The Boss's Virgin(5)

'I can't. Let me go,' she said instead, very quietly, still hanging on to the seat.

'Let me help you,' he blandly murmured, and the next second he had taken  her by the waist and was lifting her out of the taxi. Keeping his arm  around her, he guided her up the steps into the hotel foyer while the  doorman closed the taxi door and followed them. A moment later Pippa  found herself being propelled into a lift; the door shut and the lift  began to rise.                       
       
           



       

There was nobody else in the lift with them; she felt free to break away  from him, using every ounce of her strength, looking at him with angry  hostility as she reeled against the lift wall.

'How dare you manhandle me like this? And if you think you can get me up to your bedroom … '

'Suite,' he coolly corrected. 'There's a sitting room; we can have lunch there.'

'I am not going with you! Bedroom or suite, I am not going anywhere alone with you!'

'You're alone with me now,' he pointed out in silky tones, leaning over  her in what she interpreted as menace, despite the laughter gleaming in  his eyes. His proximity was threat enough, even when he didn't touch  her.

'Stop it! Keep away from me!' she whispered, trembling.

His face was inches away from her own. 'What are you so afraid of, Pippa? Me? Or yourself?'

Confused, she muttered, 'Don't be stupid. How can I be afraid of myself?'

'Of what you really want,' he enlarged, eyes watching her intently. 'Of  your own instinct and desires. You're so terrified of how you feel that  you need to shelter behind a pretence of hating me. You can't risk so  much as a look at me, can you?'

Face burning, eyes flickering nervously, she said, 'I don't know what  you're talking about. Do I have to remind you that I'm getting married  in a week's time?'

The lift stopped and the doors opened. Nobody was waiting on that floor;  there was no one in view at all. He stepped out, grabbed her hand and  jerked her out after him.

'I am not going with you! Let go of me!' She struggled to get away,  flailing at him with one hand, managed to land a blow on his cheek, and  gave a little cry of pain as she hurt herself on the hard edge of his  bone structure.

'Serves you right! You shouldn't be so violent!' He ran an exploring  hand over his cheek where a red mark burnt. 'That hurt me almost as much  as it probably hurt you.'

'Good!'

A room door nearby opened and an old lady in a pink linen suit, wearing a  small black hat with a black lace veil which fell over her eyes, came  out, gave them a startled, uneasy look.

'Is anything wrong?' she quavered.

Pippa hesitated fatally; he answered before she could. 'She's shy,  that's all. Honeymoon nerves! You know how women get on these  occasions.'

The old lady blushed and then smiled; Pippa glared at him. He was maddening; he always had been.

'I should carry you over the threshold, darling,' he said, and suddenly  grabbed Pippa off her feet before she could stop him, lifted her up into  his arms and strode off with her while the old lady gazed after them  with a romantic smile.

Pippa knew she should call his bluff, struggle, hit him again, but with  that happy, wide-eyed audience she simply couldn't In any case a moment  later he paused in front of double doors, produced a key and unlocked  the suite, carried Pippa inside, into a small hallway, and closed the  door behind them with his elbow.

'Put me down!' she hoarsely demanded. 'Put me down at once!'

He carried her into a bedroom and dropped her on the large, white and silver-draped bed.

Her heart beat wildly in her throat. Surely he didn't intend …  She rolled  over to the far edge of the bed and shakily stood up, looking around  for a weapon to use if he tried to come anywhere near her. The table  lamp looked heavy; it had a bronze cast base and could probably kill  someone.

But he was turning back towards the door. Over his shoulder he casually  said, 'Use the bathroom, if you wish. Your hair could certainly do with  some attention.'

The door closed behind him. She was alone and safe, for the moment Her  gaze wandered round the room, absorbing the luxury of the furnishings:  high French windows covered with lace and floor-length curtains that  matched the white and silver satin bedcover, the bronze-based lamps with  their wide silver satin shades, walnut-veneered furniture that was  probably reproduction, not genuinely antique, a chest, a wardrobe whose  doors were set with mirrors, a dressing table on which stood a vase of  white carnations and roses.

