His Rules: Ludlow Nights - Book1 (A Ludlow Nights Romance) (7 page)

“Anastacia?” A deep voice she knew well growled her name.

Anastacia jerked upright as if someone had zapped her with forty thousand volts.

Every part of her from her toes to her head went too hot too fast.

T.C. and Danni’s eyes bugged out their head as they watched her spin round.

Olivier’s dark eyes gazed down into hers and no matter how hard she tried, she just could not look away. The sensation of falling into him caught her breath as, just like the night before, her torso was almost drawn to his by an invisible cord.

That sexy mouth kicked and there was the dimple.

She was quite sure she heard Danni sigh.

And Anastacia didn’t blame her since she had to swallow a very long and very deep sigh herself.

He was wearing beautifully cut jeans, black, that hung low on his hips, but fitted his long muscled thighs. His untucked shirt was fitted, Armani, in soft white cotton and rolled up at the sleeves. The color enhanced the lovely gold of his smooth skin.

Then Olivier cut the connection as he turned his head to steadily regard her friends.

The girls sent him big wide smiles and crazily fluttering eyelashes.

When his gaze returned to Anastacia, the message in his eyes was crystal clear,
introduce me
.

She knew that,
Please, just go very far away
, wouldn’t cut it with Olivier, or with her friends.

Trapped, she inhaled an irritated sigh.

“Olivier, this is Danni,” Anastacia snapped her fingers in front of Danni’s dropped jaw. Then Danni blinked dug a sharp elbow into T.C.’s ribs to bring her back down to earth, too. “And, Teresa, aka T.C. Girls, this is my client, Olivier Conti.”

Olivier flashed his signature smile times ten.

Danni gulped.

T.C. turned wide eyes to Anastacia and mouthed,
Christ on a crutch
.

“It is wonderful to meet you," said Olivier in a deep and sinfully sexy Italian accent. "I believe I have you to thank, Danni, for my wardrobe for the ad campaign.”

Danni’s mouth just opened and closed like a stranded fish.

It was so not a good look.

Oh boy.

It appeared that Olivier had indeed read through the reams of information on the campaign Linda had sent him.

And okay, maybe Anastacia had sort of exaggerated, just a little bit, that the famous Danni Pebbles had indeed chosen his wardrobe for the campaign. She'd have got around to asking Danni to help with Olivier's wardrobe... eventually.

“You do?” Danni turned to give Anastacia a hard stare. On the whole, Danni was pretty easy going, except when it came to her business. “I did?”

“You gave me some really great ideas,” Anastacia’s eyes went wide giving her friend the signal,
back me up
. “Remember?”

After a lengthy pause, “Vaguely,” was all Danni could come up with.

Again Olivier turned to stare at Anastacia.

When she said nothing and simply stared back, dark brows rose into his hairline, this time the look in his eyes clearly stated,
Invite me to sit
.

Not a chance, sunshine.

She never mixed her working life with her private life and she sure as hell wasn't going to start now.

“What are you doing here?” she asked in an icy tone filled to the brim with suspicion. Something told her Olivier turning up here was not a happy accident. Anastacia Morgan did not believe in coincidences.

Olivier’s dark eyes narrowed at the tone and her rudeness.

“I am here with friends. Come, I will introduce you.”

She opened her mouth to say, "No thank you."

But someone beat her to it.

“Oooooh, thank you,” said Danni in a high girly voice, refusing to meet Anastacia's gimlet eye. She bounced up like a jack-in-the-box, grabbed her drink, her purse. “Lead on,” she sang and followed where Olivier led.

Tonight was girl's night.

And girl's night was sacred, even from Olivier and his friends.

Anastacia was so going to kick Danni's ass.

After the day she'd had, she didn’t want to meet Olivier’s friends.

But it was too late.

With an over-bright smile, T.C. joined Danni in the ranks of betrayer. She grabbed her glass, the wine bottle and her purse and sashayed after Olivier and Danni. Then she turned to look over her shoulder at a horribly scowling Anastacia and gave her big, big eyes.

“Oh my. He is hawt.”

“Yep.”

“Wicked.”

“Evil,” corrected Anastacia.

“Whatevs.”

