day. It was one of those rare English winter days—bright and clear and dry. Frost was in the air, but not on the ground yet. Christmas was around the corner and the decorations were up in earnest.

Sebastio passed women in expensive furs and men in bespoke suits and overcoats, much like his own.

He pulled up his collar against the chill and was oblivious to the appreciative looks he drew from a group of women standing outside a shop. He crossed the street, avoiding a particularly garish Christmas tree surrounded by singers in period costume belting out tuneless carols.

He loathed Christmas for too many reasons to count, and for the past three years had escaped it by going to parts of the world where Christmas wasn’t celebrated so much. One year he’d gone to Africa, another year to India. Last year he’d spent it in Bangkok.

That first year—after the accident had happened—Christmas had been a blur of grief, guilt and pain so acute that Sebastio hadn’t been sure he would come out the other side.

But he had. And this year he was here in London, in the hub of Christmas mania. Because the truth was that he didn’t deserve a free pass to escape. And, more pertinently because the Rivas bank had just opened its European headquarters here. He had been advised to make the most of the festive season by hosting a series of important social functions which would secure his place in English and European society.

It had even been suggested that he should decorate his house, where he was intending hosting these seasonal social functions, but the thought of being surrounded by trees and baubles and blinking lights made him feel so claustrophobic that he’d tuned out that particular advice.

He was passing the windows of one of the most famous department stores in the world now, and an ornate sign hung in the window, in front of red velvet drapes.

The famous Marrotts festive windows will be revealed this weekend!

Happy Christmas!

A couple of small children were trying to peer in between a small gap in the curtains, giggling before being led away by their parents.

Sebastio felt a shaft of pain so intense that he almost stopped dead in the street. If not for the accident, Victor and Maya’s daughter would now be...

He shook his head to dislodge the thought and instinctively moved away from the main thoroughfare, ducking down a side street. He cursed the reporter again for having precipitated this avalanche of memories.

At that moment Sebastio turned his head and realised he was passing another of those famous windows, but this time the red velvet drapes were partially open.

He came to a reluctant standstill on the quiet pavement as the scene in the window snagged his attention. It was a magical fairy forest, with branches opening into hidden worlds and little faces and eyes peeping out. Fairies, goblins...

In spite of himself, Sebastio was momentarily captivated. It was Christmassy, but...not. It tugged on a memory deep in the recesses of his mind. An uncomfortable reminder that he hadn’t always hated Christmas.

He’d had an English grandmother, and his parents had used to leave Sebastio with her every Christmas while they went on holiday. Those Christmases had been magical. His grandmother had taken him to West End shows. They’d decorated the house, watched movies, played games. All the things he’d never done with his parents because they had been too busy either having affairs, fighting or indulging in lavish reunion holidays.

Sebastio had used to dread their return, and he could remember one year clinging to his grandmother in tears, his father pulling him away roughly...

His grandmother had died not long after that, and they hadn’t even come back to England for her funeral. Sometimes Sebastio had wondered if he’d made it up. So starved of affection by his parents that he’d concocted a benevolent loving grandmother like some pathetic fairytale...

As time had passed it had seemed more and more like a fantasy because no subsequent Christmas had ever been like those idyllic ones he remembered. And so he’d blocked them out and convinced himself that he hated Christmas, because he knew he would never experience anything close to that magic again and to want it was a weakness.

He saw movement, and followed it to see a woman standing at one side of the display. She had her hands on her hips and her head cocked to one side as she looked up to where a young man was hanging a glittering star on the branch of a tree. They must still be dressing the window.

She shouldn’t have snagged his attention. She had her back to him and she was dressed in plain black trousers, a long-sleeved black top and flat shoes. He saw her shake her head, her shining cap of short hair glinting auburn in the lights. Then she bent down and picked up something else—another decoration—and handed it up to the man on the stepladder. As she reached up, her top rode high to reveal a taut pale belly and slim waist.

A beat of something pulsed to life in Sebastio’s blood. Awareness. Arousal. For a moment he almost didn’t recognise it, it had been so long since he’d felt it. Nearly four years. He welcomed it as an antidote to the bitter memories.

Then, as if sensing his attention on her, the woman slowly turned around. Sebastio wasn’t prepared for the kick to his solar plexus when he saw her revealed. She was stunning. Huge eyes framed by arching dark brows. Defined cheekbones and a lush mouth set off dramatically by her short hair, slightly longer at the front and feathering messily around her face.

It gave her a delicate gamine appeal that sent a definite surge of desire through Sebastio’s body. It confounded him. Being so tall and big himself, he’d always gravitated towards statuesque women. This one looked as if a puff of wind would blow her over. And yet he could sense an inner strength. Crazy when she was a total stranger, with a thick pane of glass separating them.

The woman was staring at Sebastio with an arrested expression. For a moment their eyes locked. Hers were deep blue, but even from here he could see the long lashes. And then, as if waking from a trance, she stalked over and dragged the drapes shut, leaving Sebastio looking back at his own distorted features in the glass.

He had the strangest sensation of déjà-vu—as if he had seen her somewhere before. But the feeling was too ephemeral to pin down.

He was stunned. No woman had ignited his interest or his desire so forcibly and immediately in four years. Not that anyone would believe it. Sebastio was a master of misdirection—covering up his flatlining libido with a series of high-profile dates that never went beyond a kiss. His reputation as a skilled lover and a connoisseur of beautiful women served as a smokescreen he used willingly.

He thought of the display in the window again. It had effortlessly captured his attention, taking him unawares, which was unusual when he had such an aversion to Christmas. He thought of the advice he’d been given to decorate his home and something occurred to him...

That woman might have sparked his libido back to life, but he needed her for something far more practical.

Sebastio went back the way he’d come and turned the corner into the main street, thronged with people. He saw the main doors of the shop and strode towards them purposefully.

* * *

Edie Munroe was standing looking at the closed drapes like someone who’d been hypnotised. Or hit over the head. She’d never in a million years expected to see that guy again and yet...she just had.

And it had struck her today as forcibly as it had four years ago, when she’d first laid eyes on him in a crowded nightclub in Edinburgh.

