Of all the stupid . . . She shook herself. She wasn’t achieving anything with the self-recriminations. It had happened. Now she needed to figure out how the hell she was going to get through the rest of their time here and what she would do if she had to find a new job once they got back to Cape Town.
It would suck if it came to that, because she really enjoyed the challenge of this job. Back in South Africa, Dante regularly swapped her for other executive assistants in the upper echelons of his global, multi-billion-dollar leisure industry conglomerate, and it was on those days Cleo truly liked her new job. None of the other executives seemed to doubt her competence and rarely gave her the mind-numbingly boring and simplistic tasks Dante liked to saddle her with.
Cleo finished her shower and wrapped herself in the warm terry-cloth robe provided by the hotel. She sauntered over to the huge floor-to-ceiling window and stared out at the sprawling nightscape. She had always dreamed of visiting Japan-had hoped to dance here someday. She allowed herself a small, wistful smile and a momentary pang at the thought of all she’d lost before shoving the memory of what she’d once been able to do-what she still yearned to do-back into a box and placing it into a mental drawer. She could never fully shut that damned drawer; it was always slightly open, and every so often something-the dream of a different life-would escape from it and haunt her reality. She drew in a long breath and released it shakily. She had way too much else going on right now. She couldn’t allow the coulda/shoulda beens to intrude on what was already an emotionally impactful night.
She tried to empty her mind of everything and focus only on the view. From her fortieth-floor vantage point, the shimmering lights looked as pretty as a Christmas tree, but she wondered at the constant frenetic activity in this crazy city that didn’t seem to have slowed down at all, despite the lateness of the hour. She knew she should try to get some sleep. It was after three in the morning, and Dante Damaso would undoubtedly be up, dressed, and disgustingly alert by seven. She crawled into the king-size bed, which was positioned so she could still see the skyline. She curled up on her side and stared down at the blinking lights of the traffic far, far below before drifting into a restless sleep.
Dante woke as he usually did, fully aware of his surroundings and not the slightest bit groggy despite the lack of sleep and jet lag. For once that ability wasn’t a blessing, not when he was immediately bombarded by the memory of the colossal error in judgment he had made the night before.
“Shit,” he hissed beneath his breath, wasting a brief moment of his very precious time on a twinge of regret before shrugging that smidgen of conscience away. Instead he attempted to focus his attention on a solution to what could definitely become a problem. The sex had been quite good, really, and just what he’d needed to blow off the frustrations of the day. But the girl was his employee, a very junior employee-and Dante hardly ever went there. Plus, she was his friend’s sister, and Dante for damned sure never went there. And yet he’d gone there last night and had no one to blame but himself.
To give Chloe her due, she had never looked at him in that way, never hinted at wanting any form of sexual relationship with him. If anything, until last night, she had been indifferent toward him and even seemed to dislike him at times. He snorted at that last thought, dismissing it as unlikely. When women pretended indifference, they were usually playing hard to get, and she was definitely the type to play ridiculous games like that. Look how easily she’d fallen into his bed last night. Surely that was proof she’d been harboring some sort of attraction for him all along.
He just hoped she didn’t think it would be the start of something; he really didn’t need the complication of breaking Luc’s sister’s heart. He liked the guy and they had been friends for a long time-and even though Dante had known of her existence, he had never actually met Luc’s sister until she applied for this job. He hadn’t been too enthused by the idea of giving her the position-especially in light of his unexpected physical response to her presence. But he wasn’t about to offend one of his few real friends by refusing to give the man’s precious sister a job-no matter how woefully underqualified she was on paper.
He shook himself impatiently, irritated that he had already wasted this much time on the incident when he had to figure out how to approach the precarious situation with the Shinjuku metropolitan government. He resented having to devote any of his time to considering the possible ramifications of his ill-advised sexual encounter with a woman. Not when he had so many other pressing issues to deal with.
He shook his head as he rose from bed and crossed to the bathroom for a quick shower. He had the utmost confidence he would handle this incident in the best way possible; it was just sex, after all. By the time he was dressed and ready to face the day, he had already dismissed the episode and was focused on other, far more important matters.
