Kidnapped For The Tycoon's Baby. Louise FullerЧитать онлайн книгу.
she watched a flatbed truck loaded with cones lumber slowly through the traffic lights. There had been some kind of parade in Sydney over the weekend, and the police and street cleaners were still dealing with the aftermath.
Thankfully, though, at five o’clock on Monday morning the traffic was limited to just a few buses and a handful of cars and, closing her laptop, she leaned towards her driver.
‘I know you will, John. And please don’t worry. I’m just relieved to have you.’
Relieved, and grateful, for not only was John punctual and polite, he also had near photographic recall of Sydney’s daunting grid of streets.
As the car began to move again she shifted in her seat. Even after two months of working for the global tech giant RWI it still felt strange—fraudulent, even—having a chauffeur-driven limo at her disposal. She was a cyber architect, not a celebrity! But Ramsay Walker, the company’s demanding and maddeningly autocratic CEO, had insisted on it.
Her mouth twisted. It had been the first time she’d objected to something, only to have Ramsay overrule her, but it hadn’t been the last. His dictatorial behaviour and her stubborn determination to make a stand had ensured that they clashed fiercely at every subsequent meeting.
But now it was nearly over. Tomorrow was her last day in Sydney and, although, she and her partner Anna were still under contract to troubleshoot any problems in the RWI cyber security framework, they would do so from their office in Edinburgh.
She breathed out softly. And what a relief to finally be free of that intense grey gaze! Only, why then did what she was feeling seem more like regret than relief?
Glancing up at the imposing RWI building, she felt her heart begin beating hard and high in her chest. But right now was not the time to indulge in amateur psychology. She was here to work—and, if she was lucky, at this time of the morning she could expect a good two to three hours of uninterrupted access to the security system.
But as she walked past the empty bays in the visitor parking area some of her optimism wilted as she spotted a familiar black Bentley idling in front of the main entrance.
Damn it! She was in no mood for small talk—particularly with the owner of that car—and, ducking her chin, she began to walk faster. But she was not fast enough. Almost as she drew level with the car, the door opened and a man slid out. A woman’s voice followed him into the early-morning light, together with the faintest hint of his cologne.
‘But, baby, why can’t it wait?’ she wheedled. ‘Come on—we can go back to mine. I’ll make it worth your while...’
Unable to stop herself, Nola stole a glance at the man. Predictably, her breath stumbled in her throat and, gritting her teeth, she began to walk faster. She couldn’t see his face, but she didn’t need to. She would recognise that profile, that languid yet predatory manner anywhere. It was her boss—Ramsay Walker. In that car, at this time of the morning, it was always her boss.
Only the women were different each time.
Ignoring the sudden slick of heat on her skin, she stalked into the foyer. She felt clumsy and stupid, a mix of fear and restlessness and longing churning inside of her. But longing for what?
Working fourteen-hour days, and most weekends, she had no time for romance. And besides, she knew nobody in Sydney except the people in this building, and there was no way she would ever have a relationship with a colleague again. Not after what had happened with Connor.
Remembering all the snide glances, and the way people would stop talking when she walked by, she winced inwardly. It had been bad enough that everyone had believed the gossip. What had been so hurtful—so hurtful that she’d still never told anyone, not even her best friend and business partner, Anna—was that it had been Connor who’d betrayed her. Betrayed her and then abandoned her—just like her father had.
It had been humiliating, debilitating, but finally she had understood that love and trust were not necessarily symbiotic or two-way. She’d learnt her lesson, and she certainly wasn’t about to forget it for an office fling.
She glanced back to where the woman was still pleading with Ramsay. Gazing at the broad shoulders beneath the crumpled shirt and the tousled surfer hair, Nola felt her heart thudding so loudly she thought one of the huge windows might shatter.
Workplace flings were trouble. But with a man like him it would be trouble squared. Cubed, even.
And anyway her life was too complicated right now for romance. This was the biggest job Cyber Angels had ever taken on, and with Anna away on her honeymoon she was having to manage alone, and do so with a brain and a body that were still struggling to get over three long-haul flights in as many weeks.
Trying to ignore the swell of panic rising inside her, she smiled mechanically at the security guard as he checked her security card. Reaching inside her bag, she pulled out her lift pass—and felt her stomach plummet as it slipped from her fingers and landed on the floor beside a pair of handmade Italian leather loafers.
‘Allow me.’
The deep, masculine voice made her scalp freeze. Half turning, she forced a smile onto her face as she took the card from the man’s outstretched hand.
‘Thank you.’
‘My pleasure.’
Turning, she walked quickly towards the lift, her skin tightening with irritation and a sort of feverish apprehension, as Ramsay Walker strolled alongside her, his long strides making it easy for him to keep pace.
As the lift doors opened it was on the tip of her tongue to tell him that she would use the stairs. But, given that her office was on the twenty-first floor, she knew it would simply make her look churlish or—worse—as though she cared about sharing the lift with him.
‘Early start!’
Her skin twitched in an involuntary response to his languid East Coast accent, and she allowed herself a brief glance at his face. Instantly she regretted it. His dark grey eyes were watching her casually...a lazy smile tugged at his beautiful mouth. A mouth that had been kissing her all over every night since she’d first met him—but only in her dreams.
Trying to subdue the heat of her thoughts, praying that her face showed nothing of their content, she shrugged stiffly. ‘I’m a morning person.’
‘Is that right?’ he drawled. ‘I like the night-time myself.’
Night-time. The words whispered inside her head and she felt her body react to the darkness and danger it implied, her pulse slowing, goosebumps prickling over her skin. Only how was it possible to create such havoc with just a handful of syllables? she thought frantically.
‘Really?’ Trying her hardest to ignore the strange tension throbbing between them, she forced her expression into what she hoped looked like boredom and, glancing away, stared straight ahead. ‘And yet here you are.’
She felt his gaze on the side of her face.
‘Well, I got waylaid at a party...’
Remembering the redhead in the car, she felt a sharp nip of jealousy as stifling a yawn, he stretched his arms back behind his shoulders, the gesture somehow implying more clearly than words exactly what form that waylaying had taken.
‘It seemed simpler to come straight to work. I take it you weren’t out partying?’
His voice was soft, and yet it seemed to hook beneath her skin so that suddenly she had no option but to look up at him.
‘Not my scene. I need my sleep,’ she said crisply.
She knew she sounded prudish. But better that than to give this man even a hint of encouragement. Not that he needed any—he clearly believed himself to be irresistible. And, judging by his hit rate with women, he was right.
He laughed softly. ‘You need to relax. Clio has a party most weekends. You should come along next time.’
‘Surely that