The Cost Of The Forbidden

Social niceties did not apply to him.

‘I was born here and my father lives here in New York,’ Naomi answered. ‘So I’m legal...’

‘I wasn’t asking for that.’ He shook his head. ‘I’m not really big on red tape. It was your accent that had me curious. How long have you been here?’ He continued to look at her résumé and frowned as Naomi answered him.

‘Twelve days.’

‘You’re staying in a hostel?’ he checked.

‘Just till I find somewhere to live, though that’s proving harder than I thought it would.’

He glanced up and saw that she was blushing—she had been since the moment he’d called her name, or perhaps her complexion was just perpetually red?

‘I thought that you said that your father lived—’

‘His wife just had a new baby.’ Naomi interrupted.

‘I don’t blame you, then.’

‘Sorry?’

He stiffened.

It was the third time that she had said it.

‘I don’t blame you for not wanting to stay with him if there’s a screaming baby.’

Naomi didn’t respond but her slight swallow and blink told him that, very possibly, his comment was the wrong way around—that her father didn’t want Naomi staying with him.

He had been about to tell her that they were wasting each other’s time. Sevastyan didn’t deal in emotion. Computers were his thing. Books too. Not people.

There was no point in dragging things out and so he would tell her that this wasn’t going to work; that she could never be his PA.

And he would tell her why if she asked.

Naomi Johnson had one of those apologetic personalities that irked Sev.

One of the last English words he’d learnt had been ‘sorry’ and he rarely used it.

Naomi had said it twice even before taking her seat.

She had said sorry when he’d gone into Reception to call her in for the interview and she had knocked over her glass of water as she’d stood. Then, as she had taken a seat in his sumptuous Fifth Avenue office, he’d politely asked how her morning had been. Naomi clearly hadn’t made out what he’d said and it had been ‘sorry’ again.

‘It doesn’t matter,’ had been his irritated reply.

And now she had just said it again.

‘I don’t think it will work,’ Sev said.

‘Mr Derzhavin—’

‘Sev,’ he interrupted. ‘I’m not a schoolteacher.’ He looked up into serious brown eyes and, seeing her rapid blink, he reeled back a touch from his usual abrupt dismissal. She—Naomi—had clearly made a huge effort for the interview today. The hostel she was staying at was a dive yet she was here in a smart suit. It was a touch tight, Sev thought, noticing her curves. Her dark brown hair was neatly tied back and she looked...

Sev couldn’t quite place it.

She reminded him of something, or rather someone.

He didn’t really want to examine who or what it was, there was just, he decided, no need to be brutal.

‘Look, Naomi, you’re clearly qualified and for a twenty-five-year-old you have a lot of experience and you interview well but...’ He watched her nervous swallow and found himself wanting to let her down gently. ‘You’ve an extensive list of hobbies—reading, horse riding, ballet, theatre... It goes on. The thing is, the only hobby my PA can reasonably expect to have is me.’

‘Felicity has already explained that to me,’ Naomi said. Her first interview with his current PA had been thorough enough to leave Naomi in no doubt that the role would be a demanding one. Sevastyan Derzhavin’s skills in cyber security were globally in demand. Apart from an impossible workload he was a rich playboy and had a little black book that was his PA’s to juggle, along with his private jet and helicopter.

Yes, she had been told exactly what the role would entail. He was arrogant, emotionless, worked you to the bone but he paid through the nose for attention to duty.

Him.

From the bitter twist to Felicity’s voice Naomi had soon guessed that there might be a more personal reason for the sudden vacancy.

‘Even so.’ Sev went to drop her résumé on his desk and, Naomi was sure, terminate the interview and send her on her way.

‘Would it help if I told you that I’d lied on my résumé?’

‘Probably not.’ Instead of standing, he leant back in his seat. ‘Go on.’

‘Well, I do like the ballet and theatre but it’s stretching it to say that they’re hobbies of mine and I haven’t been on a horse since I was fourteen...’

‘What about reading?’

‘I’ll read in bed.’

Sev opened his mouth to say something and then, very sensibly, he closed it.

God, he could so easily and so very inappropriately have responded to that. Clearly Miss Awkward had recognised the opening she had just given him because just as those full cheeks had been starting to pale, they had once again flushed pink the second she’d said it.

‘Well, I can’t command your time in the bedroom,’ Sev said, and he hesitated again because, actually, he wouldn’t mind doing just that...

He made a very abrupt verbal U-turn. ‘I warn you—if I offered you the role then most of your waking hours would be devoted to me. Your time would be spent on a laptop, or the phone, sorting out my life. You wouldn’t even have time to read your horoscope, it will be mine you turn to first.’

‘I don’t believe in them.’

‘I bet you still read them, though?’

‘Is that relevant?’

She was tougher than she had first looked.

Sev gave her an intense stare, barely noticing her full lips and round cheeks as her deep brown eyes drew him in.