Page 47 of Worth Every Risk

“Smoked salmon, please,” she says. “But not with the cream. Or those little black things.”

Crap.Does she expect me to pick the canapes apart for her?“Black things?”

“Yeah, the stinky fish eggs.”

Ah. Caviar.“Okay. I’ll be right back.”

I edge up to the elaborate table that Mr Hawkston’s staff have set out. There’s silver cutlery and actual breakable plates. Whenever I had a picnic, the cutlery was plastic and the plates were paper. Maybe plastic if whoever brought the crockery was extra organised.

I grab a plate and pile it with three or four blinis. Then, checking no one’s looking, I start taking them apart, scraping off the caviar and sour cream. I don’t want to waste it though... I mean, scraping caviar and leaving it at the side of the plate? That’s tantamount to a crime.

So I eat it. Stealthily, checking Mr Hawkston’s back is turned as I do it. I feel like a criminal stealing gold or something, but it’s bloody delicious. I’m working as fast as I can and fortunately, everyone is too busy socialising and trying to get Mr Hawkston’s attention to notice what I’m doing.

I’m licking my fingers and trying my hardest to keep the mess discreet, when I sense a presence right at my elbow.

“Has the nanny got a taste for the finer things in life already?” It’s a woman’s voice, and it sends a shiver up my spine because it’s so dismissive, soderogatory, that I feel violated. “I suppose living with Matt does that to a woman.”

I spin, dismantled blini in one hand, to find a beautiful blonde woman staring at me. I know exactly who she is. Gemma, the ex-wife. She’s even more beautiful than the pictures. Every feature is freakishly symmetrical, like I’m looking at an optical illusion. Straight nose, big blue eyes, cupid’s bow pink mouth. She looks likeBlake Lively, if someone tweaked all her features so the angles mathematically aligned. My breath catches at the sight of her, but her expression is vicious, and the judgment in her eyes blisters my skin.

“Oh, Mrs Hawkston—”

“Please. Don’t call me that. I go by my maiden name now. Von Arsworz.”

I don’t know what the hell she just said, but it sounded a lot like arse-warts. I don’t dare risk repeating it, so I smile inanely as Gemma looks me up and down, her nose scrunched in a disdainful sneer.

“Aren’t you pretty. Where’d he find you then? One of those clubs? Bad girl gone good, are you? You look just the type.” She waves her hands over my breasts, as if my larger-than-average cup size is what makes me ‘bad’.

My brain is struggling to catch up. “I’m sorry, what?”

“Is he fucking you yet?” Gemma smirks. “That would be just like him. To screw the nanny. It would be efficient. Someone right on his doorstep so he doesn’t have to take any time off work.”

I am completely, utterly, speechless. This woman is a bitch with a capital B. But even so, heat rises up my cheeks, fiery humiliation creeping across my face. Mr Hawkston and I might not have had sex, but I’ve seen him completely naked. And hard. And I am sorely tempted to tell her, just to see how she’d react.

I’m still staring at Gemma when I notice Mr Hawkston’s attention on us. He still has half a glass of champagne in one hand, but his gaze is trained on me and he’s coming over.

Gemma hasn’t noticed. “So, is he?”

“Is he what?” I ask.

“Don’t act stupid. Is my husband fucking you?”

“Ex-husband.” Mr Hawkston’s deep voice demolishes Gemma’s rant. Her hand tightens on the stem of her champagne glass and her shoulders squeeze together.

He ignores her, instead leaning towards me and tapping the side of his lips. It takes me a moment to realise he’s letting me know I have food on my face.Again.

“May I?” he says, and, because I’m stupefied, standing between the two most gorgeous human beings I’ve ever seen, I nod. Mr Hawkston reaches over Gemma’s shoulder to swipe histhumb across the edge of my lips, picks up a trace of caviar and then sucks it off his thumb.

My heart shudders and heat flushes my body. He just ate foodoff my face. He’s holding my gaze like he is fucking me, or he might, or he means to… I feel it right down to my clit. It’s wholly indecent.

I’m completely in shock, but not as much as Gemma is.

She spins on her heels to face him, her mouth wide, but before she can speak, Mr Hawkston blasts his attention onto her, glaring.

“Whom I choose to sleep with has nothing to do with you anymore.”

Gemma huffs. “Oh, you bastard. You’re a sly piece of shit, Matthew Hawkston. Employing a nanny that looks like that and then parading her about in front of everyone. Are you trying to embarrass me?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. Aries is a valued member of my household staff.”

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