Caught on Camera with the CEO (4 page)

She opened her mouth but before she'd thought of a comeback he'd lifted his hand from the door, and was holding it and the other up in the ‘don't shoot' position, his mouth in a smile too cheeky to resist.

He'd be dead if her eyes had ammo. Sadly her eyes were
too busy gobbling up the gorgeousness before her to execute the death look. Her failing brain managed one last attempt to control the weakening of her body and she tried the door again. It still didn't move. She glanced down. His foot was jammed against it.

‘I really have been overseas. I left the afternoon we were in the lift. The trip was unavoidable. I expected to see you when I got back. To talk to you.' His hands had dropped to his hips. She couldn't stop looking at his long fingers.

‘What were you going to say?'

‘It doesn't matter.' His fingers curled into fists. ‘What matters is that I found out about the clip this morning and I found out about you being dismissed two minutes ago.'

She took a step back from the door so she could look into his face from a safer distance. ‘You didn't know?' He hadn't ordered it?

‘No. The clip was taken from the security camera in the lift. I don't know who did it yet, but when I find out you can be certain that
that
person will be in danger of dismissal.'

That sharp edge sliced back into his eyes for a second. She wanted it to stay—wanted him to truly understand the impact. ‘It's had hundreds of hits. It got sent to the agency. I got a warning for it but by some great coincidence they can't complete the necessary verification on my paperwork.' Shaking her head, she walked into the middle of the room—the greater the distance between them, the better she could think.

‘I know.'

‘So what are you going to do?' It wasn't the unfairness of the ramifications that had brought her here, it was that she needed help and had nowhere else to turn. And she hated it.

‘I'm not sure yet.'

That wasn't good enough. She spun and saw the wicked
smile was back on his face. He thought this was funny? He still didn't get how serious it was for her? She walked back to stand right in front of him, whipping the words out.

‘Thanks to you I have no job and no hope of getting another one. Thanks to you I am flat broke. I'm in a strange country, I don't know anyone and suddenly I'm starring in some local sex clip and all you want to do is laugh it off.' Breathing hard, she glared at him—her eyes filled with the ammo they'd lacked before.

His grin was wiped. ‘I don't think it's funny.'

‘Oh, really? So that's why you're smiling like some satyr and watching replays like it's the joke of the century.'

‘It wasn't a joke.' His eyes bored into hers so intently she couldn't move. His face hardened in the long seconds of silence. She sensed the rest of him becoming tense too—his body sending such strong vibes of tightly leashed energy that she could feel them pressing on her.

For a second her instinct screamed at her to run, but just as fast the urge was squashed. Other urges began to surge instead—and she needed a strong leash of her own to control them. Her whole body was aware of him, her whole focus was on him. His gaze dropped to her mouth and she felt it like a physical touch. He was remembering—as was she, and the fire arcing between them threatened to burn through her control. But she wasn't going to let this raging attraction muck up more of her life. She wasn't going to lose the little credibility she had left by letting it happen again.

She made her body move—away—a few steps back towards the door.

‘You really can't get another job?' His voice sounded rusty.

‘You really think I'd be here if I could?'

His brows drew closer as he regarded her. The angles of
his face became more pronounced. Suddenly, sharply, he moved. Walking to the window, he glared through it—she figured the glass would melt in moments if he still had that heat in his eyes.

‘I might have another job for you. But not here. I don't think that's something you or I or anyone would be comfortable with.' He turned. It seemed he'd taken the time to ice over, for his face was schooled into blandness. ‘Look, let's get out of here and go talk somewhere more relaxed.'

He opened the door and waited for her to pass through. Dani hesitated—relaxed might be a really bad idea. But if he could do cucumber cool, surely she could do better than melting jelly.

D
ANI
kept three feet behind Alex as he strode past the PA.

‘Please cancel that last appointment and take messages, Kelly. I'm out for the rest of the afternoon,' he said without slowing his pace.

