Maybe if I’d have paid more attention, I’d have googled him more successfully. And then I would’ve learned the job I’d been offered was working for the man I’d had the sexy times with.
What I still don’t understand is how he looked so surprised.
And so pissed.
And why the heck did he storm off instead of looking pleased his nefarious plan had come together?
Has jet lag made me lose my mind?
The first thing I notice is the size of the room. It’s huge, double height, and filled with light thanks to the wall of glass providing breathtaking views over a marina filled with million-dollar yachts and farther to the Mediterranean Sea. Would these be multimillion-dollar or billion-dollar views?
A dark table dominates one side of the room, a dozen classic white Swan chairs clustered around it. Blue marbled panels stand sentry behind an imposing modernist-era desk; the chair behind it unoccupied. The same for the black leather and chrome Le Corbusier lounge setting placed in the middle of the room. Despite the light and space, the room is decidedly masculine. Not least of which is the man standing on the far side of it, his broad shoulders framed by a sea of blue.
‘You asked to see me?’ Alice’s voice wavers ever so slightly. I find I’m almost surprised she’d spoken in English, considering how in the elevator on the way up she’d mumbled in nothing but French. And let me tell you, none of it had sounded complimentary. It wasn’t just her tone which made me think I was in trouble because I’d also spent two hours in an office where the people around me murmured frantically while trying—and failing—not to send their troubled glances my way. I gather my employment is an issue. That no one knows what to do with me. That no one seems to know why I’m here.
I also gather Alice doesn’t intend on taking the blame.
Oh, I’ve been treated well enough, and I was even taken to the staff restaurant for lunch, which was pretty swanky. But I haven’t been issued a desk or a locker and not once has anyone mentioned my job.
Like the lanyard hanging around my neck, I feel like a visiteur.
‘Laisse nous.’
I don’t need to understand French to know he just issued a dismissal, confirmed as Alice darts from the room.
‘Bonne chance.’ Her gaze darts my way as she passes, shooting me a brief grimace of a smile. The door then closes with an ominous clunk.
I don’t move, at a loss what to think or say. Why am I here? Why in the world would he set up such an elaborate second meeting? This isn’t about sex, that much is clear. Not the way he looked at me earlier in the hallway. Not the way he’s looking at me right now.
My goodness, the man is like an artisan chocolate; mouth-wateringly tasty and wrapped to appeal, but with hidden layers of delicious his outer coating doesn’t reveal. I wish I could say the same for my outfit as I twist the belt on my dress, silently cursing its resemblance to a sack as, without officially acknowledging my presence, Remy strolls to his desk. With his back facing me, he begins sifting through a folder.
‘Róisín Ryan,’ he announces without turning. Points to him for making my name sound less like raisin than Alice did. Also, minus points for the low rumble of his voice that reminds me of that night. Like I need that kind of aural memory.
‘Born June twenty-ninth,’ he continues in that delectable accent of his. Despicable; I definitely meant despicable. ‘1994, in Knoxville, Tennessee, to the late Nora Ryan, nee Awad. That’s an Arabic surname, right?’ With the question, he turns his head over his shoulder, glancing briefly my way.
Okay, handsome. So we’ve established my ancestry is a little hodgepodge; a little Irish and a little something else. And while I don’t know what I was expecting, I’m certain it wasn’t this.
‘Do you investigate every girl you’ve slept with?’ I fold my arms across my chest, my hip seeming to cock with an attitude all on its own. ‘Send them weird gifts afterwards, too?’
‘Weird?’ He turns to face me then, negligently arranging himself on the desk, one leg bent, the other out straight. If you can’t man-spread in your own office, where can you? But this isn’t about his comfort. This is