Page 62 of Never Tell Lies

“Keira. She’s selling her parents’ place and she asked me to help decorate.”

He wrinkled his nose in disapproval. “You would rather decorate a house than spend time with me? Why doesn’t she just hire someone?”

“Because she doesn’t have thousands of pounds just lying around, Mr Moneybags.” I laughed.

“Lola, I have a team of decorators at Harrington. I can pull a few to deal with your friend’s house.”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because that isn’t what this is.” I gestured between us. “I don’t want you throwing money at all of my problems.” I could see the wheels turning in his head as he tried to find a way ofmanipulating the situation to suit him. “You can give me a ride home if you want to help,” I said before he could think up a plan that would no doubt fuck up my day.

He looked at me, a glint in his eye, the tension gone as quickly as it had come. He moved, leaning over me, his fists either side of my head, his arms straight.

“Now, is that any way to ask me for a favor?”

I suddenly felt very small as he stared down at me. I played along and batted my eyelashes up at him. “Please, Mr Tell, would you drive me home?”

He arched an eyebrow, smiling in that way that made his cheeks hollow and his cheekbones sharpen. That smile killed me.

“That’s better.”

“Do you ever not wear a suit?”

Alfie’s closet was huge. A railing ran down either side, with shelves and shoe racks underneath and matching drawers at the end. The far wall was filled with a large mirror where Alfie stood, fixing his tie. One side of the closet was filled with a row of suits in black and varying shades of grey. No colour. Anywhere. The other side of the closet was painfully empty.

I sat on the large cream pouffe in the centre of the room, still wrapped in my towel, watching him.

“I have a meeting this afternoon,” he said as he straightened his tie. His movements were sharp. As if he had a drill sergeant at his back waiting to do a uniform inspection. He caught my gaze in the mirror. “What?”

“Nothing,” I shrugged. “Just imagining you in a pair of Hawaiian shorts.”

His eyes narrowed in a glare that would have had his employees running for cover. I burst out laughing, unable to hold it back any longer. With a scowl, he looked away, focusing instead on buttoning his waistcoat, but a moment later his gaze flickered back to mine. A smile twitched there.

I watched him finish dressing in fascination. He opened a drawer, revealing a selection of watches, and pulled out a Rolex. I thought about how I got ready in the morning, in a flurry of odd socks and hopping over Ryan’s toys.

He shrugged into his suit jacket, settling into it like a second skin, and turned to face me. He gazed down at me, looking over my messy hair and the towel around my body.

“What?” I asked.

“You need to get dressed. Come.” I took his hand and he led me downstairs. He watched as I dressed in last night’s clothes, his eyebrow arching as I struggled into my underwear without dropping the towel. Being naked at night was one thing, and being naked in bed was another, but stripping off in the cold, unforgiving light of day took a kind of nerve that I didn’t have.

“So, how are your plans for the Harrington garden coming along?”

The question caught me off guard. My Harrington garden hadn’t come along at all.

“Great,” I lied. I eased the straps of my dress over my shoulders. Alfie moved behind me. He lifted my hair and I shivered as he zipped up my dress, his fingers tracing my skin in light, teasing touches.

“Lola, knowing when someone is feeding me bullshit is what makes me such a good businessman, but I really hate having to use that skill with you.” His voice was so cold I shivered. I wrapped my arms around body as he turned me to face him. “Have you made any plans?”

“No. Though, should I bother?”

“Why not? You don’t want it anymore?”

“Of course, I do. But you just made it very clear this morning that the project is contingent on me doing what you want. You said yourself you’d have taken it away if I’d beenunprofessional, which you could still do by the way. If I don’t behave myself you could take it away any time.” The tension in the air was thick as he turned over my words.

“It’s on the table. No matter what you do it’s on the table.” He turned away, effectively shutting me out. I followed him to the lift, giving him a sideways glance as we waited. His jaw was ticking which didn’t bode well for me.

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