think not,’ he said softly. There was a faint foreign tone to his cutting, cold accent.
George was frantically doing some kind of dance behind the arrogant ass’s back. But she paid no attention—she was too incensed. The guy needed to be schooled. Tired and strung out and sad, Ettie couldn’t hold back her contempt. ‘You’ve never once set foot in this place before now.’
‘No.’ His quiet confirmation sounded stronger than George’s audible gasp.
‘You’re despicable,’ Ettie told him.
‘Despicable?’ He glanced behind him and caught George midway through miming self-strangulation. He turned back to face her. ‘I think what your colleague is trying to convey is that you’ve made a mistake.’
There was the slightest curl to the man’s lips—as if he was deriving some small, hideous pleasure from this moment.
Ettie frowned, not comprehending. She was still puffed from the force of her emotions and her furious dash up to the apartment. ‘I’m not Mr Clarke’s nephew,’ he informed her with brutally cold precision. ‘In fact, I’m no relation whatsoever to Mr Clarke.’
Nonplussed, Ettie blinked. Now she took a moment to study him, he didn’t look anything like Harold. This man’s hair was dark and thick and his eyes were that wintry brown, not blue, and his bronze complexion was more than a summer tan. A wave of relief so strong it was shocking rippled through her. He wasn’t an animal-murdering brute?
Then she was hit with a wave of something else altogether. Something from deep inside, so hot and intense that she refused to acknowledge, let alone define it. Because it was shocking.
‘Then what are you doing in here?’ she snapped uncharacteristically. But she was determined to halt the appallingly inappropriate, intimate direction of her thoughts. Why was everyone looking at him as if he was ridiculously important? Why was George turning greener by the second?
‘You’ve made a mistake.’ His gaze drifted over her uniform in an inspection so quick it was almost insulting. ‘And yet I think you’re this star concierge I’ve heard about. Cavendish House’s very own Girl Friday.’
She had a sudden prickling sensation that a giant black hole had opened up before her, but that she’d already taken the fatal step. It was too late to stop—the fall was in play and there was no way to backpedal and stop herself tumbling into a bottomless pit.
‘My name is Leon Kariakis. And as of close of business last night, I own this building.’
Leon Kariakis? The Leon Kariakis? Serious, publicity-averse, wealthier-than-most-small-countries Leon Kariakis?
Ettie stared at him, slack-jawed. Oh, yeah, she’d fallen into one never-ending crevasse. All she could do was comment stupidly, ‘You own…’ she drew in a breath and tried to regroup ‘…and you’re not—’
‘No relative. This man is Mr Clarke’s nephew and I’ve already spoken to him and his wife about Mr Clarke’s belongings. Nothing will leave this building until the executor of his will has been to the premises and itemised everything.’
The other man began to bluster but Leon Kariakis turned and quelled him with a filthy look. ‘Is it true you instructed the staff to get rid of the dog?’
The nephew didn’t respond.
‘Is it true?’ Leon Kariakis demanded an answer.
‘I didn’t mean—’
‘Evidently it was very clear what you meant.’ Leon cut the man off. ‘You will leave immediately.’
‘You can’t throw us out.’
‘I think you’ll find I can,’ Leon Kariakis replied softly. The atmosphere chilled even more, his physical threat apparent even though he didn’t move an inch. If Leon Kariakis wanted to manhandle this guy out of the apartment, he’d do so with ease. And the sorry excuse for Harold’s family knew it.
Ettie’s heart raced faster than a puppy chasing a pigeon. Since when was Cavendish House even on the market? And to be bought by Leon Kariakis? Even she’d heard of the serious son of the incredibly rich Kariakis holiday empire. His parents owned a number of swanky five-star hotels on the continent, but sole heir Leon had gone into finance, making even more eye-watering amounts of money in an unseemly short amount of time. Apparently buying up exclusive residential apartment buildings was his new hobby. And she’d just called him out—accusing him of animal cruelty and disgusting greed.
‘This isn’t over, Kariakis,’ the nephew blustered. ‘You’ll be hearing from our lawyers.’
‘I look forward to it,’ Leon replied tersely. ‘I imagine they’ll be much more pleasant to deal with than you.’
Ettie bit down on her lip to stop her unbidden smile as the nephew and his wife stomped out of Harold’s apartment. They didn’t so much as look at her, or the small dog she was still cuddling. But neither she nor Toby were out of the woods yet. All-powerful, super-serious, still scowling, Leon Kariakis wouldn’t have appreciated her shouting at him in public like that.
‘Everyone else, please leave as well.’ He seared her with an icy glance. ‘Except you.’
Yeah, she’d just lost her job.
George stepped in. ‘Mr Kariakis, I’m terribly sorry for this misunderstanding. Ettie is always—’
‘I’ll meet with you later.’ Leon Kariakis’s snappy dismissal brooked no argument.
George shot her an irritated look that she ignored, even though she knew he’d been about to throw her even further under the bus. She was fine. She could handle it. But her heart thudded as her Joel reluctantly left too.
She turned to face the music, disconcerted to discover Leon Kariakis was still watching her and still wasn’t smiling. Indignation surged and she lifted her chin at him. She’d been doing her job—protecting her client’s pet—and she wasn’t going to apologise for that. The silence echoed in the apartment. Even Toby, the dog, didn’t stir in her arms, but she stroked him regardless.
‘You’re Antoinette Roberts,’ he said quietly. ‘Cavendish’s Girl Friday. I’ve heard much about you and yet…’
She’d disappointed him?
Too bad. Even though she knew she was about to lose her job, she felt a small flush of pride that he’d been told about her. What had he said before—star concierge? Yet she couldn’t claim any praise as entirely her own. Joel and the other guys were always willing to help.
‘I have a very good team,’ she said.
He kept regarding her steadily, but no warmth softened his eyes.
She should probably apologise for mistaking him for one of Harry’s mean relatives, but suddenly she couldn’t get her voice to work. Awareness trickled down her spine as the tension within her transformed. She’d loathed him on sight, only now…it was another emotion stiffening her spine. And it was just insane. Ettie Roberts did not lust after anyone. Ettie Roberts was far too sensible.
But Leon Kariakis was abnormally handsome
