Out of Hours...Her Ruthless Boss: Ruthless Boss, Hired Wife / Unworldly Secretary, Untamed Greek / Her Ruthless Italian Boss

There was nothing she could do. And Cormac knew it. Had always known it.

Had planned it that way.

‘Like I said,’ he murmured, ‘enjoy it. Not many secretaries get a chance to live the high life in the Caribbean.’ His eyes lingered on hers, flaring with possibility, with suggestion.

Lizzie felt an answering flicker in her own core.

She wanted this. Him. The excitement, the possibility. Even though it frightened her, he frightened her. Even though she didn’t want anything to actually happen. Did she?

She didn’t know anything any more. She was so, so out of her depth.

And he knew.

He had always known.

She looked away.

‘You’d never say anything, anyway,’ Cormac said after a moment, watching her with a little smile. ‘And why should you? Such a fuss…for what? Besides…’ he shrugged into his suit jacket ‘…you don’t like to make a fuss.’

‘I feel like making a fuss right now,’ Lizzie retorted. ‘A big one.’

He raised an eyebrow. ‘Sounds interesting.’

She flushed. ‘Not everything has to be—’

‘Oh, but it does,’ he assured her. His eyes danced. She hated how she amused him. It made her feel so little. So unimportant.

‘I may be attracted to you, Cormac,’ she said quietly, her face heating, her heart beating, even though she knew it had to be said. She had to say it. ‘But that’s all it is. And I don’t intend to act upon it.’

‘Are you trying to convince me,’ he murmured, ‘or yourself?’

‘I’m convincing you,’ she snapped.

‘I’m not convinced.’

Suddenly she couldn’t stand his complete arrogance, his unerring belief that she could be so easily known. So easily controlled.

‘Maybe Jan isn’t convinced, either,’ she said recklessly. ‘I could still tell him how you’ve blackmailed me. You waited until I was on the plane before you revealed your plans. I’m your secretary and you intimidated me.’ She widened her eyes, fluttered her eyelashes. ‘I didn’t know what to do, I was so frightened…’ Her voice was a breathy whisper and Cormac’s face hardened, blanked dangerously.

Still, fuelled by a new, heady sense of power, Lizzie continued. ‘Somehow I think a man like him would believe me…empathise with me. Who knows, he might insist my name be kept out of the press! You’d be the only one hurt.’

‘Is that so?’ In one easy movement Cormac grabbed her hands, pulled her to him so her breasts collided with his chest, her thighs melded into his. She could feel every part of him pressed against her, hard against soft, experience matched with innocence.

His fingers laced with hers so that he pulled her even closer. Her breasts were now flattened against his chest, her belly and thighs and everything in between pressed against his. Even in her surprise and alarm, she felt the treacherous stirring of desire.

She’d never been so close to a man before.

She forced herself to meet his eyes—bright, sharp, cruel. He looked down at her, smiled with a parody of tenderness that made Lizzie’s blood freeze.

‘Somehow, sweetheart,’ he whispered, his lips scant inches from hers, his breath feathering her face, ‘I think you’d be the one getting hurt. Don’t think you can play my game. Don’t think you can ever use me.’ His voice was soft. Soft and dangerous. Lizzie tasted fear.

‘But you’re using me,’ she pointed out, her voice shaking. ‘Just like you use everyone.’ She tried to step away from him and, after a moment, his hands still easily encircling her wrists, he released her.

‘Exactly.’ He smiled. ‘Let it go, Chandler. Just enjoy this weekend. I told you, it could be fun. Let’s have fun.’ His voice had turned to a caress, one she shrugged off.

‘Fun? When you’re virtually blackmailing me? You have a sick idea of what fun is, Cormac.’

He slipped his watch on, a tasteful sports design, clearly expensive. ‘Blackmail’s really a bit strong, don’t you think? I might have waited until the plane to inform you of our plans, but you agreed. You said yes.’

‘I never would have, if I’d known—’

‘Known what?’ Cormac took a step towards her. She could smell the cedar tang of his aftershave and tried not to breathe deeply. Even though she wanted to. Even now. ‘Known what there’d be between us? What you’d be tempted to do? To want?’

There was challenge and knowledge in his voice and she didn’t like, either. ‘I’m not going to do anything,’ Lizzie said, her eyes downcast. She wouldn’t look at him. Didn’t want to.

Couldn’t.

‘Good.’ With two lean, strong fingers he touched her chin, tilted it upwards to meet his own mocking gaze. ‘As long as you understand what this is about, Lizzie. It’s not about blackmail. It’s about power. I’m in control, and as long as you realise that, we’re sorted. Understood?’

Impatience and irritation chased across his implacable features and Lizzie was conscious of a hollow, empty sensation, as if all her determination and defiance had leaked out.

It’s about power. His. Only his.

She sagged, and suddenly she didn’t care any more. Didn’t care about the weekend, didn’t care about him.

It was too hard, too tense, too humiliating and too much.

She just wanted this to be over, and it hadn’t even begun.

She jerked her head away from his hand. ‘Understood.’

She knew any threat of resistance or exposure was just that—a threat. Empty. She couldn’t risk the shame and publicity telling the truth would bring. She didn’t dare.

Cormac, she realised, had the power to make her life hell. And Dani’s, too. And he would have no compunction in doing just that.

He might even enjoy it.

She turned to get dressed, stripping off her pyjamas, heedless of Cormac watching. Suddenly it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered.

Cormac watched her for a moment, the pyjamas slithering to her feet, before he cursed under his breath and thrust her dress into her arms. ‘Go ahead, use the bathroom.’

He turned away and Lizzie watched as he raked a hand through his hair, his back to her.

Bemused, she took her dress and underwear into the bathroom. She needed the space, the privacy, if only for a moment.

Inside the bathroom, she took a deep breath and ran a basin of cold water. Splashing her face, she forced herself to gather her scattered thoughts and concentrate.

She would not let him intimidate or control her. It was so hard—he was hard—but she had to stand up to him. She had to be strong.