The Bride Fonseca Needs

Darcy’s heart pounded in the explosive silence left by his words. He wanted her? No way. She shook her head. Panic clutched her. ‘I’ll hand in my notice first thing—’

‘You’ll do no such thing!’

Darcy’s heart was pounding out of control now. ‘But we can’t possibly work together after this.’ She crossed her arms tightly. ‘You have issues with PAs who don’t know their place.’

He scowled. ‘What just happened was entirely mutual. I have no issue with that—it was as much my responsibility as yours. More so, in fact, as I’m your boss.’

‘Exactly,’ Darcy pointed out, exasperated. ‘All the more reason why I can’t keep working for you. We just crossed the line.’

Max knew on some rational level that everything Darcy was saying was true. He’d never lost control so spectacularly. He was no paragon of virtue, but he’d never mixed business with pleasure before, always keeping the two worlds very separate.

In all honesty he was still reeling a little from the fact that he’d so blithely allowed it to happen. And then his conscience mocked him. As if he’d had a choice. He’d been like a dog in heat—kissing Darcy had been a compulsion he’d been incapable of ignoring.

All day he’d been aware of her in a way that told him the feeling of desire that had sneaked up on him wasn’t some mad aberration. As soon as she’d arrived for work he’d wanted to undo that glossy chignon and taste her lush mouth. All day he’d struggled with relegating her back to her appropriate position, telling himself he was being ridiculous.

Then they’d ordered takeout and she’d sat cross-legged on the floor, eating sushi out of a carton with chopsticks, and he’d found it more alluring than if they’d been in the glittering surroundings of a Michelin-starred restaurant. And when she’d taken her shoes off earlier and knelt down on the floor, to spread papers out

and make it easier to sort them, he’d had to battle the urge to stride over and kneel down behind her, pulling her hips back—

Dio.

And now she was going to resign—because of his lack of control. Max’s gut tightened.

‘You’re not walking away from this job, Darcy.’

She blinked, and a mutinous look came over her face. Her mouth was slightly swollen and Max was distracted by the memory of how soft it had felt under his. The sweet yet sharp stroke of her tongue against his... Maledizione. Just the thought of it was enough to fire him up all over again.

Darcy was cool. ‘I don’t think you have much choice in the matter.’

A familiar sense of ruthlessness coursed through Max and he reacted to her cool tone even when he felt nothing but heat. ‘I do—if you care about your future job prospects.’

Darcy paled and a very unfamiliar stab of remorse caught at Max. He pushed it aside.

‘I will not remain in a job where the lines of professionalism have been breached.’

Feeling slightly desperate, and not liking it, Max said again, ‘It was just a kiss, Darcy.’ He ran a hand impatiently through his hair. ‘You’re right, it shouldn’t have happened, but it did.’

He thought of something else and realised with a jolt that he’d lost track of his priorities for a moment.

‘I need you to help me close this deal with Montgomery. I can’t afford the upheaval a new PA will bring at the moment.’

Max saw Darcy bite her lip, small white teeth sinking into soft pink flesh. For a wild second he almost changed his mind and blurted out that maybe she was right—they’d crossed a line and she should leave—but something stopped him. He told himself it was the importance of the deal.

She turned around and paced over to the window and looked out, her back to him. Max found his gaze travelling down over that tiny waist. Her shirt was untucked, dishevelled. He’d done that. He could remember how badly he’d wanted to touch her skin, see if it was as silky as he imagined it would be.

The knowledge hit him starkly: the most beautiful women in the world had treated him to personal erotic strip shows and yet Max was more turned on right now by an untucked piece of faux silk chainstore shirt.

And then Darcy turned around. Her voice was low. ‘I know how important this deal is to you.’

The way she said it made Max feel exposed. She couldn’t know the real extent of why it was so important—that it would bring him to a place of acceptance, both internally and externally, where he would finally be able to move on from the sense of exposure and humiliation that had dogged him his whole life. And, worse, the sense of being abandoned.

Yet he couldn’t deny it. ‘Yes. It’s important to me.’

She fixed her wide blue gaze on him but he could see how pinched her face was. Reluctance oozed from her every pore.

‘I’ll stay on—but only until the deal is done and only if what happened tonight doesn’t happen again.’

She looked at him, waiting for a response. The truth was that if Max wanted something he got it. And he wanted Darcy. But for the first time in his life he had to recognise that perhaps he couldn’t always get what he wanted. That some things were more important than others. And this deal with Montgomery was more important than having Darcy in his bed, sating his clawing sense of frustration.