It couldn’t be him, she told herself now, feeling her skin rise into goosebumps. It couldn’t be Sebastio Rivas.

The fact that she even remembered his name was not welcome.

What were the chances it was him? It had to be someone who looked liked him. After all, Sebastio Rivas was a mega-famous international rugby star. What on earth would he be doing walking down a random side-street in London?

But her accelerated heart-rate told her it was him.

It was galling to be reminded that no other man in four years had had the same effect on her. And she’d tried. She’d gone on Tinder dates, blind dates and internet dates. But on each date, when the guy had tried to take things a step further, Edie had felt herself shutting down.

Because she couldn’t get out of her head how he’d made her feel four years ago. Alive and energised. Buzzing. Connected. Hopeful.

And aroused.

For the first time in her life she’d understood what people were talking about when they spoke of instant attraction,or said, You’ll know it when you feel it. She had felt it like a palpable energy. Electricity.

It had been a wholly new sense of desire, and she’d known instinctively that only he could assuage the building sense of excitement in her core. A crazy assertion to have about a total stranger, but one so deep she could still feel it today.

It was pathetic. Her entire exchange with Sebastio Rivas had lasted about five minutes. He’d told her to run along. He’d been out of bounds, out of her league, and he hadn’t hesitated in letting her know.

The fact that she’d gravitated across a heaving dance-floor to orbit the sun of his smouldering sexuality—like every other woman in the room—was as freshly humiliating today as it had been then, especially after he’d sent her on her way.

She’d been so sure she’d seen something...sensed something in him. Their eyes had locked and a silent communication had throbbed between them. She’d seen something in his demeanour, in his eyes, a kind of brittleness. And it had resonated within her because she’d felt the same.

She’d just come through a major ordeal—cancer, which she’d contracted when she was seventeen, throwing her life into instant turmoil. It had become a fight for survival, an endless round of toxic treatments and sterile hospital rooms.

For the previous eighteen months she hadn’t known if she would live or die, and some of the time she’d been feeling so sick she’d almost wished—

Edie clamped down on that thought, remembering her parents’ worried, pinched faces.

That very day she’d been given the all-clear, and that night had been her first foray back into the world. She’d felt as if a layer of skin had been removed, making everything feel too bright, too sharp. Too much.

She remembered that she’d been wearing a dress borrowed from a friend. Short, silver and slinky. Not her style at all. But then, that whole night had been about a celebration she’d never expected to experience. A celebration of life.

And, because her hair hadn’t yet started to grow back, she’d been wearing a wig. A shoulder-length bob. Bright red and hot and scratchy. Yet none of that had stopped her from approaching the most beautiful man in the room.

She’d never seen or met a man who’d come close to his sheer charisma and good-looks. Well over six foot, he’d had the leanly muscled build of an elite athlete. The power in his body had been evident under his dark suit.

A little desperately, she tried to tell herself again that the man she’d just seen outside couldn’t be him. But she’d never forget that face. Sculpted from stone. All slashing lines and sharp bones. Hard jaw. Deep-set eyes under black brows. Thick dark hair flopping messily over his forehead. Curling around his collar.

And a mouth made for sin. Full and sensual. Softening those hard lines and the stern demeanor he’d exuded like a force-field.

‘Edie... Earth to Edie... Can I come down now?’

She whirled around, aghast at her reaction to someone who probably wasn’t even the man she was thinking of. She was losing it.

‘Of course, Jimmy.’ She gabbled, ‘I think the man in the window—I mean, the man in the moon decoration works better than the star.’ She hoped Jimmy wouldn’t see her face flaming at her Freudian slip.

‘Not that anyone will see it,’ grumbled the young man as he came down the ladder. ‘We’re all the way around the corner from the main windows.’

Edie said brightly, ‘It means we can be more creative with our wee display.’

‘Wee being the operative word. I hate the way the big designers get to dress the main windows now. It’s so...commercial.’

‘I know,’ said Edie, hiding a smile at the art student’s dismay and forcing her mind away from the past. She’d never got to college herself and had worked her way up the ranks to be a creative display artist. ‘That’s the way it is now, and I’m sure they’ll be beautiful.’

‘Yes, but they won’t be magical.’

Privately Edie agreed. She too loved the magic and fantasy surrounding Christmas. She loved everything about Christmas. She was trying to create a little of that magic in this window, in spite of the fact that not many people would see it.

But, times had changed, and now the big fashion designers had more sway than the in-house creatives—especially at Christmas time.

She pulled out another box full of decorations and said, ‘Right, we’ll have a quick tea break and then get started with this lot. The window has to be finished by this evening.’

Jimmy mock saluted her. ‘Aye aye, boss.’

Edie smiled at his cheeky grin as he escaped for his break. She looked at her watch and sighed. She knew she should take a break too, but if they wanted this window to be finished... She decided to keep going.

As soon as her mind was occupied with nothing more than unwrapping decorations, though, it invariably wandered back to the man—to him.

Edie looked up at the drapes suspiciously. She got up from the stool she’d perched on and went over cautiously, peeking out through a gap.

Of course the street was empty now. Strange to feel disappointed. And silly. Maybe she’d conjured him up out of some subconscious fantasy she’d never admitted to harbouring?

Edie pulled the curtains closed firmly and turned around, ready to put all random thoughts of disturbing men and memories out of her mind. She heard a sound and looked up with a smile on her face, expecting it to be Jimmy.

But it wasn’t Jimmy. The smile promptly slid off her face.

Her supervisor, Helen, was standing in the doorway to the window space and behind her was...him. Even taller and more intimidating than she remembered. Not a fantasy. Real.

Helen, a no-nonsense blonde woman, came in, looking more than a little flushed and starry-eyed. And she was married with four children.

‘Edie, I’d like to introduce you to someone.’

Edie’s feet were glued to the floor. She could not believe this was happening.

And through the shock all she could think was, Would he recognise her? Her rational brain told her, Of course not. They’d barely spoken that night. She’d looked far different from how she looked now. And yet she couldn’t deny the tripping of her pulse, the breathless sense of anticipation.

Her boss said, ‘Edie, this is Mr Sebastio Rivas—Mr Rivas, this is Edie Munroe, one of our display artists.’

