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It made her heart ache just imagining him with another woman. Probably a leggy blonde with big tits. Hadn't she tortured herself by trawling through the internet checking out his dating past?

  "Whatever stupid thought has put that filthy look on your face, stop it right now," growled T.C.

  "I'm not blonde and I don't have long legs."

  "Puleeeeeeze!" scoffed T.C. as she speared a red pepper. "What the hell is this?"

  "A crisis of confidence," guessed Danni. "You've a lot on your emotional plate at the moment, so I don't blame you for feeling overwhelmed."

  And right there was the heart of the matter, she was feeling overwhelmed.

  "There are times I want to just walk away and take time to think everything through."

  Danni nodded like the wise owl she was. "Hmm. Olivier needs to learn that the more he pushes, the more you'll dig in your heels or take a big step back."

  "Then take all the time you need," said T.C. as if it was the simplest thing in the world.

  And how, Anastacia wondered with something like sheer dread churning in her belly, was she going to do that and not break Olivier's heart?

  ***

  Later that afternoon, Anastacia sat behind her desk in her swanky office. As head of Ferranti Communications, she more than deserved a swanky office. Chair turned to face the view of London far below, she mulled over the conversation with her friends as she gazed unseeing over the river Thames and Tower Bridge.

  A brisk knock at the door heralded the arrival of her PA.

  Linda entered, closed and leaned back against the door.

  Her mobile brows rose above framed plastic glasses the color of nuclear green.

  "I've a Chloe Rucker who wants to see you, now. Said you're busy, says she's prepared to wait."

  Anastacia spun round in her chair, thrust her hands through her hair and grabbed.

  A move that brought her trusty PA's black brows winging above her glasses.

  "Oh, God," said an Anastacia who knew Karma must be laughing so loud.

  "I gather you know her?"

  "She's my half-sister."

  Linda fluttered lashes heavy with three coats of black mascara.

  "Okay. I knew something's been bugging you, and I know I'm only your PA, but..."

  Anastacia saw the hurt, and was sorry for it. Linda was a good friend as well as a brilliant PA. She didn't deserve to be kept out of the loop.

  "Christopher Rucker is my father."

  Again with the fluttering lashes.

  "But, your father is dead."

  "Yeah, you can imagine my surprise. Let me start from the beginning. My mother lied about my past, about who my father was..."

  And Anastacia explained how for over twenty years her father had been searching for her, and her late mother. He'd spotted her when her first kiss with Olivier had gone viral across social media. And then she told Linda the rest of it. "I have a step-mother and two half-sisters I haven't met. Yet."

  Now Linda frowned.

  "So, sister Chloe is bearding the she-wolf in her den? Want me to get rid of her?"

  Anastacia shook her head, bit her lip.

  "No. Does she look angry?"

  "Nope. She looks determined."

  Anastacia heaved a sigh because by doing nothing she'd brought this situation on herself.

  "Show her in. And hold my calls."

  "No probs."

  Sweat might slick her hands, but Anastacia's mouth and throat were bone dry.

  At the brisk knock on the door, she looked up.

  Chloe Rucker stood, hands on narrow hips and long jean clad legs spread wide. She wore a fitted ivory shirt, which stretched across perky breasts. On her feet were a pair of fantabulous and expensive flat ankle boots in glove soft tan leather. The boots matched the huge bag slung over her shoulder. She was at least five foot ten inches tall, slim and blonde (cue a deep and heavy sigh of sheer envy) and absolutely gorgeous. It cost her, but Anastacia at five foot two inches tall, managed not to pout. She might have known it. But the thing that really weirded her out was looking into deep blue eyes exactly like her own.

  Those eyes now narrowed into hers. "I won't apologize for barging in here like this, but your assistant is a Rottweiler and wouldn't let me past without an appointment weeks into the future. Who the hell died and made you the Queen?"

  Instead of rising to greet her unexpected guest, which would, a little voice said, be the polite thing to do, Anastacia simply rocked back in her chair, folded her arms and crossed her legs.

  Well, well, it looked as if her half-sister, sibling, whatever the hell she was, had plenty of spunk.

