Page 3 of Hidden Heir With His Housekeeper

She should have told her father to take a hike this time. The way her sister Katie had been suggesting she do for years. Instead of allowing herself to be parcelled up like a mannequin in shoes that made her arches ache and a practically transparent dress and deposited at an event where she would rather fade into the high-end furnishings than ‘engage with’ one of the men her father had suggested, who were no doubt just like him.

As if one unconscionable overbearing bastard in her life wasn’t enough!

She’d been terrified of her father once... Back when she was twelve years old and she’d watched him rant and rave and kick her sixteen-year-old sister out of the house. It still disgusted Bea that she had done not one thing to help Katie, because she’d been too busy cowering in a corner with her hands over her ears, pretending to be invisible.

But she’d discovered in the past few years, ever since she’d asked Katie to dump the fiancé her father had lined up for her—because Bea had been completely overwhelmed by Jack Wolfe’s forceful personality—and then watched her brilliant, beautiful and entirely independent sister make a life with Wolfe instead, it was past time she got a life of her own.

Which meant no longer kowtowing to her father’s agenda—or relying on his money.

She wasn’t terrified of him any more—and she had options now. She’d spent the last two years, on the afternoons she was supposed to be at the beauticians or the gym or ‘lunching’ with the ‘friends’ she had never really liked from her finishing school in Lausanne, attending classes which Katie had paid for. She had a natural ability for learning languages, her ear attuned to the nuances of pronunciation, her mind fascinated by the intricacies of grammar and verb constructions. And she hoped one day to make a career out of her skill. Although she hadn’t quite figured out how yet.

Katie, of course, had also offered her a place to stay with her and Jack and their toddler son, Luca, at their home in Mayfair. But there was only so much of Katie’s charity Bea could accept without destroying what was left of her pride.

Unfortunately, knowing she had no intention of attracting the nearest billionaire so he could shore up her father’s ailing finances tonight was a lot easier than saying no to him...

She would find a way out from under her father’s influenceeventually, she told herself staunchly. But she had to do it under her own steam. Unfortunately, planning and thinking and then overthinking her options was one of Bea’s super powers. Taking direct action, not so much.

She edged through the bar full of ravers getting into the groove on the throbbing retro disco beat.

Case in point: she’d totally convinced herself, while sitting in her father’s leased car being driven to this event, that she would seduce the first unsuitable guy she met to show her father her love life was not his concern and manipulating it not a sound investment strategy. But as soon as Bar Guy had managed to kick-start a sex drive she didn’t even know she had with one searing I-want-to-see-you-naked look, she’d totally lost her nerve.

Fabulous. So much for Bea the man-killer! More like Bea the virgin prevaricator.

No wonder her father thought her love life was still his to control, when she’d never had a proper boyfriend, except Jack Wolfe—and she hadn’t even had the guts or the inclination to sleep with him before she’d got Katie to ditch him by proxy.

It would actually be mortifying she was still a virgin at twenty-two, still living at home and still relying on her father to support her—because learning five different languages without finding a way to make a living from them didn’t count—if it weren’t so pathetic.

She reached the other side of the bar and entered another long corridor.

Why had Bar Guy’s searingly hot look had her flight instinct kicking in this time?

Because his attention had seemed different from other men she’d dated?

He was very handsome, in a rough, rugged sort of way, his tall, muscular frame perfectly displayed in the expertly tailored designer suit as he dominated the bar. But it was the dark knowledge in his gaze which had disturbed her the most—burning over every inch of exposed skin and making her pulse points pound in unison with her accelerating heartrate.

That hot look had been so exhilarating and its effect on her so surprising—because wow, she actually had a libido. But then his attention had become too exhilarating, and felt like far too...much.

She slowed her pace, still breathless but more than a little annoyed now with her latest display of total capitulation.

Bar Guy hadn’t approached her. He hadn’t really even acknowledged her. All he’d done was look.

So why are you running away from him, exactly?

Was this just another instance of her failure to stand her ground? And engage with life.

She gathered some deep breaths into her burning lungs to calm the sensations pulsing in her abdomen when a figure appeared at the end of the corridor.

Her heartbeat jumped, then shot to warp speed as he walked towards her.

Him.

Had he followed her?

‘Hello there, Beatrice,’ he murmured, the rumble of amusement almost as disturbing as the sensations now throbbing in time with the bass beat from below. ‘What’s the hurry?’

He stopped in front of her, close enough for her to detect the scent of laundry detergent and sandalwood over the aroma of sweat and stale liquor from the bar behind.

How tall was he? Because at five foot eight, she didn’t usually have to look up to guys. But even in her skyscraper heels, he had a good few inches on her.

---