"Why are you talking as if you're five years old?"

The question was ignored because the next comment she heard from T.C. was a whispered, “Whisky. Tango. Fekking. Foxtrot.”

T.C. spun round to face Anastacia.

Who frowned at the sheer lust in her friend’s blue eyes.

The woman had no shame.

“Olivier's here with Chris Hudson and Fabio Febrizzio,” T.C. gasped.

Who?

The music stopped.

“Who?" said Anastacia, then added quite clearly into the sudden silence. "Febrizzio sounds like the name of a laundry detergent."

Cue a very stunned silence.

Five people, Olivier and two very handsome men and her two best friends simply gazed at her in awe and wonder.

Olivier’s dark eyes welled-up before he threw his head back and roared with laughter.

Very cold dark eyes, eyes belonging to one Fabio Febrizzio stared deep into Anastacia's.

To say he looked annoyed and highly offended, would be an understatement.

She winced.

Dear God, please, please, just close her big mouth.

“You do realize,” Fabio drawled in a deep and sexy Italian accent that had T.C. trembling in her Jimmy Choos. Olivier was slumped on a leather couch holding his sides. Fabio sent him a dark look before he turned his attention once more on mega-mouth Anastacia. “That my team-mates will, for ever more, call me Laundry or Detergent?”

Anastacia had never, ever, in her professional life offended a person, ever.

Now she placed a small hand on Fabio’s strong arm and looked up into his very attractive face.

“I am terribly sorry. It was incredibly rude of me. In my defence all I can say is that the thought of working with Olivier every day for six weeks has brought out the worst in me.”

Fabio bit down hard on his bottom lip as warmth, thank the good Lord, entered eyes the color of black coffee. “Apology accepted. And you are?”

“Oh sorry, I’m Anastacia Morgan of Ferranti Communications.”

In a smooth move that made her cheeks go hot (she decided that all Italian men must learn to be smooth right from the cradle) Fabio took the hand still clutching his arm and brought it to his lips.

“A beautiful name for a beautiful woman.”

Yep.

Smooth as double cream and just as damaging to the heart.

“Would you like a glass of champagne?” Fabio asked her now.

Was the Pope Catholic?

“I would love some, thank you.”

Anastacia loved champagne, even if champagne did not love her.

But God knew she needed a drink.

Badly.

Fabio gestured to a small couch built for two just behind him, and indicated she sit.

Anastacia sat.

And she absolutely refused to catch anyone’s eye, especially Olivier's.

Fabio handed her a glass of champagne.

Anastacia took a tiny sip.

“So,” she said, as she relaxed and beamed up into Fabio’s very handsome face. “Do you play football too?”

Fabio blinked and stared into her eyes with a dazed intensity that made Anastacia frown.

What was his problem?

It was a simple question.

Then she became aware of the fact her girlfriends were looking at her aghast.

And that Olivier and Chris were hanging onto each other crying with laughter.

“Honestly, Banana," T.C. snapped in a tight little voice. "Fabio’s a superstar. He's one of the top players in the Premier League." Then she turned and beamed at a stunned looking Fabio. “You must forgive her. She doesn’t get out much and knows absolutely bugger all about football.”

"And yet," said Fabio. "She is working with Olivier?"

Olivier moved to perch his very fine ass on the arm of the couch next to Anastacia.

"
Si
, and I believe we will work very well together, will we not,
cara
?"

She leaned back to toss him
the look
.

His response was a quick flash of that lethal smile before he bent down and moved in fast to taste her mouth.

It cost her.

It did.

Her belly trembled and her heart trembled.

But she remained unresponsive.

Olivier lifted his head, dark eyes filled with sheer wickedness stared into hers, almost daring her to do something about the kiss.

Her heart might be going crazy in her chest, but Anastacia Morgan had never backed down from a dare in her life.

Her eyes held his for so long that she eventually heard T.C. swear.

Anastacia gave in first.

She leaned back towards Fabio who put his arm around her shoulders.

Now Anastacia turned to study Fabio.

Fine looking man.

Dressed well.

Nice mouth.

Smelled fantastic.

And there was not a flicker of attraction.

Not one.

Whereas her lips were still tingling and other parts of her were revving like a Ferrari engine on the starting line after Olivier's kiss.

