chat.
Staff camaraderie had always been an important factor during Roman Montgomery’s reign...
At that moment her smartphone buzzed and she retrieved and answered it, only to hear Alexei’s secretary’s voice.
‘Natalya. Mr Delandros expects you in his office.’
Now...was an unspoken directive holding a slightly ominous tone.
‘Two minutes,’ she advised patiently, and fluttered her fingers at the receptionist before heading down the corridor.
A brief stop off in her office to deposit her bag and laptop, then she collected her iPad, breathed in deep and tapped on Alexei’s door.
She could do this...and fervently wishing otherwise wasn’t going to change a thing.
So ignore the man, smile, be so efficiently professional he’ll have no cause for complaint.
Easy in theory...difficult in practice when all it took was a glance at Alexei’s arresting features for her heartbeat to quicken. Worse, the sudden spear of sensation arrowing deep within her belly.
What was with that?
Her body out of sync with her brain. Granted, her polite smile didn’t waver as she met his impenetrable expression.
The dark superbly tailored three-piece business suit, crisp dark blue shirt and perfectly knotted silk tie did little to tame the predator image.
If that was Alexei’s aim...he’d unequivocally nailed it.
Cool, professional, remember? ‘Good morning.’
One eyebrow lifted slightly. ‘Your lateness is an oversight?’
Natalya checked her watch. Three minutes past eight. ‘My usual start time is nine,’ she managed civilly.
‘I gather you failed to check your smartphone for messages...or your laptop?’
She had. Last night. Not this morning.
‘Twenty-four-seven contact,’ Alexei reminded her.
‘Ultimatum,’ she corrected without missing a beat, ignoring the silken warning apparent in his dark gaze.
He rested back a little in his chair and regarded her with a steady appraisal. If she was bent on a confrontational path...he was a few steps ahead of her.
‘Written into your employment contract and specifically drawn to your attention during Friday’s interview.’
Tough. While she had every intention of being the quintessential PA, and polite in the presence of others, any pretence when they were alone went out of the window.
She was something else, Alexei conceded as he took in her groomed appearance, the smooth chignon, skilfully applied make-up, red lipstick which matched the jacket she wore over a pencil-slim black skirt.
He experienced an urge to ruffle her composure, to dig beneath the professional façade. Then what? Rattle her cage?
His body stirred with sensual adrenalin, unwanted and inconceivable, but there. A need to pull her close and ravish her mouth...to remind her of what they’d once shared.
To what end? Play it forward to rumpled bed sheets and hot sex? Simply to satisfy an urge?
Evidence he unsettled her could be detected in the fast-beating pulse at the base of her throat, the edge of tension whenever he entered her personal space.
He had never aimed for the grab-and-conquer method with a woman. Mutual attraction and mutual need were his requisite for sex.
Natalya? Why this instinctive feeling there was a missing link? One only she could provide?
Patience. And time...the latter of which he had plenty.
Alexei indicated the structured curve of studded leather armchairs. ‘Take a seat. I’ll outline the day’s schedule.’
Extensive, Natalya breathed as she noted appointments, calls to be made, two afternoon meetings to arrange...and lunch with a business associate.
‘Book a table for one o’clock,’ Alexei instructed, naming a restaurant with inner harbour views and known for its excellent cuisine. ‘Contact Paul, my driver, and arrange to have my car waiting outside the main entrance at twelve forty-five.’ His eyes didn’t waver from her own. ‘Naturally, you’ll accompany me.’
Hadn’t she attended many business lunches with her father? So why would this be any different? Professionalism ruled as she held his gaze. ‘It would be helpful if you could reveal who’ll be joining us.’
‘Elle Johanssen and her PA.’
Natalya maintained a polite expression. Eleanor, or Elle as she insisted on being called, held a reputation for winning, by whatever means it took. Those among the business sector who’d parried with her and lost were known to refer to the woman as Hell-Jo...an unflattering but self-explanatory term.
Elle Johanssen, the noted ball-buster, locking heads with Alexei Delandros?
A woman associate with whom Roman Montgomery had refused to do business following one scalding episode that had left him red-faced and publicly humiliated.
Lunch should be interesting, to say the least.
She could do this, Natalya assured herself silently a few hours later as she rode the elevator with Alexei to the ground floor.
So why did she feel conscious of every breath she took, together with an incredibly heightened awareness that threatened to destroy her hard-won composure.
He radiated male sexuality, too much for any woman to ignore. Especially her, having known how it felt to be possessed by him. Sensual heaven...and then some.
Even now, when she had every reason to hate him, he still held the power to affect her emotions.
Five years...during which time she’d attempted to convince herself she was over him...disappeared like mist beneath rays of the sun.
Not good. Not good at all.
So much for self-survival skills.
And this was only day two in her contracted employ.
So...suck it up.
Which she did. Although there was a moment when Alexei indicated they share the rear seat of the chauffeur-driven limousine.
A deliberate ploy to unsettle her?
Who could tell?
She could analyse it to hell and back, and still not arrive at a definitive answer...so why even try?
The key being to adhere to the rules...a faultless PA during business hours, amenable and highly professional, even if it killed her, for no way would she allow him to glimpse so much as a chink in her emotional armour.
Consequently Natalya entered the restaurant at Alexei’s side, where the maître d’ offered a deferential greeting and led the way to their table.
Not the bar, which had been her father’s preferred starting point. Or, she perceived in retrospect, where Roman plied his guests with alcohol before adjourning to a table where he ordered fine wine with no regard to cost. By which time, business, as such, became a secondary consideration.
Elle Johanssen made her entrance a fashionable five minutes late, offered a faux smile, apologised briefly as she slid into the seat politely held for her to grace it, and took control by ordering wine.
A female shark baring her teeth, Natalya mused, all too aware of the woman’s reputation for shrewd deals tailored to her advantage.
In a contest of strong wills, Elle most often won out, her gritty formidability legend. So, too, was her intolerance for fools.
Natalya sat still, aware, alert...and prepared to watch the play between two business titans, each of whom were determined to win.
A