Taming the Big Bad Billionaire

She braced herself as Dorcas leaned into her, almost at waist height.

‘Dorcas!’ the man almost growled at his dog in warning, yet the dog only answered with a playful yip before collapsing in a heap at Ella’s feet and showing her belly as if to say, Here. Rub here.

‘Stop flirting, Dorcas,’ came her owner’s somewhat exasperated response as he tucked the lead he’d been holding into the pocket of his wax jacket.

Ella couldn’t help but smile at the interaction and it felt alm

ost strange and unfamiliar on features that had felt so weighed down by worry and stress. She bent down to rub the massive beast at her feet and laughed as she realised that Dorcas had trapped her cloak beneath her and effectively pinned her in place. But in truth she felt more trapped by the steady gaze of the man whose name she still did not know.

‘Out past your curfew?’ he asked.

‘I... I was at a party in Moscow when I got a phone call to say that my grandmother had been taken to hospital.’

His frown deepened and for a heartbeat Ella wondered what he might look like when not frowning. She could sense a barrage of questions building between them but he asked the most important.

‘Is she okay?’

‘I don’t know,’ she replied honestly, catching a moment of concern in his stunning eyes before something fell over them, closing off whatever she might have seen there.

‘Are you?’ he asked. Incapable of answering that question, of putting words to whatever it was she was currently feeling, she shook her head. ‘We’re going that way if you would like the company?’ the beast’s owner pressed on.

Dorcas elegantly leapt from the forest floor as if punctuating her master’s query with excitement and joy, bringing yet another unfamiliar smile to Ella’s features.

‘Yes, that would be nice,’ she replied truthfully, and suddenly she felt she might buckle under the exhaustion she’d held at bay for the last twelve hours.

‘Roman,’ he said, holding out his hand.

‘Ella,’ she replied and felt a jolt of electricity snap through her body from where her hand met his. He laid his other hand on top as if holding hers in place when she would have pulled away and, rather than feeling uncertain or awkward, she simply felt...safe.

The short journey to her grandmother’s cottage passed almost in silence and Ella found herself unusually at peace in Roman’s company.

They came to the edge of the forest and followed a dirt track leading towards the little chocolate box cottage that Ella loved so much. Her hand naturally went out to caress the small stone pillars either side of the short driveway, as she did every single time she came here. Almost on autopilot, she went to the large, worn wooden door and pushed it open—her grandmother never having once locked the entrance to her home. She led her strange procession of Roman and Dorcas into the house, and stopped the moment she saw the foot of the stairs where her grandmother had fallen and lain for hours before being found.

A shiver cut through her body and she had to fight hard against the urge to cry in front of a stranger who did not feel like a stranger.

The cottage was cast in darkness, the thin light in the centre of the front room doing little to dispel the early morning shadows, and she stood, blankly staring ahead until she realised that she was looking straight at Roman who, once again, seemed greatly concerned about her.

He nodded to himself once, as if coming to a decision, and turned towards the fireplace and set about building a fire from the logs and kindling beside it. All the while she stood there as if capable of no more. She certainly felt that way.

Once the fire was crackling and snapping, beautiful flames dancing and reaching towards the open damper, he came towards her and stood so close that she had to lift her head up to see his face. Some wicked sense within her wanted to lean into him. Wanted him to take her in his arms. As if sensing her thoughts, he lifted his hands.

‘May I?’

She wasn’t sure what he was asking for but nodded her permission anyway. She feared for a moment that she would give this stranger anything. A numbness had settled about her and she felt detached from the world about her but deeply present for the man in front of her.

His hands came together to release the clasp holding the cloak about her shoulders, and gently pushed it back and placed it aside. She shivered at the brief contact of his hands against her skin, the low neckline of her dress leaving her vulnerable to his touch. Her pulse kicked up and goose bumps prickled her skin as he guided her to the sofa opposite the fire and placed a warm cashmere blanket around her shoulders.

‘Is there anyone I can call for you?’

‘No.’

He seemed displeased by this answer, as if outraged by the thought of her being alone. Leaving her in the living area, he disappeared from sight and she heard the sounds of a kettle being boiled, cups and spoons being rattled and the fridge opening and closing.

When he returned to her, she marvelled at the lack of fear she felt as he loomed over her. No, most definitely not fear, but a strange yearning even she could recognise was outrageously inappropriate. Inexplicably, she wanted to reach for him, to steal some of the strength she could almost feel emanating from him.

In spite of the darkness of the cottage, Ella saw the molten heat in his eyes, felt it warm her more than any fire or flame. Heard the sharp intake of his breath, and watched with a sense of shame as he stepped back from her. Her cheeks burnt and she turned her head aside, hoping that she hadn’t betrayed herself, as a curl of confused humiliation swept through her.

‘I should go.’