Chapter 16

The next day at six-fifty in the evening...And where, Amaya thought, am I? Still in the office. She was the last man standing. Or sitting, in actual fact. At her desk, with the computer flickering in front of her and profit and loss columns demanding attention. Not immediate attention—nothing that couldn’t wait until the following morning—but...

"Jesus, what the hell am I doing here?" She sighed and sat back, stretching out the knots in her shoulders, and for a few minutes allowed herself to get lost in thought. She already called Tommy and the babysitter about doing overtime, and she swore her baby was disappointed.

She knew where she should be right now—and it wasn’t in the office. Even if it was a very nice office in a more-than-very-nice building in the prestigious heart of Rome,In fact, she should be anywhere but here. To her son, watching Paw Patrol and eating cookies.

Then she should be out enjoying herself when Tommy goes to sleep; she should be lazing around in the park with Eva, drinking wine, and luxuriating in the long, hot summer. Or having a barbecue in a backyard somewhere. Or maybe just sitting inside with some music on in the background and a significant other discussing her day and asking about hers.

She blinked, and the vision of possibilities vanished. Since moving to Rome six years ago, she could count on the fingers of one hand the number of close friends she had managed to make, and since qualifying as a single mom, she had made none.

Acquaintances, yes, but friends? No. Just Eva. She just wasn’t the sort of outgoing, chirpy, confidence-sharing, giggling girl who made friends easily and was always part of a group.

She knew that, and she rarely thought about it all—except, well, she was a mother now.

Sighing, she glanced through her office door, and an array of empty desks stared back at her accusingly and mockingly, pointing out her shortcomings.She hurriedly made a mental list of all the wonderful upsides to her life.

Great job at one of the most prestigious IT companies in the country.

Her own office or cubicle, which was a remarkable achievement considering her age. Her own small one-bedroom apartment. How many single moms her age actually own their own place? In Rome? Yes, there was a mortgage, but still...

She had done well. As long as she had her son with her.

She hunched back over the screen and decided to give herself another half hour before she would leave the office and head back home.

Thankfully, she became so engrossed in the numbers staring back at her that she was barely aware of the distant ping of the lift and the sound of footsteps approaching the huge open-plan room where the Directors' secretaries and trainees sat, and then moving on, heading towards her cubicle.

She was squinting at the screen and totally unaware of the tall, dark figure looming by the door until he spoke, and then she jumped and, for a few unguarded seconds, was not the cool, collected woman she usually was.

"Holy mother of ducks!"

Chase Johnson always seemed to have that effect on her.

There was something about the man, and it was more—much more—than the fact that he owned the company—this great big company. There was something about him. He was just so much larger than life, and not in a comforting, cuddly-bear kind of way.

"Duck?" Chase raised his brow.Yes, she was used to censoring everything because of her son.

"Cha—I mean, sir... Mr. Johnson... How can I help you?" Amaya leapt to her feet, smoothing down her neat grey skirt with one hand and tidying the bun at the nape of her neck with the other—not that it needed tidying.

Chase, who had been leaning indolently against the doorframe, sauntered into her cubicle, which was the only area lit on this floor of his company.

"You can start by sitting back down, Amaya. When I achieve royal status, you can spring to your feet as I enter the room. Until then, there’s really no need."

Asshole! She thought to herself, plastered a smile on her lips that even Ironman would notice, and sat down. Chase might be drop-dead gorgeous—all lean and bronzed and oozing sexy danger—but there was nothing about him she found in the least bit appealing.

Too many people were in awe of his brilliance. Too many women swooned at his feet like pathetic, helpless damsels in distress. And he was just too arrogant for his own good. He was the man who had it all, and he was very aware of that fact.

But since he literally owned the ground she walked on, she had no choice but to smile, smile, smile, and hope he didn’t see beneath the smile.

"And there’s no need to call me sir every time you address me. Haven’t I told you that before, Daisy?"

No, he didn't. And she knew he loved mocking her.

Dark-as-night eyes swung in her direction and lazily inspected the cool, pale face that had not cracked a genuine smile in all the time she had been working at his company.

