Vanessa Fewings - The Chase

He caught me staring and straightened his back. “Perhaps now is a good time for us to go over my expectations.”

I stepped forward, eager to hear. “Of course.”

“Now that you work for me—”

“Technically I work for Huntly Pierre.”

“Who have officially loaned you to me.” He caught me with his glare. “Let’s toast to a successful evening.” He raised a glass and offered it to me.

I took it. “Cheers.”

“We were discussing the ground rules.”

“I’d be happy to hear your expectations.”

He took a sip. “I expect confidentiality—”

“That goes without saying.”

“Unquestioning loyalty—”

“Of course.”

“I expect you not to interrupt when I’m speaking—”

“I was merely—”

He arched a brow.

His overly confident manner sent my equilibrium reeling and I had to stare out of that long glass window to regain my composure.

“Let’s discuss tonight,” he said.

He wasn’t just into controlling holographic geishas apparently. I looked around. “Sir, perhaps I could see the painting?”

“Tobias.”

I gave a thin smile. “Tobias, I’d love to see it. The painting, I mean.”

He raised his glass and took several sips, his stare holding mine.

Mirroring him, I took a sip, enjoying the delicious tang of orange and expensive champagne, and ran over what I knew about him. He was a self-made billionaire but so far he’d not acted spoiled. Though from what I’d seen he could be considered bossy.

He was the kind of challenge I usually rose to but I was here to please him. The client, my addled brain corrected my erotic musing.

Wilder might as well have had heartbreak central stamped on his forehead. And I’d had more than my fair share of that. Those internal alarms were there for a reason.

“Are you going out? Am I making you late?”

“Follow me.”

“May I get my equipment from the car?”

“No need.”

Behind his back, I took a gulp of bubbly.

I set the glass on the bar and followed a few steps behind him, relieved to be getting to the reason why I’d driven all this way. Strolling down the well-lit hallway and vigilant for any more geisha-like surprises.

“Perhaps I could see more of your inventions?” I said softly. He threw me a doubtful smile.

“Perhaps a warning next time? Before you show it to me.” I wondered what other stuff he was working on. “What kind of application does the hologram have?”

“Security, mainly. I’m currently working on a touchable hologram. One that reacts to movement.”

“That sounds incredible.” I secretly ogled his bum.

Tobias had the kind of height and confident stride most women would swoon at. We’d not gotten to the place where I could pry about his personal life. I wondered if we ever would. My lips pressed together when my brain nudged me to ask the meaning of his Latin tattoo.

“No 3-D glasses, Zara, did you catch that?” He smiled my way. “Don’t tell anyone what you saw.”

“Of course.” I breathed out in a rush of giddy excitement, realizing I’d witnessed something special.

The fact Tobias had trusted me made me beam with happiness. Being here was fricking amazing. “So the seller lent you the painting so you could have it appraised?”

He pushed open a door.

Inside the modest room there was merely a central island. A couple of boxes resting on top of it.

One wall was a mirror from carpet to ceiling. There, in the corner, hanging on an ornate tall cupboard, was an elegant black satin gown, the kind you see worn on the runways of Paris. Tobias strolled over to the island and lifted the box sitting in the center. He opened the lid to reveal the strappy silver shoes inside.

I caught my breath. “Those are pretty.”

He was showing me his girlfriend’s things, and I feigned this wasn’t awkward at all. I looked around for the painting. There wasn’t one.

“You’ll need this.” He gestured to the box beside the shoes.

My frown deepened as I stepped forward, lifted the lid and rifled through the soft tissue paper, looking for the handheld X-ray scanner.

I pulled out a strip of black silk material and realized I was looking at Coco de Mer lingerie.

My breath left me in a rush as the bra slipped from my fingers back into the box. He came closer, his expression intense, his green irises fierce under the light.

“Tobias?” My gaze dragged from his and fell back onto the tag on that thin strip of material that was meant to serve as a bra and it was my cup size. My cheeks blazed like fire. “What’s this for?”

He glanced at the dress. “Please, put on the Alexander McQueen.”

“Why?”

“You can’t go dressed like that.”

“Go where?”

“To see the painting.” He brushed a strand of hair out of my eyes and tucked it behind my ear.

It felt as though I’d been struck by lightning and the echo of his touch lingered where his fingers had brushed my cheek; my eyelids fluttered. “We’re not staying here?”

“No, Zara.”

“We’re going out?”

He gave the kindest smile. “Yes.”

My stare returned to the sexy underwear and then moved from the strappy shoes and hovered over the dress. “That’s for me?”

He gave an assured nod. “Meet me in the foyer.”

Tobias left and his heady cologne lingered behind him, its effect just as powerful.

I leaned on the central island and clutched the edge, knuckles white, fighting this wave of light-headedness.

As though rising from a dream, the situation became glaringly clear. I’d stepped inside the world of the truly wealthy and just proven I was out of my depth. Yes, I’d come from money, but it had all been tied up in property and paintings and never had I experienced moments of decadence that took my breath away—

Until now.

5

Reason caught up with my arousal and nudged it out of the way, helping me see clearly without the distraction of that sex god clouding my view.

You don’t invite a professional woman over to your home, which is in the middle of nowhere, show her some erotic lingerie and tell her to put it on, and then force her to wear a gown from one of the world’s top designers. No matter how much it must have cost or how gorgeous those strappy straps looked with that risqué off-the-shoulder design and elegant ruching, and the way it fell to flatter a woman’s curves just so.

Even if you do go around flaunting you’re the sexiest man alive and a hero to wildlife, with the ease of someone who pretends he has no effect on those around him.

“No, you bloody well don’t.” I stomped down the hallway, through the foyer and out into the cold night air.

And headed for my Range Rover.

From what I’d seen, everyone back at Huntly Pierre seemed reasonable. I’d merely relay my concerns about our client’s eccentricities and be off the hook—

A burst of noise above.

A blinding fluorescent white lit up the house.

I forced my lips shut against the tornado of dust and leaves swirling around me and brought my hands up to protect my face from the scattering debris, crouching against the metal monster looming above, the force of wind shoving me back and blasting my clothes.

Whirling blades came into view—

The sleek helicopter turned a 180 and landed smoothly before me. Heart pounded, blood roared in my ears, my legs weakened.

The chopping lessened as the blades stilled. The air now quiet.

I blinked against the bright blur of headlights directed at me. Out climbed Tobias.

He walked toward me with that casual swagger of confidence, wearing a bow tie now to round out his intimidation, looking even more formal than before, even more handsome, with that familiar earthiness and a splash of bad-boy billionaire.