CHAPTER 162: CHAPTER 162 ASK HER OUT

*LORENZO*

I watched Danica’s hasty retreat into the scullery, her plait bouncing from side to side and brushing her waist.

“Who’s the pretty girl?”

“My cleaner.”

Tom nodded with lascivious approval. I was glad she was gone back into her lair, away from Tom’s and Joe’s prying eyes.

Their reaction made me uneasy. Suddenly, surprisingly, I feel proprietary. It’s an unfamiliar emotion. I don’t want my friends ogling her. She was mine. Well, she was my employee.

You’re Lorenzo Moretti, heir to the Moretti empire. She’ll need to go on the payroll.

Shit.

She was almost my employee. I need to sort out her employment status sooner rather than later. I wanted her to become my permanent staff.

“What happened to Ximena? I liked the old bird,” Tom said as he rubs his face.

“She resigned. Now, will you go and put some fucking clothes on? There is a lady present, for fuck’s sake,” I growled.

“Lady?” Tom paled at the look I gave him, and for once he didn’t rise to the bait. “Sorry, old chap. I’ll go and get dressed. Milk, no sugar for me.” He shuffled out of the kitchen and back to the guest room.

I chided myself for inviting my friends to stay when Danica was working here. I wasn’t going to make that mistake again.

****************

Danica had managed to avoid the men for most of the morning, and she was glad when they finally left.

She cleared the blankets off the sofa in the living room and had stripped and remade the bed in the spare room. His bedroom was now tidy, and she was surprised and delighted to note there were still no used condoms in the wastebasket.

Perhaps he was disposing of them a different way. She didn’t dwell on this thought, because it depressed her. She entered his walk-in closet to put away the ironing and gather up his dirty clothes. It had only been a couple of days, but it was a mess again.

The boss was sitting at his computer and working, doing whatever it was that he does. She still had no idea how he made his living. She recalled the smile that lit up his face when he first saw her this morning. His dazzling smile was contagious. Grinning like an idiot, she examined the pile of clothing on the floor of his closet.

Kneeling down, she picked up one shirt, then glanced quickly at the half-open door. Satisfied that she was alone, she held the shirt to her face, closed her eyes, and inhaled his scent.

So good.

“There you are,” he said.

Danica jumped and bolted upright rather too quickly, so that she stumbled backward. Two strong hands grabbed her arms and saved her from falling.

“Easy,” he said, and gently held her while she found her balance. As soon as she did, to her regret, he released her, but his touch still echoes through her body. “I was looking for a sweater. It’s a bright day, but cold. Are you warm enough?” he asked.

She nodded vigorously, trying to catch her breath. Right now, in this small space with him, she was too warm.

He surveyed the pile of clothes on the floor and frowned. “It’s a mess, I know,” he mumbled with a sheepish expression on his face. “I’m pathologically untidy.”

“Path-o-log—”

“Pathological.”

“I do not know this word.”

“Oh...um...it refers to an extreme behavior.”

“I see,” Danica responded, and she looked down at the clothes again and nodded. “Yes. Pathological.” She gave him a wry expression, and he laughed.

“I’ll sort this out,” he said.

“No. No. I’ll do it.” Danica waved him away. “You don’t have to. It is my job.”

He grinned and reaches across her for a chunky cream sweater on one of the shelves. His arm brushed her shoulder, and she froze as her heart went into overdrive.

“Sorry,” he murmured, looking a little disheartened as he left the closet. Once he was gone, Danica recovered her equilibrium.

‘Can he not tell the effect he has on me?’

And he caught her sniffing his shirt. She covered her face. He must think she was a complete idiot. Feeling mortified and angry with herself, she sunk to her knees and sorted through the pile of clothing, folding the clothes that don’t need washing and putting all his dirty stuff into the laundry basket.

***********

*LORENZO*

I can’t keep my hands off her. Any excuse.

Leave her alone, dude.

And if I touch her, she freezes. I ambled back to the drawing room, feeling glum. She just didn’t like me.

Was this a first?

I think so. I’ve never struggled with women before. They’ve always been an easy diversion for me. With a healthy bank account, an apartment in this posh part of town, a pretty face, and an aristocratic family, I’ve never had a problem.

Ever.

Except now.

I should ask her out for a meal.

She looked like she could do with a decent meal. Suppose she says no?

Then at least I’ll know.

I paced the length of the windowed wall in the study, stopping to gaze out at the roadside for a few minutes and trying to summon the nerve.

Why was this so difficult? Why her? She was beautiful. She was talented. She was not interested in me.

Perhaps it was as simple as that.

The first woman who had ever said no.

She had not said no. She might give me a chance.

I should really ask her out.