  "I rule this office," said Anastacia. Without breaking eye contact, she shifted to pick up the phone on her desk, pressed a button. "Linda, can we have tea and coffee in here and something sweet for sour face? Thanks." Then she recognized the first sign of nerves by the way the girl bit down hard on her full bottom lip, by the way her hands were clenched now at her sides. "Why don't you sit down and tell me who, or what, has upset you?"

  Chloe flushed beet red as she slid the bag the size of Texas from her shoulder and sank into the skinny chair in front of the desk.

  "You've upset me."

  Anastacia gave her big eyes. "Me? What the hell have I ever done to you?"

  Chloe gave a little under-her-breath hiss that made Anastacia blink because it sounded exactly like the noise she made each time Olivier pissed her off.

  "Ever since he found you my dad hasn't been himself. He's sort of.... sad. He's quiet. And my mother is worrying herself to death about him. Why don't you want to meet us?"

  This last part was blurted out and accompanied by wide eyes filled to the brim with hurt and dismay. The girl's expression reminded Anastacia of a smacked puppy who'd peed on the best rug.

  Feck, fecking hell.

  Anastacia's heart clenched and so did the nerves in her gut.

  She shoved both hands through her hair, gripped and pulled.

  And right at that moment, her PA waltzed through the door with a tray of refreshments, which included a large plate of Oreos. Linda placed the tray on the table, turned to frown down at Chloe, then turned to her esteemed leader.

  "Don't forget you have a three-thirty appointment."

  Anastacia opened her mouth to say cancel it, and then thought again.

  "Push it back an hour."

  Linda nodded, then turned to give Chloe the evil eye.

  "Want me to call security?"

  Anastacia just grinned as her sister went pale.

  "Nah, she's okay."

  Linda sniffed, beaned Chloe with another black look and took her leave.

  "Wow, she's scary."

  "Nah," said Anastacia as she lifted the coffee pot and on her sister's nod poured her a cup. "She loves working for me because she gets away with bloody murder. No one else would put up with a potty-mouthed know-it-all. Plus, she's the best."

  Cue a long, too long, silence as the sisters openly measured each other.

  Then Chloe leaned forward, her face flushed, and spoke,

  "The suspense has been killing me for days and I just couldn't take it any more. Do you have any idea how long my dad and mum have been looking for you? Do you? And now they've found you, you're ignoring us, your family? Every time the phone rings my mother jumps out her skin only to be bitterly disappointed again and again. Where do you get off hurting my parents like this? How fair is that?"

  Anastacia grabbed an Oreo and nibbled on it as she carefully considered the flushed cheeks of the girl staring holes in her.

  "Not exactly the shy and retiring type, are you, Chloe?"

  Chloe's blue eyes glittered into hers while her full mouth curved in a reluctant smile.

  "From what I've seen and heard, neither are you, Anastacia."

  Anastacia felt all her tension simply drain away as she couldn't help but grin at the pissy tone.

  She liked this girl.

  She liked her a lot.

  "So, tell
me all about yourself."

  "Just like that?"

  Anastacia shrugged. "Why not?" She sipped her coffee as she studied her. Chloe might be leggy and blonde, but she was no bimbo. Her eyes shone with a lethal intelligence and a bravery Anastacia could get behind.

  "I'm nearly twenty-two. Gotta science degree."

  Impressed, Anastacia raised dark brows.

  "Medicine?"

  "Maybe. Maybe pharmaceuticals in research and development. I haven't decided. You're self-reliant, gotta communications degree and you run this place. That's pretty incredible. You're young to be head of Ferranti Communications."

  "I earned it." Anastacia knew her tone was hard and didn't regret it.

  "I'm sure you did. Let me give you the skinny on your family. My sister, Tanith, is nineteen and cripplingly shy. My mum rules the roost. Dad enjoys letting her. That's it. So..... Is it a wild rumour or is it true you're coming to dinner tomorrow night?"

  Anastacia had to laugh.

  "It's true. It's not that I didn't want to meet you and Tanith, Chloe. It's just that learning I have a father and extended family has come as a bolt completely from the blue. I have a pretty good life, with great friends, the best job working for the best boss. I've needed space and time to sort of absorb everything. I'm sorry if I've hurt your family, or you, by taking my time to assimilate things."

