Page 10 of Worth the Risk

CHAPTER TWO

Leonie

ATAQUARTER to seven I stood by the limo in the private airstrip that serviced Nice airport. A few more phone calls this morning had finally furnished me with the info of at which airport Gideon would be landing.

As his private jet landed and taxied closer, I eyed the gleaming silver Aston Martin DB11 parked next to the limo.

Although currently driverless, it still evoked irritation. There were no other planes scheduled to land for another hour—I checked with VIP staff. Which most likely meant one thing.

The client I’d risen at the crack of dawn to pick up had arranged his own ride.

Deep breaths...

I despised the careless waste of money his unreasonableness triggered. Which was a little ironic considering the line of business I was in but still... I shrugged away my ire and watched the sleek private jet come to a standstill.

Two minutes later, the jet’s engines powered down and short steps dropped onto the tarmac.

And from fifty feet away I caught my first glimpse of Gideon Mortimer.

Holy God.

I’d thought his sex-stroking voice was sinfully aggravating. But the man’s face, lean hips and long-limbed body...everything about him was captivating enough to make my jaw sag in wonder for three embarrassing seconds before I caught myself.

Still I couldn’t look away.

Dark brown wavy hair, glossy beneath the resplendent sunshine, tossed about in the morning breeze. As I watched him approach in a slow saunter, I could’ve sworn every movement he made was precisely choreographed by the director of a perfume ad.

Aviator shades perched on a patrician nose stopped me from seeing his eyes, but that didn’t even matter. I was already preoccupied with the square jaw that held an I-didn’t-bother-to-shave-deal-with-it stubble that prompted fingers—not mine—to test its roughness.

As he drew nearer, my gaze dropped to his mouth.

Dear heaven. Every millimetre of that mouth was built for filthy, decadent sin. For making fast and furious friends with a woman’s lady business, and not disengaging until someone was clawing at silk sheets, screaming for mercy.

Thank God I took the edge off last night, otherwise I’d have a hard time functioning right now. Gideon Mortimer was the epitome of everything I’d thought him to be—sinfully handsome and very much aware of his power over women.

Just like the man whose blood unfortunately ran through my veins; the man I’d never called Dad because he didn’t deserve the title. A no-good son of a bitch I’d never forgiven for what he did to my mother. To me.

Those reminders helped shore up my foundations as I briskly tugged on my bespoke Armani jacket and pinned a cool professional smile on my face. ‘Mr Mortimer?’

He ignored me, peering first into the limo and then, frowning, at his immediate surroundings before his jaw clenched. ‘Jesus, she didn’t even bother to turn up,’ he muttered. ‘Fucking unbelievable.’

I took a deep breath and stepped forward. ‘Mr Mortimer?’ I waited for him to pluck his sunglasses off his face before I thrust out my hand. ‘Welcome to Nice. I’m—’

‘Not who I’m expecting. As much as I appreciate a pretty smile and saucy little chauffeur’s uniform, your boss should’ve come here herself, like she promised. I should’ve guessed that promise of flexibility was too good to be true. Probably that bragging about her gold medals, too,’ he muttered under his breath as he turned towards the Aston Martin.

‘First of all, this isn’t a chauffeur’s uniform. It’s bespoke Armani. Second, I don’t believe she promised she would be here. If you would just—’

‘What are you? Her assistant? Her driver? Are you even old enough to drive this thing?’

‘Mr Mortimer—’

Again he cut me off. ‘Fucking typical. Forget it.’ He pointed his electronic key at the sports car. The boot popped open and he threw his weekend bag into it and slammed it with repressed force. ‘When someone gives their word I expect them to abide by it.’ The set to his jaw suggested he wasn’t talking about the wrong he believed I’d committed. ‘Tell her she just lost my business.’

‘Did she even have it in the first place?’ I snapped. ‘Or were you just toying with her in between playing with your millions?’

He froze with one hand on the door. ‘Excuse me?’

‘Are you sure you want to be excused? Only you seem to enjoy riding roughshod over anyone who so much as throws the tiniest protest your way.’

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