She began to walk towards the door of the en-suite bathroom, paused to  bend over the flowers, inhaling their faint scent then hurried on, in  case he came back.

The bathroom was entirely white, with nineteen-twenties-style fittings,  elegant fluted chrome taps. In a cupboard above the vanity unit she  found his toiletries: aftershave, an electric razor, shower gel,  shampoo. Somehow it was too intimate to stare at them. She quickly shut  the door on them and opened her bag.                       
       
           



       

She found a comb and ran it through her hair, renewed her make up,  considered her reflection, disturbed by the feverish brightness of her  eyes, the faint tremble of her mouth, the fast beating of that pulse in  her neck.

It was crazy to let him do this to her. She had to pull herself together  and somehow talk her way out of this suite. She had given him time to  calm down, to think-maybe now he would realise he had to let her leave?

Turning away, she picked up her bag and left the bathroom, quietly  opened the door of the bedroom. If he wasn't in earshot she might be  able to get away now.

She couldn't hear a sound so she began tiptoeing back along the little  hall towards the outer door. Before she reached it, however, a voice  spoke softly behind her.

'Don't even think about it.'

She froze, looking round.

He was leaning on the open doorway into what she glimpsed to be a  sitting room, his arms crossed, his body lounging with casual grace,  those long legs relaxed, making her forcibly aware of his intense sexual  allure, the gleaming display of the peacock. And he knew it, too; he  was watching her with that infuriating mockery, knowing what she was  feeling, amused and sure of himself.

She probably still had time to make a run for it, but he would only take  a few seconds to catch up with her and her self-respect wouldn't allow  her to make a fight of this. In any case, she knew she would only lose.  She had to use other weapons against him.

'I have to get back to work.'

'I've already rung your office and told them you fainted and would be going home to rest instead of going to work.'

She furiously broke out, 'You had no business to do that!'

He ignored her angry splutter. 'I've ordered lunch, too-something  simple. I thought you wouldn't want anything elaborate. Salad, some  cheese, cold beef and chicken, some wholemeal bread, pickles, some  fruit, yogurt, and a pot of coffee.'

'I'm not hungry. You eat lunch; I'll get back to my office.' She turned towards the door of the suite.

'Do I have to carry you in here?' his voice silkily enquired, and she froze.

'Why are you doing this?' she burst out. 'What's the point? You're  married; I'm getting married-we have nothing to say to each other.'



Four years ago she had joined his firm after the company she had been  working for had gone into liquidation. Pippa had been shocked by the  news that everyone was being made redundant, but by sheer good luck she  had got a new job the same day. During her lunch hour she had gone into  an employment agency to register and had been given an immediate  interview with a nearby office.

She had walked down the road, very nervous, a little shaky, and been  shown up to the personnel officer, who had tested her various  secretarial skills and spent half an hour questioning her.

Pippa hadn't expected to be given a job there and then, but the  personnel officer had leaned back at last and said, 'When can you  start?'

Heart lifting, Pippa whispered, 'Do you mean I've got a job here? You're taking me on?'

The woman smiled, eyes amused. 'That's what I mean. So when can you start?'

She didn't need to think about it; she knew she would be out of a job by  the end of that week and would need to be earning again as soon as  possible. She had no one to help her with her rent and the cost of  living. She only had herself to rely on.

'On Monday?' Relief and delight were filling her.

'Wonderful. Report to me at nine o'clock and I'll have someone show you  to your desk. You'll be working in the managing director's office. His  private assistant will be in charge; she'll tell you what she wants you  to do. It isn't a difficult job, but it's vital that everything runs  smoothly in that office and Miss Dalton is a tough organiser. Be careful  not to annoy her. The MD insists on a smooth-running office.'

It sounded rather nerve-racking to Pippa, but the salary was good and  the work not too onerous. She left there walking on air, and got back to  find everyone else in her office gloomily contemplating living on  social security until they found work elsewhere.