Davina
Just a hop, skip, and a jump away from Lyon’s tube station lay the mystical realm of Angelini Annex. The sun beamed down as I strolled along the path leading to this secretive square. Before I could even tap the intercom b**ton, a voice with an exotic twang commanded me to use the tiny side gate.
Well, alrighty then!
As I approached the gate, it magically swung open with a satisfying cl**k. Stepping onto the asphalt driveway, I gazed up at the dazzling white mansion, shining like a beacon in the sunlight. It looked straight out of a fairy tale, an icy palace nestled right in Lyon’s beating heart.
A mammoth bald man, decked out in a snug black suit that seemed ready to burst at the seams, lumbered towards me.
His sheer size made me feel like a mere mortal next to a titan. Following social norms, I flashed a polite smile, but he just eyed me suspiciously without returning the gesture.
Undeterred by his lack of enthusiasm, I chirped, “I’m here for the job with Mr. Angelini. Davina Winters reporting for duty!”
He grunted in response and motioned for me to follow. And follow I did, or rather, attempted to keep up with his brisk pace, which felt more like a sprint. Curse him!
“By the way, what do they call you?” I huffed, trying to maintain some semblance of normalcy amidst our speed-walking escapade.
He grunted again, before his eyes slid down to me. The exp**ssion on his face didn’t change. “Brain,” he said.
I mean, I could have said, ‘what’, or laughed outright, or if I wanted to carry on being polite and civil, ‘pardon me’, but I kinda knew I’d heard right. Somehow, the name suited him to a T. Of course, he would be called Brain.
I gave up any pretense of civility at that point, and silently followed him up to the house.
Two more ‘brains’ in black suits watched us from the entrance of the house. They wore the same exp**ssions of extreme distrust.
For the first time, I wondered what the hell I had got myself into.
Who was my employer?
Obviously, the first thing I did when I was told I’d been selected to apply for this job was Google Gabriel Angelini. All I found were images of an extraordinarily handsome businessman escorting beautiful women to high society parties. No mention of a palace in Lyon, or goons that behaved as if they belonged in a bad Mafia movie.
Come to think of it now, in every photo I did come across he was unsmiling, giving me the imp**ssion of a cold, aloof man. Still not every rich, unsmiling Russian is a mobster or a money launderer. None of that bothered me any.
If I got the job, I would be in charge of his niece and report her progress to him. And that was all I would be doing. Since I was extremely good at my job, I didn’t foresee needing to take shit from Mr. Angelini.
There was one picture of him though, playing polo in Windsor, which caught my attention. Something about the exp**ssion in his eyes as he leaned down to swing his mallet. Here was a man who got what he wanted. An implacable man. A man you did not antagonize.
A man you allowed into your body.
Did I just go there?
I crushed the thought.
I was a professional, and I had no intention of ever being anything else. Under no circumstances was I exchanging my good reputation for any man. No matter how hot he was. Besides, it wasn’t as if a man like that would ever give a woman like me a second look. All those beautiful women swarming around him like flies to shit. Not a chance.
Which obviously was a good thing.
The last thing I needed was temptation.
Not that I’m saying I was tempted.
The man opened the grand doors and my jaw dropped. Jesus! Mr. Angelini must be a very, very successful businessman. If the exterior was imp**ssive, the interior of his abode made me feel like I had just stepped into an episode of The Secret Lives of Billionaires. It had one of those foyers with a wide spiral staircase. From the glass ceiling four floors up, hung the biggest chandelier I’d ever seen in my life. It seemed to have millions of crystal pieces that caught the sunlight streaming in from the top and practically blazed like it was on fire.
Our shoes rang on the marble floors. Some poor minion had polished them so hard I was afraid Brain would be able to see up my sk**t. Fortunately, he kept his eyes ahead. We turned into a room, which I suppose could be called a music room, since there was a gleaming grand piano in it.
“Wait here until you are called,” Brain said.
There were two women sitting on the fine chairs in the room. I recognized one of them. Mary Sedgewick from Caring Nannies. She was generally accepted as their best asset. She looked at me with a smug exp**ssion. The other woman, I didn’t know, but I guessed she must be from Sarah Bright’s agency, because she was holding a file with their logo on it. She nodded at me formally.
I smiled at them both and took a seat on one of the armchairs. It was upholstered in sunshine yellow and was incredibly comfortable. Funny thing. I suddenly felt nervous. I took a mint out of my handbag and popped it into my mouth.
A middle-aged woman in a severe navy-blue suit came into the room. “Ms. Sedgewick, please come with me.”
Mary stood and with a confident smile walked up to her.
The door closed behind them, and I turned my attention to the French windows. Outside, stone steps led to a formal garden that seemed to stretch endlessly. There was a fountain. I stared at it blankly. Ten minutes later, the woman in the navy-blue suit was back, which surprised me. Maybe Mary didn’t get the job, after all.
“Miss Winters,” she said with a smile.
I smiled back, stood up, smoothed my sk**t over my th**hs, and walked towards her. She introduced herself as, Mrs. Misha Gorev. She was one of Mr. Angelini’s personal assistants.
If this job wasn’t Mary’s, I felt confident it would be mine.
I was good at my job. They called me the child whisperer back at the agency. I had tamed spoilt, rich kids, brats with behavioral problems, sick kids. So far, no kid had defeated me. I straightened my back as Mrs. Gorev’s hand closed over the intricately carved, gold door handle. The door opened and the wind left my lungs.
Good Lord! It must be the devil himself sitting behind the desk, because only the devil could be so darkly handsome.
Gabriel
As the door opened further, I looked up from the file in front of me. Beyond Misha was the next candidate. My eyes found hers and for a second my brain stopped functioning. Three things:
First: she looked nothing like the photograph in her file.
Second: she wasn’t one of the classical beauties I usually hooked up with.
Third: lust. Pure, unadulterated lust flowed like fire in my veins.
God, I wanted this woman!
She smiled and it might just be the sexiest thing a woman had ever done with her l*ps. Actually, she looked like she belonged in a Raphael painting. Huge green eyes, flaming red hair, and skin like thick cream.
My gaze ran down her body. Even in the cheap shirt b**toned up to her neck and loose gray suit she was sexy as f**k. I leaned in my chair making it tip back. “Come in and take a seat, Miss Winters.”
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.
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