Page 52 of A Wedding Negotiation with Her Boss

He clenched his jaw in raw frustration. His week had been hellish. True to his word, he had disappeared from his office, leaving Helen to work out the last remaining days of her notice, showing Julie the ropes.

Had he actually been able to concentrate, however? No. He’d found himself sitting in on high-level meetings, his mind a thousand miles away, contributing to proceedings without his usual incisive rigour.

Another woman, maybe? A return to his usual pattern of behaviour?

The thought of seeing someone else, of even getting in touch with another woman, had been enough to make him feel reasonably sick.

Truth was,he missed her.

He missed everything about her. He couldn’t bear the thought of spending any amount of time in his office because he couldn’t face her. And, somewhere along the line, he remembered what he had said when they had first embarked on their charade. She had asked him how Arturio would believe that a guy like him had fallen for his secretary, and he had mused that it was very credible that he had found that what he wanted had been right there all along—the woman who knew him better than anyone ever had.

How stupid and blind he’d been not to see the truth behind that throwaway remark.

He’d had the most precious thing in the world for a moment in time and he had thrown away the chance to show her that he...That he loved her.He’d been so securely locked up in his ivory tower, and so convinced that nothing and no one could make a dent in it, that he hadn’t realised that this wonderful woman had entered through the front door and set up camp in his heart.

How could he not have guessed? Looking back, he’d treated her completely differently from every other woman he’d ever dated. He’d talked to her, opened up, revealed weaknesses without even realising; and, if he’d realised, he airbrushed over any discomfort at it.

He’d trusted her with his heart, whether he’d known it at the time or not. She hadn’t seen it and he’d been too obtuse to point it out.

And now it was too late.

He thought about her hitting the singles scene and wanted to see the bottom of a whisky bottle to deal with the pain.

And, just like that, thoughts all over the place and barely aware of his surroundings as he pushed open the glass doors to the building in which his offices were housed, he saw her...

CHAPTER TEN

HISBREATHINGQUICKENED. She was in a pale-blue dress that was a couple of inches above her knees, had flung a silky cardigan over her shoulders and was wearing white trainers. The whole ensemble was quirky, cute and ridiculously sexy and he stopped dead in his tracks and just stared.

In the periphery of his vision, he made out her companion, a small, curvy blonde with curly hair who was wearing something or other. He barely noticed because his eyes were all for Helen who, after a moment’s surprised hesitation, was now looking back at him with an expression he couldn’t read.

She walked towards him and made polite introductions.

Lucy—the blonde companion intent on leading her astray although, in fairness, the blonde companion didn’t look like someone inclined to lead anyone astray. Who knew, though?

‘Apologies I haven’t seen much of you this week,’ he opened gruffly. ‘But thank for keeping me updated on the transfer over of duties.’

Helen produced a tight smile. ‘No problem. I think Julie is going to work out very well in the short term, although she’s made it clear that she doesn’t want a permanent transfer, as she’s very loyal to Simon.’ She turned to Lucy, whose blue eyes were darting between them with interest. ‘Remember I told you that I’m leaving the company?’

‘So you did. Bye-bye to the old and hello to the new.’

‘So it would seem,’ Gabriel remarked tersely, settling his gaze on the blonde as he detected something that sounded a little like wicked amusement in her remark. Or maybe she was just stirring the pot. ‘Which clubs are you two going to target?’ he asked with a lot of fake bonhomie.

His eyes were back on Helen. His mind was still playing with the realisation that he had fallen in love with her. Thinking about her deprived him of the ability to speak, it would seem, because she answered and he barely took in what she had said.

He was remembering how she’d looked after they’d made love, the flush on her cheeks, the drowsy darkness of her eyes, the soft curve of her body against his.

Conversations had been had, low and murmured, and he could kick himself now for never having worked out the significance of them—never having realised that, bit by bit, those conversations had changed the man he had been into a man he had never thought himself capable of being. Having spent his life vacating the bed as soon as the hot business of making love was done, he had found himself lingering between the sheets, warm, lazy and happy to talk with her curled into him, his hand stroking her hair.

The significance of that had foolishly passed him by.

‘I... There are always any of the clubs I belong to.’ He raked his fingers through his hair and forced a smile. ‘You know which they are, Helen.’

‘Indeed I do. I’ve made arrangements for several dinners there for you and one of your many Fifis.’

‘Use my name. Don’t pay for anything. You can put whatever you want on my tab. You’ve worked for me for years and—I would like to spare no expense on your evening out. I... Yes, well, whatever you want—lobster and caviar, champagne. Money’s no object.’

‘Thank you very much. It’s a kind offer but I’m sure we’ll find somewhere nice enough and not too expensive. Won’t we, Luce?’

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