she was planning to leg it. Tash held her head high. No twat in a suit would intimidate her. Weren't you supposed to imagine people naked to make it easier?
Her stomach twisted over and her muscles tensed. Suits reminded her of officialdom, of all the adults who'd moved her around foster placements, who’d laid down the law and made decisions about her life without consulting her.
"Mr Campbell, this is Natasha…er, I mean Tash." Holly cleared her throat. Her nervousness somehow transmitted directly to Tash's stomach. "She'll be showing you round Verbier and getting you up to speed on all the experiences we offer guests."
Then Holly half shoved Tash towards the tall guy standing nearest them.
Tash looked up, forcing herself to look him directly in the eyes, annoyed by the nerves coursing through her body and determined not to show them.
Remember he's no better than you, just because he's wearing an expensive suit.
She'd expected a plastic man with an inflated ego and a TV tango tan but Nathaniel Campbell couldn't have been further from her imaginings. He had rugged features and was tall, powerfully built, like he'd been designed for the rugby field or maybe even a boxing ring, not an office.
There was a sharp intelligence shining in his flinty blue-grey eyes. A spark of desire tinged with fear sent a shiver of electricity the length of Tash's spine. She'd need to watch her step with this one.
He's nobody's fool.
Suddenly imagining him naked became a much more interesting proposition.
And it did nothing to relax her.
Worse still, as he focused all his attention on her it felt like he might be imagining her naked too.
He had an aura of power, a supreme confidence that Tash had been trying to fake her whole life. The difference was Nathaniel Campbell wasn't faking anything.
Stop acting like a crazed fan and act normal for frick's sake.
"Pleased to meet you." Tash held out her hand, pleased she'd finally remembered how to speak and co-ordinate her limbs. "By the way, nobody calls me Natasha, I'm Tash."
Amusement glinted in his eyes as he took her hand and shook it with a firm grip. Her hand looked tiny in his; she couldn't help staring at his hands. She'd experienced instant sexual attraction before but this was crazy.
Crazy stupid but sort of crazy good too.
It felt like the air had been squeezed out of her lungs. Electricity buzzed through her again but this time it was more of a shudder than a shiver. It felt, bizarrely, like there was no one else in the room. No one who mattered anyway.
It must be his famous charisma.
I'm as bad as Rebecca, I need to get a grip.
"Well lots of people call me Mr Campbell, or Nathaniel, but I prefer to be called Nate." His mouth twitched at the corners into an almost smile.
"And of course we have Mr Campbell's team - Mr Benson, Mr Smith and Ms Miller." Holly gestured to the rest of the group, her cheeks flushing pink as she sipped at her orange juice.
This isn't easy for Holly either.
"Please do call me Nate, we don't need to be formal." Nate turned and smiled at Holly. She received the full wattage of his smile and a pang of jealousy pierced Tash.
Watch it, you'll be acting as bonkers as Rebecca if you're not careful.
Yet on closer inspection his smile was that of a politician's; while genuinely warm and conveying that the recipient was the most important person in the room, there was a detachment in his eyes.
"And you must meet Rebecca." Scott stepped forward, resting one proprietorial hand on Holly's shoulder and gesturing to Rebecca with the other.
Rebecca shot forward eagerly, a pearly pink smile stretching widely across her face. She actually giggled when Nate took her hand.
Tash bit her lip. This was stupid. It wasn't like getting laid was a problem for her. Sex was…just sex. An urge, a bartering tool, an itch to scratch…She didn't need to get to know this man, there were plenty of others out there.
Ones who don't come with a health warning - Caution, this man could seriously affect your ability to string a sentence together and keep your pants on!
Hormones might be trying to hijack her body but she refused to act like a bitch on heat.
"I believe you know my father? Justice Crawley?" Rebecca simpered. "I'm sure he mentioned he met you at a political fundraiser."
Of course he did.
Tash resented Rebecca's instant elevation to the 'one of us club' just because of an accident of birth. It happened all the time in the Verbier trustafarian set. If a social connection could be established, if you'd been to the right school or knew someone in common, then you ceased to be 'below stairs.'
Ridiculous.
Even if I could afford the expensive clothes I'd still never fit in.
It was like they were still in the Middle Ages. How could anyone in the twenty-first century still believe birth into a certain class determined your worth?
It made Tash want to do very bad things.
"I believe I may have met Justice Crawley, yes." Nate replied gravely.
Yeah right, clever answer. Like he has a clue who Rebecca's talking about.
She narrowed her eyes at him and as though he sensed her looking he turned and met her gaze. A sharp jolt of connection surprised and thrilled her. A current passed between them, Nate's look so arrogant and knowing it made her insides squirm. When he looked away again she felt simultaneously relieved and disappointed.
Get a grip girl.
She'd never watched The Lion's Den. Surely anyone who wanted to be on TV had to have an ego the size of a planet? Yet, much as she wanted to, she couldn't dismiss him. He didn't suit the label she'd written for him.
Heart pounding, she stood back from the group, sipping at the flute of champagne Scott had handed her, bubbles dancing on her tongue. The champagne was expensive. Gaining favour obviously really mattered to Holly and Scott.
She could do this - be polite, show them around, be professional and not kill Rebecca in the process…
She stared at Rebecca who smiled coyly at Nate while touching him oh so casually on the arm.
Really? Maybe I'll have to revisit that 'not killing' part.
Tash snorted, quietly she'd thought, but Nate looked up and met her gaze from across the room, his stare piercing. Was there a flicker of understanding there? A shared joke or connection? Before she could decipher the look he turned back to Rebecca, listening politely to her chatter as though he'd never looked away.
Tash