  Chloe nodded.

  "Fair enough." Then her blue eyes danced in a wicked way that had Anastacia wonder what was coming next. "Gimme the deets on Olivier Conti. Is he as hot in the flesh as he is on TV?"

  Anastacia didn't bat an eye.

  "Hotter," she said, deadpan.

  Chloe's smile spread.

  "Thought so."

  CHAPTER THREE

  Anastacia stepped out of the elevator into the smart hallway of Olivier's penthouse. Sunlight streamed through the glass roof of the atrium as she closed her eyes and simply let her bag slide to the floor. She'd had a helluva day and was desperate for a cuddle, food, bath and bed, in that order. Sliding out of her towering heels, she wiggled aching toes. Then opened the door to the sitting room and stopped dead.

  In front of her Olivier stood, dark eyes laughing at the way hers goggled. Her man was, in her eyes (and fifty million women world-wide agreed), beyond gorgeous. His black hair, wet and glossy from the shower invited her fingers to play in its unruly disarray. His broad shoulders and wide chest, athletically lean, exuded a power and confidence beyond his years.

  Now, wearing nothing but a white frilly apron, he struck a pose.

  In his hand he held a frosty goblet of white wine.

  She blinked, closed the door, leaned back against it for support and nearly coughed up a lung laughing.

  "Omigod," she gasped at last, wiping streaming eyes, as she looked up into his wonderful face. "What the hell are you doing?"

  Swift, strong and skilled, he spun again and slid the glass into her hand, planted a hot kiss on her mouth before stepping back and doing a very slow twirl that would've made Magic Mike proud.

  Wow.

  That tight and tautly muscled ass looked even better with a large white bow trailing down his buttocks. Another gurgle of laughter rose into her throat.

  Dancing dark eyes met hers and read her amused confusion.

  "You have somehow forgotten the message you left me this morning?" he demanded in a deceptively soft voice, his deep Italian accent making her toes curl. The warning glittering behind the laughter in his eyes made her blink, made her belly tremble.

  For a moment she had no idea what...

  Then her eyes went huge as she inhaled the scent of lemon oil and fresh flowers, as her gaze travelled over a glossy and gleaming living space. The room looked, well, stunning.

  "You did all this?"

  He opened his mouth, then closed it with a snap.

  "No. I called in reinforcements, with close support from T.C."

  Ah, the light bulb lit up in her brain.

  "T.C. let you have her girls?"

  T.C. guarded her housekeeping team closer than a mama cat protected her kittens.

  He nodded. His hand covered hers that held the glass, took it to his lips and stole a sip of her wine. "Si. I did not realize I was living like a pig. Plus, Bronte would kill me if I did not keep it clean."

  Anastacia sipped her wine as she watched heat spread up his neck and score those hard-planed cheekbones.

  Uh-oh.

  Guilty face.

  "How much did it cost you?" she asked in a silky voice. Since she didn't receive an immediate response, she moved closer, poked a finger into his six pack. His belly trembled under her touch. "How much?"

  He caught her hand, brought it to his mouth to nibble on her fingers.

  His eyes stayed on hers, went dark.

  And then his apron tented.

  She dropped her eyes to watch an arousal that even for him was formidable. Pressing her lips close together, her brow creased as her eyes again filled with laughter. Taking a moment to place her wine glass on a side table, she stepped into him and slid her arms around his neck and pressed her body to the hard length of his.

  "You won't distract me by sex. How much?"

  "All I will admit is four figures."

  Her mouth curved as her teeth tugged on his bottom lip. "Cash?"

  "Si."

  She slid her hands down a warm, smooth back, felt the muscles flex. Then made short work on the bow over his bum.

  "T.C.'s a hard negotiator," she whispered into his mouth.

  "Si. If she ever gave up blogging for a living, she could join the security services, teach them about interrogation and intimidation tactics."

  Peering up at him through her thick lashes, she revelled in the heat and demand in those dark eyes as they stayed on hers. "I want sweaty sex," she muttered, then nibbled on his bottom lip, felt his erection jerk against her belly.