She stepped forward. The space, which was small anyway, now felt Lilliputian. Edie forced herself to look at him and her heart thudded to a stop. He was exactly how she remembered. Albeit slightly more groomed. His hair was still too long, but not as messy. The top button of his shirt was closed and his tie was pristine. She felt the strangest impulse to loosen it for him, as if she could sense that he felt constricted.

Crazy. He was a stranger. He had been then, and he still was. He was looking at her intently, but with no apparent spark of recognition. She wasn’t sure if she was disappointed or relieved.

He held out his hand. It was big and masculine. She had a memory flash of that hand on her bare upper arm, steadying her. When she’d walked over to him in the club someone had bumped into her from behind, pitching her forward. His hand had circled her whole arm.

She realised that he was looking at her a little quizzically and that her boss was clearing her throat discreetly. Mortified to have been caught in her moment, Edie quickly put her hand in his. It disappeared. That same jolt of electricity she’d felt four years ago sizzled in her blood and she pulled her hand back, doing her best to hide her reaction. And her shock.

‘It’s nice to meet you.’

She forced herself to look at him again. She noticed how grey his eyes were. Almost like steel. He had long dark lashes that only enhanced his physicality. Much like that ridiculously sensual mouth.

‘It’s a pleasure to meet you, Miss Munroe.’

Her toes curled at his deep and accented voice.

Her boss spoke. ‘Mr Rivas has a proposition for you, Edie. Will you come with us to discuss it?’

She knew this wasn’t a request. ‘Of course. Jimmy will be back soon—he can get on with the rest of the decorating.’

Her boss made a small approving noise and went back out into the main shop. Sebastio Rivas indicated for Edie to go before him. She slipped out through the door, acutely conscious of him behind her, and she spotted more than one woman do a double-take as they walked past.

It brought back a flood of memories from that night. The way her heart had been pounding so hard after she’d walked over to him. Pounding with desire and nerves. It had been at that moment when someone had jostled her from behind and she’d pitched forward helplessly.

He’d put his hand around her arm to steady her and looked at her. ‘Who are you?’ His voice had been sharp. Almost accusatory.

Edie had stuttered out, ‘N-no one. I just... I wanted to come and speak to you. I saw you...from across the room. You were looking at me too...and I thought... I thought you might want to speak to me...’

His gaze had swept her up and down with an almost clinical disregard. The connection that had borne her aloft to do such an audacious thing had suddenly felt very tenuous. Suddenly she’d been very aware of her hot itchy head and the skimpy dress that felt far too skimpy.

She’d also become acutely conscious of the thick VIP rope, separating him and his friends from everyone else. And her. She’d become aware of the stunning women orbiting around him—women Edie couldn’t hope to compete with. Women with abundant curves and thick luxurious hair. Confident.

One of those women had come up to the man and slid an arm through his, pressing close. He’d glanced down at her, and then back to Edie, letting her arm go while saying, ‘There’s nothing for you here. You should run along.’

Edie had stood there, her arm tingling from his touch and her insides seizing with humiliation that she’d got it so wrong. He’d pulled the woman into his body and bent his head to kiss her, so explicitly that the men in his party had started cat-calling and wolf-whistling.

It had taken witnessing that final humiliation before Edie had turned blindly away and pushed her way back through the crowd...

‘Sorry, I’ll just be a moment.’

Edie blinked. She hadn’t even noticed the journey to her boss’s office, or the fact that Helen had obviously been called away by another staff member. But suddenly she became aware, as the door closed behind her, that she was now in a tiny room with Sebastio Rivas.

She’d only known who he was after she’d realised that he and all his friends were the Argentinian rugby team. After she’d got home that night she’d looked them up on the internet to find out that he was the captain. Their most prized asset. And the world’s most successful rugby fly half.

Sebastio Rivas was looking at her.

Edie pushed aside the onslaught of memories and cleared her throat. ‘Er... Helen said you had a...proposition?’

Instead of answering her question he asked, ‘Your accent—where is it from?’

Edie’s face grew warm. ‘It’s Scottish. I’m from a town just outside Edinburgh.’

He was looking at her so intently that she held her breath for a moment—he couldn’t possibly be remembering her...could he?

But then he said, ‘I do have a proposition, Miss Munroe. I want you to come and decorate my house for Christmas.’

It took a second for his words to sink in, they’d come so far out of left field. Edie’s mouth opened and shut again, in shock. Opened again. ‘I... I’m afraid I don’t do private work... I work for the store. This is our busiest time.’

‘Nevertheless, I’d like you to work for me.’

His tone suggested that he fully expected to be obeyed. Edie’s hackles went up. As if she needed reminding that he was a man used to issuing orders...

There’s nothing for you here...run along.

She crossed her arms over her chest and saw his eyes drop there momentarily, before rising to meet hers again. She hated feeling self-conscious, but it was hard when she knew she was...lacking. Small breasts, slim hips. And she’d been even skinnier four years ago.

Edie had put on weight and filled out since that time, but she’d never be able to compete with the kind of woman he evidently preferred, if the tall buxom woman he’d kissed that night had been an example of his tastes. No wonder he’d told Edie to run along.

That whole weird connection thing she’d felt? Clearly it had all been in her head...and it was even more mortifying to think of it now. She was thankful he didn’t remember her.

‘I’m afraid that’s just not possible. I’m contracted to work here.’

‘I’ll match whatever your pay is for a year and triple it.’

Edie’s breath stalled for a moment at the audacious offer—and the prospect of making more money than she’d ever made in her life. But then she shook her head.

‘I’m sorry, Mr Rivas. I can’t just leave and work for you... I’d lose my job if I left them in the lurch at Christmas.’ She saw an obdurate expression come over his face and blurted out, ‘Why do you want me to decorate your house? There are companies that hire out staff to do that specific job every year.’

She could see the flare of irritation in his pewter eyes—more evidence that he wasn’t used to being questioned. She had the curious urge to stand up to him at all costs, not even sure why it was so important. Maybe because she didn’t want to be so dismissable this time?

‘I have a large house in Richmond, where I’m due to host some social functions in the run-up to Christmas. I saw your work. I like the level of detail you’ve put into a window that—let’s face it—not many people will even see.’