"Yes, you have...er…"

"Chase, the name is Chase—I like to keep it casual with my employees.

"Yes, sir. I mean, Chase."

All I want is to get that silly grin on your face. She thought

He swung around to perch on the edge of her desk, and Amaya automatically inched back in her chair. "What can I do for you, Chase?"

"Actually, I came to leave some papers for L.A. And talk about some accounting issues with my partner, Justin."

"What exactly—"

"I want you to spy on some of the Director’s secretaries. I want to know what they know."

"It's not my job to—"

"It is now; I'm your boss, remember?"

She wanted to roll her eyes.

"What exactly, um, I mean, information do you want me to spy on?"

"I'll send you an email tomorrow. A checklist, in fact. But wait. Where is Justin’s secretary?"

"Gary?"

"Yes, where is he? And why are you the only one alive and kicking here? Where are the rest of the accounts team?"

"It’s almost seven, er, Chase. They all left a while ago."

Chase consulted his watch and frowned. "You’re right. Not that it’s stretching the outer limits of the imagination to think that at least a few members of my highly paid staff might be here. Working." He looked at her, eyes narrowed. "So what are you still doing here?"

"I'm finishing your report about LA, sir, and I have a few PowerPoints to finish for your meeting tomorrow."

"You—"

"I wanted to get through before I left."

Chase looked at her consideringly, his head tilted to one side.

"Hmmm. Okay. Did you cancel the scheduled dinner with the childish heiress from London?"

"Yes, sir."

"Did you finish Gabby’s personal errand?" His mouth twitched.

"You mean finding a suitable woman,sir?"

"Yes."

Amaya’s voice was serious: "Almost done. I have made a list; two candidates have potential. I'll give you the detailed list of pros and cons later." She looked into her eyes; a muscle in her jaw twitched. "Anything else, Mr. Johnson?"

What was it about this woman? Chase had had some dealings with her over the past few days. She was a hard worker, diligent, and had been fast-tracked. He certainly had not been able to fault the quickness of her mind. Indeed, she seemed to have a knack for cutting through the crap and finding the source of problems—which wasn’t that easy in the fiddly arena of finance.

Everything about her was professional, but there was something missing—the fire in her yesterday when he told her that he recognised her was gone. It was blank, as if she were bored, as if she didn't care at all.

Was it because of her fiancé? Her son? The cool blue eyes were guarded, the full mouth was always tight and polite, and the hair was never out of place.

His eyes roved lower, taking in a body that was well sheathed behind a prim white long-sleeved shirt, neatly cuffed at the wrists and buttoned to the neck.

Outside, the temperatures had been soaring for the past three weeks—and yet you would never guess, looking at her, that it was summer beyond the office walls. He would bet his fortune that she would be wearing tights.

He, personally, thrived on a rich diet of sexy women who flaunted their assets, so Amaya Patterson’s severe veneer never failed to arouse his curiosity. But six years ago, she was—God, she was amazing, daring, and lively—but now...

He even asked her a few questions about what she did outside of work—her hobbies, her interests. Polite chit-chat as they had taken time out over the food that had been delivered to his office suite.

Most women responded to any interest he showed in them by opening up. They couldn’t wait to tell him all about themselves. They preened and blossomed when he looked at them and listened to what they had to say, even though, in fairness, his attention wasn’t always exclusively on what they were talking about.

Amaya Patterson? Not a bit of it. She had stared at him with those cool blue eyes and had managed to divert the conversation without giving anything of herself away. Unlike when she was Daisy, she was—Chase couldn't even put a finger on the best word.

Maybe something happened to her these past six years?

"Good. I need a wife soon. I need a child soon too, so I want you to make the—"

Amaya raised her brow; she couldn't help her mouth. "Everything seems so mechanical in that area, huh?"

"What do you mean by that?"

"Well, you are looking for a wife that could bear an heir like it was an ordinary job application."

"Why, Miss Patterson? You want to apply? My standard is so high that—"

Her eyes widened. "Why the hell would I go through that hell?"

"Hell?"