‘Certainly.' No surprise, no questions. The PA gave Dani a coolly professional smile but Dani was still too rattled to be able to match it.

Alex glanced at the lift. ‘Shall we take the stairs?'

Dani was already at the door to them—hoped the PA hadn't heard his question. He'd laced it with the faintest hint of irony and if Dani were to look at him now and see him smiling she couldn't be held responsible for her actions—aggressive energy seemed to be bouncing round her body.

‘Where are you staying?' He thudded downstairs swiping a security card to get them into the basement.

She gave him the name of the hostel and saw his frown appear.

‘You don't know Auckland, do you?' He sent her a sideways glance. ‘Because if you did, you'd know that's in a really dodgy part of town.'

It was a cheap part of town.

He unlocked the car—sleek, attractive, outrageously powerful, just like its owner. Dani got into the passenger seat. In
seconds they were out of the garage and driving down the congested inner-city streets in awkward silence—he'd quickly cut the music that had roared louder than the engine. Dani wished he'd kept it on—better to listen to that than the silence between them or the voice in her head telling her how much of a mess she was in. The weather had turned, the rain drizzling and dampening her spirits further.

‘Um…' he was drumming his fingers on the steering wheel ‘…I…'

Dani waited, surprised by his sudden attack of the fidgets.

His fingers abruptly stopped their beat and gripped the wheel. ‘What's your name?'

‘Pardon?'

‘Your name.' He kept his eyes on the road ahead. ‘I don't know what it is.'

‘You don't know my name?' Stunned, Dani stared at him. ‘How can you not know my name?'

‘We never finished our introductions.' His high cheekbones were streaked with slashes of colour. ‘I have a lot of employees.'

‘Oh, and I was just one of the temps.' OK, so she was. But she hadn't been just one of them—he'd kissed the hell out of her. She'd
felt
him and he had her—
intimately
. Or did he do that with all the girls? Anger roared through her again—vicious, wild anger. ‘You could have found out.'

‘I don't use the HR files for personal reasons.'

‘No, you just use the temps.'

He braked sharply at the traffic lights. ‘I didn't use you and you know it.'

Dani shook her head, stupidly hurt by his admission. ‘No, I don't.'

She wanted to get out of the car and away from him right this second. It was beyond humiliating—she'd gone to him
because she had nowhere else to go for help, using her anger to mask the hope that he'd actually feel some kind of responsibility. Buried right beneath everything had been the teeny, tiny hope that he might have actually liked her. What a fool. The whole thing had been so meaningless for him that he hadn't even bothered to learn her name. He could have found out—his HR dragon or his oh-so-efficient PA could have told him. But he hadn't asked—he hadn't wanted to. So while she'd been blown away by that kiss, he hadn't given it a second thought, other than to be a little annoyed about the resulting clip—or perhaps amused was what he'd been. But the video didn't affect him the way it did her—all it did for him was enhance his reputation as some kind of playboy sex god. But for her it ruined everything—her prospects, her plans,
her
reputation. ‘You know something, Mr Carlisle, I don't care how good a job you can offer me. I don't want it.'

‘Look—'

‘I'm serious. You can drop me at the corner.'

The locks in the car clicked on. She shot him a venomous look.

‘I'll take you to the hostel.' He looked angry, which was so wrong because he was the one who had been insulting, not her.

They were almost at the hostel already—Dani recognised the landmarks. He must have intended to take her there anyway. So much for a conversation somewhere more relaxing—so much for the possibility of a different job.

She was out of the car as soon as he'd pulled over and released the locks, felt her tension yanking tighter when he got out of the car just as quick. ‘You don't need to see me in.'

‘The least I can do is see you safely home.' He glared at the hostel's sign, his frown saying all that he thought about her home—all that he thought about her.

Dani marched up the stairs ahead of him, wishing he'd get the hint and just leave. But he was right behind her as she crossed the floor.

