Her Millionaire Master (2 page)

“Got it,” said Bella. She couldn’t help a mental eye roll at his arrogant tone. As if she
wanted
to go into his office.

“You understand, yes?”

Jeez
! “Yes,” she confirmed. “I will stay out of your office.”

He stared into her eyes, and for some reason, the ferocity in his made her knees weak. He was being a presumptuous asshole, assuming she’d want to snoop through his stuff, like he was some sort of celebrity. Yet deep down inside, she felt turned on by the forcefulness in his demeanor. It occurred to her suddenly, as she reeled in the sexuality he exuded, that maybe
partner
meant
business
partner rather than
partner
partner. She couldn’t ask, though. It wasn’t any of her business, and if his weirdness about her only being in two rooms of his house was any indication of his overall attitude, he wouldn’t welcome any personal questions.

“Good, then. You’ll start tomorrow. Do you have any questions?”

“Not really,” said Bella. Except:
Are you gay? Why are you such as asshole?
And, for herself:
Why does this jerk turn me on?
Because she couldn’t deny the tingle she felt between her legs every time he glanced at her with his forceful and piercing eyes.

“Good. I’ll pay you upon my return.” Briskly he strode to the front door.

Bella followed.

“The key,” he said, reaching a hand into his suit-jacket pocket and retrieving a silver key on a thick silver key ring.

“Right. I guess I’ll need that,” said Bella with a nervous laugh.

She reached out her hand, and as Kane placed the key chain in it, her skin tingled as his fingers brushed over her palm.

“I can trust you, Bella, yes?” Kane stared hard into Bella’s eyes, and she took a step backward, even though he was only
looking
at her.

“Yes. Of course,” she said, feeling suddenly indignant, and straightening up her back. Why was he questioning her so hard? She knew how to walk a dog and take care of someone’s plants. It wasn’t exactly rocket science or high level accounting. “You can trust me.
Sir
,” she added, winking at him. If he was going to be a dick, she’d just make light of it.

For a second his eyes narrowed, and she swore she heard a low growling sound emanate from his throat. But then he pulled the door open and gestured at the outside. “I’ll be in touch, Bella,” he said in a low voice. “And I’ll see you in a week.”

* * *

Three days later, alone in the big house, Bella walked from room to room, admiring the sleek furniture and open spaces. This was what she wanted to do in her grandmother’s house, as soon as she saved up enough for renovations. She liked clean lines. Modern pieces. More open air than furniture. It would be a while before she was able to pay for fixing the house up, but that was all right, she thought, running one finger along the cool marble of the kitchen island. Under her feet the hardwood floors gleamed. She could wait. She just needed to secure the house before the old couple living there couldn’t wait any longer.

She wasn’t planning to stay too long, but she hated to leave Max alone, and the previous times she’d come she’d left almost immediately after taking care of Max. So she settled onto the simple but elegant gray couch in the living room to cuddle with him for a while before she headed home. She wasn’t sure if Max was allowed up on the couch—probably not, given its perfection and cleanliness and the stick-up-his-butt that Kane seemed to have about stuff—but he eagerly jumped up and lay down next to her, putting his head on her lap.

Bella checked her phone for a few minutes, but she felt distracted. Being alone at night in someone else’s house was weird. Not scary. Just different. And the truth was, her curiosity was piqued. She couldn’t stop thinking about Kane, about the smoldering look he gave her before he left, when he told her to stay out of his office. The presumption that she’d be interested enough to snoop through his stuff pissed her off. But what made her even madder was the fact that he’d been right. She
was
interested. He was unlike any man she’d met before. Rich. Tall. Sexy as hell. And more commanding—simply through the way he moved his body and the tone of his voice—than anyone else she’d ever encountered.

“Just one peek,” she whispered, gently removing Max’s head from her leg and getting up. In her socks, she slid down the hall
Risky Business
style, feeling childish but happy as she did. Max trotted after her, his nails clicking on the floor, but as soon as she got to Kane’s office, Max lay down immediately outside the door. His body had the stubborn set of a dog who was not going to move.

Huh
, she thought.
I guess he’d not allowed in there either
.

