The Maid's Best Kept Secret (Mills & Boon Modern) (The Marchetti Dynasty, Book 1)

by Abby Green

  She stopped when she saw the book in his hand. She looked sheepish. ‘Sorry, I put some of my books on the shelves. I hope you don’t mind...’

  Nikos put the book back. ‘It’s no big deal. I’m surprised you still have your childhood books.’

  Maggie wasn’t meeting his eyes now, as she put the tray down. He was used to women being forward, taking advantage of his interest. She was different. And he wanted her.

  She poured whiskey into both glasses. She handed him one, kept one.

  He lifted his. ‘Cheers.’

  She came closer, tapped her glass on his quickly. ‘Cheers.’

  She took a sip and made a face as the tart drink burned the back of her throat.

  He smiled at her reaction. ‘Not a whiskey drinker?’

  Maggie shook her head. ‘I’ve always wanted to try it.’

  ‘So that’s why you agreed to have a drink with me? In the interest of research?’

  ‘Something like that,’ Maggie said, hoping to sound careless, as if this interaction with the most dynamic man she’d ever met wasn’t as intimidating as it felt.

  She sneaked a glance at him. He was looking right at her. Her gaze skittered away again, but not before she saw what looked like a glint of humour in his eyes. As if he knew exactly what kind of effect he was having on her.

  ‘So tell me—how did your books survive for so long?’

  Maggie felt ridiculously nervous. ‘We moved around a lot, me and my mother, when I was young. Books were my escape in a world that kept changing. My one constant. I’m kind of superstitious about them now. It’s silly...’

  ‘Not silly at all. I get it.’

  ‘You do?’ She was surprised. Again.

  He grimaced faintly. ‘I had those books too. But they got left behind long ago and I never really read much again. Didn’t have time.’

  Maggie felt a little ache near her heart that she shouldn’t be feeling for a near total stranger. ‘I wouldn’t have had you down as a bookworm,’ she remarked.

  Nikos arched a brow. ‘I’m more than just a pretty face.’

  Maggie couldn’t stop the smile tugging at her mouth. He’d said that with a definite mocking edge that he didn’t need—because it was the truth. He was gorgeous. Overwhelmingly so. And she suspected that he was a lot more than just a pretty face. His eyes were way too sharp and knowing. Cynical.

  Nikos had opened the French doors and everything was still outside. As if the rest of the world was very far away. But in spite of the stillness and the peace there was an elecricity running through her veins. Dangerous. Thrilling.

  He asked, ‘You aren’t bored here? It seems like an odd job for a beautiful young woman.’

  Maggie’s heart hitched. Beautiful? She told herself he must say that to dozens of women. An easy platitude. She felt self-conscious. Defensive.

  ‘Since my mother died I’ve appreciated a...a quiet space to mourn her.’ She wrinkled her nose. ‘But in any case I’m not really the clubbing type.’

  Except right now the thought of clubbing was almost attractive. A way to defuse the intensity of the atmosphere in the room between her and Nikos Marchetti. Which she had to be imagining. A man like him moved in circles far removed from country houses in quiet rural Ireland.

  That prompted her to ask, ‘Why did you buy this house?’

  He arched a brow. ‘I need a reason?’

  Embarrassed, she said, ‘Of course not...it just doesn’t seem like the kind of place for a man like...’ She trailed off, mortified now.

  ‘It’s an investment. I thought I might buy some race horses in the future, and I’d need a house with stables.’

  Maggie didn’t fully believe this perfectly plausible explanation. And she didn’t even know why. She hardly knew this man.

  ‘What prompted you to come here this evening?’ she asked.

  ‘Has anyone ever told you you ask a lot of questions?’ he said.

  Maggie flushed and smiled sheepishly. ‘My mother—all the time. Maggie the Inquisitor, she used to call me.’

  Once again Nikos was surprised by how honest she was, and the way she seemed to have no fear of him. It was refreshing. And arousing.

  The truth was that he’d come here because he’d wanted to escape the claustrophobic confines of that function. He’d intended flying straight back to London, but the next scheduled flight wasn’t until the following morning, and Nikos refused to use private air transport unless absolutely necessary.

  He’d been about to book a hotel. But then he’d remembered his house. The house he’d never even visited. And so he’d come here feeling restless. Unsettled.

  And then she’d opened the door and his brain had seized in a paroxysm of lust.

  As if sensing the direction of his thoughts, she drained her glass and put it down on the tray. ‘Thank you for the drink, but if you’ll just tell me what time you want breakfast I’ll have it ready for you in the morning.’

  She looked at him and all he could see were those huge blue eyes. The two pink spots of colour in her cheeks. A pulse beating hectically in her neck. Breasts rising and falling under her shirt with her breaths.

  The chemistry between them was so tangible he could taste it. He knew she wanted him as much as he wanted her. If there was anything he was expert in, it was women and desire.

  He said, ‘I couldn’t care less about breakfast. Are you really going to pretend you don’t feel it too?’

  Maggie’s heart stopped. And then started again in an irregular rhythm. Maybe she’d misheard.

  ‘I’m sorry—what did you say?’