Now she turned to send her tormentor another stony stare.

“Don’t you remember our conversation about inappropriate behaviour between work colleagues?” she said in a tone that would melt solid steel.

His dark eyes warmed as he smiled into hers.

The dimple flashed.

And immediately parts of her went warm, too.

Oh no, she was not attracted to this man.

“We are not working now,
piccolino
. Or should I say, Ana Banana?”

His hand reached out, his fingers playing lazily with a silky curl.

The move was one of possession, as if he had a right to touch her whenever and however he wanted.

Anastacia’s hand seriously itched to swipe that supercilious look off his too handsome face. But then a black-eye would mean he’d be damaged goods for the campaign, and Nico would most certainly fire her.

“Unless you grew a vagina since the last time I saw you, only close girlfriends get to call me Banana. Trust me." Her eyes narrowed on her two grinning girlfriends who were watching the scene unfold with big eyes. “I have nicknames for them, too.”

“Don’t you dare,” T.C. warned her.

Anastacia turned to Olivier, glared and jerked her hair from his roving hand.

“And no touchy feely stuff either.”

His response to the bad tempered snap in her tone wasn't what she expected. Instead of annoyance, his eyes went all soft and gentle.

“Anastacia,” Olivier purred her name deep in his throat. She felt the vibration shimmer through her whole system, from her scalp, right down to her toes. “Be a good girl.”

She couldn't look away from the expression for her in his dark eyes. There was patience there and something like understanding, too. As her eyes locked on his, for Anastacia, the noise of the bar, the chatter of her friends, simply fell away.

A little voice whispered in her mind that this was so not good.

Not good at all.

“Oh my,” Danni breathed.

"Christ on a crutch. I never thought I’d live to see the day,” T.C. muttered into her drink.

It wasn't easy, but Anastacia blinked to sever the connection with Olivier and turned to her friends.

“What?”

“The day that a man defied not only
the look
, but got right in your face. I like him,” T.C. said.

The room was spinning and Anastacia wondered how much champagne she'd drunk.

She reached for a glass of water.

"Girls, would you care to join us for dinner?" The rumble of Olivier's deep voice seemed to make her whole body quiver. Maybe it was time to lay off the wine.

Anastacia opened her mouth to refuse his very kind invitation, but T.C. beat her to it.

"Ooooh, we'd love to join you, wouldn't we, Danni?"

"Deeelighted," agreed Danni in that annoying girly voice, deliberately avoiding Anastacia's eye.

"That's settled," said Olivier as he turned and waved to an attentive waiter.

Within minutes their little group was led into the dining area and a round table tucked away in the corner. Anastacia found herself sitting between Olivier and Fabio and decided to make the best of it. After all, she was starving and if Olivier wanted to spring for dinner then she was perfectly happy to let him.

The waiter took their food selection, the football players all ordered large portions of grilled chicken breast and salads without dressing. Danni ordered the same. T.C. (who had a hate-hate relationship with food) hummed and hawed until she ordered grilled fish and steamed vegetables. Anastacia ordered a double beef burger with cheese, crispy bacon and a double portion of sweet potato fries.

T.C. turned to glare at Anastacia in utter disgust.

"I hate you. How can you eat that and never gain an ounce? It's not fekking fair."

"Probably because I'm not sitting on my ass all day and I have a fast metabolism. Plus I don't have a giant bowl of candy at my elbow. If you got rid of the sugar you wouldn't have a problem, babe."

"To me, you look like a goddess," Fabio said to T.C. in a deep and throaty Italian accent, and sounded absolutely sincere. His dark eyes took a leisurely and appreciative stroll over her hair and her face. It wasn't often Anastacia saw her friend lost for words, but T.C. was lost for words now and blushing like a girl.

Across the table, Danni made big eyes at Anastacia as if to say, '
How hot is Fabio
?'

"You always look stunning,
piccolino
," Olivier murmured in Anastacia's ear. The way his breath heated her cheek made other parts of her heat, too. And she didn't care for the sensation at all. He continued, "I love your dress. I love your sense of style."