  He caught her against the hard-cut planes of his body in a clinch so provocative and intense she couldn't think anything beyond the miracle of the way they fit. Perfect. Right. Dark, dark eyes slid over her face in a scorching caress that made her shiver from the heat of it.

  Lips trembling in response to a darkly liquid anticipation that throbbed deep in her belly, between her legs, Anastacia didn't utter another word before he moved in and, with fatal precision, seized her mouth beneath his.

  The kiss was blazing in intent, an intense, flamboyant manoeuvre of passion, of control that bowed her back in a slow arch, imprisoned by unyielding broad-shoulders and arms of steel of Olivier's powerful frame. Firm, smooth lips moved over hers in a backward and forward trace so adept, so alluring, she could only sigh in delight under their ruthless attack on her senses.

  There was something assured in the way he held her, the way he kissed her. Something chemical, instinctual and something so right. She loved it. Therefore she didn't fight it as, locked in his hold, her body and mind simply surrendered. A woman giving herself willingly to her man.

  'Mine,' his arms seemed to say.

  Yes.

  She was his, heart and soul.

  And God knew he was hers.

  Eyes tight shut, fingernails digging into the smooth flesh of his shoulders, she shuddered against the curl of sheer lust licking like flame through her belly. He did this to her every single time. Now her fingers skimmed over the muscled contours of his broad shoulders, tracing the smooth column of his neck until they threaded into the damp silk at the base of his skull. God, he had a beautifully shaped head. Her hands in his hair, coupled with the seductive pull of his mouth against her own was mind-blowing. It was too much, and yet not enough, and forced a soft, beseeching moan for more past her lips.

  He stilled, just for a moment.

  His heart, or was it hers, or both, thundering together.

  Then a breath, warm and wet stole between her quivering lips, his voice husky with lust in answer to her needy plea. "Ana."

  Now the arms that held her tightened, sliding into somethin
g quite different, sliding into a lazy, sizzling exploration of his hands down her body. She didn't feel the smooth slide of the zipper of her dress or the unhooking of the scrap of silk that was her bra because his tongue was licking at the corner of her mouth. The move evoking a liquid shudder that tortured her from head to toe, had her open her mouth to the stunning sensation of her man seducing her, there was no other word for it, with his mouth, his tongue, his teeth. The low growl of his moan sounding between them, it seemed her mind simply dropped away losing reason, drowning in need of him and going under for the last time. She wanted him. Everything he could give her. Now.

  Breath ragged, heart pounding, she nearly wept when his lips eased from hers degree by slow degree until only the barest brush of skin and gentle exhale and inhale had lips clinging to lips. The kiss had been so wild, so red-hot, she found it too hard to breathe with the sheer joy of it. Now she tried to focus on the shadowed planes of the face of the man she loved only inches above her. Her eyes just couldn't get enough of the solid cut of his jaw, clear-cut lips wet from hers.

  Now her hands travelled down to explore his chest, palms pressed flat against the sculpted definition of the thrilling form of a male at his physical peak. The feel of his hard-packed shape under her searching fingers was a delicious turn-on. The contract and flex of muscles forged by a careful diet and sheer hard work. The tight beads of his nipples. Brown, hard and utterly enticing. Salacious little nubs that teased and taunted. She knew it drove him crazy that, once she started, she could never leave them alone.

  His hands clamped around her wrists, slowing her down, knowing full well the intended target of her shameless exploration as his breath hissed out in a way that made his erection twitch.

  "I will not last," he warned her in a rough tone that told her quite clearly she was playing with fire.

  He took her chin between his finger and thumb. Her gaze lifted from his mouth to meet his and her breath caught. Strain sharpened the fine lines etched around his mouth and the blatant hunger darkening around his fabulous eyes. His jaw jumped with a sexual tension that was unbelievable.

  "To leave me such a note was very naughty of you, piccolino. I have suffered much through a long day." His deep voice was low and serious now, not the naughty and cheerful Olivier who'd welcomed her home with wine and wearing nothing but white apron. He held her gaze, then slowly his mouth curved. "My punishment will be thorough."