When she turned the knob, Bella was surprised that the door wasn’t locked. For all he warnings she’d been given about not going in here, it seemed odd that it was so easy to enter. Of course, that must mean that Charles and Kane had trusted her. A moment of guilt almost stopped Bella, but then she shrugged and pushed the door inward.

The smell of rich leather greeted her. “Whoa,” she whispered. Kane’s office was huge, probably the size of her entire apartment, she thought, as she slowly made her way inside the room. The dark, rich wood of an imposing desk shone as she switched on the light. A warm glow filled the room now, and she continued in, her feet sliding over the smooth marble floor. She walked to the desk, idly running her fingers over the shiny surface, then continued investigating. Books filled a gorgeous wooden bookcase, and she scanned the titles. There were some on finance, a few on whiskey (she couldn’t help rolling her eyes at how pretentious that was), and some classic novels.
To Kill a Mockingbird
.
One Hundred Years of Solitude
. A book of poetry by T. S. Eliot.

Nice
, she thought, touching the spine of the Eliot book. She liked poetry, though it seemed to be a fading art. She pulled the book out, surprised to see how old it was, and when she opened the front cover delicately she was even more shocked to see it was signed. Maybe valuable. Bella began to put it back, but she wanted to look at it. Read it. Carefully, of course.

Tucking the book under her arm, she continued exploring the room. There was a gorgeous brown leather couch, worn in that way that looked intentional rather than old, and she sat down, luxuriating in how good it felt. She got back up, though, to examine the walls. One had shelves built into it and, in the middle, what looked like the handle to a pull-down Murphy bed. Which was weird. Why would someone have a bed in his office, in his own home where, she supposed, he already had a bedroom? Probably multiple bedrooms. Maybe this served as a guest room? She shrugged, not giving in to her curiosity because it would be horrible if she pulled the bed down and couldn’t figure out how to get it back up again. On the shelves were some relics: an ancient-looking pocket watch; a framed old photo—maybe from the 1940s—of a couple holding hands outdoors; a bottle of liquor in a gorgeous teardrop-shaped bottle.
Mortlach
, it read. Under that was the number 70. She looked closer and read on the bottle:
Distilled in 1938
.

“Gross,” whispered Bella to herself. How could something that old taste good anymore? What would it be like, though, to have this much money that your home was decorated with exquisite old things that probably cost a fortune? And gorgeous modern things that were equally expensive, no doubt?

For just a few minutes, Bella wanted to feel rich so, with only a moment’s hesitation, she grabbed the bottle of Mortlach and, with the poetry book still under her other arm, she headed to the desk. She was going to sit there, like Kane probably did, and pretend this room was hers. This desk was hers. This first edition book of poetry too. And she was going to taste the scotch, which was probably disgusting but undoubtedly worth more money than she owned. Just one taste.

Even the desk chair felt rich as she settled down into it, pushing the laptop on the desk away so she had room.
A glass
, she thought.
I need a glass
. On the shelf by the scotch, a crystal decanter and set of gorgeously etched glasses shone, and she retrieved one of them quickly.

The bottle of scotch wasn’t full—it was obvious someone had drunk some already—but the liquid was fairly close to the top, so Bella was careful to pour only a small amount into her glass. Not enough so someone would notice. Kane seemed like he was probably meticulously anal, but even he wouldn’t be so bad that he actually measured the level of liquid in the bottle, would he? Sitting down once more, she sniffed the drink and wrinkled her nose. It didn’t smell bad, but it did smell strong. Still, she tilted the glass back and downed the liquid.

It was warm when it hit her throat, but she coughed from the taste, much, much stronger than the usual wine or cheap beer she drank. “Ew,” she whispered, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. There was something beautiful too, though, about the flavor. Maybe it was the power of persuasion, but it tasted expensive, like liquid gold.
One more shot
, she thought, aware that it was probably a drink to be sipped, with which you’d take your time, so this time she did sip, grimacing a little less each time.

She picked up the T. S. Eliot book and opened to a random page. She liked poetry. But right now she felt too on edge to focus. It felt like she was missing something, like this room—and Kane—held untold secrets and this was her chance to discover them. Which
obviously
she shouldn’t do. But he’d never find out. And it wasn’t like she was going to steal anything. She just wanted to look around a little more.

