The Maid's Best Kept Secret (The Marchetti Dynasty 1)

Words, she told herself frantically, These are just words to entice.

He was playing with her. She was just a passing fancy.

Angry at herself for her out-of-control reaction, she said, ‘I suspect that has more to do with your being jaded than with me personally.’

His mouth hitched at one side. ‘You’re not wrong. I am jaded. And cynical.’

Surprise that he was agreeing with her knocked her off-centre. She hadn’t expected it of a man like him.

He shook his head. ‘It’s a long time since anyone surprised me. But you have, Maggie. If anything, you’ve reminded me that not everyone or everything is cynical.’

He put down his glass and came tow

ards her. Maggie was rooted to the spot.

He stopped a couple of feet away. ‘I’m not a man who plays games. I see what I want and go after it. I want you like I haven’t wanted anyone in a very long time. You intrigue me. You excite me. But obviously this is not an ideal situation. Whatever happens is outside the bounds of your job. If you want this, it’s between two mutually consenting adults and it’s your call. Your decision. I’m getting the first flight back to London tomorrow. I don’t know when I’ll be back again.’

Maggie couldn’t remember if she’d ever known anyone to talk so directly. Not even her no-nonsense Scottish mother. But she struggled to do the right thing over the pounding beat of her pulse. ‘I don’t think it would be a good idea...’

Nikos Marchetti took a step closer. So close that Maggie could see the gold and green flecks in his eyes. His scent tantalised her nostrils, making her want to move closer. She fought the urge.

‘You’re probably right—and normally I would never sanction mixing business with pleasure—but I find in this instance that I’m willing to take the risk. If you are.’

She swallowed. ‘No, I don’t think I am.’

There was a long beat and then he said, ‘Okay. Your call. Goodnight, Maggie.’

He walked out of the room and Maggie turned to watch him go. He moved with lithe athletic grace. Broad shoulders tapering down to lean hips. Long legs.

When he’d disappeared she let out a shuddery breath. She lifted a hand and touched her mouth, almost expecting it to be swollen, as if he’d kissed her. He hadn’t.

But you’d like him to, whispered a wicked voice.

Maggie groaned softly. Never in her wildest dreams had she imagined that this kind of scenario would present itself. She couldn’t be more isolated from the world, and yet one of the sexiest, most dynamic men on the planet had more or less literally dropped into her lap.

He wanted her. And she had never felt this kind of physical attraction before. She’d believed it was a myth—a tale spun in the romantic novels her mother had loved. Maggie prided herself on her more practical outlook. She’d accused Nikos Marchetti of being cynical, but she knew she was cynical too. She was a cynical twenty-three-year-old virgin.

Another shiver went through her, but this time it wasn’t one of awareness. Or desire. It was one of foreboding. She’d never intended staying here for ever, but three months had slipped by almost without her noticing. If she wasn’t careful she would end up like Miss Havisham from Great Expectations—except she wouldn’t even be lamenting a ruined relationship—because she’d never had one.

Nikos Marchetti is not offering a relationship. He’s offering a moment in time, to explore mutual chemistry.

Maggie guessed that for a man like him—suave, experienced—it was second nature to act on impulses like this: seducing women he desired. He didn’t seem like a man who denied himself. And was that such a bad thing? It wasn’t as if he’d pretended there was anything else going on here.

On autopilot, Maggie went and closed the French doors. She collected the tray with the whiskey and empty glasses and took them down to the kitchen. Everything was silent and quiet. She could almost imagine for a moment that she’d dreamed up the events of the evening since Nikos Marchetti had knocked on the door so imperiously.

But the seismic changes in her body told her it hadn’t been a dream. He hadn’t even touched her, but she felt as if she’d been plugged into some vital force. She felt alive. Her skin was sensitive...hot. Her heart was still pounding.

Maggie cursed herself. She’d made a decision a long time ago to forge a different path from her mother, who had been dazzled by a powerful man and then cast aside as if she was rubbish. She’d vowed never to let herself be treated like that. If and when she had a relationship, it would be with someone who was her equal. Someone who shared her values—who wanted a simple wholesome life. Someone who took responsibility for their actions.

And if and when she had children she would want them to grow up in one place, safe and secure. Not wondering what they’d done to make their father hate them so much that he’d reject them for fear they’d lay claim to his fortune.

She wanted her children to grow up with two parents. She knew how hard it was to do it alone. She’d spent the guts of the last year caring for her rapidly diminishing mother, and some of her mother’s last words had been about her regret that she hadn’t met someone else, to give Maggie a more stable environment. Maggie had only realised then how lonely her mother must have been.

So the fact that she was even thinking about Nikos Marchetti and his outrageous suggestion was ridiculous. It was something she should be dismissing out of hand. He was the antithesis of everything she’d ever wanted. An arrogant rich man who bought vast houses on a whim and never visited them.

He’s not asking for a relationship, reminded that small voice.

Maggie didn’t have to be experienced to know that a man like Nikos Marchetti would not be looking for anything that wasn’t transitory.