‘Excuse me,' the receptionist called out to her. ‘Danielle Russo?'

Dani veered towards the desk. Alex got to the counter at the same time as her. So now he knew her name—way too late.

Dani lifted her brows at the woman behind the desk and managed an almost-smile—not able to trust that her voice wouldn't be razor sharp if she asked if there was a problem.

‘We need you to pay for this week. It's nothing personal—but we have had trouble with people leaving without paying and then their credit-cards not working. And, er—' the receptionist looked at her notes ‘—we don't seem to have credit card details for you.'

That was because Dani knew all about credit cards not working—and, worse, being abused. ‘I paid cash,' she mumbled.

‘Great. Shall we settle it now, then?'

Dani swallowed. ‘I already paid for last week.'

‘I know.' She looked apologetic. ‘But I now need payment for this week.'

Alex was like a statue next to her, listening to every word of the painful exchange. Could the day get any worse? Did he really have to be here to witness this last painful humiliation?

‘Um.' Dani mumbled some more. ‘I'm waiting on my pay before I can do the next week.'

‘Oh.' The receptionist frowned and then suddenly smiled. ‘Well, what about you pay up to tonight, then, and you can pay the rest tomorrow.'

‘Sure.' Dani nodded. ‘Thank you.' There was no pay tomorrow. All she had was in her bag—the two days' wages she'd got from the agency this morning. She felt her face on fire,
felt the sweat trickling down her back as she handed over most of her last dollars.

Nightmare.

She turned and saw him watching her closely, his expression serious. Had he seen the lack of notes in her purse? Her anger spiked again—what was he going to do, pull out his fat wallet and hand over a couple of hundred to her? The humiliating thing was, much as she wanted to, she wouldn't be able to refuse. She hated being backed into a corner like this. While she needed help, her pride didn't want to take a thing from him. She wanted him to leave. Now. Bitter tears stung her eyes and she blinked them away, trying to build up her defences again—getting emotional only made things a million times worse. Getting emotional made you vulnerable.

‘Thank you for dropping me back to the hostel,' she said fiercely. ‘I'm sorry I bothered you at work. Let's just forget the whole thing, shall we?'

 

Alex watched her go—head high, shoulders back—but it was more of a run than a walk. He hesitated for half a second, then strode straight after her. Damn it, he couldn't just leave her so obviously on the skids. He walked into the dorm room she'd turned into. His skin crawled when he saw the state of it; what a dump.

‘What are you doing in here?' She was standing by the bunks, her hands visibly shaking. As he glanced at her she screwed them into fists. No, she didn't want him to see her distress. He looked about the hideous room to give her a second, feeling like rubbish himself. Her pack was open on the bottom bunk. His eyes flicked over the gloriously huge bra poking out the top and quickly he turned his back on that. He glanced back at her—now she was watching him as if she wanted to beat the hell out of him.

OK, this was bad. Really bad. She was living in a dodgy part of town in a flea-infested hostel in a room with a bunch of strangers. And she was about to be turfed out of it. He felt terrible. He felt responsible. And this was the last thing he needed—he already had enough mess cluttering up his mind. So he had to do something—anything—to fix it. ‘Danielle.'

Her eyes narrowed.

‘I heard the receptionist.' He shrugged. It was a pretty name. He wished he'd known it sooner. ‘Put your things together.'

‘Pardon?'

‘You can't stay here.' It just wasn't going to happen.

‘Yes, I can. Look, I was wrong to interrupt you today.
I
made a mistake the other day. I can live with the consequences.'

‘Well, I can't.' He took a step closer. ‘Gather your things together and we'll find you someplace else to stay.'

‘Where?'

He clamped his mouth shut. Yeah—where? Was he going to put her up in a hotel or something? For how long? Think, brain, think. Where were the solutions to problems that he usually found so easily? But he couldn't think because he was still seeing the lace edging of that pretty white bra and the play part of his head was imagining what it would look like on her. ‘Someplace else.'

