Clearly Alice had taken his lack of appetite lately as a personal affront. But then he registered that it was concern not annoyance making her mouth purse and her brow furrow. She looked like a worried grandmother. Not that he’d ever had a grandmother, or anyone much to worry over him.
Except another housekeeper, long ago, who’d taken pity on a shell-shocked orphan, suddenly transplanted into his father’s grand, cold mansion. He hadn’t known her long. She’d lost her job when his father discovered she’d been coddling him with bedtime stories and warm milk.
Despite the tension gripping his internal organs in a vice, he smiled. ‘Don’t worry, Alice. I won’t forget to eat.’
With a nod she turned away and Conall shot to his feet.
Greer’s steps slowed as she walked down the corridor the housekeeper had indicated. Her decision to confront Conall made her nervous enough. But the afternoon had already been unsettling. Even setting aside the curious look his housekeeper had given her.
She halted and looked over her shoulder, watching the older woman walk away. It was hard to shake the feeling Mrs Robinson knew something she wasn’t sharing.
Maybe Conall’s annoyed enough to start looking for another PA.Perhaps he confided in his housekeeper.
Trepidation shivered down her spine like a trail of ice shards.
Then there was the fact Greer had braced herself to face him, going to the building where he’d had his penthouse, only to discover he no longer lived there.
Thathad rocked her confidence, after weeks telling herself she was doing fine, picking up the threads of projects at work and learning new faces, only to discover this was something else she didn’t know. She’d been involved in the penthouse purchase, not only handling paperwork but actually finding suitable options that met Conall’s requirements.
It seemed that in the last five months his requirements had changed. Instead of a new penthouse near the heart of the city, he now lived in a grand waterfront mansion, surrounded by gardens and high walls. Its generous spaces and styling made her think of art deco mixed with Californian Spanish.
And he hadn’t told her.Or perhaps he had and it was one of the many things she’d forgotten. Either option made her feel…less. Less capable. Less trusted.
That was ridiculous. The man was allowed to move house and not tell her.
Except they’d had such long discussions about his preferences before the move to Sydney. He’d said afterwards how much he’d valued her input in buying the Sydney penthouse.
But clearly he didn’t like it after all, since he moved again so quickly.
Greer told herself it didn’t make sense to feel thrown off-centre by this news. But it was one more proof that the confidence she’d once had about her life was now only an illusion. Would she ever claw back what she’d lost?
She set her shoulders and straightened her spine. One thing she did know. Feeling sorry for herself wouldn’t help. She’d spent days wallowing in self-pity and it had to stop. She was sick of herself. It shouldn’t surprise her that her boss was sick of her too, enough to find working in the office untenable.
She pressed her hand against her churning stomach. Things couldn’t go on this way. She had to fix this.
Head high, she walked to the room at the end of the corridor. She raised her hand to rap on the door jamb but didn’t complete the movement.
Conall was there, at the vast window, looking dark and enigmatic against the backdrop of green garden and navy blue water. His back was turned to her.
Her heart seemed to still, then just as she began to feel light-headed, jump back into action, pounding fast and hard.
Just the sight of him does that.
She should be used to him after all this time. Yet her gaze devoured him, from his rumpled hair to the dark khaki polo shirt outlining his shoulders and solid chest. To that lean waist and narrow hips, faded denim covering long, powerful legs and the tight curve of his backside.
Her mouth dried and her fingers flexed, imagining—
‘Greer.’
She blinked and found herself meeting that black, glittering stare.
She recalled the first time she’d met his gaze, the tickle of excitement that turned into a thrum of awareness. She should have walked away then. But how could she have turned down the chance to work with such a phenomenally successful CEO?
Yet it wasn’t just his business acumen she’d stayed for, or the bonuses or the knowledge she could walk into any job she wanted after being Conall Abercrombie’s assistant.
‘Conall.’ She cleared her throat. ‘Can we talk?’
‘Of course.’ Yet that unreadable expression had her on edge. She’d seen it enough times in negotiations, when he refused to give away his thoughts. Usually just before he sealed the deal onhisterms. ‘Come in and shut the door.’
