Still, I couldn’t help but feel a little bit of trepidation.
Being his girlfriend would probably involve some...physical closeness. And I wasn’t sure I was ready for that.
Watching him talk about his fights, knowing the reasons for his scars, seeing the ferocity in his face as he’d mentioned how he’d won...
The man had a chip on his shoulder the size of a redwood and I don’t know why that fury fascinated me so much, but it did. Like a moth drawn to a burning bonfire, I was compelled towards him.
He was so fierce and passionate. So unlike the reserved, laconic men I’d been brought up with and worked with at Australis.
Sex might not be part of the girlfriend deal but there was a part of me that hoped it would be.
A few days after the shopping trip, my bags packed and ready, I was in the weird position of being the one picked up for a change.
Mr Evans insisted that we go to the airport together—and since we were supposed to be a couple, he had a point.
He drove his own car this time, a massive Land Rover that seemed appropriate given he was a property developer and into construction.
Automatically and by instinct, I headed towards the driver’s side only to have him give me a narrow look. ‘I’m driving, remember?’ he reminded me. ‘It’s my car.’
‘Oh, right. Sure.’ I gave him a sheepish grin.
It felt strange not having the wheel in front of me and I didn’t know what to do with my hands. So I gripped onto my seat belt as he took us to London City Airport, where we’d catch his company’s jet to Dubai.
He drove with the kind of aggressive confidence I’d expected of him, talking via speakerphone the whole time, dealing with site issues, property concerns, something legal to do with a contract and then some kind of staffing problem. He dealt with it all with authority and a bluntness that probably added to his fearsome reputation, yet I found myself admiring it.
No wonder people didn’t know how to deal with him in the UK. He wasn’t polite and he didn’t play by the normal rules, and I found that incredibly attractive. That he didn’t care what other people thought of him was also apparent, and, as someone who did care, I found the fact that he didn’t fascinating.
Dad would have been appalled.
We got to the airport, boarded the jet, and were in the air within a couple of hours and even then Mr Evans was still dealing with calls.
He paced impatiently around the cabin, filling the space with his own particular brand of vibrant electricity, and even though I sat in one of the plush leather seats, ostensibly looking through a magazine, I couldn’t help but watch him instead.
That energy was anger. I knew that now.
Given how he’d been totally shafted by his half-brother and how responsible he felt for the loss of his mother’s money, I understood how driven he was.
I was curious, though, as to why she was still living in the council estate, not to mention why he was still feuding with his half-brother, when all of that had happened so many years ago. Also, the few times he’d spoken of his father it was with nothing but contempt, and I wondered what the story was there.
Being curious about him was probably a bad thing, but I was all the same.
It was a good half hour into the flight before Mr Evans finally finished up his calls and threw himself down into the leather seat opposite mine, his blue gaze like a slap of ice water across my hot skin.
He stared at me for a full minute at least, then said, ‘So, tell me how Australis got into trouble.’
Every muscle in my body gathered tight. ‘Wh-what?’
‘I’ve been looking over the financials and it does seem as though there are some issues.’ His stare became sharper. ‘Which is odd because it seemed like a good bet when we made our initial investment. You want to tell me what the problem is?’
I should have expected him to ask, especially considering it was his money he’d invested, but that didn’t change the sudden and intense need to change the subject. Because I really did not want to have to explain to him about how my mismanagement of the Mark incident had turned what should have been a minor problem into a giant mistake.
‘There was a...staff issue,’ I said, deliberately vague. ‘We lost one of our best designers.’
‘And why was that?’
‘He had to be let go for...certain reasons.’ My hands had crept into my lap, my fists clenched.
Mr Evans frowned. ‘What reasons?’