His eyes moved to study her lips and Natalie could feel the tension pouring from his large body looming too closely over the console. "Say the word, baby," he intoned slowly, in a voice that both dared and begged her at the same time.
Her eyes flared at his tense statement and butterflies took flight in her stomach. Dear God, was he saying what she thought he was saying? Or had her fevered imagination only conjured those words up? She couldn't deal with this--not yet, not now. She pulled on her wrist, attempting to retrieve it from his hold, and tried to defuse the intensity swirling around the enclosed space. "I was lost, Marco--that's all."
His eyes narrowed on her, but finally, he released her wrist, while his expression remained tight with strain. "Good thing I found you then."
She let out a breath, thankful the subject had gotten back on track, away from the dangerous course it had taken moments before. "Yes, thank you." Her words were polite, but way too stiff. She tried to loosen up the knot of tension in her throat so she could maintain a tone of normality. "Is there a gym in the building?"
A cloud settled over his features and he answered her shortly, "Yes."
"Do you think it would be okay if I use it once in awhile?"
His eyes were completely remote, gleaming like dark volcanic rock while he studied her within the confines of the car. "I don't see why not," he said slowly.
His answer rang false; it seemed to her as if he couldn't think of a reason fast enough for why she couldn't use the gym. Curious and alarmed at once, Natalie pasted a fake smile on her face that she hoped he couldn't see through. "Thanks again. I'll get back to work. Are you coming up?"
"No, I was on my way to a meeting across town, I'm late as it is."
Liar. She didn't believe him for a second; she'd bet her last dollar he'd only left the bank to track her down. "Okay. I'll see you later." Natalie reached down and pulled the handle to release the door but it was locked. Still uneasy under his scrutiny, she shot him a questioning look. He held her eyes for the beat of five seconds and then he released the locking mechanism. The second it clicked open, she pulled the handle and jumped from the vehicle.
Chapter Four
Two hours later, Natalie had showered and fixed her make-up and hair. She'd slipped into her favorite pair of jeans and a loose t-shirt. She was absentmindedly running a dust cloth over the furniture, her mind on the very probable tracking device in her phone and wandering what else he might have been capable of. Had he screwed with the computer he'd lent her? Were there nanny cams around the apartment?
Just as she was looking around, trying to do it inconspicuously, in case she was being watched, the intercom buzzer rang.
She pressed the button. "Yes?"
"I'm sorry to intrude on your day Miss Lambert, but Miss Wallace has something she'd like to bring up. May I send her up?" the concierge asked.
Natalie had no clue who Miss Wallace was, but whoever she was, she didn't sound threatening. "Sure. And thank you."
"You're very welcome, Miss."
Twenty seconds later, the elevator doors opened and a tall, blonde female dressed to the nines strolled in as if she owned the place. She glanced once at Natalie, and then dropped a box on the entry table before turning her penetrating stare on her completely. "That's for Marco. Who the hell are you?"
"Natalie Lambert--Marco's housekeeper."
"Bullshit." High-pitched venom laced the word.
"I'm sorry?"
"Marco hasn't had a housekeeper since I've known him. He guards his privacy at all times and uses a cleaning service once a week, but that's it."
Natalie had no idea who this woman was, but she was getting the feeling that she was 'the one who took care of that aspect of his life for him'. She steeled her nerves to answer. "I've worked for him for two weeks now."
"And you call him Marco? That seems terribly disrespectful."
Who the hell did this woman think she was? Natalie shrugged her shoulders at the question. "It's the way he wants it," she replied in an even tone.
"Are you here more than once a week?"
"Yep."
"How often?"
"I'm a live-in." As she said the words, Natalie knew the woman wouldn't like her answer.
And she was right. Arrows of pure evil radiated from the woman's eyes. "Are you fucking him?"
Natalie took a step back from the fury blasting out at her. "No. I just clean for him. And do the laundry."
That answer seemed to calm the other woman down but only marginally. "Why would he need a housekeeper all of a sudden?" She asked the question almost of herself.
Natalie felt bad about the white lie she was about to tell even though she didn't owe this woman anything. She and Marco had never discussed if they would or wouldn't tell anyone about their 'deal.' She didn't particularly want anyone to know she was his unpaid servant. "I don't really know. I just know he hired me, and I clean for him. He's rarely home."
The other woman preened like a cat that had gotten the cream. "Yes, I know. He's either at that stupid bank of his, or he's in my bed, getting his brains screwed out." Her face became shadowed and she frowned at Natalie as if something had just occurred to her. "How long did you say you've been working for him?"
"Two weeks."
The frown intensified. "Just so you know, he's mine. We've been dating for two years, and we're getting married soon."
Natalie felt a small stab of something she couldn't identify. "Congratulations."
"Yes, well, don't congratulate me yet. I haven't gotten him to commit completely. But he will."
"That's great." Yes, just peachy.
"Call me Tanya. And I'll call you Natalie?"
Natalie smiled and tried not to make it brittle. "Yes, of course."
"Good. We'll be seeing each other a lot because I'm here all the time. We'll get along fine, just as long as you don't try to take him. Not that you could. You're not at all his type. Marco likes tall, beautiful women. And you aren't that, are you?"
"Nope, no one could ever call me tall. Or beautiful, for that matter." As soon as the words shot from her mouth, Natalie remembered what Marco had said earlier in the day--and the way he said it. A small shred of guilt crawled up her throat, even though she hadn't done anything wrong. She didn't know if he really believed what he'd said, or if he was trying to make some kind of point, but he'd certainly sounded as if he believed it. But the fact was, Natalie had never thought of herself as beautiful. Her mother was beautiful; she wasn't.