by Cora Reilly
“What?” I blurted. “My job description didn’t mention that I had to smile.”
Xavier chuckled, still with that strange smile on his face, even when he spoke. “You’re not smiling for me. Paparazzi are trailing after us. I thought you’d prefer to have your smiling face in every tabloid of the city and not a scowling one.”
My eyes grew wide as I glanced around us.
“The deer-in-headlights look will give the assholes a hard-on thinking about all the ridiculous headlines that can go with it.”
I quickly masked my face into a pleasant smile, but Xavier shook his head, holding open the door of a black Maserati SUV. Before I got in, he leaned down to my ear, whispering. “Too late. They’re going to use your worst expression because it’ll give them more ammunition against me.”
I sank down into the red leather seat, still considering Xavier’s words as he closed the door. My eyes scanned our surroundings and finally I spotted a guy with a camera.
Xavier slid into the driver’s seat and started the car. The roar of the engine made me jump. As we drove past the paparazzi, Xavier waved at the man with a twisted smile.
“Maybe you shouldn’t provoke the press if you want to be portrayed in a more favorable light,” I said curiously.
“They don’t want to portray me in a favorable light. Bashing me is their favorite pastime.”
“And you’ve made it your mission in life to provide them with enough ammunition?”
Xavier flashed me a grin. “I give them what they want, and in turn they keep me in the spotlight. Bad press is better than no press, or what do you marketing people always say?”
I wrinkled my nose. That was one of the lines I’d always resented. If you were only out for attention it might hold true, but if you wanted to make a worthy impact it was the wrong approach. “I prefer good news. And you are in the spotlight even without providing gossip. You are a star. You don’t need bad press.”
“The press will report about me whether I want it or not. My only option is to steer their attention in a certain direction.”
His voice held a hint of protectiveness, and I wondered why that was. Why was he turning himself into such a bad boy of the rugby scene?
“Will they start trailing me as well?” I asked quietly, my fingers folding over my stomach to hide the small bacon rolls there. I knew how unflattering photos of me could end up.
Xavier shot me a searching look. “Probably. In the past my assistants provided entertaining gossip material.”
I flushed, remembering that he’d landed in bed with almost every single one of his assistants. “I don’t intend to give them any kind of gossip material, Xavier,” I said firmly.
“I know,” Xavier said with a chuckle. “Your sister and Connor told me you were responsible and not out for attention. A nice change from my previous assistants.”
“Why did you choose assistants who only wanted to work for you so they could gather media attention?”
“I chose my previous assistants based on their looks.”
Ouch. I cringed inwardly at what that implied. I definitely hadn’t been chosen because of my appearance.
Xavier’s apartment was absolutely breathtaking. A duplex situated in a residence in the heart of the Rocks with a view over the harbor and the harbor bridge. My mouth was probably hanging open as I walked into the loft-like living area. The herringbone parquet was the color of sun-bleached driftwood, and an open kitchen with fronts like Carrara marble spread out on the right side. Gray modern couches, white marble tables and futuristic metal lamps made the room appear like it had been copied out of an interior design magazine. I moved closer to the window and stared at the panorama.
It must be amazing to see the city lights, especially the harbor bridge, at night. But unless I worked late, I’d never get to see it.
Xavier stepped up beside me. “The view is why I bought it.”
“It’s breathtaking,” I breathed, unable to tear my eyes away. Xavier’s gaze finally made me take a step back and clear my throat. “Perhaps you can explain to me what I need to know and what exactly you expect of me.” I took out a pen and a notebook from my purse.
Xavier cocked an eyebrow. “No fancy iPad to track everything?”
“No money to spare on fancy iPads,” I said with a shrug.
Xavier nodded, surprising me by not making a snide comment about my financial situation. For him the concept of not having money for anything was probably foreign.
He led me toward the kitchen and pointed at a massive chrome machine— some sort of coffee maker, I assumed. “This is one of your most important work tools.”
