The Innocent Behind the Scandal (The Marchetti Dynasty 2)

He’d turned his back on her and was walking away before she could blink.

Jade gaped as she watched him stride through the office. He thought he could just fire her? Be that dismissive? He hadn’t even given her a chance to properly explain, let alone offer a solution. Never had she met someone so unreasonable.

She’d bitten off more than she could chew. She’d been impetuous and foolish and she had no way of pulling this off. But this was for Juno and she had to succeed at saving her sister’s job. She was not giving up.

* * *

Alvaro strode through the office to the bathroom and flicked the shower to cold, desperate to regain control over the appallingly base reaction of his body. That woman had walked in here at stupidly early o’clock—wheeling a case, for some strange reason—and frankly almost looking furtive. He’d finished his workout only five minutes earlier and followed her progress from his office. He’d seen her smile as she’d made her way to her desk. A smile of pure joy. Why was she so amused by this situation?

And worse was that he’d been flooded with a heat that was outrageous in its intensity. Anger, right?

Not entirely.

But that visceral betrayal of his body had only exacerbated his anger. He refused to be physically attracted to Juno Monroyale. Hell, he barely knew her. His marketing manager had pitched hiring her to him only a few weeks ago, but he’d been overseas setting up a major deal and hadn’t spent much time in the office since her arrival.

Unfortunately, it turned out that the princess was stunning. Her eyes a gorgeous, bewitching green. Her brunette hair was swept up in a high bun that emphasised cheekbones and plump lips and her pretty little chin tempted him to tilt it upwards so she could take his kiss.

It was appalling. He’d not been paralysed by lust like this in quite a while. Not as instantly or as intensely or as inappropriately. She was an employee. Worse, she was an employee who’d screwed up. Royally.

So the sooner she was out of here, the better.

He glared at the shower wall as if his eyes were lasers and could burn right through the tile and wood to where that woman was wheeling her damn case out of here.

She’d better be walking out of here—in those thin-soled stupid shoes with their little high heels that were useless for the snow-threatened streets of New York. It said it all, right? Ill-equipped for real life? She was a literal princess who didn’t own up to her mistakes. She’d apparently abandoned her colleagues—did she just assume that someone else would clear up the mess?

He knew too well how that worked. He knew people with such privilege who’d refused to carry the burdens of their own responsibility—their own mistakes. His own ‘family’ were the perfect example of that—while he’d been the ‘mistake’.

So he had little time to sympathise with Her Royal Highness. And he had little time to get this sorted. But he would, because he’d built this entire company—with determined, round-the-clock effort. Its increasing success had meant he’d had to assemble teams around him, but at heart he preferred independence and self-reliance. He’d never liked asking anyone to help him. Never expected anyone would—not unless there was something in it for themselves. Something like a fat pay cheque.

This princess had no idea what building this success had taken. Whether her cluelessness was based in pure entitled privilege, or mere carelessness, it didn’t matter. Whichever it was, he didn’t want her around.

To be honest, it wasn’t the actual social media post he was bothered about. While that app was his oldest and he had a soft spot for it, it wasn’t his core business now. But it was the trust that had been damaged. And he was in the middle of a delicate acquisition and the last thing he needed was for his prospective target to be frightened off.

He exited the shower and dressed, yanking a shirt from the hanger and swiftly buttoning it. Then he strode back out to the office to check that she’d obeyed his order and had gone.

She hadn’t.

He paused a few paces away from where she sat at her desk, focusing hard on the computer screen before her. ‘Why are you still here?’

She didn’t stop typing. ‘Because I’m sorting out this issue.’

‘The only issue here is that you haven’t left yet,’ he scoffed.

‘Then call your security, I’m not leaving.’ She spun her seat round a few inches and glared up at him.

Oh, really? Adrenalin rippled within him at her audible defiance. ‘I don’t need security to help haul your ass out of this building. I can scoop you up with one hand.’ In fact, both of his hands were itching right now.

‘Try it and see how far you get,’ she snapped back.

Jade never snapped. Ever. And to her absolute amazement, she just had. Their gazes clashed. Never had she felt as small as she did sitting on this chair, nor had she felt such appalling anticipation.

‘Not going to give you the thrill,’ he muttered through clenched teeth.

‘Not going to move,’ she replied.

She’d laid the challenge with loathing, but a second later a wave of longing swept over her. She wanted to feel his hands grab her waist and haul her to her feet and press her against his hard body. She wanted it so intensely, with such ferocity that for a second, as she stared into his eyes, she actually believed that he wanted it too. That he envisioned exactly that—the two of them pressed tightly together.

Her heart thudded as they silently squared off. Impossibly, he was more dangerous now in that sharp white shirt and the black trousers. She could sense the heat and strength of the muscles she knew full well were primed beneath that expensive fabric. But she refused to flinch, or shrink back...right now she refused to even breathe.