Simon didn’t come anywhere near her. He crossed his arms, a familiar scowl on his face.
Marianna took a deep breath. She couldn’t trust herself alone with him right now. She needed to clear her head and maybe eat something. “I think it’s better if we talk down in the hotel bar. Then we can order some food, too.”
“That’s the best plan I’ve heard all day,” he said under his breath.
She grabbed her purse, and they headed down the hall in silence, with Simon a pace behind her. The elevator stopped on just about every floor, filling up as they descended, pressing her farther and farther to the back until she was up against him. The others jostled around, looking for more space. The woman next to her took a step back, her oversized purse landing square in Marianna’s stomach. She shuffled back against Simon, her body sinking into the wall of heat and muscle. Simon’s breaths were quick in her hair.
“Don’t,” he whispered, moving her away as the elevator came to a stop.
She rolled her eyes as they filed out.
They headed for the bar, and Simon took a visual lap around the place as she watched. It didn’t take long. There was a handful of tables at the back of the place. He motioned to one and pulled out a chair for her, taking the seat against the wall for himself.
He settled in, his long muscular thighs peeking out on both sides of the little round table. The waitress handed them menus, her gaze lingering a little too long on Simon. He gave her a blank stare, and she cleared her throat.
“Something to drink?”
Simon waited for her answer. She was dying for a glass of wine right now, but it was probably better to stay completely sober this evening. Better to keep herself from doing anything rash or stupid with this man.Oh, wait—I already have.
“Just sparkling water, please,” said Marianna to the server.
“Tap water,” Simon grunted.
The woman walked away, and Simon laid down his menu. His eyes were dark, guarded.
“A few ground rules,Princesa,” he said, drawing out that obnoxious nickname.
“Don’t call mePrincesa,” she said with a huff. “And I thought I made the rules.”
“Wrong,” he said. “You make the plans, and I make the rules. That’s how it works when you hire me.”
“Hmm,” she said, frowning.
“Number one. No touching me. Not with your hands or your ass or anything else.”
She raised an eyebrow at him. “The woman in the elevator pushed me with her bag. Besides, it’s not my fault you’re turned on so easily.”
Simon gave her a stony stare.
Marianna smiled sweetly. “But you can touch me?”
“If I need to, yes. That’s how this works.” He crossed his arms.
“What’s ‘rule number two’?” She made little air quotes with her fingers.
Simon scowled. “If we’re out and I tell you to do something, you do it. No questions. No arguments.”
“Whatever it is?”
“Yes, whatever it is,” he said, enunciating each word.
Marianna glared at him. Damn him. She searched for something to say to throw him off, to wipe that smug look off his face. To get back on equal footing with him. Well, there was always seduction, which he wasn’t immune to...
“Anything else?” Her gaze slowly drifted down his chest, sliding over the ridges of his abs that showed through his shirt. She parted her lips as she flashed to an image of what his kind ofanythingwould be right now. On her knees, just like the first time? She met his eyes again.
Simon’s eyes flashed with hard lust. Then they narrowed, and he frowned. Or maybe snarled was more accurate.
“Mari,” he growled, his voice slow and full of warning. “Don’t push me.”