Edie flushed, not expecting the compliment, nor that he would have recognised that their efforts were largely in vain. ‘I’m trained to dress windows and spaces around the store. I’ve never dressed an entire house before.’

Edie knew a couple of her colleagues did work on the side for some clients—decorating their Christmas trees and the like. But not a whole actual house. And he’d mentioned that it was in Richmond, where houses were mansions.

He shrugged that aside. ‘I just need to dress the rooms being used for the functions and the exterior. I have no desire to decorate the entire property.’

His mouth tightened, as if in distaste at the very thought, and Edie had to push down her curiosity to know why. ‘But it’s just three weeks to Christmas—’

‘And I have my first function the week after next. So you can see why speed is of the essence.’

Edie felt bewildered. ‘Why me?’

He countered, ‘Why not?’


CHAPTER TWO (#uaab1ea3b-4a5b-5790-9cde-bcf2f944b88a)

SEBASTIO COULD SEE the woman worrying her lower lip between her teeth, and he had to curb an urge to reach out and free that lip. He quashed the desire. If she was going to work for him then theirs would be a purely professional relationship. He felt a pang of regret and quashed that too.

She wasn’t his type. She might have sparked something, but surely it was just the resurgence of his dormant libido. Slightly above average height, she was even more delicate up close. Yet once again he had an impression of steeliness underneath her slender frame.

Their dialogue bore that out. He wasn’t used to meeting anyone who didn’t say How high? when he asked them to jump. In fact, she had an air of palpable reluctance to deal with him. It intrigued him as much as it irritated him—not a reception he was used to.

Sebastio forced himself to focus. He needed this woman to take care of things he didn’t want to think about. The more reluctant she was, the more determined he became.

He spoke with a patient tone that belied his frustration that this conversation wasn’t going as easily as he’d planned. ‘Are you telling me you couldn’t do with a considerable bonus in the run-up to Christmas?’

He glanced up and down at her very functional but boring workwear. He could appreciate that she had the kind of elegant figure that would look good in anything. And suddenly he had a desire to see her in something altogether more feminine and soft.

She glared at him now, and Sebastio’s desire sky-rocketed. It mocked his assertion that she wasn’t his type. Apparently, right now, she was.

‘It’s not about whether or not I need a bonus. I’m afraid it’s just not an option to walk away from my job here and work for you, no matter how much you’re offering.’

Edie had a vision at that precise moment of her parents up in Scotland. They both looked a lot older than their years and her conscience pricked. That was because of her. They’d worried about her so much... And then, just when her father had retired and should have been looking forward to some time off, he’d had a heart attack. The Caribbean cruise they’d spent their savings on had had to be cancelled, and with no insurance and an indifferent travel company they’d lost out on the trip of a lifetime.

With the kind of money Mr Rivas was offering so casually Edie could afford to send them on three cruises! And she could afford to pay for private health insurance—something that would make them a lot less anxious in the future.

But there was no way she would jeopardise her job to work for a man who was arrogant enough to demand that she do so. She ignored another prick of her conscience telling her it was for far more varied and personal reasons that she felt disinclined to work for him.

‘I’m sorry, Mr Rivas. As intriguing as your offer is, I’m afraid I can’t just leave my job here at the store.’

‘Well, yes, you can, actually—for a brief time.’

Edie blinked and turned around. She hadn’t even heard her boss come back into the room, she’d been so engrossed by the man in front of her.

Her stomach fell. ‘But, Helen—’

The women lifted her hand. ‘Mr Rivas is newly located to London from Argentina, and we welcome him as an esteemed client. We would be more than happy to release you to work privately for him in the run-up to Christmas, with the understanding that once the work is complete you will return to your job here.’

Edie couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Do a private commission for Sebastio Rivas and keep her job? He had to be verging on royalty to precipitate this kind of fawning... She’d never seen any sports star get this level of treatment before.

Edie tried again. ‘Helen, I really don’t think that—’

But the woman was now ignoring Edie and opening the door to let Sebastio Rivas out of the office, saying officiously, ‘Leave it with us, Mr Rivas. We’ll do everything necessary to get Edie released from her schedule here as soon as possible.’

The door closed on an image of Sebastio Rivas looking directly at Edie with unmistakable challenge. She shivered at what that challenge might be—to do a job, or to let her know he’d noticed her reacting to his presence and could see all the way through her skin to where there was a pulse of something intimate.

It reminded her of that night in the club, when she’d felt as if he was looking right into her soul. It was galling that he had the same effect on her now.

Her boss turned around to face Edie. ‘Do you have any idea who that is?’

Edie swallowed, feeling curiously flat now that he had left the room. ‘He’s a rugby player with the Argentinian rugby team.’

Helen waved a dismissive hand. ‘He retired as a rugby player a few years ago. Sebastio Rivas is now CEO of Rivas Bank—he’s descended from one of the most powerful banking families in the world.’

Edie absorbed this. That would explain his air of arrogance and entitlement. He came from a rarefied world.

Her boss went on to explain breathlessly what an important addition to London society he was. How generous he was to charity. Then she said, ‘So, the fact that he wants you to decorate his house for Christmas is obviously something we will facilitate.’

Edie recognised Helen’s steely tone. She also recognised that this was an amazing opportunity. She’d been offered a ridiculous amount of money and her supervisor had just assured her that her job would still be there when she came back.

So why was she so reluctant?

Because, said a small voice, that man rejected you at a time when you ached to be normal and know what it was to feel like to be a woman. And because he’s a reminder that you still don’t know what it is to be a real woman.

It was humiliating to think that within the last four years she’d obviously changed and matured on many levels, but on a very private and intimate level she was the same girl she had been that night. Gauche and inexperienced. Desperate to fit in. Desperate for experience. Desperate to live.

‘Edie? If you’re reluctant to do this I can always find someone else...’

Edie’s attention snapped back to the present and her boss, who was looking at her, clearly impatient to have this dealt with. Edie knew she’d have no hesitation in asking the next person.

A determination settled in her gut not to allow this opportunity to slip away just because seeing Sebastio Rivas again had been disconcerting. To say the least.