Deeply unimpressed, she turned to face him and spotted how his gaze had dropped to the amount of thigh she was showing. It cost her, but she refused to pull the hem of her dress down. She wouldn't give him the satisfaction.

"You've seen me twice."

His gaze drifted up her body, met her eyes. "Expensive. You must be paid well."

Nosy bastard.

Anastacia showed him her teeth.

"I'm worth it," she shot back. Her smile didn't reach her eyes. "It's written into my contract that I receive a quarterly clothes allowance. In this business I represent the Ferranti brand and it's important I hold my own."

"You are tiny."

There's news.

But what the hell, she wondered, did her height have to do with her ability to do her job?

"Yes... well, that also makes it problematic when buying clothes. In my world my appearance, my presentation, is a declaration of intent. A proclamation of purpose that matters, a lot."

"Yes, she is soooooo right," Danni interrupted in a chirpy voice that made her best friend want to belt her. "Ana's small, but she is
mighty
. I like to think of how I dress Anastacia as readying her for battle. Her clothes are almost like body armour. Exquisite tailoring, beautifully proportioned, constructed of the right fabrics and fit just for her. VB's designs are perfect for her shape. I've ordered a whole new collection for the summer season." Now she grinned at a glowering Anastacia. "You're gonna look fab, babe."

"And Nico pays for this?" Olivier's question was aimed at Danni.

"Yep, he works through me now, because when left to her own devices Ana never spends her allowance. When I choose her clothes, it saves everyone a lot of time and pointless debate."

Now Olivier turned to Anastacia.

"Danni and Nico manage your wardrobe?"

Before answering the question, she paused as her huge burger and a small mountain of fries were placed on the table. Anastacia ignored the wide-eyed looks from her companions as she dived right in dipping her fries in ketchup. God, she was starving. T.C. tossed her a napkin to catch the sauce running down her chin.

Anastacia cleaned her face, her fingers, balled up the napkin, and turned to watch Olivier eat his grilled chicken salad.

"Yeah, it's not a big deal. Danni knows what works for me and what doesn't a lot better than I do myself. I'm too busy to be bothered. And because I couldn't be bothered, I clashed with Nico. This way, I focus on work and dressing me like a doll keeps Danni happy and Nico happy."

The rest of the meal passed without incident and she noticed that her friends appeared to have paired off with the footballers.

Danni and Chris were chatting quietly. Chris, nudging six foot, wasn't as tall as his friends, he was fair skinned with dirty blonde hair and shy big brown eyes. And he appeared a nice and genuine guy. Anastacia frowned when she saw Danni pick up her cell to check a message, go pale, and then switch off her phone. And what was up with that? Danni never, ever, switched off her phone.

Meanwhile, T.C. and Fabio were looking at each other with googly eyes. And Anastacia wondered how that relationship might pan out since T.C. was not over fond of men who were too smooth and too charming. Two characteristics that it appeared Fabio had in spades.

"Still hungry?" Olivier murmured in her ear. His deep voice made her whole system go on a state of high alert. And all thoughts of her friends faded away.

She looked down at her empty plate and had the grace to blush right to the roots of her curly hair. And she noticed that he noticed the heat in her cheeks, too. He was studying her as if he was both intensely fascinated by her and fiercely attracted. Both of which set alarm bells ringing nice and loud in her brain.

This was so not good.

She'd had a taste of working with a man who'd found her fascinating and attractive before. The love affair had not ended well. And she'd no intention of repeating the experience. It was important to nip this
thing,
or whatever it was between them, in the bud once and for all. She also wanted to nip in the bud the jumpy nerves she had dancing in her belly every time she was around this man. So she pinned her very best smile on her face as she peered up into his, patted his hand and told herself to keep it all nice and friendly.

"Look, Olivier. You're a nice guy. I get that. But I'm pretty sure I made myself clear last night. Please believe I'm not stringing you along or trying to be cute or playing hard to get. I do not want or need a relationship with you while we're working together. It's nothing personal."

His dark eyes went watchful as they studied hers.

He nodded when he saw that she was deadly serious and his eyes never left hers.

"
Si
, but that does not mean that we cannot be friends?"

His hand covered hers and his thumb rubbed around and around in a soothing motion.

Unfortunately his touch did anything but soothe.