Body warm from the scotch, she decided to have one more drink. A tiny one. And then she’d put the bottle away, back on the shelf where she’d found it. Carefully she opened the bottle and tilted it, watching as the honey-colored liquid fell into her glass.

Max barked in the hallway, a loud snarly sound, and Bella jumped. She was aware, in the next split second, of her hand involuntarily opening its clutch on the bottle of scotch, but she was unable to stop it, and the bottle slid from her grasp, falling down to the marble floor. Midair her hands fumbled to catch it, and she almost did. At least she stopped its rapid descent. But still it fell to the floor, the gorgeous amber liquid trailing out of its mouth rapidly.

“Fuck! Oh fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck!” Bella’s heart was pounding, her stomach rolling. What the fuck had just happened? What had she done? She took a deep breath, trying not to be sick, because that would just make a bigger mess, and she was in enough trouble right now as it was. Max had settled down again in the hallway; apparently it was just a false alarm. And meanwhile, although the bottle was still, miraculously, intact, she’d spilled almost the entire bottle of Kane’s expensive liquor.

On the desk, the scotch from her overturned glass ran in rivulets toward Kane’s laptop, and Bella snatched the computer and moved it to a chair. She did not need to ruin his laptop in addition to everything else!

She ran into the kitchen, where she found a roll of paper towels and returned to the office, tossing thick handfuls of the towels down to soak up the scotch.

What was she going to do? Her heart was pounding so loud she swore she could hear it, and her body was shaky with the horror of what she’d just done.

As she wiped up the floor, she considered her options and figured out a plan. Tomorrow she’d go to the liquor store and buy a new identical bottle. For now, just in case Kane came back early, she’d refill the bottle with the cheap whiskey her roommate had at their apartment.

Having a plan made her feel a tiny bit better. Not much better. But the terror she’d felt a few moments ago was dissipating. Everything would be fine. She would take care of it.

“I’ll be back, Max,” she said to the dog, who followed her to the door, wagging his tail. Then she dashed down the block to get the bottle from her apartment.

* * *

The Mortlach bottle was refilled with Claire’s liquor. The floor was cleaned up and as shiny as it had been when she arrived. She’d put the book of poetry back on the shelf. What else? She scanned the room, making sure it was perfect.

Kane’s computer. It sat on the chair, where she’d moved it, saving it from destruction by scotch. She’d put it back on the desk and go home. And tomorrow she’d buy a replacement of his stupid expensive scotch. And everything would be fine.

Bella set the laptop back onto the shiny surface, and as she did, the screen came alive.
He must not have turned it off
, she thought. That was fine. She’d just let it sit there until it went into sleep mode again. She scanned the room once more, making sure everything was in place so she could get out of here. But then she glanced at his screen.

She was looking at a directory of video files. They all had
Sarah
in their names.
Sarah1. Sarah2
. And so on.

“Just get out of here,” she whispered to herself, but curiosity kept her eyes glued to the screen. What kind of videos were they? And who was Sarah? And how wrong would it be, really, to just kind of sort of accidentally double-click on one of the videos?

Bella glanced around the room, because even though she knew both Charles and Kane were out of town, she felt nervous, like she was doing something wrong. OK, so she
was
. She’d done lots of things wrong already, starting with the fact that she’d entered Kane’s office when he’d strictly forbidden her to. And spilled his scotch, then filled the bottle with cheap liquor. And read his book of poetry. And snooped. Clicking on one of these videos, even though the computer was
right there
and she hadn’t turned it on herself, would be crossing an even more intimate line. She should just go. She’d done enough damage already.

Max lay in the hallway, and the house was silent. Nobody was here.

Almost without thought she clicked on one of the files, raptly staring at the screen while the video player loaded and the movie began. Staring into the camera was a beautiful woman’s face, and in the shot Bella could see also the woman’s arms, spread out to the sides. She was leaning the top of her body on a surface. A desk.
This
desk, it suddenly occurred to Bella, and, in the background, she saw the wall that was actually in front of her right now.