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  She rose, jostled her stiff limbs into action, and hurried forward, anxious to get the interview over with. In her haste, she stomped on the foot of Pepper, who let loose a horrendous screech.

  “Sorry,” apologized Sally, wondering why Pepper had to make such a fuss. She guessed it was more the fact that she’d stood on the girl’s shoe rather than that she’d inflicted physical pain. She had dared to dirty it.

  Antonia couldn’t believe the girl who walked in. In silence, she scrutinised Sally’s plaited hair, wrapped around her head in a style reminiscent of the forties. That style had recently made a comeback, but like all Sally’s attempts at fashion, it remained out of place alongside her heavy, black-rimmed, tinted glasses. The clothes she wore were loose, unflattering, and old–fashioned.

  So far Antonia liked everything about her.

  “Take a seat.” Antonia indicated the chair in front of her small desk, which sported a single open laptop. “So,” she glanced down at her sheet to check her name, “Sally, why is it you want this job?” She prayed Sally wouldn’t come out with the same gushing nonsense about Roman spouted by every other girl so far.

  Sally opened her mouth to speak, debating what the hell to say. ‘Because my boss wants me to spy on yours,’ was not the right answer. She fumbled over her words, managing to stutter, “W-well, I don’t know really, but it’s got to be better than the one I’m doing n-now.” She kept her fingers crossed the woman wouldn’t ask where she worked.

  Antonia stared at her in open-mouthed astonishment, noticing for the first time the glint of braces that covered Sally’s teeth. She wondered why a woman her age still had them. But she couldn’t complain. So far she was just getting better and better. Picturing Romans’ face when he saw her, Antonia laughed inwardly and asked, “Can you type?”

  She held her breath, not caring if Sally couldn’t. She’d simply teach her. No one who might pose a threat to her delicate relationship with Roman would ever be hired. She wanted him strictly for herself, if she could convince him to commit. Although she knew that he was still playing the field and only saw her as a handy diversion, she intended to change that.

  “Yes, I can type.” Sally was determined to keep her answer simple, afraid to reveal too much. Hard experience had told her that the more she talked, the deeper the hole she dug for herself.

  “Can you type a small paragraph for me from this?” Antonia placed a sheet of paper alongside the laptop facing Sally.

  Sally glanced down. Her fingers skimmed with precision along the keyboard whilst Antonia watched in satisfaction. The girl was perfect. No way was Roman getting another playmate. She had made sure he wouldn’t be here. Something had come up, all right.

  And it wasn’t an emergency.

  “I take it you’ve no objection to working at his house in the country?”

  With a sharp tap, Sally pushed her glasses up, a blank expression on her face. No one had mentioned that detail to her, and she knew damn well that Norma would have known. Cursing Norma’s skulduggery, Sally swallowed and slowly shook her head in agreement. She wondered what on earth she was getting herself into. But the vision of Norma’s stern face egged her on, along with the image of getting thrown out of her flat if she didn’t come up with the rent money.

  “Thank you, Sally.” Antonia shook her hand. “Take a seat outside. I’ll be announcing the successful candidate once I’ve seen the last girl.”

  Antonia grinned once she closed the door. She couldn’t wait to see Roman’s face when he met his new secretary.

  Chapter Two

  Roman lay on the bed, stroking the shoulders of his latest companion with lazy fingers. His rugged face was relaxed as it always was after he had made love. Moving the girl away from his side, he flung the sheet back and stepped out of the bed. He padded naked to the cold drinks dispenser, comfortable and at ease with his nudity.

  “Do you want one?” he asked, turning to look at the blonde lying in his bed. Her bleached hair was spread out over the dark satin pillow as she fluttered her eyes open.

  “A cold water, please.” She eyed him as a cat would a mouse, focusing on his muscular physique then dropping her gaze down to his ripped torso, a subtle shade of brown. His dark chocolate eyes melted her, and she all but drooled over his chiselled good looks. A dusting of stubble grazed his chin and his dark hair was tousled where she’d run her hands through it, urging him on.

