Undone By Her Ultra-Rich Boss

‘How long were you engaged?’

‘Six months. We dated for a year before that.’

‘You implied you had no friends.’

Well, no, she didn’t. At least, none that she’d call good and none that lasted. Her hours were long, longer since she’d bought into the business and half of it was now her responsibility. She didn’t have much time for socialising. And that was fine. ‘I work a lot.’

‘So how did you meet?’

‘Via a dating app.’

She’d been twenty-four and lonely, not to mention still a virgin, thanks to her determination to outperform all her targets at work. She’d wanted to rectify that, since it had somehow felt like failure. Matt had seemed perfect, as driven professionally and personally as she was, and the future had looked so golden she’d forced herself to simply accept the fact that the sex was lukewarm at best.

‘How did he propose? On an iceberg?’

As if. ‘Over breakfast one morning. He’s a tax accountant. He said it would make good fiscal sense to pool our resources, which in hindsight, explains a lot.’

‘When did it end?’

‘Four years ago. A long time, I will admit,’ she said in response to his arch of an eyebrow, ‘but crappy sex isn’t hard to miss, especially when it was probably all my fault anyway.’

‘How the hell would it be your fault?’

‘I think I might be frigid.’

‘You are far from frigid,’ he said, his gaze drifting over her before settling on her mouth. ‘You just need to think less and trust in the chemistry. Ours is outstanding, by the way, and that’s unusual.’

‘What a waste.’

‘You also probably need to be in control.’

She stared at him, the ground tilting beneath her for a moment, and said, ‘Do you think so?’ even as a tiny voice in her head went, Well, duh.

‘You said so yourself.’

‘I was talking about work.’

‘Why would it be different in other areas?’

Hmm. Perhaps it wouldn’t. She’d never analysed control as an issue before. But, thinking about it, events beyond her control were generally the ones that sent her into a panic, which was why she tried so hard to mitigate them. So maybe he had a point.

‘And in light of that,’ he continued, his gaze lifting to hers, the heat blazing in his eyes hitting her like a punch to the gut, ‘I should tell you that you can do anything you want to me whenever you want.’

Her mouth went dry and her breath hitched. ‘Seriously?’

‘Completely. You’d be one hundred per cent in charge. You could decide what you like and what you don’t like and you could stop any time.’

‘Would that make a difference?’

‘You’ll only know if you try. Give yourself instructions. Give me instructions. You’re good at that.’

She was. And it was tempting because she wanted to experience rockets going off and bone-melting bliss. But then, there was the night of the kiss and yesterday, and the possibility that history would repeat itself, at which point she’d have to catch the next plane home with her tail between her legs and hand his account to a colleague, which wasn’t an attractive prospect.

‘You don’t take instructions,’ she said.

‘No, I don’t. But for you, I’m prepared to make an exception.’

‘Why?’

‘Because I want you. You’re stunning and sexy as hell. And passionate, beneath the surface. It seems a shame to let all that go to waste. And I like you.’

For a moment, Orla was speechless. She was too busy gazing at him and melting like butter in the sun to be able to even think straight. He thought her stunning? He liked her? Had he taken another bang to the head?

‘But what if you don’t like what I do?’ she said eventually.

‘I very much doubt that would be possible,’ he said, his voice low and so very certain. ‘There are no rules. Just do what comes naturally.’

Oh, to have his confidence. But she’d never done anything naturally. She didn’t trust in instinct. She studied and planned and practised until everything she did was perfect. She proofread her emails three times before hitting send. When she had to give a presentation she didn’t leave anything to the last minute, oh, no. She had it ready weeks in advance, all the better to practise it, practise it and practise it some more. She just didn’t understand how instinct—uncontrollable and unpredictable—could be more reliable than careful, considered preparation.

But maybe this wasn’t something that could be studied. There was no test, at least, not that she knew of. And what was she going to do? Embrace celibacy, live half a life, in case she continued to fail? That sounded like failure of a different kind. And rather cowardly. So could she change the habit of a lifetime and switch from study to instinct?

Perhaps there was only one way to find out.

Her heart was by now crashing against her ribs so hard she feared one might crack, but Orla drummed up every drop of courage she possessed and said, ‘Lie back.’

A muscle in Duarte’s jaw jumped and an unholy glint lit his rapidly darkening eyes. ‘See?’ he said, a wicked grin curving his mouth as he slowly rolled over, using his elbows to prop himself up. ‘I told you that you were good at giving orders.’

‘Don’t talk. I need to concentrate on doing what comes naturally.’

‘Ironic.’

‘Shh.’

If he wasn’t going to be quiet she was going to have to put his mouth to an alternative use. Would that be a good place to start? The right place?

No.