The Gold Collection: Surrender To The Tycoon. Chantelle Shaw

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The Gold Collection: Surrender To The Tycoon - Chantelle Shaw


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eyes. At this moment they had darkened to a shade that was almost indigo.

      ‘I didn’t realise you had a moral conscience. And there’s no need for you to remind me of my role. But I’d like to point out that it was not part of my job description to have to deal with your girlfriends when they phone the house because you won’t answer their calls to your mobile. Nor is it my job to console them when they sob their hearts out because they thought they meant something to you and they can’t understand why you’ve dumped them.’

      Dante frowned at the unmistakable criticism in her voice. ‘That happens often, does it?’ he demanded.

      Rebekah hesitated, aware from the rigid line of Dante’s jaw that she had angered him. ‘Not often,’ she admitted. ‘But it has happened once before, with that red-haired actress who stayed for the weekend just after I started working for you. And now there’s Miss Benson.’

      ‘No, there isn’t,’ he said grimly. ‘Alicia is a drama queen, which is one reason why I finished with her weeks ago.’ His jaw tightened. ‘You and I will continue this discussion once I’ve dealt with her.’

      He slammed the kitchen door so hard that the sound ricocheted off the walls. There had been an ominous nuance in Dante’s tone, Rebekah thought, biting her lip. The furious look he had given her had warned her she had overstepped the boundary of their employer/employee relationship and she could expect trouble when he returned.

      She was regretting her outburst. As he would no doubt point out, his private life was none of her business and she had no right to comment on his playboy lifestyle. Maybe he would decide that he no longer wanted her to work for him. Her heart plummeted at the thought. ‘Idiot,’ she muttered to herself. This was the best job she’d ever had. Why hadn’t she kept her opinions to herself?

      The reason was complicated, she thought bleakly. She had been feeling low all day since her mother had phoned with the news that Gareth and Claire’s baby had been born. ‘A little girl,’ her mum had said in a brisk voice tinged with an underlying note of sympathy that had made Rebekah ache to be home with the people she loved. ‘I thought it best if I told you, as you were bound to find out.’

      So Gareth was now a father. Presumably he had wanted this baby, she thought bitterly. Following the conversation with her mother, she had been swamped by memories of the past. Seeing the Portmans’ baby today had been so painful. She had coped by keeping busy with the party preparations and helping the waiters serve the food, but when James had suggested she might like to hold adorable little Alexander she’d had to hurry away before her tenuous hold on her composure shattered.

      She had still been in a highly emotional state when Alicia Benson had walked into the kitchen and burst into tears as she confided that Dante had led her to believe their relationship was serious. Of course she had been sympathetic to Alicia, Rebekah assured herself. She knew what it felt like to have your dreams dashed and your heart broken.

      She began to stack the dishwasher with the pots and pans she had used to prepare Thai-style coconut chicken, her movements automatic while her mind dwelled, as it so often did, on Dante. His cavalier attitude to relationships made her infatuation with him even less comprehensible, she thought ruefully. She assumed that one day she would come to terms with everything that had happened with Gareth and want another relationship, but it would take her a long time to trust a man enough that she would risk her emotional well-being and she certainly would not consider becoming involved with a womaniser like Dante.

      The sound of footsteps striding down the hall made her stiffen and she lifted her chin with a touch of defiance as the kitchen door swung open and he walked in. She had been perfectly within her rights to remind him that her duties did not include coping with the fallout from his fast-changing love life, she assured herself. It was important to establish boundaries, and if he did not like them then maybe it would be better if she handed him her resignation.

      She shot him a lightning glance and saw that he had removed his tie and undone the top few shirt buttons to reveal his tanned throat. The musky scent of his aftershave teased her senses and, to her disgust, her heart-rate quickened.

      ‘Miss Benson has gone and won’t be back,’ he informed her curtly.

      Not now he had made it clear to Alicia that the tears she was able to turn on when it suited her left him completely unmoved, Dante thought. He had done nothing to feel guilty about. There had never been any question that he would want more than a casual fling with her. Far more troubling was Rebekah’s attitude. He had no wish to lose an excellent cook but he would not tolerate her interference in his private life.

      He ran a hand through his hair and stared exasperatedly at her. ‘What the hell was all that about?’

      The sensible thing to do would be to apologise for poking her nose into matters that did not concern her, but the gremlin inside Rebekah had other ideas. The phone call from her mother had triggered memories of the day Gareth had called off the wedding. She still remembered the gut-wrenching shock she’d felt when he had admitted that he had been secretly sleeping with Claire for months. Was it too much to ask for men to be honest and truthful with women? she thought bitterly.

      ‘I won’t apologise for feeling sorry for your girlfriend,’ she said stiffly. ‘I realise you don’t give a damn about the feelings of the women you have affairs with. But I think it was despicable of you to lead Miss Benson on and make out that you wanted a serious relationship with her.’

      Dante uttered an oath, instinctively reverting to his first language to express his anger. ‘I did not lead her on. I made it clear from the start, as I always do, that I wasn’t looking for a long-term relationship. I don’t know what rubbish Alicia spouted to you, but if she told you I had promised to make a commitment to her then she was lying.’

      Rebekah did not know why she was so certain Dante was speaking the truth but he had spoken so forcefully and she felt instinctively that he was not a liar. She tore her eyes from him and became very busy tidying up her recipe notes that were strewn over the worktop. ‘I see. Well, it’s nothing to do with me. I shouldn’t have said anything,’ she mumbled.

      ‘You’re right—you shouldn’t. I pay you to cook for me, not give me a sermon on morality.’ Dante was furious, but he was also intrigued as he watched the rosy-pink flush spread across Rebekah’s cheeks. ‘Why do you care who I sleep with, anyway?’

      ‘I don’t. I have absolutely no interest in your bedtime activities.’

      ‘No?’ Dante’s eyes narrowed speculatively on her face. He could feel the vibes of tension emanating from her and his curiosity was aroused. He knew very little about her, he realised. She had told him a few basic facts, such as that she had grown up on her family’s farm in North Wales and had trained as a chef at a hotel in a town with an unpronounceable name. But he knew nothing about her personal life. He’d seen no evidence that she had a boyfriend, yet why would a young and attractive woman choose to be single?

      ‘Maybe you’re jealous,’ he suggested idly. He was still annoyed with her, and had made the comment with the deliberate intention of riling her. But her reaction surprised him.

      ‘Of course I’m not jealous,’ she snapped. ‘What a ridiculous idea. I want more from a relationship than to be a rich man’s plaything.’

      ‘I don’t get any complaints from my playthings,’ Dante drawled. He knew he was being unfair to tease her, but he could not deny a certain satisfaction as he watched the rosy flush on her face deepen to scarlet. He wondered if she was a prude. She certainly dressed like a woman determined to quash any hint of her sensuality.

      Occasionally he had found himself imagining unbuttoning her, literally, and removing her shapeless chef’s jacket.

      With a derisive shake of his head, he dismissed his inappropriate thoughts. He leaned his hip against the kitchen table and crossed his arms over his chest while he debated how he was going to deal with the situation that had arisen between them. He did not want to terminate her employment, but she would have to understand that he had every right to live his life the way he


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