She slid her hand from his to reach for her wine and all the while his eyes held hers.

"What do you mean by friends? Friends might cover many things I'm not prepared to give, like friends with benefits."

That wide grin flashed and so did the dimple.

God, he was absolutely gorgeous.

"You do not trust me, Ana?"

Did she?

Since the answer to the question wasn't forthcoming, she deflected.

"I don't know you well enough to trust you,
Oli
," she said, using his nickname in retaliation for him using hers. Only people very close to her got away with calling her Ana. In her professional life she was known as Anastacia Morgan, and she made sure anyone who tried to use her moniker, in an attempt to intimidate or provoke, were shot down without mercy. "And that's Anastacia to you. Make sure you use it, especially when we're working."

He took the hit right on the chin.

His smile flashed, dimple, too.

"More rules, Anastacia?"

"You betcha. We're keeping this on a strictly professional footing, Olivier. Better get used to it."

He nodded, but all the while his gaze studied her hot face, the way her foot tap, tap, tapped under the table.

"I seem to remember telling you that I only play by my rules," he said now in something like an Italian purr that made her teeth ache.

Why wasn't she surprised he was challenging her?

And that was even before they'd begun working together.

The sudden energy dip told her that she was tired and it was past time for her to leave.

She refused to get into a debate of his idea of
his rules
, whatever the hell they were.

This discussion was over.

She stood, grabbed her bag.

Her friends looked more than surprised, but they rose, too.

Girly night rules were girls that met together, left together.

A surprised looking Olivier rose and moved into her personal space, but she didn't give him time for a farewell kiss.

"Well, it's been nice meeting you," Anastacia said to the two men still sitting at the table with their mouths hanging open due to the way the evening had been cut short without warning. Obviously, they were not used to women walking out on them. Maybe it was time they got used to it. She turned to Olivier, sent him a quick smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. "I've had a long day. Good luck with the final, Olivier. I'll see you when you return to London."

She turned and headed for the exit.

As the girls shoved through the throng at the bar to get to the entrance, T.C. waited until they were in the street before grabbing Anastacia's arm and whipping her around to face her.

"What the hell was all that about? Why the big rush to leave?"

Two women with large personalities, there were times when Anastacia and T.C. clashed. Their differences never lasted long, but sometimes when they blew up at each other they blew hot and fiery.

Now Anastacia jerked her arm free.

"Because Olivier is refusing the get the message. Plus I'm tired after a very long day. And I want to go home, if that's all right with you?"

Danni said nothing as her hazel gaze bounced between her friends.

T.C. nodded, but her baby blue eyes were sharp now as they held Anastacia's.

"Okay. But something tells me that Olivier's not the type to take any notice of your little hang-ups about bonking a client. He looks to me like a man who knows what he wants and how to get it."

All of that was perfectly true, but that didn't mean that Anastacia had to like it or to accept it. Plus she didn't need to justify how she ran her professional life to T.C. or to anyone else.

"You're only annoyed because you have the hots for Fabio," Anastacia shot back.

T.C. didn't even blink.

"So what?" she shot right back. "If I want to roll naked in a meadow with a hot Italian, what's that got to do with you?"

"You avoid his type like the plague," said Anastacia. And wondered why on earth she was having this stupid conversation right in the middle of the damned street.

"You mean the type that uses a women for a quickie and then walks away without a second glance? That type?"

Anastacia bit down hard on her bottom lip.

"I don't want to see you hurt," she said now.

T.C. nodded and her baby blues went wide.

"I get that, Banana. I do. But I'm not going to get hurt, because in order to get hurt I'd need to care. And since I don't care about Fabio, but I do want to jump him, I don't see the problem here."

The sound of a man clearing his throat had both girls spin round to find Olivier, Fabio and Chris watching them with interest.

T.C. simply rolled her eyes.

"Fucking great," she said to no one in particular.

Anastacia knew that T.C. was more than annoyed with her that Fabio had overheard the last part of their discussion about him. And she had to give Fabio points for good manners, because he acted as if he'd heard nothing, grabbed her friend's hand and towed her down the street. Like a real gentleman, Chris offered his arm to a Danni who was more than happy to take it, and they walked away, too.