Her Guilty Secret. Clare ConnellyЧитать онлайн книгу.
the accelerator. He could have had his pick of cases.’
I can’t help it. I look over my shoulder, searching for his head. Dean Walters has left—it is now just the two of them, locked in a conversation that looks kind of serious.
The frisson of darkness I feel whispering across my spine is unmistakable.
I am jealous. Absurd, given that I can’t stand the man. But sexually, oh, sexually, yes. I want him. And I want him to want me.
And that gorgeous woman in the red dress is obviously going to be in his bed tonight.
Fuck.
That should feel liberating, because it firmly relegates the moment we shared into the distant past. Into a pile of irrelevancy.
But it doesn’t.
It makes me want to storm across the room and shove him to the ground, kissing him and mauling him with my bright red nails.
Yikes.
I turn to Louise. ‘Let’s get you circulating then.’
She pulls a face and shakes her head. ‘I’m not ready.’
But I’m not to be deterred. ‘I really like you, Lou, but I’m not going to give you a job offer at the end of the night.’ I wink. ‘Come on. Let’s go meet some of these industry pros we’re meant to be falling over ourselves to impress.’
It’s not hard. The school has done a great job of lining people up, so within thirty minutes we’ve spoken to two different senior partners from top-tier firms. I consider myself Lou’s wing woman in this exercise, having zero interest in working at any of these corporates.
But it’s still interesting.
These guys are going out of their way to sell us on their firms, without even knowing if we’re a good fit or not.
Nobody wants the next Connor Hughes to slip through their fingers, I guess, and they have no idea which of us might turn out to be that very rare diamond in the rough, that unusual genius with the application of the law.
We move on to a woman from a firm that’s huge in the States and has just opened a commercial litigation department here in London. She introduces herself with a broad American accent as Anne Sloan-Smith, saying each part of her name with bullet-like precision. ‘The benefit of working somewhere like Linton Meyer Davies is that we have the name, we have the money, we have the power.’ She leans closer and I like her instantly. I like any woman who can rise to the top of her field in an industry that remains frustratingly male-dominated. ‘But over here we’re just getting started. It’s like having the chance to come in at the ground level of something that’s destined to succeed—because LMD won’t let this expansion fail.’
She reaches into her bag and pulls out two business cards, handing one to Louise and one to me.
‘And it’s only commercial lit?’ Louise asks.
‘We’ve got a tiny probate team—just three people, and really we only brought the team over because we have one client who requires a lot of managing.’ She winks, and I presume she’s implying that this client has a lot of money, and probably a lot of children, and so needs various watertight trusts and wills in place. ‘For now, we’re commercial lit focused. But come on board and you never know. That’s the beauty of getting in with a start-up.’
‘Yeah.’ I can see Louise is already contemplating a change in trajectory. I hide my smile with a champagne flute.
‘Think about it,’ Anne presses and then looks past us, moving away.
‘Whoa.’ Louise is practically jumping out of her skin when she turns to face me. ‘How great is this?’
‘If you say so.’ My shrug is non-committal. ‘Shall we find someone else to sell you to?’
‘Yes!’
I laugh at her enthusiasm, and resist the impulse to look for Connor.
I have to be strong.
We speak to two more partners from two different firms and then, inevitably, finally, Connor moves in front of us, his eyes lingering on mine for a second longer than normal before encompassing Louise.
‘Ladies,’ he murmurs, and he might as well have said the word against my shoulder, for how I feel. It hums across my flesh, scattering goose bumps over me.
‘Mr Hughes.’ Louise is still buzzing from our last conversation. ‘Are you having a good night?’
I don’t say anything. The last time I saw him I had my hand down my pants. He was right, you know. Playing with fire is going to burn me. I have to be strong.
I tighten my lips and focus on a point over his shoulder. My body is stretched with tension and awareness.
‘It’s interesting,’ he says non-committally.
Louise is not deterred. ‘It sure is. This is amazing. I had no idea we’d get to meet so many incredible people.’
He looks to me once more. I don’t look back but I feel his gaze burning my face. ‘Anyone pique your interest?’
‘Oh, yes,’ Louise gushes and then seems to centre herself. ‘But Hughes Brophy is still my first choice.’
I see him nod in the periphery of my vision. ‘And you, Miss Amorelli?’
Great. I can’t very well continue to ignore him now. Not when he’s called me out by name. ‘I...’ I meet his eyes, keeping my expression neutral even as my stomach is churning with pent-up needs and forbidden wants ‘...need another drink.’
Louise laughs. ‘That’s still full.’
‘I want something else.’ I smile at her, not Connor. ‘Excuse me.’
I step past Connor, taking extra care not to touch him.
But he touches me. Just a light graze of his fingertips against my arse as I move behind him. So swift it could have been an accident, but I know it wasn’t.
This is a nightmare. And it’s a dream, too.
* * *
I listen to Olivia’s friend Louise but I angle my body so I can watch her. That dress should be illegal. And yet it’s perfectly fine; it’s not even super revealing compared to half of what the women in attendance are wearing.
But her back is one of the sexiest fucking things I’ve ever seen. Her skin is flawless gold, soft-looking, save for the little ridges of her spine that I ache to run my teeth over until she whimpers.
One look at Olivia Amorelli and I’m an animal.
I have been cradling the same Scotch all night. I throw it back now, and nod at something Louise has said. She’s obviously desperate to apply to Hughes Brophy. She’s friends with Olivia, which means she must be... I don’t know. What does it mean?
I can’t pursue Olivia and yet my eyes burn holes in her back as she rests her elbows against the bar.
‘Email me and I’ll set up a phone interview with HR,’ I say to Louise, my tone dismissive. I reach into my jacket to retrieve a card. ‘Excuse me.’
The bar is maybe ten people away from me. I focus on the wall at the back of the room and cut through the crowd, not looking left or right lest someone take it as an opportunity to speak to me.
As I get closer I see that she’s bent forward a little at the waist, her eyes focused on the bar staff as they zip around behind the counter.
I shouldn’t approach her.
She’s smarter than I am, keeping her distance as she is. But, for the love of all that is holy, if the way she walked off on me just now didn’t do something to my resolve.
I stand behind her as though I’m waiting for a drink, my body covering hers.