‘Sit!’
Georgie sat, rigid as a plank of wood as he circled her like a predator trying to make sense of some unusual prey.
‘You’re making me nervous.’
‘Good. You should be.’
‘If you give me five minutes, I can explain why I’m here. I suppose I should ask you for some sort of identification…?’
‘You really shouldn’t. You can trust me when I tell you that I own this chalet and identification isn’t something I’m obliged to provide.’
He eventually pulled up a chair and sat facing her, which didn’t do a thing to calm her racing nerves.
Even sitting, he still managed to radiate a mesmerising combination of power, threat and sinful sexiness.
‘So…’ Georgie cleared her throat. ‘As you may have noticed, I happen to have keys to…er…your chalet…’
He tilted his head to one side and didn’t say a thing.
‘I clean here once a week.’
‘You’re a cleaner.’
‘Amongst other things.’
‘Why is the cleaner roaming through my chalet in my absence? Wearing casual clothing and singing songs, for all the world as though she lives here?’
‘I don’t make a habit ofroaming through your chalet in your absence. As it happens, I temporarily found myself…er…with nowhere to live for a few days so…’
‘I have an hour to spend here with you before I need to go and take care of important business downstairs. You have fifteen minutes to tell me exactly what’s going on here, after which I will present you with a number of options, all of which I intend to suggest you grab with both hands. What I’m saying is I don’t have limitless time to listen while you stammer through whatever garbled, fantastical story you’re now trying to think up.’
‘I don’t make things up, Mr Barbieri!’
‘Get to the point and explain yourself.’
‘I live in the ski resort.’ Georgie tried not to bristle at his imperiousness. ‘I share a tiny house with two friends, Claire and Alison. You might be wondering at my English accent and what I’m doing in this part of the world.’
‘I’m not. I have zero interest in where you come from.’
Georgie gritted her teeth and balled her hands into fists. Naturally she could storm out in protest at the man’s high-handed behaviour. That said, she would be walking away from, basically, the nest egg she was steadily collecting from her cleaning duties, vital money to go towards a deposit on a flat when she returned to the UK. More worryingly, how far was his reach? An angry billionaire could end her time here and she would be heartbroken.
She wasn’t ready to return to the Home Counties with her tail between her legs and her independence compromised. Her parents were perfect until you happened to be living under their roof, at which point they reverted to treating her like the kid she no longer was.
Sheneededto be here, needed this time out to fully recover from the shambles at Val d’Isère. Her heart was so nearly patched up. Would it start unravelling if she had to deal with the stress of going back to Surrey? Back to the claustrophobia of living with her parents, which would give her too much time to start rehashing everything that had happened between her and Hans? Start thinking how Hans had ended up being just the icing on the cake of guys who had never taken her seriously? Never seen the hesitant, hopeful, longing girl wanting to be desired instead of the tomboy, affectionately expected to be one of the lads? No way. She didn’t need to go down that painful road.
And then, of course, there was the jail remark.
‘One of my housemates has chickenpox.’ Georgie cut to the chase and pushed uncomfortable thoughts away. ‘She caught it on holiday and told us that she was going to return to the house to recuperate because her parents have house guests so there’s no room for her to stay with them. Anyway, they live in Hawaii and I’m not sure she was keen on incurring the added expense of travelling there. So it was okay for Claire, my other housemate, to stay put because she’s immune, but I couldn’t afford to catch it. So…’
‘Are you telling me the truth?’
‘I never lie.’
‘You realise I could check this story with a single phone call and if I discover that you’re lying, you’ll not only be out of a job with me but the authorities would have to get involved.’
Georgie paled. ‘I’m telling the truth! You can make whatever phone call you want to make to the agency you use to service the chalet about my job here! And I’m happy to give you the name of the instructor I work for! He can confirm that Alison’s bedridden for the next few days.’
‘So let me get this straight. You decided to make yourself at home in my chalet, without my permission, because…’