  Her eyes returned to his heavy thighs and settled on his very impressive cock. It was huge, and she was shocked that she’d managed to accommodate him. He really did come with the full package. Her smug smile grew wider, and she ran her tongue over swollen lips.

  Roman pushed a hand through his hair, wondering how to tell her to get the hell out. He’d had what he wanted and didn’t need a repeat performance. It was a rare occasion when he went back for more. With droves of women throwing themselves at him, he was spoilt for choice.

  He wondered yet again why he never got emotionally involved, but this lifestyle suited him. Meet up, make love, and say goodbye. Only, the women were too easy. The fact that he’d never had to work for sex was starting to irritate him. He wondered if all women had such lax morals. He wasn’t foolish enough to believe it was only his looks that attracted them.

  His oversized bank balance swung it every time.

  He gave a short laugh and shook his head. Hell, with his lifestyle, he was the last one to preach about morals.

  The only lover who didn’t quite fit the pattern was Antonia. She was bright and ambitious in her own right. And something about her made him wary.

  She was the exception to the rule. They’d had sex a dozen times, yet he still couldn’t commit to her, and he was beginning to think he was unable to offer monogamy to anyone. He wondered if it was the fact she was always on hand that made him return. She was his PA, after all, and attended to his every need. He was certain he didn’t feel anything else for her except the sensations driven by his cock.

  Draining the cold water, he threw his cup in the nearby bin and took another over to his companion. He shrugged his shoulders. “Sorry, hun, you’ve got to go. I need to be at a meeting in the next ten minutes,” he lied with ease.

  Sweeping the sheet to one side, she sidled up to him and kissed his chest, which was covered with a smattering of dark curling hair. She snaked her arms around his narrow waist and said, “You sure?”

  Unfolding her arms, he didn’t bother looking at her. His attitude was cold and emotionless. “Afraid so.”

  “You can’t mean that, after what we just shared?” She stood, naked, and rested her hands on slim hips. When he walked away, his back to her, she realized that he was serious.

  “What we shared was sex, pure and simple. I fucked you. Shut the door on your way out,” he said without concern.

  Walking into his shower, he flicked the switch on, luxuriating in the hot water cascading over his body. His thoughts wandered to the interview and he wondered what his new secretary was going to be like. A shadow of a smile tugged at his lips. She had to be an improvement over old Elsa. Grey-haired and bespectacled, she’d more than earned her retirement after ten years of service working for him.

  He looked forward to having new blood about the place. Whoever it was, she would be in his bed before long. Perhaps the very first night. His cock twitched at the thought.

  * * *

  From the time Sally returned to the car with Pepper trailing behind her, Norma had been beside herself with excitement. Sally had dipped her head in agreement at what she hoped was the right time, but Norma’s screeching voice hurt her head. She tried to block out her irritating, incessant stream of instructions as she stared out of the window, deep in thought.

  She gazed with wistfulness at the passing metropolis of concrete and towering buildings, not listening to a word Norma said. She tried to work out why, out of all the women desperate to work for the elusive Roman, it had to be her to get the bloody job. A long sigh escaped her lips as she admitted
the reason to herself. She saw it in the mirror every day.

  Despite every other problem she experienced, she hadn’t yet succumbed to blindness.

  Once back at the office, Norma pinned Sally with one of her no-nonsense glares. “Now, you know what you’ve got to do. Any information, and I mean anything—even down to the brand of coffee he drinks—I want to know about it.”

  She rattled around her office, her heels continually clacking against the floor. Sally thought she sounded like a centipede with metal-tipped claws.

  Norma paused, inhaling deeply on the cigarette held between perfectly manicured fingers, and released the smoke out slowly. As she studied the blue trail, her mind raced ahead. “And especially his sex life. Yes, I need every sordid detail, you know what I mean?” She ceased her relentless pacing and stopped before Sally, stubbing out her cigarette in the overflowing glass ashtray. “That’s what our readers will be interested in.”

  “You want me in his bedroom?” Sally gave what she hoped was a delicate cough at the amount of smoke she was swallowing on Norma’s behalf.