When Cleo joined Dante in the living room, he greeted her with his usual morning grunt, keeping his focus on his laptop.
“Miss Knight, I need you to send an urgent e-mail to Miles Kinross for the Phase One original blueprints,” he said without looking up.
“Right now?” she asked, and he lifted his gaze from the computer screen to frown at her.
“Yes, right now. I wouldn’t use the word ‘urgent’”-he used mocking air quotes-“if I didn’t want it right now.”
Cleo gritted her teeth, bit back the sarcastic retort hovering on the tip of her tongue, and settled for saccharine sweetness instead.
“Well, I only ask, sir, because it’s midnight in South Africa, and Mr. Kinross may not be checking his e-mails. I thought you might prefer the direct approach of a phone call instead.”
“Then make yourself useful and get him on the line. Be proactive for a change.”
She lifted her brows and picked up her company phone. She really wished she hadn’t fallen into bed with this man so easily. But having regrets now-while she still sported patches of stubble burn on her inner thighs and her breasts tingled tantalizingly-was a waste of energy. His sultry mouth had trailed over every inch of her skin, and his heavy stubble had left a pale pink trail in some of the places he had lingered. There was even a faint sting in the small of her back, telling her she probably wore the same naughty stubble burn just above her butt.
Cleo endeavored not to dwell too much on the unwelcome and intimate physical reminders of her lapse in judgment last night. But that wasn’t an easy thing to do when she could barely suppress a shiver as she recalled how masterfully he had flipped her onto her stomach and dragged his wicked lips down from the nape of her neck to-
“Miss Knight?”
Whoa. She snapped out of the raunchy daze and stared blankly into his impatient face.
“The phone call?”
“Yes, of course,” she sputtered, feeling foolish as she dialed the number.
Miles Kinross, as she had suspected, had already retired for the night and not alone, if the sultry feminine voice in the background was anything to go by. Kinross was a handsome man and-if office gossip was to be believed-like Dante Damaso, he rarely dated the same woman for longer than a month or two. Cleo was in the middle of explaining what they needed when the phone was yanked rudely from her hand and Dante took over the conversation.
She straightened her shoulders, determined to ignore his boorish behavior, and headed over to the lavish buffet breakfast he must have ordered from room service. At least he’d remembered to order enough for two this time.
She allowed herself another flash of aggravation at the memory of how he had completely overlooked her need for a meal last night. Inconsiderate bastard. No wonder she’d been so susceptible to his dubious charms; she’d been suffering from impaired judgment due to starvation. Dying of hunger now, she heaped her plate with scrambled eggs, crispy bacon, and toast before sitting down to dig in.
She barely managed more than a mouthful before he concluded his call.
“There’s no time for breakfast. We’re running late as it is. Our first meeting is in forty minutes, and the driver has informed me that it’ll take at least half an hour to get there in rush-hour traffic. I don’t want to be late. It’s unprofessional and considered extremely rude in Japan.”
“Oh, but . . .” She stared longingly down at her still-full plate.
“If you’d been up earlier, you would have had more time to eat,” he pointed out as he picked up his briefcase.
Yeah, right. Cleo had dawdled over her morning prep, gathering her courage to face him. She had tried to anticipate every possible scenario: he’d sweep her up into his arms and propose a torrid affair, he’d be unable to meet her eyes and unsure of what to say to her, he’d explain how their indiscretion had been only a passing thing, never to be repeated.
She hadn’t expected this. This complete lack of acknowledgment of what had been a huge breach of office conduct. In fact, he was so completely normal and unaffected she wondered if he even remembered their little oopsie.
She shoveled down one last forkful of eggs before getting up with a resigned sigh. She smoothed her black, pin-striped pencil skirt down over her thighs and glanced up in time to catch a smoldering look in his dark eyes.
Oh . . . my.
New Book: Back Home to Marry Off Myself
Loredana’s father left the family for his mistress, leaving them to fend for themselves abroad. When life was at its toughest, her father showed up with “good news” after 8 years of absence: To marry off Loredana to a paralyzed son of the wealthy Mendelsohn family.