this little insignificant toad mess with her confidence seconds before she met London Warwick for the first time.
The guard continued his perusal of her body. Bethany slammed a hand on the black marble countertop, bringing him back to attention. The man shook his head, a gross smile bending his poorly shaped upper lip.
“Do you have an appointment with him?” the guard asked.
“No, but Mrs. Warwick has sent me over to speak with him.”
There was a bit of fearful respect that flashed through the guard’s eyes. “Oh. Of course. Go on up.”
The clicking sound of her heels filled the marble-heavy lobby as she made her way to the elevators. She wasn’t surprised that London had the penthouse suite. After all, his family owned the building. It was a tall, sleek structure in one of London’s most prestigious neighborhoods. An apartment in this building would have the same square footage as her townhouse but would be quadruple the price. She didn’t even want to know what the penthouse suite would cost.
The Warwicks had more money than the queen and god combined, so she couldn’t be surprised that they led a lavish lifestyle. And that was coming from her, who was by all accounts, an heiress. Though her own fortune, still tied up in a trust, was nothing compared to what London and his kin had.
The ride up the elevator was quick, but it did nothing to ease the bubbling acid climbing up the back of her throat. She had no way of knowing how London would react to her sudden appearance. Johanna had assured her that her son would be expecting her, but that didn’t change the fact that Bethany didn’t know what to expect. She had the vague impression that London, a grown man, wouldn’t be too pleased by his mother’s interference in his life.
But Bethany had to do this.
She rolled her shoulders back and lifted her chin up high. She was Bethany Russo, goddamn it, and she was going to conquer this job. Who cared if her heart was going to get the shit-kicking of its life? She was a professional, and this job could set her up for life. No matter what Leonard Humphreys said or threatened. No matter what the tabloids printed about her next.
If she had a secure business with one of the wealthiest families in the universe, she would be able to weather any storm.
She knocked on the door, wracking her knuckles hard on the shiny wood surface. The seconds ticked by slowly, but soon, she heard the thumping of footsteps. The door swung open, and Bethany’s breath caught in her throat, threatening to choke her.
There he was.
London Warwick.
He was wet, drops of water slowly running down his tanned, muscled body. A series of roman numerals were tattooed over his left pectoral, and a large dragon was wrapped around his bulging bicep. A black towel was wrapped around low on his trim waist. Low. Way low. Enough for Bethany to make out the V-shape that was sure to lead to some impressive hardware. She had the sudden urge to lick his abs, and she bit down hard on her cheek to push the silly, lustful thought away. London ran his hand through his wet hair, and a few stray droplets landed on her arm.
Bethany could feel them burning against her skin. It was entirely too erotic for drops that had been on him to land on her. She would have to replay this moment again in her head when she was alone. Or rather, when she was in the presence of her BOB.
As she watched London’s muscles move under his tanned skin, Bethany couldn’t breathe, let alone remember her own name.
“Can I help you?” His brow was pulled down into a confused frown, but even then, he was a magnificent man. He oozed natural confidence and sex appeal. His dark brown eyes were full of thunderclouds, but Bethany couldn’t understand why.
Was it because she had disturbed his shower? Then why would he even bother opening the door?
Unless he had a lady with him or had been waiting for a lady to join him in said shower. Bethany gulped at the idea of being in naked under the hot spray of a shower with London. She felt herself blush and cleared her throat against the tidal wave of dirty thoughts that assaulted her. Apparently, it wasn’t only her heart that she would have to fight against, but her hormones, too.
“I’m Bethany Russo. Your mother sent me to