Brazilian's Nine Months' Notice. Susan StephensЧитать онлайн книгу.
thank you.’ She pulled back to put some space between them. Theorising was all very well, but standing in front of Luc again had completely thrown her. ‘Apologies for bumping into you,’ she said lightly, relying on good manners to get her through a difficult situation.
‘We know each other, don’t we?’
He was teasing her. They definitely knew each other. Luc knew every inch of her body intimately. ‘I believe we’ve met.’ She cursed her body for its instant response when her aim was to act cool.
Luc’s ebony brows swept up, making him look like a Tartar from the plains on a raid. Tall, dark and dangerous, with watchful eyes, he was exactly as she remembered him—except for the clothes. He’d been naked when she’d left him. The formal black tailoring suited him. White shirt, grey silk tie, black diamond cufflinks, accessorised with a killer smile, Lucas Marcelos was every bit the awe-inspiring billionaire, while she was every bit the chambermaid in her borrowed dress. She turned to go.
Luc stepped in front of her. His heat enveloped her. His potent sexuality threatened to seduce her all over again.
‘I hope you enjoy your evening, Senhor Marcelos,’ she said formally, looking past him towards the ballroom, where the party was in full swing.
‘Why did you leave London so suddenly, Emma?’
Why didn’t he get out of her way? ‘It was time to go.’ She kept her tone carefully neutral, wanting to put some distance between them so she could get her head together. This wasn’t the time or place to tell him she was pregnant with his child, but the time would come and she wanted to be ready for it. She shrugged. ‘I had places to be.’ She met his stare levelly, hoping he would leave it there.
Luc didn’t leave it.
‘I thought you were happy in your job. I thought all my staff was happy?’
‘I’m sure they are.’
‘But you couldn’t have been, or you wouldn’t have left.’
Luc’s stare had hardened. He expected her to answer, but her heart was beating so rapidly she doubted she could draw enough breath to speak.
‘Did you find a better job?’
‘Not really,’ she admitted honestly, following Luc’s stare around their surroundings. She got his message loud and clear. This hotel was lovely for a small town in the wilds of Scotland, but it was hardly on the scale of Luc’s fabulous palaces. Maybe he thought their encounter in London had been a tactical move on her part to help her scramble up the career ladder faster, and when that hadn’t worked out she’d come back here. Nothing could be further from the truth. She had worried their short-lived affair would compromise her career. Now she knew that sex was sex to Lucas, and had no bearing on his business. To her, sex was a promise and an endorsement of trust—she had thought. Thankfully, she knew better now.
‘Did you return to Scotland for the wedding?’ Luc enquired, staring at her intently.
‘This is my home. I was born in Scotland. I work here. The bride was born here too, which is why Danny chose to get married at this hotel.’
‘I heard your cousin Lizzie is the daughter of the local laird?’
‘That’s right.’ She could practically hear the cogs whirring in his mind. If her cousin was the daughter of the local laird, why was Emma scrubbing floors?
Luc’s frown deepened. ‘So you have the same job here that you had in London?’
‘Not quite. I’m still working as a chambermaid,’ she confirmed proudly. Her uncle might be a laird, but Emma came from the poor branch of the Fane family, the notorious branch that had resorted to criminal activities rather than taking an honest job. That had never been her way, and, however meagre her wage packet, she had the satisfaction of knowing that she had earned every single penny herself. Circumstances at home might have resulted in her education being patchy, but she was changing that, studying at night, even though there was no hope of progression here. She still had ambitions for a career but had to keep working in the meantime, and now, with a child to consider, she had a real purpose and drive behind that ambition.
‘Surely there’s no possibility of advancement for you here?’ Luc commented, as if he’d read her thoughts.
‘No training programme either,’ she confirmed, ‘but it’s a start.’ She stared him down, as if daring him to contradict her. This wasn’t her forever job. This was a job to help her get back on her feet. But it would seem odd to Lucas that she had come here to work in a hotel that couldn’t offer its staff any of the advantages he could.
‘You should have stayed in London.’
She recoiled at his tone. What business was it of his? Then she remembered the offer to become his short-term mistress. Did he think that had been a better prospect for her? If he did, he was alone.
That sensible determination wasn’t enough to stop her mind taking off in one direction while her wilful body took off in another, and only one of those places was safe.
‘You must be paid a lot less here than my company paid you in London.’
‘Money isn’t everything, Senhor Marcelos.’
‘But it helps. And please call me Luc. I think both of us are grown-up enough to handle this situation, aren’t we?’ His steely stare homed in on her face.
Firming her jaw, she shrugged. ‘I like it here. I’m happy here. I’ve got friends around me—friends who are waiting for me in the ballroom right now. So, if you will excuse me?’
Luc made her a mock bow. ‘Forgive me for monopolising you. I will escort you back to your friends.’
Every second she spent with him was torture, because every second she spent with Luc was an opportunity to tell him about the baby, but could she really do that here, in a crowded hotel corridor?
‘So, Emma, do you live here permanently now?’
‘Not exactly here.’ She glanced around. Luc’s staff quarters were known to be some of the best in London, but though this hotel was comfortable in the public areas it was a lot less so in the parts the public never got to see. ‘I really should be joining my friends.’ She breathed a sigh of relief as Luc ushered her forward towards the dazzle and the noise of the party. They walked together, close but not touching—still close enough to make the women from the cloakroom gape and stare. If only they knew, they wouldn’t be jealous, and she wouldn’t be falling for Luc’s brutal charm a second time. Satisfied she’d got everything in hand, she risked a smile as they parted.
‘You look pleased with yourself,’ he said.
And you’re a practised seducer, she thought, her heart thumping wildly as she took in the suspicion in his face. ‘I hope you enjoy the rest of your evening, Senhor Marcelos.’
‘You too, Ms Fane.’
She would enjoy her evening. Lucas Marcelos would have to look elsewhere for his entertainment tonight.
HE WOULD HAVE known her anywhere. The bolt of lust he’d experienced in London was back. Emma Fane had invaded his senses again, making the ache in his groin a permanent fixture. Hearing her scream with pleasure in his arms seemed to have happened moments ago. He had wanted to lead her from the wedding reception, not towards it—find a quiet room where they could continue what they’d started—but for some reason he had sensed that she was holding him at bay.
His lips pressed down as he thought about it. He never bedded the staff. Emma had been an exception. Something about her had driven him to possess her, and as he entered the ballroom now, his hunting instinct sharpened as he spotted her right away. One taste of Emma Fane could never be enough for him.
‘This is your table, sir,’ the waiter said, distracting