and not just because her whole body was starting to ache from her fall.
What was the matter with him now?
It was obvious that he was angry but she had no idea why.
Having locked her safely in the car, he’d proceeded to converse in Greek with his driver, leaving her to stare out of the tinted glass and stew in her own emotions.
‘Are you angry because I ruined your evening or because I don’t slavishly follow orders? Because I didn’t ask you to come to my rescue. I would have been fine.’
‘Which bit would have been fine, exactly?’ He strode into the elevator like a man on a mission and thumped his palm against the button. ‘The bit where you were knocked unconscious or the part where you discharged yourself from hospital against medical advice?’
‘I’m capable of making my own decisions.’
He looked unimpressed. ‘Anyone can make a decision. The skill is making the right one at the right time.’
‘That’s what I do.’
‘What you do, Miss Prince, is disagree with me on principle.’
‘That isn’t true.’
‘Isn’t it? You were about to be mobbed by journalists for a second time in one evening. Would you have got into the car if I hadn’t forced you?’
She shifted uncomfortably, suddenly realising just how much she’d inconvenienced him. ‘Yes, I would. If you’d given me time to think about it.’
‘We didn’t have time to debate options.’ His savage tone intensified her growing guilt.
‘I’m sorry! I loused up your evening and I feel bad about that. And I’m grateful to you for helping me out. I’m not just not—well, I’m not used to accepting help. It feels strange.’ Polly felt as small as a field mouse. Not only had he come to her rescue, he’d abandoned a hot date to come to the hospital and all she’d done was give him grief.
When had anyone ever come to her rescue before?
When had anyone given her any help?
A strange, unfamiliar feeling spread through her and she wondered whether the bang on the head had been worse than she’d thought. Suddenly she was relieved he’d forced her into the car. It felt as though a heavy metal rock group was rehearsing inside her skull and she was wondering whether discharging herself had been such a clever idea. Was it normal to feel this bad?
But she had to get to Paris, didn’t she? Winning the High Kick Hosiery account was crucial to the business. And they couldn’t afford to lose that business.
‘P?’ Polly focused her gritty, tired eyes on the glowing panel as the lift moved upwards. ‘P for prison? P for punishment?’
‘Penthouse.’
‘Of course. Penthouse. You live above the shop.’ Looking at him, she saw how tightly he held onto control and wondered what it took to make him snap. ‘I really am sorry I ruined your evening.’ Gingerly, she touched her fingers to her head. ‘I didn’t realise they’d be that eager for a story. How did you find out?’
‘My head of security rang me. He was close enough to see it happen, but not close enough to stop it. Why didn’t you stay at the hospital?’
‘I can’t stay in hospital. I have a very unsympathetic boss. He told me to take my lazy, useless self and do a proper day’s work.’
‘So I’m to blame for your decisions?’
‘Well those were your words but no, you’re not to blame. I would have done the same thing regardless of what you said. The meeting is important.’ The movement of the elevator was starting to make her feel sick. ‘It’s tough out there. If I don’t deliver, Gérard will just pick up the phone to the next agency on his list. I don’t want that to happen.’
‘I am not an unsympathetic boss.’ He spoke the words through gritted teeth. ‘And anyone with any sense would take time off after an injury like that. Or are you trying to impress me?’
‘I’m not stupid enough to think I could ever impress you.’ She wondered why being trapped in a confined space with him should make it hard to breathe. ‘I’m just trying to get the job done. The meeting tomorrow is important. With everything so unstable, I can’t not turn up. We worked hard to win that business and we need to show them that we can do a good job. Do you have any painkillers in your fancy apartment?’
He breathed deeply. ‘Yes.’ Even with his top button undone and his bow tie dangling round his neck, he looked sleek and handsome. He also looked supremely irritated.
Polly wondered about the woman he’d abandoned halfway through a date. Who was she? Someone exceptionally beautiful, obviously, who wouldn’t dream of wearing hot pink tights or writing with a fluffy pink pen.
She stole a glance at his profile.
No one had ever come to her rescue before. Even the time she’d come off the trampoline at school and broken her arm she’d had to get a taxi home from the hospital because no one had been able to contact her father. Confused by her own feelings, Polly looked away quickly. She was so used to rescuing herself that it felt strange having someone else step in. Thanking someone for help was a whole new experience. ‘You could go back and spend the rest of your evening with whoever she is. It isn’t too late. I don’t need a babysitter. I’m just going to have a bath, wash off the blood—that sort of thing. Go and finish your date.’
‘Since you seem determined to launch yourself from one disaster to another, you need supervision.’
Polly laughed and then wished she hadn’t because the movement amplified the pain in her head. Supervision? She hadn’t been supervised since she was a toddler. Right from the moment she could walk, her father had expected her to sort her own problems out.
Find a way, Pol.
‘Unless you’re planning on lying down on the bed next to me, I don’t see how you can supervise me.’ As his eyes met hers, she wished she hadn’t used those words. It was uncomfortably easy to think about sex around this man and she wasn’t used to thinking about sex. ‘I’m going to be fine. I just need painkillers and sleep, that’s all. I don’t need company for that.’
But the comfort she felt at knowing he was going to be close by shook her. Why did it matter? She’d never been a dependent sort of person. Just because the man had broad shoulders, it didn’t mean she had to lean on him.
Seriously unnerved, Polly was relieved when the elevator doors finally slid open and she could put some space between them.
Like everyone, she’d heard whispers and speculation about the duplex apartment that graced the top of the building. Everyone had. When the Doukakis Tower had been under construction there had been hushed talk of the penthouse with its three-hundred-and-sixty-degree views of London, roof garden and glass enclosed heated swimming pool. None of the rumours had prepared her for reality.
‘Oh—’ Stunned into silence, she stared at the sparkling cityscape that stretched in every direction. The architect had created a space to maximise the