‘I can't afford anywhere else.'

Yeah, and she couldn't afford here, either, could she? He could offer her money. Lots of money. Wouldn't that make it all go away? Why the hell hadn't he just written her a cheque in his office?

Because Alex hadn't got to the top without dotting ‘i's and crossing ‘t's—Alex never left a job unfinished. He needed to make sure she really was back on her feet. She couldn't get a job—there were no jobs. He knew this—his HR department
had got over a hundred applicants for the single permanent position they'd advertised. For her to have got the temp position meant her references and skills were brilliant. The personal issue between them had blown it. So he owed her.

But what made him determined to truly see for himself that she was OK was the expression he'd seen—the vulnerability in the elevator. In those brief moments when the façade had dropped, he'd seen the fear in her eyes. And he'd seen it again at the counter of the hostel. She was isolated and alone.

The protective male bit in him dominated the direction of his thoughts. ‘Do you have any friends here?'

The answer was obvious and she didn't even bother voicing it.

‘Do you know
anyone
?'

Her chin lifted. ‘I only arrived in the country two weeks ago and got straight to work the minute I could. Sadly I didn't have the time to make friends there.' She got in a little dig.

Why was she in New Zealand anyway? He turned; there was time to find that out later. What mattered now was settling her in someplace else. Someplace safer. ‘Let's go.'

‘I'm not leaving here with you. I'm fine.' Her feet were firmly planted shoulder width apart; she looked as if she was about to declare that he'd have to carry her out forcibly.

And he felt like it. But instead of obeying the urge of his body, he softened his words with a smile. ‘Face it, Danielle, you don't really have a choice. You're not getting paid tomorrow because you got paid when you left the agency. You could only pay for one more night here. You have no money, no friends to call on. And you're obviously not fine, because if you were you never would have been so worked up that you had to come and see me today.'

Her eyes were huge in her face now. He saw her blinking
fast a couple of times and gentled his tone even more. ‘Get your things. I'll take you to a hotel or something.'

For another long moment he thought she was going to refuse. But then he saw her swallow and turn, bending to pull her pack from the bed. He moved to help her but was lanced through with her glare.

His lips twitched but he managed to bite back the smile as he froze. She had to accept his help anyway and she hated it. She'd hate him more if he showed his amusement. So he looked away, checking the cupboard beside her bed was bare. Just as he turned to go he caught sight of something under the bunk, and bent to see what it was. A little candle, deep red in colour and new—the tip of the wick was still white. He picked it up and sniffed. The fragrance was delectable. Edible.

‘This yours?' He held it out as she turned, the pack now on her back.

Soft colour rose in her cheeks. Interesting.

‘Yes,' she answered shortly and took it from him.

Alex watched her tuck it into the pocket of her handbag. So beneath the snappy defensiveness there was a feminine side—she liked pretty candles with sweet smells. The kind of scent he could handle in his sheets.

No, Alex.

His moment of irresponsibility in the lift last week had caused her trouble enough already. She might be attractive, but he wasn't going to mess around with her more. He'd see her right and then run far, far away. He had enough to deal with without lust fogging up his brain—and that was exactly what was happening every minute he was near her. The fog blurred everything—especially his reason. So the sooner he had her sorted, the better it would be, because he had far bigger issues to stomach.

He glanced at his watch, surprised to see how late in the afternoon it was. Lorenzo would be waiting for him. He might as well take her home and figure out what to do from there.

 

Dani watched the sky-high metal gates in front of them roll back and then Alex drove the car into the garage. Only once the engine and his seat belt were off did he look at her, brows lifting. ‘Safe at last.'

Oh, yeah. Real safe. She listened as the heavy garage door sealed shut. So here she was in Fort Knox with the guy she barely knew but who had all but ravished her in the lift last week. And she'd let him. Really, really safe.