Clare Connelly - The Debt / Cross My Hart

Ten minutes later I strode out of the hotel and, sure enough, Ellie was already out of the car, hurrying around to open my door for me.

I’d planned to simply walk past her and get in, but for some reason I paused, looking down into her pretty face, searching for I didn’t know what.

‘Good morning, Mr Evans,’ she said chirpily, giving me the same jaunty smile as the day before.

And it irritated me just as much.

Because there was no trace of the husk in her voice that I’d heard when I’d touched her. No sign of the blush in her cheeks and the gold flames in her eyes that I’d seen as I’d slid my hands between her thighs, the wet heat of her pussy against my fingers.

‘Good morning, Miss Little.’ I narrowed my gaze, scanning her for any signs of the upset I was sure I’d sensed the day before. For any sign of acknowledgement of what had happened between us at all. ‘How are you feeling?’

‘Box of birds, thanks.’ Her expression was resolutely cheerful.

I tried not to scowl. ‘You slept well?’

‘Fantastically.’

Damn woman.

It was ridiculous to be annoyed at her cheeriness, though. Because it was good she wasn’t upset. I didn’t want her to be, after all.

But you don’t want her to act as if nothing happened between you, either, right?

Bullshit. What did I care? The sex between us had been good, yet nothing more was going to come of it. I was flying back to London tonight and she would be driving for someone else and that would be that.

I’d have Bill back at the wheel by tomorrow.

‘And you?’ A small crease appeared between her brows as she studied me. ‘Did you sleep well?’

I lost the battle against irritation and scowled. ‘I don’t appreciate small talk, Miss Little. Keep it to a minimum, please.’

Her mouth opened, but I’d already turned away, getting into the car before she could speak.

It was churlish of me to take my temper out on her, but too bad. I was churlish, and petty, too. Selfish to boot. I embraced my faults honestly at least, unlike others who pretended they were better, all the while being just as deeply flawed as I was.

Whatever. She’d be glad she only had one more day of putting up with me.

After she’d shut the door, I got out my laptop and fired it up, hoping to distract myself by dealing with the mountain of emails I got every day.

It turned out to be pretty effective and I’d been working a good five minutes before I realised that the car wasn’t moving.

I looked up from the screen and, sure enough, we were still sitting right outside my hotel, while Ellie stared at me in the rear-view mirror.

‘You do know I have a meeting in twenty minutes I have to get to, don’t you?’ I snapped.

Her small, pointed chin lifted, green gleaming in her eyes. ‘You do know that you don’t have to be an arsehole, don’t you?’

People didn’t call me on my behaviour normally; I was too rich, too powerful. Certainly they never called me on it the way Ellie was doing right now.

I didn’t like it.

Perhaps because you know already that you’re acting like a prick?

My temper pulled on the leash I kept it on, growling and snapping like a beast. Of course I was acting like a prick. I always acted like a prick. Did she really expect anything different from me just because we’d had sex?

She probably expects you to act like a human being and not a petty bastard.

I gritted my teeth, glowering at her. ‘What? You don’t like me snapping at you? Too bad. I snap at everyone. Don’t take it personally.’

Her jaunty smile had vanished and I was bastard enough to be happy about it. ‘Would it kill you to be nice? Even for a second?’

‘Yes,’ I growled.

There was a very disapproving silence.

‘What?’ I grumbled bad-temperedly, not sure why I was conceding this to her. ‘You want an apology?’

The expression on her face was uncompromising; of course she wanted a fucking apology.

I let out a breath. I never apologised, not to anyone, not after spending most of my childhood feeling as if I had to apologise for my very existence. And certainly not after I’d discovered how much power anger and not giving a shit gave me.

But for some reason, I gave a shit now.

‘I’m sorry for snapping at you,’ I said, graceless and brusque. ‘There. Happy?’

She frowned at me. ‘Are you angry because I didn’t come up to your room last night?’

The question was unexpected and abrupt, making something hot flash through me. I definitely wasn’t angry about that. Was I?

‘No,’ I lied, very conscious of the tension gathering in my shoulders and the sullen burn of my temper.

She ignored my denial as if I hadn’t spoken. ‘Look, I’m sorry about yesterday, but I—’

‘Couldn’t get away from me fast enough?’ The words came out before I could stop them and as soon as I’d spoken I wished I hadn’t. Christ, I sounded pathetic. Like a hurt child.

But to my surprise, Ellie glanced away, colour creeping into her cheeks. ‘I thought it would be easier if I didn’t.’

‘Easier for whom? Certainly easier for you.’

The long, dark lashes veiling her gaze were streaked with gold in the sunlight coming through the windscreen. ‘I didn’t think you’d care. It was only sex. No big deal, right?’

Good point. It was only sex and very much not a big deal. And yet, here I was, turning it into one. Great sex, sure, but ultimately sex I could get from someone else.

She wasn’t special. I could get hunger and fire and desperation from any woman, it didn’t have to be her.

But the kind of instinctive trust she gave you?

I shoved that thought away before it could take root.

‘No big deal,’ I echoed flatly.

An expression I couldn’t decipher flickered across her face. ‘Well, I guess you’re ready to go, then?’

‘I am.’

She turned the key and we pulled away from the kerb at last.

And I directed my attention back to my laptop, curiously unsatisfied and not sure why.

Ellie

THE DAY PROVED to be long and not only due to the driving I had to do in the interminable Parisian traffic.

It was also due to the presence of the man sitting in the limo behind me.

I tried very hard to pretend he didn’t exist, but it was difficult when every time I looked in my rear-view mirror, I caught a glimpse of him.

Sometimes he had his attention on his laptop and sometimes he was looking out of the window as he talked on his phone. And then there were also times I found his gaze on mine, a burning look in it, as if he were waiting impatiently for some kind of response from me.

Except I didn’t know what response he wanted.

I’d lied when I’d told him I’d slept perfectly well. I hadn’t. I’d spent all night going over what had happened in the limo and why I’d stupidly burst into emotional tears afterwards like a silly virgin.

Had it been the way he’d stroked me at the end? Or had it been due to the sheer power of the physical release? Either way, I’d hated it and I definitely didn’t want it to happen again.

Pleasure I could handle, but a big no to all that emotional bullshit. It only reminded me of how I’d felt after the Mark incident and how pissed off Dad had been at me at the way I’d handled it. Sure, kneeing Mark in the balls had been an instinctive reaction, but that had caused a whole lot of extra drama that had ended up with him making all sorts of extortionate demands.

No fuss, that was key, and yet here I was, making a fuss about the sex by crying, not to mention giving Mr Evans a piece of my mind for being rude to me.