Page 13 of Twelve Nights of Nights of Christmas

‘Two seconds—’ The hard, cold voice made her jump and Evie stared helplessly at the door, trying to think what to do. She needed a plan. She needed to think what she could say that might help her situation.

While she was in here, she was safe. What could he do? He was hardly going to break the door down, was he?

There was a tremendous crash, the sound of wood splintering and Evie screamed as the door crashed open, slamming against the sleek limestone wall of the luxurious bathroom.

Rio Zaccarelli stood in the doorway rubbing his shoulder. ‘What is the matter with the staff in this place? When I give you an order,’ he thundered, ‘I expect you to follow it. And I don’t expect to have to demolish my hotel so that I can hold a conversation with one of my employees.’

Stunned that the door was still on its hinges, Evie gulped. ‘I—you—are you OK? I mean—I’ve seen people crash through doors in the movies but I always assumed the door is made out of cardboard or something. I’ve never seen anyone actually do it with a real door. That must have hurt.’ She looked at his powerful shoulders doubtfully, wondering whether all that muscle would act as a barrier to pain. ‘Sì, it hurt.’ He rolled his shoulder experimentally, checking for damage. ‘Which is why, next time, I’d appreciate it if you’d just do as I say and open the damn door.’

Evie gave a choked laugh, clutching the silk throw against her. ‘Why? So that you can fire me in person?’

‘Who says I’m going to fire you?’

‘You fired the tyrannosaurus.’

‘Tyrannosaurus?’ Still rubbing his shoulder, he frowned, his expression dark and menacing. ‘I presume you’re talking about that officious woman with the unfortunate hair. That’s what you all call her?’

Evie froze. ‘No, of course not,’ she lied. ‘We call her Tina.’ Or meat-eater, because she feasted on hotel staff for breakfast.

‘She didn’t seem too impressed with you.’

‘No.’ It was impossible to argue with that. Utterly defeated, Evie felt the last dregs of spirit drain out of her. What was the point in defending herself? It was over. ‘I think it’s fair to say I don’t have an enormous number of supporters in high places.’ Tina had demoted her. Carlos had tried to grope her and, when she’d rejected him and humiliated him, he’d set her up.

Thinking of her grandfather, Evie wondered whether it was worth begging Rio Zaccarelli to give her another chance. Gazing into those unsympathetic black eyes, she decided that it was a waste of breath. She doubted there was a gram of compassion anywhere in his muscle-packed frame.

‘I have a big problem.’ His deep voice slid over her nerve-endings like treacle and Evie snatched in a breath, shocked by the sudden heat that shot through her. Underneath the dangerously slippery silk throw, she was suddenly horribly conscious that she was still naked.

If ever there was a more uneven confrontation, this had to be it.

Everything about him suggested raw masculine power, from the dusky shadow of his jaw to the tiny scar that flawed the skin above his right eye.

A vision of Jeff’s baby-smooth face flew into her head but Evie realised that to make comparisons between the two men would be nothing short of ridiculous. They had nothing in common. Nothing at all.

Rio Zaccarelli might have been dressed for a formal dinner, but the external trappings of sophistication didn’t fool her for a moment. This man wasn’t tame or civilised. He was hard and unyielding and he’d do whatever he needed to do to achieve what he wanted.

A real man.

Suffocated by the heat in the air, her limbs suddenly felt heavy and her heart hammered against her ribs. Her instincts were telling her to run, but she couldn’t move.

She tried to conjure up an image of Jeff’s face again but found that she couldn’t. Instead, her mind was filled with a vision of burnished skin and eyes full of sexual promise.

To make matters worse, two walls of the opulent bathroom were mirrored, which meant that his iron-hard physique was reproduced several times over, dominating her vision.

Seriously unsettled, Evie clutched at the throw. ‘If you’d give me five minutes privacy, I’ll get dressed.’

‘You own clothes?’

‘Of course I own clothes! They’re drying on the—’ Evie turned her head and her eyes widened. ‘I left them right there—on the radiator. They’re gone.’ Her mind explored possible explanations and came up with only one. Feeling the panic rise again, she looked at him and he lifted an eyebrow in weary mockery.

‘They walked out of the room under their own steam?’

‘Forget it.’ Her voice choked, Evie lifted her hand like a stop sign. ‘I’ve had enough of this! There’s no point in me saying anything because you’re not going to believe me anyway.’

‘Strangely enough, you’re wrong.’ His tone was grim. ‘I’m guessing that Carlos had something to do with the mysterious disappearance of your clothes. Am I right?’

Evie lowered her hand slowly. ‘H-how do you know that?’

‘Because he invited you to stay in the Penthouse and I doubt he did that out of generosity of spirit.’