I sent him a look. “A coffee maker so I can prepare coffee for you?”
“It’s an espresso unit, and you’re going to make cappuccino for me with a double espresso shot. Every morning.”
I blinked. “You realize I’m not a barista? I don’t even know how to turn that thing on, much less how to make a cappuccino. That wasn’t part of my bachelor’s program.” My snide tone wasn’t one I would have usually used on an employer, but Xavier’s grin pushed all my buttons.
“I’m sure you’re a quick learner, Evie.”
It was the first time he said my name, and I enjoyed it more than I should have. “Do I have to make you breakfast as well?” I asked, proud for making my voice come out matter-of-fact this time.
“No, I follow a strict breakfast regime to fuel my body for training. I’m not letting anyone mess with my protein shakes.”
I wasn’t sure if he was shitting me or being serious, but eventually I opted for the latter. After all, he was a top athlete. No muffins and sugary cereal for him. Again I cursed myself for wearing the fitted dress. “Okay. Cappuccino with a double shot of espresso in the morning.” I paused. “How am I supposed to know when you want your coffee? I’m not having sleepovers, so I won’t know when you’re waking up. Or do you have a set time when you need me to prepare a cappuccino for you?”
Xavier smirked. “Let me show you the second floor. It’ll all come together soon.”
He was toying with me. Narrowing my eyes at his broad back, I followed him up a winding staircase toward a gallery—which was also the huge open bedroom with another heart-stopping view of the Sydney harbor.
The bed, which would have dwarfed any bedroom of a normal size, was positioned against a wall that had been installed in the center of the room. As I walked behind it I found an open bathroom with a massive free-standing bathtub and a floor-level shower as well as a walk-in closet behind another wall. Xavier waited for me in the bedroom as I walked back.
“This is my bedroom, as you can see. A place where you’ll spend much more time in the future.”
My eyebrows shot up. “This is only work. I’m not going to sleep with you.”
“Easy, there,” he said with a grin. “I didn’t mean it like that.”
Of course not. I tugged at my dress, hoping it didn’t emphasize my wide hips too much.
Xavier motioned at the bed. “But you are going to wake me up so I’m not late to training or other appointments.”
I laughed, then shut up when Xavier raised his eyebrows. He was being serious. Really? He needed a human alarm clock? “You want me to come over to your apartment every morning and wake you?”
“Yes, except on the days you’re taking the day off.”
Touching the pen to the notebook pages and taking a deep, calming breath, I asked, “When would you like me to wake you?”
“I have training at ten every morning except for the weekend. On the weekend it depends. As soon as the season starts in March, we’ll be either traveling to away matches or have games here. It would be best if you synchronized your calendar with mine and just took a look yourself.”
I took out my phone and did just that, then also got hold of his work email, and almost fainted seeing the sheer number of unanswered emails. “When was the last time you checked your inbox?”
“I don’t. That’s my
assistant’s job, and I haven’t had an assistant in over two weeks.”
I repeated a little calming mantra in my head. “I’ll work through them tonight and sort them according to importance.”
“You also need to handle my mail and my social media accounts. I try to handle my own Instagram, but the rest is all yours.”
“All right.” Besides training at ten in the morning tomorrow, Xavier also had an afternoon appointment marked as beach workout and an event marked N10 party at nine p.m.
“What does beach workout mean?”
“What it says,” Xavier said. “I’m doing a beach workout and you’re going to film it so we can post it for my fans on Instagram, Facebook, YouTube.”
Camerawoman, another job I hadn’t expected. “I assume the party isn’t my concern?”
“It is your concern. It’s Network Ten’s party, and I’m supposed to make an appearance to give the party some glamour. You will accompany me, in the background, to tell me about the other guests, their names, their function, and make sure I don’t misbehave too much.” The panty-dropping grin.
“I don’t have clothes that fit the occasion.”
“Buy them,” he said, then pulled out his wallet from the back of his jeans and handed me a golden credit card. “My birthday is my PIN code. Go to Harrolds or David Jones.”
