Bella's Impossible Boss

Rather than reach across and shake her as he itched to do, he sent her his trademark smile instead. The effect was devastating, or so he’d been told. He didn’t consider himself vain but he wasn’t falsely modest either. That smile had brought enough women to their knees for him to believe in it.

Bella’s eyes narrowed to thin pinpricks of hauteur. She looked as if she’d rather slap him than fall to her knees. It’d take more than a smile to knock this lady off her feet.

Unfortunately, that only made his interest level shoot up several notches. ‘I want to make it clear that I won’t make concessions for you because you’re Marco’s daughter.’ He personally meant to ensure that she worked her butt off.

She tossed her head. ‘I wouldn’t expect you to.’

‘I demand excellence.’

Her chin tilted at an angle that had him dying to kiss her. ‘I’m glad to hear it.’

He would make her toe the line and see this project through to its bitter end. She’d make good on her promise to Marco this time. He’d see to that. This time, when the going got tough and she tried to bail—and he’d make sure it got tough—she’d find his will more implacable than her own.

Bella was going to get exactly what was coming to her.

CHAPTER THREE

BELLA tried to smile at the cat, but it glared at her through the bars of its cage as if it knew she didn’t really mean it. It hissed when she readjusted the holdall over her shoulder. It spat when she dropped the other bag to the floor.

‘You might be a pedigree chocolate-banded Abyssinian, but you’re still just a cat, you know,’ she muttered under her breath. ‘In a cage,’ she added for good measure.

She fumbled with the door key and tried to keep the cage as still as possible. From the noise Minky was making, you’d think Bella had seized the cage in both hands and was shaking the life out of it.

She finally managed to get key in keyhole and started to turn it at the precise moment the door flew open and practically wrenched her arm from its socket. The momentum flung her inwards. Before she knew which way was up, she found her face mashed against hot male flesh.

Dominic’s hot male flesh.

The hot male flesh of Dominic’s naked chest.

For a moment everything froze. Him. Her. Time. Even Minky. But not for long. The cat hissed again, time sped back up and Bella forced herself to plant a hand in the middle of Dominic’s naked chest and push herself upright.

Only then did the full impact of his semi-nakedness slam into her. Oh, dear Lord, Dominic looked like some golden devil sent to tempt all of womankind. Her knees actually weakened. Broad, muscular shoulders angled down a powerful chest to a stomach a woman could crack walnuts on, and then down farther to lean hips encased in a pair of low-slung jeans. Heat flushed through her. Her, ‘What the hell are you doing in my apartment?’ got choked up in the back of her throat, making her sound as if she had a fur ball.

Perspiration beaded her top lip. The spattering of light hair on his chest, its crispness still imprinted against her cheek, tapered down to his navel and disappeared beneath the waistband of his jeans. Perspiration trickled between her breasts and down her spine, making her shirt cling to her back.

‘Oops?’ he offered when she remained silent.

He looked disgustingly cool and unfazed. It made her aware of how crumpled and unkempt she was. She scowled. Dealing with Dominic at the office promised to be enough of a challenge let alone outside of it. Her apartment, she’d already decided, was going to be a strictly no-Dominic zone.

She hitched up her chin and tried to keep her eyes above shoulder level. ‘What, may I ask, are you doing in my apartment?’

‘Ah … There’s been a hiccup on that front.’

Great.

‘Apparently only one apartment was booked.’

She let the holdall slide from her shoulder to the floor. She set Minky’s cage down next to it and dusted off her hands. ‘Then I’ll go and talk to the apartment manager and organise another one.’

‘I’ve already tried that.’

She’d started to turn away. She turned back at his words. Her skin prickled with foreboding. ‘And?’

‘And there isn’t another apartment available in this block for another seven weeks. In fact, there isn’t another apartment to be had in the whole of Newcastle for the next eight days. Three affiliated events are taking place here this week—a literary festival, an art festival and a youth-culture festival, along with some associated popular-culture conference. The only accommodation available involves a tent.’

He had to be joking! She gaped at him.

‘Chin up, Bella. This is a penthouse apartment. It’s huge. There’s more than enough room for the both of us.’

It didn’t matter how big it was. It wouldn’t be big enough to …

‘Look, I know it’s not ideal, but this is business, Bella. You either roll with the punches or you get out.’

Get out? No way! She wasn’t leaving. Dominic might not want her on his team but he wasn’t getting rid of her that easily. She pursed her lips and resisted kicking the bag at her feet. ‘The apartment is large, you say?’

‘Huge.’

‘How many bedrooms?’

‘Two.’

She glared at him. Eyes above shoulder level. ‘This means setting some house rules.’

He raised both hands in the air. ‘Whatever.’

She yanked the holdall back to her shoulder and picked up Minky’s cage. House rule number one: no naked men!

He reached out a hand towards her and she tensed until she realised he only meant to take the holdall from her shoulder. He picked up the bag at her feet and led the way into the apartment.

Bella followed him then stopped dead and gaped. She choked. ‘Oh, my God!’

‘Yep.’

She dumped Minky unceremoniously on the coffee table and swung in a slow circle. Dominic had obviously done his best, opening the heavy velvet drapes as wide as they’d go, encouraging light to spill into the room, but the burgundy-coloured carpet seemed to absorb the light to create a strange pink glow.

‘What is this?’ She didn’t even try to camouflage her horror.

‘My initial reaction is to say, ghastly.’

She almost grinned at that.

‘But I believe it’s what’s commonly called a love nest.’

Good Lord, not good. Definitely not good. She tried to act cool, unfazed, as if she wasn’t embarrassed. As if the blood in her veins wasn’t circling around her body and dispersing the kind of heat she associated with chilli peppers. ‘I guess we should be thankful there aren’t cherubs painted on the ceilings.’

‘Wait till you see the bathroom.’

‘No!’ She swung to him. ‘Cherubs?’