‘Or else what?’ Georgie did her best to maintain a robust veneer, very much aware that she was half this guy’s size, although what could he do to her? There were other people around. She’d just about managed to glimpse them although he was so broad that there was no chance of her seeing who those people actually were.
‘Or else you’ll discover that trespassing on a billionaire’s property carries some hefty penalties. Let’s talk jail.’
‘Are you trying to scare me?’ Georgie gasped.
‘I already admire the way you can read a situation. Are you going to do as I say? No questions asked?’
‘Do I have a choice?’
But instead of feeling intimidated or scared, she was curious and breathless.
Something about this guy was crazily thrilling even though in a situation like this, with anyone else, she would have been livid, whether she was trespassing or not.
She very much had never been in favour of the macho types and this guy was Mr Macho personified.
‘Wait. What’syourname?’
‘Alessandro. Alessandro Barbieri.’
Before she could pepper him with any more questions, he was turning around although, instead of letting her go, his hand loosened on her arm and drifted to her waist.
A light, semi-possessive hold that made her blood fizz in her veins.
And now she could see exactly who was there with him. Three people, although her eyes were immediately drawn to the striking woman poised in the hall, hand on hip, beautiful face puckered in a mixture of rage and confusion.
She was dressed for winter on the slopes in just the sort of outfit Georgie recommended her pupils never, ever wear.
Soft cream cashmere rollneck, skintight leggings and leather boots. Her dark hair was tailored into a sharp, shoulder-length bob and her sultry sexiness was emphasised by a liberal dose of make-up. From ruby-red lipstick to grey eye shadow and the most perfectly manicured nails imaginable, she was the essence of physical perfection.
Perfection or not, if this was a skiing holiday, then Georgie hoped she’d brought some more sensible kit with her.
The two guys hovering slightly behind couldn’t have been more ordinary compared to the man with his hand on her waist and the woman who was presumably his other half.
In which case,why was his hand still on her waist?
Suddenly mortified, Georgie shifted a little, which resulted in his hand tightening.
‘This is Georgie…’
Georgie smiled stiffly, bewildered.
‘Georgie, this is Sophia, my ex-wife.’
The pressure on her waist tightened. Georgie had no idea what was happening but, alert to her status oftrespasser who could get in a whole heap of trouble, she kept smiling politely and hoping that things would get clearer than mud.
‘What is a woman doing here?’
‘She’s surprised me with a visit.’
He looked down at her and Georgie, in turn, looked up and up and up at him.
His dark eyes were pseudo tender, not fooling her for a second that his thoughts were anything like tender because the tacit warning in their dark depths was unmissable. At least to her.
‘Haven’t you, my darling? Surprised me with a visit and what a glorious surprise.’
Georgie could have got lost in the sexy, husky timbre of his voice.
‘She has a key to the chalet? Since when do you give women keys to your houses?’
