Page 60 of Tame Me

Simone’s tone warms with exasperated amusement. ‘Aren’t you ever going to settle down?’

‘Surely you don’t need to ask that.’

Because it was Simone who pulled up to my boarding school and helped me escape one of the worst moments of my life—the media intrusion and the shock of secrets kept from me until it was too late. She knows how I was caught in the midst of an emotional massacre and that I’ll never accept the blistering bonds of a committed relationship myself.

‘No,’ Simone acknowledges. ‘But you’re never obvious in public. This is intriguing.’

But I haven’t felt temptation like this. Or such uncertainty. I don’t usually have to work for it.

I tear my gaze from Talia to focus on Simone—she’s the reason I’m here, after all, and Talia was right, Simone is one of the good ones. ‘I’m sorry. It’s your birthday.’ I pull a small box from my pocket and put it on the table between us.

Simone all but shimmers. ‘Is it a pen to sign the investment papers?’

I laugh at her persistence. ‘You know any deal will be negotiated in the office.’

But I remind her gently because Simone tried to help me all those years ago. A close friend of my grandfather, she disapproved of him keeping secrets from me. And she was the only one to take action when the press found out he was terminal.

‘I promise I’ll look at it properly tomorrow,’ I add with a smile. ‘I’ll be there at nine.’

I enjoy the coffee and the dessert and talk to Simone and several of her guests. I also enjoy watching Talia care for the guests. That she’s determined not to look in my direction is actually reassuring. She’s as aware of me as I am of her and I just need another moment with her. Alone.

A guy with a guitar arrives. The long-haired crooner sings hits of bygone years. Simone loves it. But partway through his fourth item I sense an emptiness in the room. It’s only been a few moments but I’m acutely aware Talia’s gone. I mutter something to Simone and move.

I catch up with a young waiter in the corridor. ‘Where’s Talia?’

The young man looks both startled and awkward. ‘She’s just finished for the evening.’

Disappointment floods me. ‘She’s not staying till closing?’

The youth fidgets. ‘She was only helping out for a while before she had to—’ He stops before saying anything truly useful. ‘Is there something I can get for you, sir?’

‘No, that’s fine. Thank you.’

I message Simone to apologise for my sudden departure and confirm tomorrow’s meeting time. I know she won’t mind—I’ve stayed longer than she’d have expected me to anyway. Striding towards the gondola, I notice the sky has darkened. The wind’s lifted, whistling around the outside of the building. There’s only one way down from this place and this is one ride I refuse to miss.

CHAPTER THREE

Talia

INTHESMALLcrew room I scoop up my small backpack, shove my apron into it and hurry down the corridor. I can’t get out of here quick enough. I’ve made a massive fool of myself trying to flirt with that guy. He’s more than a guest of the primary, he’s hergodson—practically family. Ofcoursehe wasn’t a stripper, not in a suit that beautifully made and fitted and from fabric that soft and flattering. Why did I leap to such an inappropriate conclusion?

Because he was half naked and is so stunningly sculpted it was the only possibility to hit me. Yes, I objectified the guy. And no, I don’t usually do that. I’ve avoided guys my whole life. That’s what happens when your ‘charming’ father’s a serial cheater and your co-dependent mother’s a serial sucker—falling for the same type over and over. That kind of example puts a girl off even trying.

But Dain Anzelotti could have corrected me sooner, instead he let me make a bigger and bigger fool of myself until at last he revealed his innate arrogance. He flipped from smoothly amused to steely and silent—shooting me down without uttering a word. I was incinerated on the spot. Buthekissedme—the patronising jerk only wanted to hook me in order to feed his endless ego. As if all his supposed wealth wasn’t enough to make him feel special? Once I was on the line he couldn’t cut me quick enough. I need to get out of here before I stomp back to give the entitled jerk a piece of my mind.

The gondola engineer is engrossed in some sports game onscreen and barely notices me waiting for the small passenger cabin that’s coming round on the track. The cabins aren’t huge and it’s a relief to have it to myself. I’ve been customer servicing for hours and this is only a respite before I get to the bar down in town and carry on fulfilling people’s orders. Still hot and flustered, I toss my backpack onto the seat with too much force. It slips straight off and I groan in frustration as my things scatter everywhere. I slump on the seat. There’s no rush to collect everything, I have over twenty minutes to pull it together.

I hear rapid footsteps and hope whoever it is will be polite enough to wait for the next cabin. But a big hand stops my door from sliding shut and the suspension car wobbles as he steps inside. There’s a bumping sensation as the cabin moves over the pulley system. I don’t love the gondola—being suspended high above the jagged edge of a mountain freaks me out a little. But right now I’m more freaked out about the viewinsidethe cabin.

I stare at him in consternation—the entertainment who wasn’t. The self-proclaimed billionaire property magnate. He takes the space on the seat beside me, the doors bang shut and then there’s silence as he stares at my stuff scattered all over the floor.

‘What happened?’ he eventually asks. ‘Did you have a tantrum?’

Stunned, I do nothing as he slides onto his knees in the small space in front of me. He retrieves the items one by one—my comb and a spare hair tie, headphones that I can’t use now to avoid this conversation, coins, my favourite tinted lip balm and some pain relief. He passes each item for me to stuff back into my bag and meets my gaze every time.

It’s immensely irritating that he’s so handsome. That my body is literally melting. What’s with his mixed messages?

‘Thanks,’ I mumble, embarrassed and confused.

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