Useful? ‘Why?’ she questioned slowly.
‘I have a Russian colleague who likes to do business when nobody around can understand what he’s saying.’
Zara frowned as she tried to make sense of his offer. ‘I didn’t mean that—I mean, why me? Why offer me the job?’
His icy eyes mocked her. He was finding a way to see her again, surely she realised that—or was she playing another game by pretending she didn’t? ‘Are you in the habit of quizzing prospective employers about their objectives?’
‘Obviously, it’s slightly different in your case.’
‘Obviously,’ he echoed sardonically. ‘You’re one of the best waitresses around, aren’t you? At least, that’s what I was told when I booked through your company for this party. That’s reason enough. And of course, I pay well. Very well.’ Softly, he mentioned a sum and saw her eyes widen, saw the pink tip of her tongue snake out to run its way over her lips, and he felt a powerful mix of disdain and desire. How exquisitely avaricious she was, he thought—and that realisation was curiously liberating. He need not be troubled by his conscience, he thought—for she clearly wasn’t. ‘So what do you think, Zara—do you think I could persuade you to take the job?’
Zara hesitated, unbearably tempted by the amount of money he was offering. Why, a sum like that would write off most of her debts. Would allow her to shake off the burden of responsibility which weighed so heavily on her shoulders. Would mean that she could start living like a normal twenty-something instead of someone who was worried sick about the future and all it entailed. Wouldn’t she be out of her mind to turn down an opportunity like that? Even if it meant working for a man who made her skin shiver with desire?
‘When is it?’ she questioned.
‘Next weekend.’
‘But that’s the weekend I’m …’ Her voice trailed off as she thought about the date with a sweet but unexciting man which Emma had lined up for her.
‘The weekend you’re what?’ he prompted.
‘I was supposed to be…seeing someone.’
‘Ah.’ Idly, he wondered who the poor fool was. ‘Then take a rain check.
Work comes first.’ His mouth hardened. ‘Happens to me all the time.’
Temptation washed over her in a renewed wave, yet still Zara hesitated. She might be naïve about certain aspects of the world, but she certainly wasn’t stupid and she knew perfectly well that Nikolai Komarov’s offer wasn’t as straightforward as it seemed.
Because he wanted her. She knew that, too. She could sense the sexual hunger which shimmered off his powerful frame—matching a need which burned deep inside her. Could she really go and work for him, knowing all that?
She lifted her eyes to his, remembering all the women he was reputed to have dated and cast aside, and she felt the stir of challenge. Couldn’t she be strong enough to resist him if he came onto her? As strong as she’d been for her godmother—though in a different way? Surely it couldn’t be difficult to keep at arm’s length a man who treated women with such little regard as he did. Especially when he was presenting her with the opportunity to ease all her financial woes.
‘Okay. I’ll do the job,’ she said slowly.
Nikolai nodded and felt the slow beat of inevitability. Of course she would. Of course she would cancel whatever it was she was supposed to be doing. She’d probably let down some poor idiot who was slavering to see her. Because whoever she was supposed to be seeing wouldn’t stand a chance when measured next to what he could offer. His mouth twisted. Nikolai was used to people falling in with his wishes, but that didn’t stop him sometimes praying that they wouldn’t. That for once the lure of his money would fail to procure the prize. And that, he knew, was like wishing for the stars which glittered so coldly in the night sky above them. ‘Excellent,’ he breathed.
‘Just …’ She met his eyes and sucked in a lungful of air as he raised his eyebrows in arrogant question. ‘Just as long as you understand that…well, what happened the night of the party was a mistake. A big mistake—and one I have no intention of repeating. You do know that? That this is simply a professional arrangement.’
With difficulty, Nikolai bit back a laugh at the outrageousness of this little chit of a waitress laying down her conditions to a man like him. As if she meant a single word of it! Didn’t she realise that he could see the points of her nipples as they pushed against her white shirt, in flagrant and silent invitation? Why were women so fundamentally dishonest about their needs and their desires? he wondered bitterly. She wanted him just as much as he wanted her—and surely she must realise that chemistry like this was too potent to squander? ‘If that is what you want,’ he murmured, ‘then I give you my word that is what you shall get, angel moy.’
He felt not one shred of remorse as he uttered the empty words and saw her nod in response, a misplaced look of trust settling on her features.
His mouth hardened as he turned away. Because promises were made to be broken. Hadn’t that been one of the very first lessons he’d learned in life when he was scarcely out of the cradle?
CHAPTER FOUR
‘AND this,’ said the housekeeper, opening the door with a flourish, ‘is your room.’
Blinking back her surprise, Zara followed the woman inside—because the small apartment wasn’t what she’d been expecting. Normally, waitresses were allocated rooms which would give a prison cell a run for its money—but not here. It seemed that even the staff accommodation in Nikolai Komarov’s south of France villa was luxurious. A big bed dazzled with snowy linen, there was a kitchen, an amazing bathroom—as well as shuttered windows which looked out onto a breathtaking view of the misty Provençal mountains in the distance.
‘This looks wonderful,’ she said slowly, her gaze drifting to a heap of black grapes which gleamed in a bowl as if they were waiting for an artist to paint them.
‘Yes, well—Mr Komarov always looks after his staff,’ said the housekeeper crisply. ‘He just expects hard work and discretion in return. Now I’ll leave you to get changed—you’ll be serving lunch within the hour. I hope the whistle-stop tour of the house didn’t confuse you? No? Good. Then come straight to the kitchens when you’re ready.’
Zara put her little overnight bag down on the floor and gave a bright smile. ‘Will do.’
At least the housekeeper’s words reminded her that she was here to work and, once the woman had gone, Zara stripped out of her travelling clothes and took a quick shower. The water on her skin felt delicious but the faint misgivings she’d felt since accepting this job simply wouldn’t go away.