Page 7 of Covert

Ebony had extolled high-and-mighty Dylan’s virtues for a full hour before Sam had covered her ears and yelled ‘la-la-la’. If she’d heard one more word about the rich, handsome, responsible, caring man soon to be her boss, she would’ve thrown up.

So, she’d steeled herself for the challenge at hand, knowing Dylan’s looks would have little effect if she set her mind to doing a good job to prove a point to her snobby family.

She’d focussed all her energy on taking a crash course on butler etiquette, Ebony-style. Thankfully, her best friend had come through for her in every way, going as far as giving her a fake reference when Liz Harmon called after the gruelling interview she’d endured.

Now that she was here at the Harmon mansion in the posh Melbourne suburb of Toorak, she should be ecstatic. If she couldlast the distance, it would prove to her family once and for all that she could eke out an existence for herself without their prehistoric expectations for her to marry and produce heirs to continue the royal line.

Not that her title meant anything here in Australia. Most of her Russian ancestors had reneged on their royal heritage a century ago, but not her family. They were hell-bent on resurrecting the past and restoring glory to the Popov name.

Strangely, many historians here were interested in the Popov’s too, which was why she had the sense to change her surname when applying for this job.

“So much for obeying orders.”

Sam jumped as Dylan’s voice interrupted her musings and she whirled to face him.

“I’m here on time, I’ve stayed out of your bedroom, and breakfast is waiting.” She gestured to the sideboard. “What else did you want?”

He strode across the room and helped himself to a piece of toast and a cup of coffee before sitting behind a large mahogany desk. “I thought I told you to lose that uniform.”

She frowned as memories of their tense exchange in his bedroom flooded back. “I don’t think we agreed on that.”

“You’re right. We didn’t get to finish that conversation, did we?”

He stared at her over the rim of his cup and she could’ve sworn she read desire in his eyes.

Great. Despite her mental pep talk a few minutes earlier, she still harboured ridiculous fantasies about her gorgeous new boss. He could have any beautiful woman in the world and she thoughtshe’dcaptured his interest in half an hour?

Yeah, right.

“I thought all your staff wore uniforms.” She tried her best to look demure, clasping her hands behind her back.

How she’d last more than a week in this subservient act, she’d never know. For some strange reason, this man brought out the worst in her. She felt compelled to trade quips with him, to ruffle his suave feathers, to get the better of him in any exchange.

He placed his cup on the desk and rested steepled fingers on his chest. “My personal assistant doesn’t wear a uniform.”

“I’m your butler, not your P.A.”

Somehow, the title of P.A. conjured up all sorts of vivid images of how personal she could get with the delectable Dylan.

“You’ve just been promoted,” he said, his mouth quirking into a confident smirk. “If you’re up to it, that is.”

He’d done it again, known exactly how to push her buttons. As if she would ever back down from any challenge he threw at her.

“You’re that impressed with me?”

He shook his head. “No need to fish for compliments, Samantha. I’ve read your C.V. and I’m intrigued. Why would a woman with a degree in economics want to work as a butler? And even better, work for a man with a reputation for being a hard boss?”

She squared her shoulders and hoped the little white lies she had to tell to keep this job wouldn’t show on her face.

“I enjoy a challenge, so working for someone with your vast experience in the business world will be a bonus, if and when I decide to enter that field.”

She hoped her answer would satisfy his curiosity. When in doubt, flatter.

A glimmer of a smile played about his mouth. “You’re not a corporate spy, are you?”

“Your mother checked out my credentials and I’m sure you’ve discussed my appointment with her by now. What do you think?”

“I think if you’re half as good as your C.V. says you are, you’ll be perfect as my P.A. So, what do you say?”

---