  “If you need to, yes. Hide under the bed, in the wardrobe, I really don’t care. But I want a story, do you understand?” Her tirade ended on a screech, her complexion almost as red as her hair.

  “So, I’m to be a pimp-slash-secretary?” Sally asked, needing to clarify her new role. However, her sarcasm rolled over her boss. She folded her arms tight and followed the zigzag of parquet flooring, not happy with her latest job description.

  “You’re to be an undercover reporter. What part of that don’t you understand?” spat Norma. “Are you always so dense or are you being deliberately obtuse? Your alternative job description could state ‘unemployed.’ It’s up to you!”

  “But I’m not a reporter, I’m just a typist,” argued Sally, her mind scrambling as she tried to work out the difference in pay. She decided to ignore Norma’s threat of the sack.

  “For the next few weeks, or however long it takes, you’re to report to me. Anything you think I can use, and I mean anything. Don’t analyse it, just leave me to decide.” Norma hesitated slightly, examining her nails with care. “Of course, a pay rise goes without saying.” She sent her a brief glance to gauge her reaction.

  Sally met her gaze. “How much?” She tilted her head, contemplating how to spend the extra money.

  “Depends on how much I get back,” hedged Norma, lighting yet another cigarette. Inhaling deep, she looked past Sally with detached interest before expelling a stream of smoke.

  “Well, at the very least I’d expect a basic reporter’s wage, and there’s the fact I’ve got to stay away. You didn’t mention that,” challenged Sally, still unhappy with the whole arrangement. Now she was determined to milk it for all it was worth.

  “We’ll sort it out, don’t you worry. But I suggest in the meantime you pack your case, because you’re going out to Roman’s mansion in the morning.” She flashed a sympathetic glance. “And don’t bother trying to impress him. You’re past that.”

  Sally didn’t reply, only too aware that what her boss said was true. Low self-esteem and lack of confidence were constant companions. She’d been with them for so long that she was rarely upset by the sympathetic looks thrown her way. Even if they did irritate the hell out of her.

  “What do I take and how long do you think I’ll be there?” Her mind flitted back to her sparse wardrobe. Clothing was for covering her body, nothing more. This was the reason she shopped and rummaged in the local charity shops. The way a particular item looked meant nothing to her as long as the price was right.

  “Any of your rags will do,” Norma stated bluntly. “And as for the time spent there, well, that’s like asking how long a piece of string is. You’ll be there as long as it takes to give me a story.”

  Sally glared, wishing she could hand in her notice right now. She hated her boss with a passion. However, survival came high on her list, which included keeping her flat and putting food on the table.

  For once she wished she had a family she could mooch off, but that luxury was also denied her.

  “Take this mobile, and call or text me with anything you find out. If need be we’ll meet up, but either way I’ll expect a regular report,” warned Norma. “If not, there are a lot of people out there willing to step into your shoes.” She left the threat of dismissal hanging in the air.

  Sally took the phone and pushed it into her pocket. “Well, I guess I’d better get on home and pack.”

  Norma’s cold stare stabbed through her. “And don’t forget, Sally, Roman is a handsome man. He hasn’t earned his reputation from sitting on his hands. He really is a sex addict, but don’t be surprised when he passes you up. The man has got to have some standards.”

  “Thanks.” Used to Norma’s barbed criticism, Sally rolled her eyes before turning and leaving. Relief swam over her. She was glad to vacate the stench of her office and the pervasive cloud of smoke. “I’ll let you know when I’ve got something.” She closed the door behind her with a loud, unintentional slam.

  Norma frowned and stared at the closed door. She hoped the idiot was up to it. Surely even Sally could manage to get some information? It wasn’t rocket science, she thought with irritation. Then she heaved a worried sigh. Remembering who she was dealing with, she shook her head.

  * * *

  The morning light filtered through the window. Sally flung a hand over her eyes, shielding them from the intrusive glare. Today was the day she would leave her safe apartment and start working for the elusive sex God, Roman.

