Custom Built (Fast & Fury #1) - Chantal Fernando Page 0,84
A woman who’d no doubt run if she knew all the depraved things I want to do to her until I’ve worked her from my system. A woman I want to drag into the darkness with me...
‘You’re due at the Palazzo Giorno in an hour,’ I remind her, bringing us back to business—a charity fashion-event at a sixteenth-century mansion a few blocks away in central Milan. She’s the star of the show, a favourite of the biggest fashion houses in the world.
Brooke nods. ‘Thank you for taking care of me so thoroughly.’ Her voice is smoke and sin and seduction, despite the rest of her being sunshine. But, just like my body and mind, my ears too can be disciplined.
‘I’ll jump in the shower and meet you in the lobby in thirty minutes. Will that restore your good humour and banish that scary look from your face?’
I bite my tongue. I rarely display good humour. And she should be scared. If she had any idea how I want to take care of her––not her welfare or her time management, but her flippant mouth and her sinful body and her sexual pleasure... But I’m not here for that. I’ve stepped out of my lane once before with a woman like Brooke—easy to fall for but out of my league. The safest risk is no risk at all.
‘Text me when you’re ready and I’ll escort you downstairs,’ I say in my usual bland tone. There’s no point torturing myself with the room next to hers to simply meet her in the lobby. I need to stay close to her for work. No other reason. Protecting Brooke Madden might present my toughest challenge to date, but I’ve survived worse. I’m up to the task.
She invades my space now so I’m hit with the scent of her warm skin––a hint of chlorine and the enticing undertones of pure, fuckable woman. Not that fucking her is an option. Not only is she a renowned socialite, the daughter of nobility and one of the UK’s most successful exports, she’s a client for the next five days. My usual ‘one fuck and run’ won’t work. And in recent years I’ve developed tastes—ones that help me stave off the worst of my darkness and harness control—that would no doubt shock Lady Brooke Madden to her well-bred core.
‘Such a gentleman,’ she purrs, her enticing eyes tracing my face.
My body feels so rigid, I might snap with the effort of keeping still. Every impulse I possess clamours for just one touch, just one kiss of that mouth that loves to tease and taunt.
‘I’m no such thing. I’m just here to protect you.’ Nothing more, nothing less.
And ignore you in order to protect myself.
Because I’ve spent most of my adult life defying my own base instincts. Bad instincts. One fateful decision, one hot-headed moment of weakness as a youth, changed my life. Better to avoid Brooke’s kind of temptation altogether so there’s no way I’ll repeat the same mistake.
‘Of course. But all work and no play makes for a very dull Brooke, so please try to lighten up,’ she says, wrapping the robe across her sublime body and tying the belt. ‘You’ve worked for me long enough to know that all I do is work. I love it, of course. But the down side is that I’m always hiding too. Sometimes I just want the freedom to do something normal, like swim in a hotel pool.’ She sighs. ‘Even that’s complicated.’
The lift closes, trapping us in a confessional cocoon. I’m not made of stone, as much as I’d like to be. She’s endlessly intriguing. The least dull person I’ve ever met. Playful, full of boundless energy, charming, funny and kind.
‘Lighten up?’ I say. There’s no lightness left in me, only darkness. And she’s the opposite. Another reason I shouldn’t have taken this job. But she’s persistent. Persuasive. Pushy.
Tell me about yourself, Nick.
What do you do for fun, Nick?
It’s okay to relax a little, Nick.
Even if I wanted to lighten up, which I don’t, I wouldn’t do it with her. Our professional relationship works just fine for me, despite the attraction. We’re from different worlds. Ever since my young life imploded at my own reckless hands at the age of eighteen, I’ve avoided women like Brooke Madden. She’s too much like my ex-girlfriend—influential, privileged, used to doors opening without resistance. Even though I brought the helpless and defeated feeling upon myself, I never want to be victim to it again.