Page 11 of The Housekeeper and the Brooding Billionaire

He had the arrogance and brute power of his robber baron ancestors. If she really had been an interloper, he’d probably have tossed her back into the water.

She’d felt his nearness as a physical force. The angry glide of his gaze creating friction on her bare flesh. The aura around him, like a force field, was palpable. The flick of one eyebrow, the flare of chiselled nostrils, igniting a rush of heat inside her.

It was inexplicable. In Switzerland, many guests had been fit and athletic, there for the skiing or climbing. But none had such an overtly physical presence.

If his stare had been sexual, it would have been easier. She could deal with unwanted attention. It came with the job, sadly. But the Conte hadn’t leered. He wanted her gone. Even when he discovered who she was, it felt like he’d prefer it if she ran away and left him to his own devices.

Charlotte frowned as she grabbed a tray and cutlery.

Whatever the Conte did all day, it didn’t seem to involve eating. She’d taken stock of the supplies in the huge pantry, and nothing had disappeared.

All day, as she explored the ancient building and talked to the maids who’d arrived to clean the grand reception rooms, she’d waited for his summons.

There’d been none.

Was he still deciding whether to employ her? Charlotte’s breath snagged. She couldn’t get the sack on her first day!

Nor could she wait endlessly for him to remember her existence. She had to know where she stood.

She’d take him dinner, knock on the door and leave it there if necessary. But with luck he’d invite her in, and she’d at least have a chance to schedule a meeting.

Charlotte laid the tray, adding some of the scrumptious bread the baker had delivered. At leasthe’dbeen friendly, and the maids too, if inquisitive. Their welcomes had gone a long way to restoring her faith that thiswasthe wonderful opportunity she’d hoped.

Minutes later she arrived at the study to find it empty. On a hunch, she took the stairs up another floor to the Conte’s private suite. She’d explored it earlier, changing towels, dusting, and noticing that his vast bed was already professionally made. As if he hadn’t slept in it since the morning before, when presumably Anna had tidied the room.

Or maybe he’s incredibly self-sufficient and neat. Maybe he prides himself on his hospital corners and smoothing every last crease from that gorgeous dark green-and-gold bedspread.

Charlotte snorted at the idea of the Conte erasing creases when he hadn’t bothered shaving in days and his hair was a wild tangle.

Wild but indecently attractive.

Her fingers clenched on the tray’s handles.

No, no, no! She never thought of clients like that.

The door to his sitting room was open. She paused and cleared her throat. There was no growling response. ‘Conte Alessio?’

Nothing. She pushed the door wide and stepped in. It was empty, but the door to the bedroom was ajar. Presumably he was in there.

Charlotte took a moment to survey the room. The vase of ferns and spring greenery she’d left earlier looked good. As did the order she’d brought to the art magazines she’d found spilling across the coffee table.

It wasn’t that she needed those seconds to slow her quickened pulse before meeting the demon count again.

Of course not.

When he thought it through, he’d realise he needed her. She could enjoy the job’s challenges, knowing she wouldn’t have the embarrassing, potentially catastrophic task of explaining in Venice that she hadn’t worked for him after all.

Charlotte set the tray down on a table near the window.

‘If I’d wanted you, I would have asked for you,’ the deep voice drawled, and she stiffened, almost dropping the meal.

The idea of that velvet-over-iron voice summoning her because hewantedher awoke a feminine yearning so profound it shocked her.

Firming her lips and ignoring the way her nipples thrust against her bra, Charlotte took her time straightening. He wouldnotdiscompose her or make her apologise for doing her job.

Fleetingly she wondered if his attitude was a deliberate ploy to make her leave. But why?

‘I did call out before coming in,’ she said as she turned. Whatever she’d been going to say next disappeared into brain fog as she saw him.

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