  He smiled a slow smile and it was pure sin. She could feel heat creeping up over her chest into her cheeks. So much for hoping to create a more professional atmosphere by cutting this late-night drink short.

  ‘You heard me, Maggie.’

  Her name from his mouth... It trailed over her skin like raw silk, leaving goosebumps behind.

  She swallowed. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about. If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go to bed now.’

  She turned to leave, skin prickling and heart thumping, even as part of her ached to see just where his words might go. No man had ever had this effect on her. She didn’t know how to handle it. How to be blasé, nonchalant. A man like Nikos Marchetti would chew her up and spit her out. Of that she had no doubt.

  Before she reached the door, though, he said from behind her, ‘Aren’t you even curious? Do you know how rare it is to feel chemistry this powerful with another person?’

  No! Because she’d never experienced anything like it before and it intimidated the hell out of her even as it thrilled her. She was a virgin, and totally out of her depth with a man like this.

  Reluctantly she turned around to face him again. ‘I think there must have been plenty of women at your event this evening who would have been only too happy to explore your mutual chemistry.’

  He made a face. ‘I didn’t want any of those women. But the moment I saw you I wanted you. That hasn’t happened to me in a long time.’

  A shiver of longing went through Maggie before she could stop it.

  Words, she told herself frantically, These are just words to entice.

  He was playing with her. She was just a passing fancy.

  Angry at herself for her out-of-control reaction, she said, ‘I suspect that has more to do with your being jaded than with me personally.’

  His mouth hitched at one side. ‘You’re not wrong. I am jaded. And cynical.’

  Surprise that he was agreeing with her knocked her off-centre. She hadn’t expected it of a man like him.

  He shook his head. ‘It’s a long time since anyone surprised me. But you have, Maggie. If anything, you’ve reminded me that not everyone or everything is cynical.’

  He put down his glass and came tow
ards her. Maggie was rooted to the spot.

  He stopped a couple of feet away. ‘I’m not a man who plays games. I see what I want and go after it. I want you like I haven’t wanted anyone in a very long time. You intrigue me. You excite me. But obviously this is not an ideal situation. Whatever happens is outside the bounds of your job. If you want this, it’s between two mutually consenting adults and it’s your call. Your decision. I’m getting the first flight back to London tomorrow. I don’t know when I’ll be back again.’

  Maggie couldn’t remember if she’d ever known anyone to talk so directly. Not even her no-nonsense Scottish mother. But she struggled to do the right thing over the pounding beat of her pulse. ‘I don’t think it would be a good idea...’

  Nikos Marchetti took a step closer. So close that Maggie could see the gold and green flecks in his eyes. His scent tantalised her nostrils, making her want to move closer. She fought the urge.

  ‘You’re probably right—and normally I would never sanction mixing business with pleasure—but I find in this instance that I’m willing to take the risk. If you are.’

  She swallowed. ‘No, I don’t think I am.’

  There was a long beat and then he said, ‘Okay. Your call. Goodnight, Maggie.’

  He walked out of the room and Maggie turned to watch him go. He moved with lithe athletic grace. Broad shoulders tapering down to lean hips. Long legs.

  When he’d disappeared she let out a shuddery breath. She lifted a hand and touched her mouth, almost expecting it to be swollen, as if he’d kissed her. He hadn’t.

  But you’d like him to, whispered a wicked voice.

  Maggie groaned softly. Never in her wildest dreams had she imagined that this kind of scenario would present itself. She couldn’t be more isolated from the world, and yet one of the sexiest, most dynamic men on the planet had more or less literally dropped into her lap.

  He wanted her. And she had never felt this kind of physical attraction before. She’d believed it was a myth—a tale spun in the romantic novels her mother had loved. Maggie prided herself on her more practical outlook. She’d accused Nikos Marchetti of being cynical, but she knew she was cynical too. She was a cynical twenty-three-year-old virgin.

  Another shiver went through her, but this time it wasn’t one of awareness. Or desire. It was one of foreboding. She’d never intended staying here for ever, but three months had slipped by almost without her noticing. If she wasn’t careful she would end up like Miss Havisham from Great Expectations—except she wouldn’t even be lamenting a ruined relationship—because she’d never had one.

  Nikos Marchetti is not offering a relationship. He’s offering a moment in time, to explore mutual chemistry.

  Maggie guessed that for a man like him—suave, experienced—it was second nature to act on impulses like this: seducing women he desired. He didn’t seem like a man who denied himself. And was that such a bad thing? It wasn’t as if he’d pretended there was anything else going on here.

  On autopilot, Maggie went and closed the French doors. She collected the tray with the whiskey and empty glasses and took them down to the kitchen. Everything was silent and quiet. She could almost imagine for a moment that she’d dreamed up the events of the evening since Nikos Marchetti had knocked on the door so imperiously.

  But the seismic changes in her body told her it hadn’t been a dream. He hadn’t even touched her, but she felt as if she’d been plugged into some vital force. She felt alive. Her skin was sensitive...hot. Her heart was still pounding.