‘No, of course I’ll do it. I’d be crazy not to.’

Helen smiled approvingly. ‘Good. If you like, you can go home early—you’ll be very busy up till Christmas. Mr Rivas said he’d send further instructions via his assistant.’

Edie didn’t fancy the long bus journey home to her bedsit in north London, with too much time to think about things, so she said, ‘No, I’ll finish the window with Jimmy. It’s almost done anyway.’

Helen shrugged. ‘Whatever you want, Edie. Most people would jump at the chance to go home early.’

Edie smiled weakly. She wasn’t most people and she didn’t need the reminder.

For the rest of the day she and Jimmy worked in companionable harmony. Thankfully he didn’t seem to notice her tension. When they were leaving work he asked if she’d like to join him and his friends at a nearby bar, but she smiled and declined. Her brain was addled after everything that had happened that day. Seeing Rivas again. Feeling the same things.

As she sat on the crowded bus, heading north from the centre of town, she told herself to stop being so trepiditious. Maybe getting to know Sebastio Rivas a little would help her to topple him from the almost mythic place he’d taken up in her consciousness, where no other man could touch him.

After all, he hadn’t ever known her circumstances, had he? That night in the club she’d been just another woman approaching him for a sliver of attention... He couldn’t possibly have known just how fragile she’d been then.

But she wasn’t fragile any more.

Edie forced her mind away from the past and pulled her phone out of her pocket when she felt it vibrate. There was a text message from Helen, with an address in Richmond. Sebastio Rivas’s address.

Her heart thumped when she read it.

You’re to meet Sebastio Rivas at his house tomorrow at ten a.m. He’ll talk you through what needs to be done and his legal team will draw up a temporary work contract. Good luck and Happy Christmas, Edie! Helen

Once again Edie was stunned that her boss had sanctioned this move. Albeit temporarily. But, in fairness, it wasn’t as if Marrottswas short of display artists. She was one of many. And of course it would enhance their reputation to loan out one of their staff to a new and illustrious client.

Edie quickly did an internet search on the address in Richmond, and five minutes later wished she hadn’t. It was an old hunting lodge that looked more like a mansion than a lodge, set in acres and acres of its own grounds. There were even wild deer. Her experience was in dressing spaces that ranged between ten and twenty-five square feet. Not grand country mansions!

She felt a flare of panic and doused it, telling herself that she’d overcome far bigger challenges in the past. She wasn’t going to allow Sebastio Rivas to see that she was daunted by this project. He’d told her to run along once before. She wouldn’t give him the opportunity to do it again.

* * *

The following morning, Edie turned a corner in the long winding drive that led up to the house in Richmond, cursing herself for assuring the security guard at the gate that she wouldn’t mind the walk. He’d tried to get her to wait for a groundsman to give her a lift but she’d insisted, needing to get her wits about her. She hadn’t realised it would take quite so long, though.

And now she stopped in her tracks. Dazzled by the sight before her. No picture could have done justice to the low winter sun glinting off hundreds of windows and the sheer stately magnificence of the house.

It had two levels, and an elegantly grand front entrance. She could make out what looked like manicured gardens at the back, and as far as the eye could see to the front were rolling grounds, with a wood in the distance.

As she approached the front entrance, feeling more and more intimidated, the huge front door opened and a dapper older gentleman dressed in a smart suit appeared.

He came down the steps, smiling and holding out his hand. ‘You must be Edie.’

She came forward, ‘Yes.’ She shook his hand. He had an accent that she guessed was from Italy.

‘I’m Matteo, Mr Rivas’s housekeeper. He’s on his way from his office in London, but some of his assistants are here to go through the contract with you in the meantime.’

Edie barely had time to catch her breath before her coat and bag were taken and she was being ushered into a bright office off the entrance hall, where two men and a woman stood up to greet her. They were sleek and officious. Polite but brisk. No doubt they had better things to be doing back in the city.

She’d just signed on the dotted line, and was still reeling with the knowledge that she was going to be paid a fortune for what was effectively a little over three weeks’ work, when a distinctive thwack-thwack sound came from outside.

She looked out of the window to see a sleek black helicopter landing at the back of the property. She shivered slightly.

Sebastio Rivas’s assistants packed up their things and said goodbye to Edie, and then they swept out, leaving her standing in the room, waiting for the man himself.

As she waited, the tension inside her grew.

What was she doing here? Thinking she could step into Sebastio Rivas’s world like this? This was on another level. The kind of level people like Edie never got close to. The man had taken a helicopter to get here, for crying out loud! She’d spent the best part of two hours on a packed Tube and had then taken a taxi from the station.

At that moment she heard a noise and looked to the door, to see Sebastio Rivas easily filling its frame with his tall, broad body. His black hair was unruly, which she guessed was from the helicopter. He wore a three-piece suit and in spite of the messy hair he looked every inch a successful titan of international finance.

And yet she could sense something far more elemental underneath—the barely leashed power of the fierce athlete he’d once been. It was very provocative.

He came into the room. ‘You’ve signed the contract?’

She nodded, wishing she was wearing something more daring than plain black trousers and a white shirt under a sleeveless grey top. She’d never felt less feminine.

Yes, you have, reminded a voice. When the same man had looked at her as if she was an irritation that night in the club.

Sebastio glanced at his watch. ‘I need to be back in the city for a meeting before lunch, so let me show you around now.’

Edie followed him out through the door, hating that he made her feel so self-conscious. She tried her best to look around and not be distracted by his athletic build.

He was pointing out the entrance hall. ‘This will be the first point of entry for guests, so I’d like something suitably festive in here. A big tree. Lights.’

Edie took out a notebook from her back pocket, and a pen, and started making notes.

Sebastio turned around and saw Edie’s downbent head as she wrote in a small notebook. Her hair shone bright auburn in the sunlight streaming through the window. She couldn’t have been less enticing in her very plain clothes, but from the moment he’d walked in and seen her, awareness had sizzled in his blood.

She was having the same effect she’d had on him the previous day. So it wasn’t an anomaly. Or an aberration. It was irritating as hell—especially when Sebastio had always been in control of his libido.

