Sex, Gossip and Rock & Roll. Nicola Marsh
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‘You have no idea what I wish for, Goldi.’
‘It’s Charli,’ she snapped, angry at herself for being this close to him, for enjoying his banter, for her damn knees still wobbling courtesy of that smile. ‘Where’d you get Goldi from?’
His patronising pat on the cheek had her fist clenching to slug him.
‘It’s an abbreviation.’
Confused, she glared at him. ‘Short for what?’
‘Gold-digger.’
Stupefied, her jaw dropped as he slung a Vuitton overnight bag over his shoulder and strutted out of the door.
Charli caught up with Luca at the lift, grabbing his bag so he had no option but to stop.
‘What did you just call me?’
He’d lost the smile, the spark in his eyes replaced by suspicion.
‘You heard me.’
Taking a deep breath, she mentally counted to five, a technique Hector had taught her when he’d first rescued her from the streets. Back then, she’d fly into a rage at the slightest provocation and, while she’d come a long way, having hotshot Luca Petrelli stare at her as if she’d pilfered his Rolex grated.
‘You’ve got the wrong idea. I’m not here out of choice. I’m just doing my job.’
Confusion creased his brow for a moment before he laughed.
‘You think I think you’re after my money?’
Now it was her turn to be confused. ‘Isn’t that what you meant?’
‘Nice try to deflect, Goldi, shame it didn’t work.’
‘Stop calling me that!’
‘If the Louboutin fits.’
He dropped his gaze to her shoes, and she didn’t know what unsettled her more. The fact he recognised the artistic brilliance of her favourite shoe designer or the way his gaze slowly travelled upwards the entire length of her leg, lingering along the way.
‘If I’m not after your money, who …?’ She trailed off, a nasty thought sliding insidiously into her brain.
He didn’t speak, merely raised an eyebrow, as if taunting her to drop the act.
She’d drop something all right. Right onto his big fat mistaken head.
Beyond indignant she straightened, took two steps forwards until they were toe to toe, and eyeballed him.
‘Not that I owe you anything, let alone an explanation, but Hector is my boss. I’m his executive assistant. We’re friends and I’d never do anything to take advantage of that.
So you can take your stupid misconceptions and stick them.’
Surprise widened his eyes before he blinked, studying her as if she were a clue to the missing link.
‘So it’s in your job description to accompany him to balls? Charity functions? That kind of thing? ‘
To her mortification she blushed, an annoying heat that flushed her cheeks and notched up her temper.
‘My job description is none of your business.’
Charli had been called many things in her life, had shrugged off the nasty labels of spending part of her life on the streets. She’d heard the gossip about her relationship with Hector many times and had given it the attention drivel like that deserved: absolutely none.
Over the years she’d developed a thick skin from necessity. Nothing or no one could hurt her.
So why the hell was she fuming now, so furious she could strangle Luca, leave him slumped in the hallway and not look back?
‘Fair call.’
His finger hovered over the elevator button, his smile as infuriating as the implication behind his accusation a few moments ago. ‘You coming?’
‘Not ‘til you apologise for being so vile.’
His grin broadened and her hands clenched into fists. Just another step and she’d be close enough to slug him …
‘Now, we both know that’s a lie.’
She frowned, not following as he crowded her personal space but she didn’t give an inch, wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.
‘What are you going on about?’
‘You don’t think I’m vile.’
He leaned close enough to murmur in her ear, close enough a wave of some expensive citrus aftershave washed over her, close enough for her to feel the heat radiating off him and she gritted her teeth against the impulse to get closer.
‘Not by the way you were looking at me earlier in that towel.’
He popped the intimate bubble enveloping them just like that and she shoved him away.
Mistake number two: placing her palms on that hard chest again.
Mistake number one had happened the instant she’d agreed to have him tag along on this tour.
Taking a deep breath to steady her rampaging pulse, she pinned him with a glare he couldn’t mistake for anything other than ‘take one step closer to me again and you die’.
‘I’ve changed my mind. You can shove your apology and your sexy smiles. Let’s go.’
She stabbed at the elevator button and broke a nail in the process.
Thankfully, he kept his mouth shut. Until they stepped into the elevator and the doors slid soundlessly shut.
‘So you think my smile’s sexy, huh?’
Charli silently called herself some very unladylike names and clamped her lips shut in response.
Luca couldn’t help himself. There was something delightfully alluring about a woman who didn’t fall at his feet. Sure, he liked a challenge as much as the next guy, but lately even dating the newest Oscar winner or squiring a princess around Europe had lost its thrill.
He knew why he did it, of course, was well aware of how every paparazzi picture or each gossip-column mention vindicated the choices he’d made. Childish and puerile, maybe, but every time he saw himself in the press, he hoped the people who’d shunned him had their snooty noses rubbed in it.
As the valet steered a low-slung bright red Ferrari to stop in front of them he wolfwhistled.
‘Some car.’
She shot him another death glare that did nothing but turn him on as she stepped around the bonnet and held out her hand to the valet.
The Ferrari was hers? Jeez, and he’d started to believe her story about not taking advantage of Pop. No way no how could an executive assistant afford a car like this.
She flashed the valet a glorious smile that only served to rile him further—he wouldn’t mind being on the end of one of those—and slid into the car, her skirt riding mid-thigh, his libido shooting sky-high. Those long, gorgeous legs could be put to much better use than pushing pedals.
Easing his overnight bag into the back seat, he slid into the passenger side, admiring her driving skill as she guided the car out of Crown and into the heavy city traffic.
When she kept up the silent treatment for six blocks, he said, ‘Nice wheels.’
‘I like fast cars.’
Her frigid tone could’ve produced glaciers in the Pacific.
‘Yours?’
‘What do you think?’
She took her eyes off the road for a second, her withering glare speaking volumes.
O-kay,