I took the card gingerly. “You trust me with your card?”
“Do you plan on breaking my trust?”
“No,” I said firmly. “But you don’t know me very well yet. Did you give all your assistants your credit card?”
“No. But I doubt you’ll run off with my money. And my former assistants didn’t come recommended by Connor.”
“Connor only recommended me because Fiona bugged him, you know that, right?”
Xavier chuckled. “Yeah, he’s whipped.”
I slipped the card inside my purse. I’d have to guard it with my life. I doubted my year’s salary would be enough to pay off the debt I’d gather if someone stole the card and went all out with it.
My eyes were drawn to a medal in a frame above the bed. I moved closer. “Clive Churchill medal. Best Player Grand Final 2017,” I read aloud. I looked toward Xavier. His expression had changed, had become almost…reverent. “You won the medal as best player?”
He nodded. “Once. But I have every intention of winning it again this year. My team is the best in the league. We need to win the final.”
It was obvious by the fervor in his voice and his keen expression that he really lived for his sport, which made his scandalous lifestyle even less explainable. I knew as a fly-half Xavier had a lot of responsibility directing the play of his team, and yet he couldn’t be bothered to organize his own life.
Before I left the apartment, Xavier handed me his spare keys. “So you can come in.” He said it with a devilish grin. “I’m looking forward to working with you.”
My alarm sounded at six thirty, which gave me enough time to get ready and have coffee before I had to head off to wake Xavier and prepare coffee for him.
I couldn’t believe Xavier needed an assistant to wake him. How hard could it be to set an alarm? I drank my coffee in quiet, watching the early morning sun glittering on the ocean from the kitchen window. Fiona and Connor were still asleep, or doing other things I didn’t want to think about. Fiona had spent an hour last night interrogating me about my meeting with Xavier. If she kept up the surveillance, even my ridiculous salary wouldn’t be worth it.
When I arrived at Xavier’s apartment thirty minutes later, I wondered if I should make sure to be as quiet as possible or announce my presence audibly. I really couldn’t believe that a grown-up man required waking up. Maybe this was only part of him testing me, but from what his brother and Connor had hinted at, Xavier was indeed too lazy to organize even that small part of his life.
Opting for the quiet option, I pushed the key into the lock and turned it carefully before I slipped in. A low noise, like a groan, startled me. Maybe Xavier was having a nightmare. My annoyance wavered as I considered that he had something that bothered him enough to haunt his nights. Maybe he hid a soft side behind all those muscles and arrogant smiles.
I set my purse down on a barstool at the kitchen island and made my way toward the winding staircase. Another low noise made me walk a bit faster, and I hurried up the staircase, hoping he didn’t expect me to serve him coffee in bed. The moment I reached a point at the staircase that allowed me to get a good view at the bed, I froze completely and let out a gasp. Only my hand on the rail stopped a very undignified fall.
Xavier wasn’t alone, and he wasn’t sleeping. It took my brain a moment to comprehend the scene before me. A woman was lying on her back before Xavier, her ankles on his shoulders, and he was gripping her hips and thrusting into her. That had been the source of the strange groans, which were now accompanied by the slapping of his pelvis against her ass. I really wished she were a screamer, then I wouldn’t have headed upstairs.
Both turned my way. Heat rushed into my head.
I whirled around, mumbling some half-ass apology, and stumbled downstairs, my heart beating in my chest. Was I supposed to leave? I could hardly stay while they were at it. The bedroom wasn’t really separated by a door from the living area below. What if they kept doing it as if nothing had happened?
But he had told me to wake him, he was paying me to do it. Maybe this really was a test. I wouldn’t put it past him. Or maybe he just didn’t care if someone watched him getting it on? I couldn’t believe I’d worried he had a nightmare, couldn’t believe I’d entertained a second of pity for his soft side. Soft side. He definitely hadn’t looked soft a moment ago.
