My hottest Billionaire a Boss

Three

‘Talk…!’

Just for a moment defiance flared and she flung him an angry glare, her

tongue itching to tell him to leave, go now, and never come back again.

But almost immediately the remembrance of the fact that he had been

invited—and invited by Jety’s lawyer—stilled the angry words. That

control slammed back into place, her teeth snapping closed over what she

had been about to say, and instead she gave a cold, disdainful nod, her

eyes looking straight past him, out beyond the open door to where the

undertaker’s hearse and cars now waited.

‘Later,’ was all she said as she moved forward, head high, her mouth set

in a firm, determined line.

‘Later,’ Edward echoed softly as she swept past him, knowing it

was a promise as much to himself as to her. His mouth twisted slightly as he watched her walk away from him, the slim back held stiffly straight

like her gleaming head. ‘Oh, yes, we’ll talk later, Miss .’

Let her have her moment of triumph, her belief that she had got the

upper hand in the situation—for now. He was quite content to stand back

and watch, stand back and let her act out the role of lady of the manor,

queen of all she surveyed, for a little while longer. After all, what was

that European saying about the harder they fall…? And little Miss
Liza

had a very hard fall coming soon.

Not so little, the most masculine part of his nature added in wry

acknowledgement. Liza had done a lot of growing up in the

years since he had last seen her, and she’d done it in all the right ways—

physically at least. The delicious promise of a lovely young girl had turned

into the fully sensual beauty of a woman. She was taller, slimmer, but her

body had rounded in all the right places, adding gentle curves at breasts

and hips that raised his pulse to beat stronger, heavier, at the thought

of what lay beneath the stark black tailored suit, the neat white blouse

that was buttoned right up to the base of her delicate neck, concealing

all but the fine skin of her throat.

Her face had lost the faint roundness of youth, the high cheekbones

becoming stronger, more sharply defined in the pale oval of her face and

the blue-grey of her eyes seemed lighter than ever before in contrast to

the rich fall of the burnished chestnut hair and the deep rose tint of the

softly curved mouth.

Just for a second the memory of what it had felt like to know the taste

of that mouth, have those lips open under his, stabbed at him with erotic

sharpness. But the recollection of what had happened afterwards was

enough to throw the mental equivalent of a bucket of icy water over any

suggestion of the flames that might have flared in his mind, hardening

his resolve before it had a second’s chance to waver One thing that hadn’t changed about Liza was the cold-eyed,

disdainful, totally dismissive look she could turn on anyone she considered

beneath her contempt. The ‘what is this piece of dirt under my feet?’

expression that she had just used on him was exactly as it had been

before, only this time given extra power as a result of seven years’ more

maturity, 4 years more of having everything her own way.

Well, not any longer. She would find out soon enough why he was here and

then the ice queen would struggle to retain that icy calm when everything

around her became hotter than hell. Let her see if she could manage to

hold on to her hauteur then.

But the other people in the room had started to move forward, following

in Liza’s wake. Outside, where the rain had finally started to ease, the

first of a line of sleek black cars had drawn up by the open door. For now,

Lady Liza would have to wait; he had a funeral to go to.

The funeral of the father he had never known.

The father that Liza had stolen away from him.

Liza,I need to talk to you.’

Hilton touched Liza’s elbow to draw her attention away from

the elderly lady she was helping into her coat ‘It is important.’

‘But does it have to be now?’

Liza cast a quick glance around the room that was now almost empty

and gave a small sigh of relief. The ordeal of the day was almost over.

Another few minutes and she had hoped to be able to kick off the

elegant shoes that had been crippling her for hours, put her feet up and

maybe actually enjoy a cup of tea instead of constantly having to snatch a

sip here or there, putting it down and forgetting about it or simply

holding it in her hand while the liquid inside grew cold as she struggled to

make conversation with yet another person she barely knew.

‘Can’t it wait?’

‘I’m afraid not. It’s about Jety’s will.’

The solicitor was obviously on edge. His eyes wouldn’t quite meet hers

and he shifted awkwardly from one foot to the other as he spoke,

twisting something sharply in her nerves.

‘Is there something wrong? Hilton—what is it?’

‘I’d prefer to do this properly…In private.’

A wave of Hilton’s hand took in the room, indicating the last few

remaining stragglers who were finally making their way towards the door.

Edward was not amongst them, Liza was irritated to see Instead, he was standing at the far end of the room, staring out of the

window at the garden where the rain was once more lashing down.