  Maggie cursed herself. She’d made a decision a long time ago to forge a different path from her mother, who had been dazzled by a powerful man and then cast aside as if she was rubbish. She’d vowed never to let herself be treated like that. If and when she had a relationship, it would be with someone who was her equal. Someone who shared her values—who wanted a simple wholesome life. Someone who took responsibility for their actions.

  And if and when she had children she would want them to grow up in one place, safe and secure. Not wondering what they’d done to make their father hate them so much that he’d reject them for fear they’d lay claim to his fortune.

  She wanted her children to grow up with two parents. She knew how hard it was to do it alone. She’d spent the guts of the last year caring for her rapidly diminishing mother, and some of her mother’s last words had been about her regret that she hadn’t met someone else, to give Maggie a more stable environment. Maggie had only realised then how lonely her mother must have been.

  So the fact that she was even thinking about Nikos Marchetti and his outrageous suggestion was ridiculous. It was something she should be dismissing out of hand. He was the antithesis of everything she’d ever wanted. An arrogant rich man who bought vast houses on a whim and never visited them.

  He’s not asking for a relationship, reminded that small voice.

  Maggie didn’t have to be experienced to know that a man like Nikos Marchetti would not be looking for anything that wasn’t transitory.

  She felt hopelessly conflicted.

  Would it really be so bad to take something for herself? When she’d never behaved selfishly in her life?

  Just for a moment in time?

  Nikos Marchetti was under this roof for one night. Based on his track record, he wouldn’t be back for ages. If ever.

  A million butterflies erupted in Maggie’s belly and she put a hand there, as if that would quell them.

  Maybe if she hadn’t actually seen him naked...

  But, no... She couldn’t possibly be considering—could she? No!

  She shut down her feverish mind and went and briskly turned off the lights, made her way upstairs. Her room was the most modest—tucked in a return, away from the main bedrooms. But she hesitated on the landing.

  She could go into her bedroom, shut her door, and Nikos Marchetti would most likely be gone before she even woke in the morning. Temptation gone. The moment passed. Her world would never collide with his again. She moved in circles far outside of his sphere. By the time he returned to the house again she probably would have moved on to another job.

  And still be a virgin.

  As that stark thought sank in, a kind of recklessness she’d never experienced before rose up inside her. Nikos Marchetti was offering something decadent and illicit. He was offering life, and vitality. And, after seeing her mother wither away, Maggie desperately needed to feel that life force.

  Almost of their own volition her feet turned in the other direction. She walked down the corridor towards Nikos Marchetti’s bedroom. She stopped at the door, feeling slightly light-headed with the enormity of what she was contemplating.

  She raised her hand and saw it was shaking. She lowered it again. She couldn’t do this. She wasn’t experienced enough to take what Nikos Marchetti was offering and remain unscathed. As tempted as she was, he would scorch her alive.

  She turned away—and came face to face with fire.

  Nikos Marchetti was standing in the corridor, naked from the waist up. Sweat pants hung low from his hips and he had a towel slung around his shoulders. His hair was damp. Face flushed. His dark olive skin gleamed. Dimly, she realised he must have been in the gym.

  If Maggie had had a moment to resist then it had passed. He took a step closer and she could smell him. Musky and thrillingly masculine.

  ‘Maggie?’

  She dragged her gaze up from where it had been fixated on the dark curling hair covering his pectorals. ‘Yes?’

  ‘I presume you’re not here to check if I have everything I need?’

  She knew that she could quite easily step around him and continue on back to her bedroom. If she wanted to. Which she didn’t.

  Slowly, she shook her head.

  ‘Do you know what you’re doing?’

  No, said an inner voice. But she nodded jerkily. ‘I... I think so
.’

  Nikos Marchetti stepped closer. So close that she could see how his eyes glittered.

  ‘You need to be sure, Maggie. I won’t accept anything less.’

  A deep, intense longing settled in her core. She couldn’t turn her back on this. ‘I am sure.’

  ‘Nikos,’ he said.

  She blinked. ‘You want me to say your name?’

  He nodded.

  Somehow it would have been less daunting if he’d just taken her face in his hands and kissed her.

  She opened her mouth, took a breath, her heart thumping unevenly. ‘Nikos,’ she said.

  Another shiver went through her. It felt unbearably intimate. His name on her tongue. He was no longer the owner of this house, and she wasn’t his housekeeper. They were equal.

  As if reading her mind, he said, ‘When we go through that door we go as two mutually consenting adults, Maggie. You do not have to do anything you don’t want. You don’t owe me anything because of who I am. You are doing this because you want to. Because we both want this.’

  She found that she felt quite touched that he was being so careful to make sure she felt in control of the situation. Again, not something she would have expected of a man like him.

  ‘I know what I’m doing. I want this.’ Maggie’s voice was husky.

  ‘Good.’

  Nikos came forward and took Maggie’s hand in his. He led her into the bedroom, where lamps shed pools of golden light around the room. The sky was still a very dark lavender outside. On these summer nights there was only a few hours of total darkness.

  He let her hand go and faced her. He made a face. ‘I should shower.’

  The thought of him turning away from her, even for a small moment, made her feel panicky—as if she might lose her nerve. ‘No, you don’t need to,’ she said.

  And he didn’t. He smelled divine.