Furious and embarrassed, I moved toward the espresso machine and flipped the switch. It came alive with a loud hiss and started drawing water. Relieved for the noise filling the apartment, I leaned against the kitchen counter, willing the heat to leave my cheeks. I didn’t want to appear flustered when Xavier and his date finally made their way downstairs.
Steps rang out upstairs, but I focused all my attention on the espresso unit. Unfortunately it was still heating up, so I couldn’t busy myself preparing a cappuccino, but I moved toward the fridge and took out milk. Did Xavier expect me to make a cappuccino for his date as well? Maybe even breakfast? That would be too awkward. Slowly I realized why he paid so much. Yet I had to admit the very brief glance at his perfectly formed backside had given me a tiny kick. He was magnificent from behind.
In my peripheral vision, Xavier’s tall form appeared on the winding staircase, and I couldn’t help but risk a full view. Xavier sauntered down the steps, the tall blonde woman behind him. He was wearing only gray briefs, Calvin Kleins, and they did nothing to hide him.
If my skin hadn’t already been burning up with embarrassment over what I’d witnessed, it would have started now.
Thankfully, the woman was fully dressed, even if her tight dress was wrinkled beyond saving and her makeup was smeared under her eyes. She gave me a curious look when she spotted me in the kitchen area. I recognized her from a few celebrity magazines I’d read in preparation for my job. She’d been part of the last Bachelor season but hadn’t made it past the first night of the roses. Shannon something or other. I couldn’t remember her full name.
“Next time you’d better announce your entry,” Xavier said with a cocky grin, his gray eyes scanning my undoubtedly bright red face in amusement. He didn’t seem to care that I had seen him with Shannon. He was toying around with me. Shannon didn’t seem overly embarrassed about the incident either. I supposed if you took part in The Bachelor you enjoyed an audience even while having your legs up a guy’s shoulders.
“Good morning to you too,” I said to Xavier, not wanting him to get the better of me. Then I turned to the woman and gave her a small apologetic smile. She regarded me as if she was trying to decide if I posed a risk to her, then obviously determined I didn’t qualify as Xavier-worthy material and gave me a fake smile before she turned ba
ck to Xavier with a much more convincing one.
Forcing down the urge to roll my eyes, I rummaged through the cupboards for cappuccino mugs.
Xavier leaned against the counter right beside me, arms crossed leisurely. I fought the urge to check him out. “Upper left cupboard,” he provided in a lazy drawl, one corner of his mouth tipping up in the most annoying way.
I sent him a glare, but regretted it immediately when my eyes dipped lower to that sculpted upper body.
Shannon swayed closer, and walked her manicured nails up from his abs to his pecs. “So,” she said flirtingly. “When will I see you again?”
I took down the mugs, wishing I were anywhere else. If this turned into another naughty episode I was out of here, shitload of money be damned.
My temple throbbed as more blood shot upwards. I could have cooked Xavier breakfast right on my forehead. Xavier stared down at Shannon’s fingers on his chest like they were a bunch of cockroaches he wanted to squash, then he regarded her with a badly played disappointed expression. “You see, the coach is being really hard on us lately. But if you give my assistant your number, I’ll give you a call as soon as he goes easier on us again. So Evie, can you please take…” It was obvious that he had no clue what her name was.
I raised my eyebrows at him with a sugary smile. It was as fake as the disappointed expression on his face.
He cocked one eyebrow in turn, making me want to pluck every last hair out of it.
“Take Shannon’s number? Of course,” I said sweetly, heading for my purse and taking my phone out.
Surprise crossed his face, then he smiled. “Exactly. Take Shannon’s number for me.”
Shannon turned to me with an air of importance as she started dictating her number. I keyed it in, then returned to the espresso unit. “So two cappuccinos.”
“Unfortunately, I have important matters to discuss with you, so Shannon can’t stick around.” Xavier touched the woman’s back and led her—or rather nudged her—toward the door. “I will see you very soon.”