Just the sight of him sent a nervous thrill down her spine, one that she

had grown accustomed to all through the church ceremony and again at

the graveside, when she had fought with her tears as the coffin had

been lowered into the ground. It was a shiver that had nothing to do with

the cold, sneaking wind that had replaced the rain showers for a while. It

had everything to do with the terrible sense of apprehension that

shuddered over her skin every time she looked at him. She still had no

idea at all why he was here, and he clearly was in no sort of a hurry to

explain.

It was like waiting for a tiger to pounce. Like being stalked silently and

intently by a big, powerful, dangerous predator and never ever knowing

just when the beast would leap and she would feel the rake of its claws,

the tear of its teeth.

She’d tried to convince herself that she was being over-imaginative. That

for some reason, a reason she couldn’t manage to come up with herself

right now, Liza had felt obliged to come and pay his last respects to

the man who had once, very briefly, been his employer 4 years ago.

But no matter how she tried, that line of reasoning just didn’t convince.

For one thing, Liza had never been the sort of man who felt obliged

to do anything. Even as a much younger man, he had clearly been in

control of his life and bowed to no one when it came to making decisions

about it. And now, at thirty, he had so obviously made his way in the

world and come so far from the man he had been that she couldn’t

imagine him conceding anything to anyone.

Which meant that he was here for his own reasons and he was

determined not to let her know what those were until he was good and

ready. Well, they’d have to wait until she’d spoken to Hilton now.

‘Just give me five minutes then…’

Another round of the room, shaking hands, saying goodbyes, filled in the

time she’d asked for and soon everyone had left. Everyone except for

Hilton, who was busy with some call on his mobile phone, and Edward,

who was still standing exactly where he had been before, hands pushed

deep into the pockets of his superbly tailored trousers, his long legs

slightly apart, feet in highly polished hand stitched boots planted firmly

on the wooden floor, his attention fixed on the view beyond the window.

Seeing him like this, anyone would think thathe was the owner of the

Manor House, Liza told herself irritably. He stood there like the lord

of all he surveyed when really he was…

He was what?

The question stopped her dead. Her already reluctant steps towards the

man at the window faltered to a halt as she remembered just how little

she actually knew about Edward. And about the Edward who had

appeared here this afternoon she knew nothing at all. Wherever he had

lived, whatever he had done, he had prospered, there was no doubt about

that, but she knew nothing of his story, of his way of life.

Had he gone back to his native Europe when he had left here…?

The thought died in her head as, his attention caught by her presence Liza turned his head slowly and she met his black-eyed gaze head on.

She had managed to avoid doing this all day and now she knew why. Being

fixed by that polished jet stare made her feel like a butterfly, trapped

and pinned to a board, unable to move. His expression was calm, even

bland, but behind the heavy, hooded lids burned something she couldn’t

understand or explain—she only knew that she didn’t trust it for a

moment.

‘Miss Liza…’

His tone was calm too, the inclination of his dark head in

acknowledgement of her just enough to be polite, but his expression still

gave nothing away.

‘You have a spectacular view,’ she heard him continue with a strong sense

of disbelief. Did he really think that she had approached him to chat

casually, make light conversation?

‘I don’t believe I ever saw it the last time I was here.’

‘Things were…very different then…’ Liza managed, her tongue tangling

over the words. Because she had the feeling that, coming close to him

like this, she had made a terrible mistake. And suddenly she knew just

what she had been avoiding all day.

By dodging any contact with him all through the afternoon she had also

managed to avoid looking at him—really looking at him. Looking at him up

close. And, by doing so, she knew she had been trying to deny the potent

impact that he had on her senses. He had a raw, masculine appeal that. had reached out and grabbed her years before, when she had been only

eighteen, fresh out of school as anything. And that appeal was

still there, intensified, concentrated, enhanced by 4 years of

maturity, 4 years of success, it seemed. If Edward had once been

her Angel, then now he was all that and more—a Angel.

The epitome of male power and strength and pure, distilled, masculine

sex appeal.

It was the recognition of that that had had her on the run all afternoon,

dodging any contact with him that might have forced her to face up to

the truth sooner. The bitter memories of the past, the sense of

apprehension about his reasons for being here, even the fact that she

was engaged to be married—nothing could come between her and the fact

that Liza was the most devastatingly sexy man she had ever

encountered in her life.

‘We were different people.’

She flung the words at him, using the snappish tone as a defence, hoping

to hide her inner confusion. He might show every sign of having

prospered since she had last seen him, but it didn’t alter the fact that

she had once cost him his employment, his only home. Honour demanded

that she should acknowledge that but the words tangled up on her tongue

as a Edward lifted a sardonically enquiring eyebrow.

‘Were we?’

‘Yes. Totally different.’

Suddenly Liza had had more than enough of this mystery—more than

enough of his unsettling presence with no explanation for it.