Page 23 of Worth Every Penny

Weird. “How long is the drive?”

“I’m not at liberty to share that information.”

I hesitate, wondering if I should complain about this. It’s very odd. But the driver is staring at me, holding my door open, so I cave and get in, but I’m surprised when the car leaves and I’m the only passenger. We’re not waiting for Nico.

I sift through emails on my phone for a while, but as the minutes pass, I begin to feel increasingly uneasy. Where am I going? This is crazy. Maybe I need to call Jack and tell him where I am, in case I’m being kidnapped. I laugh a little at this idea. Nico might be an arsehole, but he’s not psychotic.

But even so, my palms are sweating and my thighs stick to the leather of the car seat. My stomach is so unsettled that I could be sick. What is Nico playing at?

We’re beyond the bounds of central London, and outside there are only green fields and trees.

Finally, the car approaches an imposing set of gates that look like they belong to a country manor, and it’s then I notice the sign.Hawkston Elite. I immediately know where we are. It’s one of only a handful of extremely high end Hawkston Country Clubs. This makes a certain type of sense, at least, but I feel no calmer about the situation.

We drive past pristine lawns on one side and a golf course on the other. An enormous stately home looms into view and we park outside.

“Here we are, Miss Lansen,” the chauffeur says, opening the door for me to get out. “You’re expected.”

My heels crunch across the gravel and I walk into reception. It’s beautiful in here, and low-level music is playing. It goes a long way to calming my nerves. Scented candles fill the space with a gorgeous floral aroma, and vast bouquets of white roses decorate the coffee tables positioned between velvet sofas at the edge of the lobby.

The word Hawkston rises over the receptionists’ heads, displayed on the wall behind in silver capital letters a foot high.Big, but not as big as Nico’s inflated ego.

A woman in a smart uniform greets me as though she’s expecting me, and hands me a folded white towelling robe.

I take it from her in a daze. “There must be a mistake—”

“No mistake, Miss Lansen. You’re booked in for a hot oil aromatherapy massage before lunch.”

A massage? Hot oil? Aromatherapy? Before lunch?I can’t process this overload of confusing information. It’s madness. I thought we were having a meeting. If Nico’s idea of a meeting is a couple’s hot oil massage, I might die.

I’m so confused. Am I angry or flattered?

Angry. I decide to be angry. He tricked me into coming here, with not a word of warning.

I try to pass the robe back to the woman. My anger is rising, but I know she’s not the one I need to take it out on. This isn’t her fault. “No. I can’t. I should be at work.”

The woman smiles calmly. “Mr. Hawkston gave instructions we are to put you at your ease until he arrives. The entire spa area is reserved for you until lunch.”

This makes no sense, but my mind clings onto one thing, and one thing only.Nico’s coming. “The entire spa? For me? What about your other guests?”

The woman gives me a tight smile and passes me the robe, and this time I take it from her. “It’s all yours for the next two hours. A massage first, followed by the sauna, steam room and plunge pools.”

Wow. This could well be the best first day in a new company that I have ever experienced, and I’m not sure what I’ve done to deserve it.

I hug the robe. “All right. Lead the way.”

I’m blissed out as I lie on a lounger by the plunge pool. My muscles have been tenderized and I’ve sweated in the sauna. When did I last take time to myself like this?So relaxing.I’m practically asleep when the door opens.

“Little K.”

I lurch upright to find Nico staring at me. I thought I’d get a little warning before he showed up, and his sudden arrival has my empty stomach filling with jangling nerves.

He’s wearing an immaculate white shirt beneath an expensive charcoal suit, his hair casually coiffed to perfection. We’re alone for the first time since Jack’s party, and he’s all perfect and I’ma sweaty mess, wrapped in a hotel robe, damp hair scraped back off my sauna-baked face. I bet he did this on purpose.

He’s so handsome that it hurts to look directly at him, like staring into the sun.

I squint, then force my eyes wide. I willnotbe attracted to him, even if I have to put my body on a leash to control its impulses.

Maybe I can find something repulsive about him. Something that will put a dampener on this excruciating crush.