Page 9 of Modern Romance January 2025 5-8
She returned his stare. ‘No, I’m not going to split hairs. I do have ulterior motives.’ It felt good to unburden herself of that heavy truth.
Then remembering what Jario had said to the assistant, Willow’s heart sank. ‘What did you mean, you’re going to deal with Ripley later?’
His eyes narrowed. ‘You’re concerned about him? Shouldn’t you save that worry for yourself?’
‘I can multitask,’ she quipped and forced a shrug, despite the vortex of emotions swirling through her belly as her gaze moved over him.
Last night she’d thought the circumstances of their meeting had been, rightly, supercharged and intense enough for her to exaggerate the sheer raw, primal beauty of the man.
Dear God, had she been wrong.
Half-naked and covered in slick sweat with his long hair loose and swinging an axe, he’d been intensely masculine, animalistic and primal.
Clad in designer black from head to toe this morning, his jet-black hair neatly styled back and stubble trimmed to perfection, he was magnificently entrancing in a way that completely, terrifyingly commanded her attention.
‘Believe me, even an endless supply of dexterity won’t be enough to deal with what you’re facing,’ he answered silkily, white-hot fury, the kind that was almost invisible to the naked eye, vibrating from him. ‘Tell me how you managed to get yourself an interview,’ he demanded.
It was the absolute wrong time to dwell on other vibrations, especially the ones his voice and his proximity had evoked last night.
The way he’d guided her in throwing that axe. The rough seduction of his voice.
If Willow had been warned she’d respond so earthily to such simple praise this time yesterday, she would’ve scoffed, then laughed hysterically.
Even now, she couldn’t entirely fathom why, last night, her body had heated up, then tingled with disarming intensity between her legs, making her clit throb and her core dampen so brazenly, she’d moaned into her pillow.
She locked her knees tighter as he prowled towards her, the memory of him doing just that last night washing over her with renewed ferocity.
Enough!She had no time for that now. She’d wanted an audience with Jario Tagarro for the sake of uncovering the truth.
Her wish, however precarious, had been granted.
‘I had a friend get me on the shortlist of the agency you use. And yes, I’ll take full responsibility for that if you want. But Mr Tagarro—’
‘You will remain silent, and you will listen. Interrupt me, and the authorities will be summoned, and you’ll be arrested for trespassing. Is that understood?’
Defiance whistled through her at his domineering tone. ‘Trespassing? Hardly,’ she snapped, then bit her lip. The last thing she could afford to do was compound her situation with attitude. At the very least, she needed to comply until she got Jario to define his relationship with her father.
‘What lies did you tell to weasel your way onto my yacht?’
Willow’s teeth gritted. ‘Everything I told Rebecca during the interview was true. But I do also want to talk to you, Mr Tagarro. About—’
The harsh slash of his hand through the air froze her speech. ‘As Ripley’s assistant you’ll be assigned to my private and working suites, correct?’ he enquired in a deceptively soft tone.
Her eyes darted to the file on his desk, wondering why he was questioning her when he probably had the information at his fingertips. Was he trying to catch her in a lie? ‘I haven’t yet discussed my full responsibilities with Rebecca or Ripley.’
‘I see.’
The borderline pleasant response sent eerie shivers down her nape as Jario sauntered back to his desk and pressed a button. The purser answered immediately.
‘Rebecca, bring up today’s task sheet for Miss Chatterton, please.’
‘Right away, Mr Tagarro.’
Lifting his finger off the intercom, he perched on the corner of his desk, arms folded. He stared at her, not a sliver of warmth from last night visible in his blue gaze.
Willow considered speaking a handful of times in the frosty silence, but the animosity bristling from him stayed her tongue. When the knock came, he barked an order to enter.
Rebecca barely glanced at her, her brisk strides crossing the room to hand her boss a sheet of paper.