CHAPTER ONE
THEGLASSDOORSswished open silently.
Tilda Raven shook the raindrops from her rich brown hair, the damp, messy waves spilling down her back almost to her waist today rather than constrained in the usual sensible, sleek, fat ponytail on her nape.
Tilda didn’t pause. She was a woman on a mission, a mission interrupted by a security guard who blocked her way with his bulk.
‘Do you have an appoint...?’ The smartly suited man did a comical double-take. ‘Oh, sorry, Miss Raven, I didn’t recognise you.’
Tilda smothered her impatience and out of deeply engrained politeness forced her lips into a smile of acknowledgement that didn’t touch the wide green eyes hidden behind the rain-spattered, pink-tinted lenses of the unflattering heavy-framed glasses that covered a lot of her small heart-shaped face.
Her eyes strayed beyond the uniformed figure to the art deco clock on the wall above the sleek reception desk. Yes, she could still make it back for three if... Her rounded jaw firmed. There was noifabout it; shewasgoing to be back for three—non-negotiable.
It wasn’t as if he could try to lock her in!
Although she could easily imagine her terminally selfish boss doing just that, if he could have got away with it.
How would he take it?
‘Not well’ was pretty much a given.
At that moment the coward’s way out was looking very appealing—she had been tempted—but she owed him an explanation in person if nothing else. Her decision was made and there was no going back—though Ezio could be very persuasive.
She was pretty sure that he wouldn’t be wishing her well, but she was prepared for him to kick off.
She didn’t care. For once this wasn’t about her brilliant billionaire boss; this was about her brother, Sam.
Samwas her priority.
Better late than never.
Tilda felt a kick of guilt as an image of her teenage brother’s scared eyes above an oxygen mask flashed into her head... Her hand went to her throat, her chest tightened, the sound of her heartbeat filled her ears and she fought for breath the way Sam had...He’s finenow...he’s fine now...She repeated the mantra, her head fighting free of the panic.
Samwasfine. You’d never know, seeing him sitting glued to a computer screen playing a game, that last night he’d been blue-lighted to hospital. If anything did happen, Mrs Lowther—the elderly neighbour who had known them since they were children—was sitting with him, much to Sam’s disgust.
She realised that the security guard was talking to her and she hadn’t heard a word he had said.
‘Sorry, James.’ She interrupted him mid-flow. ‘I’m... I’ll catch up later.’ She threw the suitably vague promise over her shoulder, knowing it was a lie as she hurried across the space designed to give anyone visiting the iconic Angelos Building for the first time a seriouswowmoment.
Tilda still got a little frisson of pleasure when she walked in, but today she was not interested in the eclectic art, the modern sculptures, the polished concrete floor or the clever use of light. Her eyes went again to the stylised art deco clock behind the elegant reception desk staffed by an equally elegant team of reception staff. It wasn’t actually morning, but even though that didn’t matter any longer she found herself quickening her pace.
A bit like a condemned person being in a hurry for their last meal...The image drew a frown. She was not condemned—this was her choice—she just hated being late.
It was a lucky hang-up, given who her boss was, that she was an uber-punctual person, because tardiness and being kept waiting were on the list of things that wound up Ezio Angelos. The list was not short and it included excuses.
Not that she was about to offer any today. The only thing she planned to offer was her resignation. Not because she’d had a better offer—well, not recently, anyhow—or because she disliked her job, because she didn’t, despite the fact that her boss ticked a lot of boxes on Tilda’s own list of undesirable qualities in a man.
Many people were willing to overlook those qualities because they came wrapped up in some pretty marvellous packaging. Had she been the sort of female that went for smouldering, lean beefcake with the odd billion in his personal account, she might have too. But Tilda had higher standards. And being the owner of ridiculously long eyelashes, sybaritic cheekbones and a carnal mouth that should have carried a health warning did not, to her mind, make it all right for him to be arrogant.
And he was arrogance on steroids!
He also possessed the empathy of a flint, a ruthless streak a mile wide and as for beautiful women... He went through more of them than he did disposable razors—and her Greek boss, who possessed a carved jaw and lean cheeks that were dusted with a shadow before midday, went through quite a few of those.
Despite all these faults, Ezio, who had made his fortune in AI, was a pretty good boss. He was demanding, sure, but fair, not patronising and the work wasneverboring. Breathless, sure, butnotboring.
The man was an intellectual adrenaline-junkie who considered the word ‘impossible’ a challenge. It could be pretty exhausting just trying to keep up with him. Tilda usually failed but she loved the buzz she got trying.
Also, she had a level of autonomy that she could not imagine being granted elsewhere. And in Tilda’s eyes it really went in his favour that there were never any of the sort of inappropriate remarks or looks that had made her feel uncomfortable in her previous jobs. Equally importantly, he had not once suggested she looked too young to be taken seriously. She was sure this was in part thanks to the glasses her twenty-twenty vision didn’t need, a piece of stage dressing that in her estimation added a good five years to her baby-faced twenty-six. They were an inspired prop, even if she acknowledged she shouldn’t have to prove her seriousness anyway.