He also felt something tugging on his memory...that vague sense of déjà-vu he’d had yesterday. Had he met her somewhere before? It was relatively likely—especially in his rugby-playing days, when his social scene had been far more hectic and debauched.

He was almost about to ask her, but then he told himself that it was four years of celibacy playing tricks on his mind, telling him he was attracted to this sprite. Telling him he might know her.

Four years of celibacy. Was that enough of a penance? Sebastio felt bleak.

Edie looked up at that moment, and her blue eyes widened as if she could see his thoughts. Sebastio cursed his reaction. He did not want to desire her.

The women he was famous for favouring poured their curvaceous bodies into designer dresses and had long luxurious hair. Not a slender frame that looked as if it might snap in a strong breeze and a bright auburn cap of feathery hair that should have made Edie look androgynous but only enhanced her delicate femininity.

All he wanted from her was to save him a lot of hassle by creating the illusion that he didn’t despise Christmas.

Liar, whispered a voice. He ignored it.

He reminded himself that she was his employee now, and out of bounds. ‘Let’s keep going,’ he said curtly.

Edie followed Sebastio, stinging a little at the tone of his voice. It was as if she’d done something to irritate him. She was almost inclined to remind him that he’d brought her here, but he’d stopped in the middle of the main reception room now and turned to face her again.

She quickly schooled her features into something she hoped was bland. She hated Sebastio Rivas at that moment, for making her feel so many things at once. Prickly, aware, defensive.

She looked away from him and said briskly, ‘You said you have a meeting to get to—Why don’t you show me what you want done?’

For a long moment there was silence, and then Sebastio responded, ‘You really don’t want to be here, do you?’

Edie looked at him in shock. Had she been so transparent?

He folded his arms. ‘But what I can’t figure out is why it feels like you’ve taken a personal dislike to me, when we don’t even know each other.’

Edie balked. She could feel the heat rising over her chest and up her neck into her cheeks. She wanted to squirm. Her inability to hide her reaction was irritating in the extreme.

Stiffly she said, ‘I don’t know you enough to like or dislike you.’

Which, technically, was true. After all, they’d only really met before for a few moments. Not that she’d ever admit it, in case he remembered the skinny girl in the badly fitting wig and too-short dress who’d tried to chat him up so ineffectually.

‘Would you really prefer if I hadn’t asked you to take on this assignment?’

She forced herself to look at him, even though it was hard when those grey eyes were narrowed on her and looking at her so intently. She took an inward breath. She needed to let go of whatever impression she’d had of him from before. It wasn’t his fault she was still carrying it around like a weight.

‘I won’t deny that the space is daunting. But, no, I’m glad you asked me. It’s good to get out of my comfort zone.’

He arched a brow. ‘Personally I’ve always seen comfort zones as the death of progress or achievement.’

Edie could well imagine that. She doubted a man like Sebastio Rivas had ever been in a comfort zone in his life. She shivered a little at the prospect of going so far outside her own.

He unfolded his arms. ‘I will just have to do my best to garner your favour, Edie.’

The thought of him trying to charm her made panic spike. ‘Not every woman on the planet has to like you.’

The words had spilled out before Edie could censor them, and she looked at Sebastio aghast, expecting him to storm out and fire her on the spot. Instead his head fell back and he let out a full-throated laugh.

When he looked back at her his eyes were gleaming with genuine amusement and her chest grew tight. He looked years younger and less intense when he smiled.

‘Indeed, they don’t.’ He glanced at his watch. ‘As you pointed out, I’m under pressure for time—so why don’t we get on with it?’

Edie’s conscience smarted. He hadn’t really deserved her waspish reply, but he put her on edge and made her feel jittery. She hadn’t been expecting that response. It disarmed her. And then she felt guilty. Had she subconsciously wanted to provoke him into firing her because that would be easier than dealing with him again and facing up to how he made her feel?

Edie looked around the room they’d entered and their previous exchange was forgotten in the face of what could be described only as majesty.

It was a massive room, with an enormous stone fireplace at one end. An ornate coat of arms hung above it. Huge chandeliers. A wall of windows with the longest curtains she’d ever seen in her life, made of heavy luxurious velvet. The parquet floor was covered in oriental rugs.

Edie wondered how on earth he had thought she could do this. After all, he’d only seen a tiny display—a few branches, leaves and artfully cut-out decorations!

Sebastio stood in the middle of the room, perfectly in proportion with the space around him. But for once his sheer masculine beauty couldn’t distract her as the full enormity of what he was asking of her sank in.

‘Look, I’m truly flattered that you liked my display enough to think I could do this...but I don’t want to mislead you. This is way beyond my capabilities in such a short space of time.’ She started to back out through the door. ‘You need to hire professionals who are used to dealing with a project of this size. Why have you left it so late?’

The question landed like a lead weight in Sebastio’s gut. Because he didn’t want to be doing this at all. But he could read the panic in Edie’s eyes, and he suspected that unless he was honest she’d bolt.

‘Because,’ he said heavily, ‘I detest Christmas.’

The panic faded to be replaced by something else. Curiosity? Sympathy? Cursing himself for giving in to an impulse to be honest,because it would only lead to questions he wasn’t prepared to answer, Sebastio went into damage limitation mode.

‘What about this? I’ll hire professionals who have expertise and resources in this area, but I want you to design the decorations and oversee everything. So in essence you’ll be the creative designer and you’ll have all the help you need.’

She still looked as if she was ready to turn and run, and Sebastio didn’t like the sense of desperation he felt to convince her at all costs.

He said, ‘I know you’ve probably never project-managed anything this big before, but really it’s just a matter of being clear about what you want and delegating. Would it help if you could have the young man who was working on the window with you?’

Her mouth closed and he could see her brain whirring as she took that in. She relaxed perceptibly.

‘Well...that would be helpful...to have someone I know here.’

Sebastio thought of something then, and asked sharply, ‘Are you in a relationship with him?’

He couldn’t recall the features of the skinny young man, but he was already regretting saying that he could be part of this commission.

Edie looked affronted. ‘No! Jimmy is gay. Not that it’s any business of yours.’

