Page 11

“So, she gets the nicest room in the house?” His eyebrow quirks in uncertainty.

I shrug. I wouldn’t have put it exactly like that. Clearing my throat, I ignore his question. “Whatever is on the middle three shelves is usually a free for all, help yourself to drinks or food and you can put your own stuff in there, but you may want to label it if you don’t want someone else to take it. The top and bottom shelves are off limits.”

He seems surprised but just nods without saying anything so once again I lead him out of the room. This time, we enter my favourite room in the house. I didn’t exactly renovate the pool, but it was neglected under my father’s rule—he didn’t care for swimming. I used to sneak down here early in the morning before he was up, before he could dictate what every second of my day looked like. Even when the pool was uncleanedand probably unsanitary. I’m lucky I didn’t get legionella or something. So, when the house became mine, I had the whole place cleaned up and new lights fitted. It’s a huge extension to the back of the house; a twenty-five-meter pool surrounded by navy tiles, lit up from beneath the water with warm lights. There are bright white canvas sunbeds on one side and the glass walls and ceiling show the black of night outside, but in the day it’s bright and light.

“You have a pool? In the city?” Harvey’s eyes are wide and unbelieving.

“Yes. Feel free to use the pool, most of the guys do. I just ask that it’s kept free between six and eight a.m. That door there,” I point to one of three doors at the far end of the room, “is the sauna. And the door on the left leads to the gym. You are also welcome to make use of the facilities, there are weights as well as most of the usual equipment.”

“Thanks,” he says but he seems to be stuck in thought, his forehead crinkled.

“That’s the house. The only other thing you need to see are the grounds but that would probably be best to wait until the morning.”

He nods.

“Have you been drinking?”

He jerks his head back at the question. “No, why?”

“I’ll give you keys to one of the vehicles. You can drive yourself home and back in the morning rather than getting a cab.”

“Right, sure. Okay.” He blinks at me. “You trust me with that?”

I shrug one shoulder. “Only an idiot would steal from me.”

“Fair enough.” He chuckles.

We head back along the hall to the kitchen where there’s a box on the wall with keys to the twenty or so vehicles I have,although many of the hooks are vacant where cars are with my men. I hand him the set to a black Land Rover and stand tall waiting for him to leave. He doesn’t for a moment or two. He regards the keys in his hands and then lifts chocolate brown eyes to me, his gaze slowly stroking up my body from my Manolo Blahnik’s to meet my eyes. I swallow hard, hoping it pushes down the flush I can feel creeping up my neck.I. Do. Not. Blush.

“You’re not what I was expecting,” he says the words so quietly I’m not sure he means for me to hear them.

“Not bitchy enough?” I ask with a raised brow. “The Ice Queen not quite as regal as you thought?” When he looks at me in question, I allow myself a half smile from one side of my mouth. “I know what people say about me.”

He nods slowly, looking to the floor. “That’s not what I meant though. I just…I didn’t think of you would be so…human.”

I frown, my throat drying to point that it’s hard to swallow. What is that supposed to mean?

“You’re lonely.” He says it like he just told me I’m blonde, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world and not offensive at all.

“Excuse me?” My voice takes on the coldness I’m known for, one that masks the fury burning through me.

“You’re single, no family—”

“And because I’m a woman, you assume I’m lonely without a family?” I grit out through clenched teeth, my jaw aching from the pressure.

He holds his hands up in defence. “It has nothing to do with gender. More to do with the fact that you’ve adapted your home to make people reluctant to leave.”

“What are you talking about?” I splutter.

“You have a bedroom made up for your employees to use so they don’t have to leave to sleep, you stock the fridge so they can eat and drink, you invite them to use the pool and sauna and gym, they can borrow your vehicles so they have to bring themback. Not to mention your housekeeper lives here.” He shrugs, the corners of his mouth pulling down. “Seems to me that you want people here as much as possible, most likely because you’re lonely.”

I stare at him, horrified that he — or anyone — would think of me as pathetically lonely and terrified of the realisation that it’s true.

“Goodnight, Miss Wolfe.” He turns his back and leaves without another word, leaving me alone with invasive thoughts.

5

HARVEY