  She wondered what he looked like, but then dismissed the thought. It didn’t make any difference. She would be there to do a job, a job she didn’t have a clue about. Beyond a shadow of a doubt, she knew she was going to mess up big style. But she kept her fingers crossed, hoping she was wrong.

  Rising, Sally checked her watch and realized she was running late, as usual. She hadn’t bothered to pack yesterday because she knew it would take only a few minutes. Pulling out her battered holdall, she stuffed it with her wardrobe of mismatched tops, baggy bottoms, and odd, ill-fitting underwear. She prayed that no one would check her bag, because if they did they’d think it was a donation to Oxfam.

  At last she was ready, and she checked her watch for the umpteenth time before peering out the window. A limo was being sent to collect her. She wondered absently if it had a bar in it. Not that she drank much—she couldn’t afford the luxury—but it could be a talking point during some future conversation. The thought gave her a smidgeon of hope.

  A loud toot sounded outside, and Sally pulled the curtain aside to look at the large black car. Even though the driver couldn’t see her, she gave a slight wave as if acknowledging an everyday occurrence before dropping the thin piece of material and going out to meet the limo.

  She didn’t bother to lock the door. There was nothing in her apartment worth stealing.

  * * *

  Roman sat in the cavernous kitchen, deep in thought, sipping strong black coffee. The pungent aroma infused the air. The light scored and flickered through the open window, melting over the large, cream-coloured range. The eight rings and brass handles glistened. A soft, pine-scented breeze blew in. The worktops smelled of rich oil. Marilyn, the cook, hadn’t yet arrived, and he assumed she’d booked a day off. He stared out the window at a hazy, pale blue expanse of sky. A flurry of dark birds darted across, casting a brief shade against the blurred yellow orb that hung lazily in the sky.

  Roman was absorbed in deep contemplation, his gaze on the immaculate shrubbery surrounding the large pool. The water shimmered in the light and dappling circles danced over the water. A rainbow of colours decorated the borders, dominated by bright hot, fuchsia pink mingled with cooler shades of blue.

  A slight, blond man emerged from behind a large privet hedge, and with a casual wave he walked towards Roman.

  “Got a coffee on the go?” he asked, strolling into the kitchen. Slapping his hands against his trousers, he
seated himself on the tall stool alongside the breakfast bar.

  “Sure,” Roman rose and poured one, then placed the steaming mug in front of him, “but I think we’ve got this the wrong way around. You’re the gardener and I’m the boss, right?”

  “Whatever.” Paul grinned without rancour. He sipped from his mug and gave Roman a wicked nod before asking, “Who were you screwing last night? I heard the screams.”

  Roman chuckled. “Yeah, she was a bit of a howler. Thankfully this house is isolated and Antonia is away.” He finished his coffee and crossed to stand at the window overlooking the garden. Spotting the two German shepherds, he gave them a sharp whistle. They bounded towards the house.

  “Oh shit, you haven’t called them, have you?” Paul’s eyes crinkled with worry. He hated the dogs. With a rapid pincer action, he moved his legs up out of reach. “You know they’re not safe around people.”

  Roman’s deep baritone laugh bounced around the kitchen. “For God’s sake, Paul, they’re guard dogs. What do you expect?” The dogs burst in through the kitchen door and bound up to him, their large pink tongues hanging out and their limpid eyes staring up at him in total adoration.

  “Something that’s a bit friendlier. For Christ’s sake, they’re supposed to be safe with people they know, but those two are bloody vicious.” He chanced a nervous glance as he perched on his stool and clutched his mug.

  Roman patted their heads and their tails brushed the floor. Giving them some ham he’d filched from the fridge, he coaxed, “Come on, just touch them,” and stroked their glossy coats.

  “No bloody way!” swore Paul, glaring at him. “Does Antonia get on with them?” If not, she should, because she was The Bitch From Hell.

  “No, she doesn’t like dogs, and they’re not keen on her.” Roman smiled as he remembered the first time Antonia met the pair. To say that their reaction had been vicious would be an understatement. There was truth to the old adage, ‘Always trust an animal’s intuition.’