Andreas took the tray out of Siena’s hand and before she knew what was happening handed it to her boss, taking her hand. ‘I’m sorry, but you’ll have to do without her. She’s resigning from her job.’
Siena gasped, ‘No, I’m not! How dare you?’ But her words were lost as Andreas all but dragged her through the throng of merry wedding guests. She tried to free herself but Andreas’s grip was too tight.
He stopped suddenly and she almost careened into his back—only to hear him say to the tall dashing groom and his stunning bride, ‘So sorry…something has come up. I wish you all the best.’
And then he was moving again.
Her face puce with mortification, Siena was forced to follow. When they were finally in the clear, in a relatively empty corridor, Siena broke free and stopped in her tracks. She was shaking with adrenalin and shock.
‘How dare you just lose me my job like that?’
Andreas rounded on her, eyes blazing. Siena couldn’t fail to react to his sheer masculine magnificence. His jaw was slightly stubbled and an insidiou
s image slipped into her mind of him waking in bed with some new lover who had distracted him enough to persuade him back into bed. Something she’d never done. She’d never woken in his arms.
‘Lose you your job?’ he practically shouted. ‘Why the hell are you working as a waitress again when you walked away with a small fortune in your pocket just a month ago?’
Siena opened her mouth and shut it again. What could she say? That she liked back-breaking work and being on her feet for eight hours solid at a stretch? Of course she didn’t.
She just needed Andreas gone so that she could get on with trying to forget about him and all the tangled emotions he was responsible for. She folded her arms. ‘It’s none of your business.’
Andreas folded his arms too, as immovable as a large, intimidating statue. Siena knew with a flicker of trepidation that she’d never make him budge.
‘You owe me an explanation, Siena.’
Siena shook her head, panic surging. ‘No, I don’t owe you anything.’
Andreas looked stern. ‘Oh, yes, you do—and especially after this stunt.’
He reached for her hand again and started leading her down the corridor, away from the high society wedding. A sense of inevitability washed through Siena. She knew she hadn’t a hope of resisting Andreas when he was like this.
To her dismay she realised that they were in one of his hotels when he went to the reception desk and she heard him demand the key for the Presidential Suite. Then they were in the lift and ascending to the top floor. He still had hold of her hand, and Siena didn’t like the way her body was already reacting to his touch—her blood pooling hotly in her belly and fizzing through her veins.
When Andreas opened the door to an opulent-looking suite he led her in and only let her go when they were safely inside. Siena walked into the reception room. The lights of the Houses of Parliament shone from across the river in the gathering dusk.
She felt self-conscious in her uniform, which consisted of a black knee-length skirt, a white shirt and black bow-tie. Her hair was pulled back into a ponytail, face scrubbed free of make-up, and the only jewellery she wore was the gold birdcage necklace she’d kept. It seemed to burn into her skin like a brand now, even though she’d actually used the last of her own money to pay for it.
She heard the sound of Andreas pouring himself a drink and turned around to find him handing her a small tumbler of Baileys. She was surprised that he’d remembered her favourite drink and took it in both hands, avoiding his eye.
‘Sit down, Siena, before you fall down.’ His tone was admonitory.
Siena looked around and saw a chair sitting at right angles to the couch. She sat down and took a tiny fortifying sip of her drink, feeling the smooth, creamy liquid slide down her throat.
Andreas went and stood with his back to her at the window and Siena regarded that broad back warily, her eyes dropping to his buttocks. Instantly she had a flashback to how it had felt to have him between her legs, thrusting so deep—
He turned around abruptly and she flushed.
‘So, is it that you have some masochistic penchant for menial labour after a life of excess? Or perhaps you’ve acted completely out of character, had a fit of conscience and handed all the money over to a worthy charity? I want to know what you’ve done with my money, Siena. After all, it’s not an inconsiderable sum…’
Siena saw the narrow-eyed gaze focused on her and sensed his insouciance was a very thin veneer hiding simmering anger. Futility threatened to overwhelm her. She could try to lie—again—make up some excuse. But she did owe this man an explanation. A lot more than an explanation. She owed him his money back.
Carefully she put down her drink. Her mind was whirling with what she was contemplating. Could she just…tell him? Appeal to his sense of compassion? After all, hadn’t she seen it in action?
Knowing that her sister was finally safe and would be looked after for the forseeable future, and telling herself that she didn’t have to divulge everything, Siena tried to glean some encouragement from Andreas’s expressionless face.
She looked down at her hands in her lap for a long moment, and just before the silence stretched to breaking point said quietly, ‘The money was for my sister, not me.’
Silence met her words, and she looked up to see Andreas was genuinely confused. ‘You said she was in the South of France with friends…’