Some of the tension in Sebastio’s chest immediately eased. ‘I think you can do this job, Edie. I wouldn’t ask you if I thought you weren’t capable. I’m not in the habit of hiring or working with incompetents.’

That made him think of the cohesive unit of the rugby team around him, all working as one to the best of their ability. He pushed down the pang of regret. The ever-present guilt.

Edie was biting her lip again, and Sebastio had to fight the urge to close the distance between them and crush that lush mouth under his, seeking to dilute his memories as much as anything else.

Because he wanted her.

He cursed himself. He hadn’t needed to exercise restraint for a long time—if ever—but he had to exercise it now. He couldn’t jeopardise his successful acceptance into European society just because his hormones had decided to come back to life.

He backed away, putting distance between them. ‘I’ll show you the rest of the rooms to be decorated...’

Edie dutifully followed Sebastio as he took her through yet more rooms with the same football field dimensions. She couldn’t help wondering why he detested Christmas so much. But then she told herself it was none of her business. Not everyone liked the festive season. She knew that. It could be hard for people who didn’t have family around them, and if Sebastio Rivas was spending Christmas in London then maybe he had family issues...

The shock and trepidation were wearing off slightly as she focused on what Sebastio was saying about each room, what he wanted, and in spite of her earlier sense of panic she actually began to imagine the rooms dressed for Christmas, filled with guests. She was surprised at how easily images were coming to her—considering the proportions!

‘So you’ll do it, then?’ Sebastio asked.

They were in a ballroom that had French doors leading out to a terrace overlooking a vast manicured garden, complete with fountain.

Would she do it? Could she?

She realised now that she did want to do this. It would be a huge challenge—beyond anything she’d ever done before.

It’s not just for the challenge, though, is it? asked a wicked little voice.

It was because of the way this man made her feel—alive and aware. Exactly the way he’d made her feel that night four years ago. As if just looking at him and connecting with him, even so fleetingly and painfully, had given her some vital injection of life-force. Something she’d been afraid she’d never feel again.

She knew it wasn’t appropriate to be feeling like this about a man who was hiring her to do a job, but it would be her own illicit secret. After all, it wasn’t as if Sebastio would ever find out—she wasn’t remotely in his league. She hadn’t been then and she wasn’t now. That hadn’t changed.

She looked at him and tipped up her chin. ‘If you’re willing to take a risk on hiring me to do this job then I promise I’ll do it to the best of my ability.’

He inclined his head, the corner of his mouth tipping up ever so slightly. ‘I can’t ask for more than that.’

He looked at his watch and became brisk.

‘I’ll ask my team to liaise with you regarding hiring a suitable firm to help you, and I’ll negotiate with your supervisor at Marrotts to let Jimmy join you.’

Once again Edie marvelled at what it must be like to be powerful enough to make people do your bidding, no matter how big the ask. In the space of less than twenty-four hours he’d comprehensively turned her life upside down, and it was disconcerting but also...thrilling.

As if he had issued a psychic command, Matteo appeared with Sebastio’s coat and a briefcase, handing them over. He said, ‘The pilot is ready when you are.’

Matteo disappeared again, and Sebastio looked at her after he’d pulled on his coat. ‘I can offer you a lift back into the city, if you’d like?’

Edie blanched and then squeaked out, ‘In the helicopter?’

He nodded. ‘Ever been in one before?’

She shook her head, and then gabbled, ‘No, it’s fine, Mr Rivas. I should stay and make some notes. I can take the train back.’

Coward! whispered a little voice. She ignored it. Taking a helicopter ride with Sebastio Rivas would only compound the conflicting things he made her feel. She needed to keep her feet on the ground. Where she belonged.

He made a face. ‘Please, call me Sebastio. “Mr Rivas” makes me sound like my father, and he’s dead.’

Edie felt an immediate burst of compassion. ‘Oh... I’m sorry. Was it recent?’

But Sebastio’s face was impassive. ‘A year ago. We weren’t close.’ He was turning to go and said, ‘Are you sure about the ride?’

Edie nodded. She was far too intrigued by this man as it was. And this nugget of information made him even more intriguing.

‘Very well, I’ll have my driver come and pick you up and take you back into town—just let Matteo know when you’d like to leave.’

‘Thank you, Mr—’ She stopped and could feel herself grow warm.

Sebastio stopped too, a glint coming into his eye. ‘Go on, Edie...say it. You won’t turn to stone.’

She crushed the sense of exposure and took a breath, willing her voice to sound totally cool. ‘Sebastio. Thank you, Sebastio.’

He started walking backwards, his mouth tipping up on one side in a wicked smile. ‘See? That wasn’t so hard, was it?’

Edie watched him depart and scowled at his broad back. He was making fun of her. Her fascination with him must be blindingly obvious.

She whirled around and stalked back into the room they’d just left, and when she heard the sound of the helicopter taking off she refused to look out of the window because she had the very irrational sense that even from here she’d see a mocking smile on his face.

* * *

‘Just a bit higher, Jimmy. That’s it.’

Edie looked up at the massive Christmas tree that stood, almost twenty feet tall, at the foot of the grand marble staircase in the main reception hall. It was finally dressed.

Jimmy climbed down the ladder and stood with her. In a moment of doubt, she said, ‘You don’t think it’s too rustic, do you?’

He shook his head. ‘No, it’s perfect. Really different and unique. You’ve done an amazing job, Edie. The place looks stunning.’

She felt a spurt of pride. But she just wasn’t sure if it was exactly what Sebastio Rivas had been looking for. She hadn’t seen him again for the whole week, and since she’d agreed on a firm to help her with the decorating she hadn’t had time to think.

Jimmy coughed discreetly beside her and she looked at him, to see him jerking his head slightly. She felt the small hairs on the back of her neck stand up just as she turned around to see Sebastio behind her, looking up at the tree.

He had obviously recently arrived, and was dressed in another three-piece suit and an overcoat. An immediate flash of heat right through to her core made a mockery of the fact that she’d tried to convince herself all week that her reaction to him had been a fleeting thing, based on a potent memory.

It didn’t feel fleeting now.

It felt as if her body had been in a dormant state all week until this moment.

He looked at her and Jimmy. ‘Why are you working on a Saturday?’

