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The question pops into my mind, out of nowhere.

I dismiss it.

‘Mr Hart.’ My voice comes out almost completely normal, but I have no doubt hurt shows in my eyes, despite all my efforts.

His expression shifts a little. There’s a wariness in his expression, a tightness around his jaw. I look closer.

He’s...different. Pale. He looks nervous.

Nervous? Jagger. No way.

‘Miss Llewellyn.’ His voice is gruff. It pours over me like treacle, stimulating my nerve endings rather than calming them. ‘May I come in?’

I want to tell him no. I want to tell him to get lost. But of course I don’t. With a tight nod I step backwards, gesturing towards my office. I step back even further when he walks past me so we don’t touch, but that doesn’t stop his woody masculine fragrance from assaulting my nostrils.

My stomach flip-flops.

I click the door shut, blocking out Bianca and the outside world.

He’s watching me. Staring at me.

I swallow and move behind my desk, grateful for the distance and physical barrier.

Neither of us speaks, and the silence is profoundly heavy.

Finally, he moves towards me. I stiffen. ‘What are you doing here?’ The words are dismissive, brimming with my anger and resentment.

He stops walking, standing exactly where he is. ‘I came to see you.’

Fuck.

‘Well, you’ve seen me. You can go away again.’

His expression tightens. ‘You’re pissed.’

I open my mouth to deny it, wishing I could tell him I’m not. That I don’t care one way or another what he does with his life. But it’s a lie.

‘Yes.’

He nods. ‘Good.’

‘Good?’

‘Yeah. You should be pissed.’

I let my breath whoosh out of me. ‘I’m so glad I have your approval.’

‘I deserve it,’ he sa

ys, moving a step closer. I glare at him, warning him not to circumnavigate the desk.

‘You have no reason for being here,’ I murmur, my stomach doing loop the loops, my insides churning. ‘And I want you to go.’

His eyes flash with mine and I feel the force of his contradictions, the arguments he wants to wage. But he doesn’t. He nods softly then takes another step towards me, bracing his palms on the desk, his body opposite mine.

‘I will go, Grace. But first I need to talk to you.’

Alarm bells and hope war with one another. ‘I don’t want to talk to you.’ I drop my gaze to hide the complex knot of emotions I’m navigating.


Tags: Clare Connelly The Notorious Harts Billionaire Romance