THAT should wrap it up,' Alexei pronounced, stabbing a final button on the keyboard before pushing away his laptop in a rare gesture of rejection. Rising up, he stretched like a lion, flexing strong muscles bunched up by the constraint of sitting at a desk before shrugging back his sleeve to check the slender gold Rolex on his wrist. It was after one in the morning. 'You should have told me how late it was.'
Blinking, Billie stifled a yawn. 'I did.'
That quiet rejoinder made his handsome mouth quirk. Billie was the only employee who ever answered him back. He studied her with narrowed eyes, taking in the white sleeveless top she wore and the full rounded thrust of her breasts against the fine cotton that was pulling at the pearl buttons. More than a lush handful, he calculated, pressure building at his groin as he instinctively pictured the baring of her firm pink-tipped flesh. He was startled by his reaction. Evidently, it had been too long since he had been with a woman, he reflected in exasperation.
Even as he looked, Billie was reaching for the jacket she had removed. In the past two years during which Billie had been on his staff, she was always covered up, buttoned up, zipped up, just as her hair was always clipped, plaited or tied—everything held in tight restraint. In an age when other women were happy to reveal as much flesh as possible, Billie's modesty made her stand out from the crowd. Even when she went swimming she donned a modest black swimsuit that would not have shamed a nun. Yet the feminine my stique she was careful to preserve was strangely and powerfully sexy, Alexei acknowledged. Odd, too, how he felt guilty even thinking about her in such a way. But then he was almost certain that, rare as it would be, Billie was still a virgin.
'You'll have to stay here tonight. You can't disturb your mother this late,' he commented, lifting the house phone to issue instructions to the housekeeper, Anatalya.
'I'm sure it won't bother her if I wake her up,' Billie protested, uneasy at the prospect of spending the night at the Drakos villa where she generally felt like a peasant-born intruder.
'Don't make a fuss,' Alexei groaned in all-male irritation, silencing her.
Behind his back, Billie flushed at the reproof. The door opened, revealing not the maid she had expected, but Alexei's mother, Natasha.
'I'll show you upstairs,' the tall, still-beautiful brunette said with an artificial smile. Billie was never more conscious of her humble little-island-girl beginnings than she was in the radius of Alexei's glamorous and patronising mother.
Alexei said something in Russian to the older woman. Dark eyes warming only as they rested on her only child, Natasha left the room to escort Billie up the palatial staircase. 'Do you often work this late for my son?'
'Not that often. But I'm very well paid, Mrs Drakos. Occasional long hours go with the territory,' Billie pointed out.
A door was pressed open. Rather stiff and taut, Billie walked in. She was always aware that Alexei's mother didn't approve of her working for Alexei. She had no idea why, only the vague suspicion that Natasha didn't think Lauren Foster's daughter was good enough to work in so trusted a position.
Her reluctant hostess was already turning to leave when Billie noticed the man's shirt lying discarded on the carpet and put two and two together fast. 'Is this…Alexei's room?' she breathed in dismay.