Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 88879 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 444(@200wpm)___ 356(@250wpm)___ 296(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88879 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 444(@200wpm)___ 356(@250wpm)___ 296(@300wpm)
But instinct tells me we are natural-born enemies. Ice and fire, black and white, predator and prey, and never the twain shall meet. She knows it too. I see it in her sapphire eyes. She is not going to come easily to me. It will be a fight, but I enjoy a good hunt. An elusive prey. I will have her. No matter what.
“Hello,” she whispers.
“Are you planning on staying down there for the rest of the viewing?”
She jumps up with an embarrassed smile. "I am really sorry about that. There are marbles on these floors. I swear. Invisible marbles."
In real time I watch it click in her head that she is supposed to be selling me the house, not turning me off it. She freezes like a cartoon character. It is an indescribably fuckable little quirk.
"No. Wait,” she says quickly. “I didn't mean the floor is slippery or anything like that. It is a perfectly good floor. Perfect... mid-century stone. One of a kind.” She snaps her mouth shut suddenly and takes a deep breath. “The thing is, Mr. Ivanovich, I’m not as knowledgeable about this house as my colleague Sasha. And the best part is she’s Russian too so I’m sure you’ll be more comfortable with her. She’s waiting on the beach for me so if you’ll just wait one minute I can get her and we’ll do this viewing with the both of us."
"I can understand and speak English, Miss Fitzpatrick," I say dryly.
She swallows hard. "Yes, Mr. Ivanovich. Of course, I didn’t mean to suggest you couldn’t I, uh... It's just that I wanted you to be as comfortable as possible."
"I'm comfortable in six languages, Miss Fitzpatrick," I say, turning away from her to look around the house. I find I have very little interest in it. The subject of my interest is behind me.
"Six? Wow! My apologies. I just wanted to give you our best."
I turn around to look at her. "And you're not it?"
She blinks. “Can I get you a glass of champagne, Mr. Ivanovich?”
“No, Miss Fitzpatrick. I don’t usually start drinking until later in the day.”
“Right.”
She has obviously been caught unawares. Clearly, she was expecting to be a supporting role and not the one taking center stage. I wonder what she would say if she knew that I don't care whether she utters a single word about the house or not. I am going to buy it as long as she gives me what I want.
What would Miss Fitzpatrick say if she knew what I am really here for?
Chapter Seven
LARA
He folds his arms across his chest and waits for my answer, but I am too gobsmacked to respond. Unable even to think straight. Everything about him stuns and disturbs me.
If only I had gone online last night when I got home and researched his name. Found out what he looked like. I will have been somewhat prepared. I will not be standing here gaping at him like a small-brained goldfish. But I was so tired yesterday after running around all day helping to stage this property, and it was well past midnight by the time I got home.
Now as I stand before him tongue-tied and awkward, I remember Sasha talking to someone on the phone about a green-eyed eye candy. No wonder she got all dressed up for this hunk. It explains why she looked at me this morning as if I was not her colleague but the competition.
Start again, Lara. Just start again.
I clear my throat and work up a bright happy smile on my face, but instead of smiling back his dazzling mossy-gold eyes watch me intently.
"Uh..." I shake my head to clear it, almost sure by now that I have already lost the sale, but I am determined to try. Even though I cannot for the life of me imagine selling anything to this man. I take a deep breath and step forward, holding out my hand.
“Let’s start again.”
He takes my hand, but a jolt of electricity sparks between us as soon as our hands touch and I pull away quickly in surprise. His eyes narrow and my heart sinks. I am making a total mess of this viewing. Everything has gone wrong. I’ve even messed up the handshake. I take a deep breath to calm myself and my nostrils fill with the scent of his cologne or aftershave.
It is a complicated sophisticated smell. The smell of great wealth. My mind files the spicy scent under Distracting And Poisonous because my brain starts malfunctioning. To my horror, my mouth starts sprouting complete nonsense.
"The foyer makes for a grand entrance, doesn't it? And just look at this beautiful flower arrangement. I got it from the flower shop around the corner from our agency. They make amazing arrangements. I can give you their address and they can come and change the flowers weekly, and it'll be the first thing you see when you come down the stairs. Flowers are an instant mood brightener."