“Either that or a very good actress. I haven’t decided which yet.”
“Glad to have made such a good impression.”
Luc laughed, but before he could say anything further, the elevator stopped and the doors opened.
“Let me take your jacket.”
“I’ll keep it, thank you.” The occasional tremor still shivered through her body, and she hugged the jacket to her like a safety blanket.
The office was enormous, bigger than the club they’d just left, and ultramodern with sleek steel and black leather furniture, and a huge desk with so much equipment it looked like the console of a space ship. One whole wall was made up of floor-to-ceiling windows, giving a breathtaking view over the city of London sprawled out below them.
“Is this your office?”
He nodded, and it occurred to her again that if he was a criminal, he must be an extremely successful one. The thought was not particularly comforting, and she did her best not to dwell on it. After all, he’d gotten her out of that horrible club, away from that horrible man. Taking a deep breath, she managed to relax a little.
“So, Lia…” Luc said, his tone dangerously gentle. “Tell me, why did you really go and see Harley Watson?”
Lia’s gaze shot to his face. “What?”
“You didn’t want to work at the club.”
It was a statement, not a question, and Lia swallowed. She’d always been a horrific liar, but at least Luc Severino wouldn’t know the telltale signs. He wouldn’t know that beneath the fall of her carefully straightened hair, the tips of her ears were bright red, a dead giveaway to anyone who knew her that she was about to tell a whopper.
“Oh yes, I did.”
He quirked an eyebrow in disbelief. “Why?”
“I wanted to get away from home. I live with my family in a small village outside London, and it’s so boring.” And if she ever got back there in one piece, she would never leave again. “I wanted a little excitement and I needed a job. I remembered Mr. Watson from when we stayed in London. It seemed such a glamorous idea.” She sighed, deciding it was time to inject a little much needed honesty. “But once I got there, it didn’t seem quite so glamorous anymore.” She shuddered at the understatement. “And I…well, I just didn’t seem to have the right…” she cast a surreptitious glance at her chest, “…qualifications for the job.”
Luc intercepted the look. “Not all men are obsessed with enormous breasts,” he said.
She risked a quick glance at his face and found his eyes lingering on the long length of her legs beneath the hem of her dress. Lia resisted the urge to tug it down—she was beginning to hate that dress. It was going straight back to Kelly when she got home.
“Anyway, thank you for getting me out of there. You were right—I was out of my depth.”
Luc examined her curiously for a moment. “Just what is it you thought might happen?”
“White slave trade,” she mumbled under her breath.
To her surprise Luc didn’t laugh. Instead, he inspected her from head to toe as if trying to decide whether the price would be worth the trouble.
“Not Harley’s specialty,” he said after an uncomfortable minute.
Did that mean he knew someone whose specialty it was? After all, what did she really know about this man? Only that he’d been some sort of acquaintance of her father’s, and that hardly qualified as a good reference. It was time to get back to the point of this meeting, and then hopefully she could head home; she had an early training session in the morning.
“Do you have a club?” she asked.
“No.”
“So what sort of job would I be doing?” She tried not to sound worried but from the amusement that flashed across his face, she was pretty sure she failed miserably.
“Let’s take a look at your résumé, shall we?”
Lia winced as he withdrew the crumpled sheet of paper from his pocket. Her fists balled at her sides as she fought the urge to grab it out of his hand. He must have picked it up at the club, and she really wished he hadn’t. Maybe it wasn’t illegal to fabricate a résumé, but if it was, then she was probably in trouble.
Luc scanned it. “Ballet?” he said, and now she could hear the thread of amusement in his voice. It was starting to irritate her.
“I thought that would help with the dancing. But, I’ve got to be honest, I actually gave up when I was seven, and I was really awful. So if the job needs ballet, well…” She shut up. She was rambling. Of course, any job this man gave her wasn’t going to include ballet.
“Horseback riding?”
“That’s not an exaggeration. I am actually quite good, I’ve…” she paused. He was staring at her, that mocking smile back on his face. “No horses?”
“No,” he said almost gently. “We don’t have horses here.” He tossed the résumé on the table. “Any experience with office work?”
Lia shook her head morosely as she glanced around at the high-tech equipment in the office. She wasn’t even sure how to turn some of it on. Perhaps it was a good thing she wasn’t after a proper job, because she was certain she wouldn’t last long in a place like this. It wasn’t that she was stupid, but technology didn’t interest her and most had passed her by. But then, she’d known what she wanted to be since she was six years old when her mother had taken her to her first horse show. And she’d set out after her goals with a single-minded intensity that had left no room for anything else.
“I’m a quick learner though,” she said and instantly the tips of her ears started to burn again. She wished she’d kept quiet as she intercepted yet another amused glance.
“That’s useful to know.”
He pushed himself away from the desk and shrugged out of his suit jacket, tossing it negligently on the back of the black leather sofa. Next, he loosened his tie and opened the top button of his shirt, before crossing the room. Her gaze fixed on him as he moved, graceful, almost like a dancer himself. Or a predator, balanced on the balls of his feet, ready to pounce. She was getting fanciful. Luc hadn’t brought her here to pounce; he’d brought her here to discuss a job…she hoped.
“Drink?” he asked.
It probably wasn’t a good idea. In fact, it was probably a terrible one, but then what was one more bad idea? She nodded.