Edie felt ridiculously defensive. ‘It’s just the two of us. There’s so much to do and it’s easier to finish things off when there’s no one else around. Jimmy is heading home now.’

Jimmy looked at Edie, as if to say, I can stay if you want? but she shook her head and he backed away.

‘See you on Monday morning.’

‘Thanks, Jimmy.’

When she and Sebastio were alone he said, ‘You’re not heading home?’

‘Well, I wasn’t going to—not right now. There are still some things I’m tweaking. Your first dinner party is next Tuesday,’ she reminded him a little primly.

His mouth quirked slightly. ‘I’m well aware of that.’

She flushed. She noticed that he hadn’t said anything positive about the decorations, but also he wasn’t saying anything negative. And then something struck her. It was Saturday and he was obviously here for the weekend. Possibly with someone in tow. A lover?

As that suspicion sank in a wave of embarrassment washed over her. Edie immediately started to back away. ‘I’m so sorry. I just assumed we could have the run of the place until the first party, but of course you’re home for the weekend—no doubt looking for privacy. I’ll get my things...leave you in peace.’

She turned to leave, but her arm was caught in a big hand and she stopped, her face flaming now. She turned back to face him and he was staring down at her.

‘What on earth are you talking about?’

Edie wanted to crawl into a hole. This was far too reminiscent of another time and place. Run along... And she really didn’t want to hang around to see him kiss whatever stunningly beautiful woman he’d brought home for the weekend for recreational purposes. Which was none of her business.

‘Obviously you want your privacy for the weekend.’

He frowned again, shaking his head. ‘What...?’

Now she was feeling angry, on top of embarrassed. She pulled her arm free. ‘Just let me go home and I’ll leave you and your...guest alone.’

She’d started walking away again when she heard him behind her.

‘Edie—stop.’

Reluctantly she did. He came and stood in front of her, and against every effort her insides clenched in response to his sheer presence. His evocative scent. This was so humiliating. Any second now she expected to hear a woman’s voice, calling for her lover.

He was frowning. ‘Are you suggesting I have someone here with me?’

He sounded so incredulous that Edie just looked at him for a moment. ‘Don’t you?’

He shook his head, and a curious expression crossed his face—half angry, half frustrated—before he said, ‘No, I’m alone.’

Now Edie wanted the ground to swallow her for an entirely different reason. She’d just exposed herself spectacularly.

She swallowed. ‘Sorry... I just assumed...’

He sounded grim. ‘Well, you assumed wrong. The reason I was asking why you were still here is because you shouldn’t be working at the weekend.’

Sebastio looked down at Edie and saw the evidence of her embarrassment on her flushed face. It made him feel alternately irritated and aroused. Why did he always feel as if he’d insulted her in some way?

He’d got caught up in a round of social engagements in the past week, and hadn’t been able to make it back to the house. Which in any other circumstances wouldn’t have bothered him in the slightest. But knowing she was there...that was a different matter.

He’d been in Paris the previous evening, at an exclusive charity ball, surrounded by the crème de la crème of European society. The most beautiful people in the world. Certainly the most beautiful women. All vying for his attention. And not one had sparked his libido like she had...and did.

As soon as he’d walked in here this morning and seen her he’d felt the resurgence of desire. Igniting his nerve-endings. Making him hard.

But then he’d noticed something else. Shadows under her eyes.

His voice was rough. ‘You look tired.’

Her eyes flashed, and perversely that eased Sebastio’s conscience.

‘It’s been a busy week. We’ve all been putting in long hours to get the work done in time, and with the commute...’

‘Commute?’

She nodded. ‘Well, yes...’

‘Where do you live?’

She blinked, as if his question had taken her aback. ‘North London—Islington.’

Sebastio cursed under his breath. She might as well be in Paris. Even if he had his driver ferry her back and forth every day it would still be a huge commute. No wonder she looked tired.

He made a split-second decision. ‘You’re going to move in here for the duration of your contract.’


CHAPTER THREE (#uaab1ea3b-4a5b-5790-9cde-bcf2f944b88a)

SHOCK REVERBERATED THROUGH EDIE. ‘You’re going to move in here...’ It wasn’t a question.

Sebastio was looking at her as if he was enjoying watching her reaction. And then he said musingly, ‘You’ve got a very expressive face. It’s amazingly refreshing.’

Edie scowled and folded her arms. She didn’t like to be reminded of how gauche she must seem to a man like him, who was undoubtedly surrounded by sophisticates who knew better than to let every thought be read like a cloud passing across the sky.

‘Are you always this bossy?’

He bit back a smile. ‘I think it’s my duty to ensure your health and safety.’

She looked at Sebastio suspiciously. She knew her commute was a bit ridiculous—even Jimmy had asked her how she was doing it. He lived in South London, so Richmond was handy for him. He’d offered her his couch to sleep on, but she preferred to sleep well for a few hours rather than badly for longer!

Sebastio was waiting for her reply. He really meant it.

She unfolded her arms. ‘I can’t just move in here... It’s not...appropriate.’

‘Says who?’

‘Me!’ Edie fired back.

‘I’ll hardly be here, if that’s what you’re worried about.’

She managed to stop herself from pointing out that he was here now.

‘I just don’t think it’s right.’ And then, before she could stop her runaway mouth, she was asking, ‘Why buy a property like this if you’re hardly ever here?’

Sebastio tensed. No one ever questioned him. And her question cut far too close to the bone. There were myriad reasons why he’d bought this place—chief of which were to do with its privacy and space, which appealed to his need to hide from the world and his ever-present guilt. However, he’d also bought it for its potential for entertaining. And its exclusivity.

But those aren’t the only reasons, whispered a mocking voice.

No. They weren’t. And he hated to admit it—even to himself. Hated to admit that in spite of the fact that he’d never felt as if he’d had a home, he wanted to create one. Some place where he might feel some measure of peace or atonement. When he didn’t deserve atonement. At all.

Not when he’d mocked Victor and Maya for their happy domestic idyll just moments before he’d been intrumental in wrecking that idyll for ever.

‘That’s none of your business,’ he said now, with more bite than he’d intended.




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