‘I said no,’ she snapped.
He saw the stubborn tightening of her mouth. ‘Then what are you going to do?’
Roxy shrugged as if she didn’t really care, reminding herself that this wasn’t the first time something like this had happened. She’d learnt to face the bad times and not to let them grind her down. But it didn’t matter how much positive reinforcement she murmured to herself, that didn’t solve her immediate problem of having nowhere to live. She glanced out of the window, where the morning’s frost showed no sign of thawing.
‘I don’t know,’ she said tonelessly as she watched a blackbird perch on the bare branch of a tree and wondered if that bird could possibly feel as lonely as she did right then.
Titus didn’t know what made him suggest it. Whether it was the desolate way she spoke those words or whether it had more to do with the sudden tremble of her lips—an unconsciously erotic tremble, which made his heart begin to beat a little faster. Because he wanted her, he realised, his eyes reluctantly drawn to the way her sweater hugged her luscious breasts. And wanting her spelt trouble.
Yet he was beginning to realise that he couldn’t just walk away and forget about her. He’d done that once before and look what had happened. He didn’t particularly like her—and he certainly didn’t trust her—but he could hardly kick her out on a bitterly cold winter’s day, could he?
‘You can come and work for me,’ he said slowly.
Roxy blinked. ‘For you?’
He shrugged. ‘I have an estate in the country and I’m having a party there at the end of the month. We always employ extra staff whenever there’s a big event on. I’m sure we can find space for an extra cleaner.’
The words screamed their way into her consciousness and Roxy flinched. An extra cleaner. Was that what she had become? She looked into his proud, aristocratic features and at that moment something inside her died. Or rather, her image of herself did, because Titus Alexander clearly had no problem defining her by her humble job. From pop idol to skivvy in less than a decade.
She winced. Well, damn him. Damn him and his privileged life—he who had probably never done a proper day’s work in his life. How she would have loved to turn around and tell him just what he could do with his lousy job, but it was a bleak day out there and she had nowhere else to go.
And she was a survivor, wasn’t she? She’d come through far worse than this. Steeling herself against the speculative gleam in his grey eyes, she returned his cool gaze.
‘When do I start?’ she questioned carelessly.
CHAPTER FOUR
THE vintage Bentley drove slowly through the arched stone entrance and Roxy stared at the vast, rolling parkland ahead, which spread out as far as the eye could see. The light covering of frost on the grass made the setting look like some old-fashioned and very beautiful Christmas card. In the distance she could see the pale golden blur of a building—the biggest and grandest building she had ever seen. Surely that couldn’t be his house?
Glad to have something to focus on other than the taut and muscular thighs of the man sitting next to her, Roxy widened her eyes. ‘You must be joking,’ she breathed.
Titus shot her a glance, noticing the way that the pale winter sunlight illuminated her dark-blonde hair. He supposed he should have been grateful that she’d slept for most of the long journey from London to Norfolk and that she hadn’t been distracting him with her flippant comments. Yet when she was sleeping, her raw sexuality seemed to ooze from every pore of her amazing body. As if silently begging him to do what nature had conditioned a man like him to do to a woman like her. Each time they’d stopped at a traffic light, he had found himself turning to study her.
Her silky hair had been spread out over the leather headrest and her magnificent breasts had slowly risen and fallen with every breath she took. Her cushioned lips had been parted and her lashes had fanned the pale perfection of her cheeks. She’d managed to look both angelic and yet wickedly accessible—and he had been overcome by a lust so powerful that it had been as much as he could do not to have pulled her into his arms and started kissing her.
And wouldn’t that be the worst idea in the world? To seek carnal comfort with a woman like her?
With an effort, he returned his attention to the long drive which led up to the house.
‘I don’t remember making a joke,’ he said repressively.
‘I don’t mean a literal joke,’ said Roxy, because wasn’t it simpler to concentrate on the architectural magnificence of his home, rather than on the disapproving presence beside her? ‘I mean, you didn’t tell me that you lived in what is practically a palace! Titus, it’s absolutely massive! And surely that’s …’ Her eyes narrowed as she saw a bright gleam on the horizon which could only mean one thing. ‘That’s not the sea over there, is it?’
‘Indeed it is,’ he answered, his mouth hardening as he heard the avaricious excitement in her voice. ‘We have our own beach.’
‘Your own beach,’ she repeated and then, because she was so taken aback by the sheer scale of the place, she spoke without really thinking. ‘I wonder how much a place like this would cost on the open market?’
‘I hope I never have to find out,’ he snapped.
‘You mean you’d never sell it?’
‘I mean I can’t sell it, even if I wanted to.’ He nodded briefly at the gardener who was touching a deferential finger to his brow as the big Bentley drove slowly past. Titus knew that many people tried to calculate the extent of his wealth, though, unlike her, most were too polite to do it out loud. But there again—what would someone like her know of aristocratic life?
‘Actually, it’s not
mine to sell. I’m just the custodian who looks after it for future generations. That responsibility is the price I pay for having so many privileges.’
She peered through the wintry light as she thought she saw a church in the distance. Surely he didn’t have his own church, as well? ‘Well, if you’re expecting me to feel any sympathy for you, then I’m afraid you’ll have a long wait. You could accommodate half of England in a place this big.’