Page 35 of Don't Bite The Boss
He rises and, taking off his shirt, winks at me as he turns to sprint away.
I give him a head start before downing my wine and pursuing him through the olive grove. I’ve already eaten tonight, so I am a little more in control of my thirst, but still, I know I will try to bite him.
Lying next to him later that night as I run my hand down his bare back, and his gentle, even breaths stir the night air, I think over our recent conversation.
“I knew you would save me,” he had said in the car after the rescue. And what had he said at the villa? “I knew you would come for me.”
I smile, but the smile slowly turns to a frown as I smooth away the hair from his forehead and an unwelcome thought begins to form in my mind. Perhaps, just perhaps, my boss never wanted me over here for my landscape skills at all, perhaps all along, he wanted a bodyguard and a trainer.
My lip curls as I recall Christopher’s quip about my ‘ninja skills’ and Tristan’s cool acceptance of what I was, despite my many attempts to bite him. I also recall his earlier assertion that he knew people more dangerous than me.
‘And that night on his boat? Nick should have given the talk to the councillors, but Tristan had insisted it should be me. A boat full of mafia – he needed protection. But he said I was pretty. Pretty? He was engaged to a supermodel, you idiot.’
“But you said you liked my designs,” I muse aloud.
‘But which ones? What designs had he seen?’
I grow cold and slip from the bed.
13
Continuing to ignore him, I roughly shove my clothes into my duffel bag. The remainder can be sent for later, I only need a couple of changes for the flight and road trip.
“Going somewhere?” he asks from the doorway, his voice holding just a touch of worry.
“I’m leaving you.”
“Leaving? Why? Did I do something wrong last night?”
I close my eyes for a second, take in a sharp breath, but refuse to allow it to become a sob, not yet.
How could he think he had done anything wrong last night? It had been wonderful. The most amazing, beautiful, crazy hot sex of my life. No, he’d done wrong before that, and now it coloured everything. Turned all the lovely pinks and golds into black and ash.
“Pru, I don’t understand,” he comes close, puts his hand over mine to still my packing, “tell me, let me in.”
“That’s just it,” I spit, turning to him, my eyes flashing fire, “I did let you in, Tristan. But it was all based on lies, every bit of it.”
“What are you talking about?” he frowns, angrily pushing his hand through his hair and storming towards the French doors before spinning back to me.
“I’m talking,” I enunciate every word carefully, “about you hiring me as a bodyguard.”
I stand perfectly still, waiting for his response.
“Pru, that’s not true, not now.”
“But you’re not denying it was.”
He looks solemn, makes no move to come closer.
“No.”
“So,” I squeak, looking down at my packing, away from him, “you never saw any of my designs before you hired me?”
“No.”
“Christopher told you I could protect you, protect you from the mafia while you were in Italy,” I murmur, my voice dull. “Christopher, who believes my design skills are shit.”
“Yes. But Pru, you have to understand, it didn’t take me long, a day at the most, to consider you more, much more than a bodyguard. I saw your passion for the villa, your knowledge of history, of architecture, of plants and gardens – you took my breath away with your enthusiasm and abilities.”
