LITMIR.BIZ

      Hugh Bennell’s house was beautiful.

      It felt familiar, actually—she’d stayed with her mum and sisters at a similar house for Christmas, many years ago. It was the year she and her sisters had campaigned for a white Christmas and, like so many things in her childhood and adult life, it had just happened.

      She straightened her shoulders, then knocked on the front door.

      She’d been told Hugh Bennell would be meeting her—which had surprised her. Surely the boss of a company like Precise had staff to deal with a lowly employee like herself?

      But then, she’d supposed he also had staff to interview lowly employees like herself—and he’d already done that himself.

      If anything, it just added to the general sense of mystery: mysterious boxes for her to unpack, complete with a mysterious billionaire CEO who was mysteriously hands-on with the recruitment of unskilled labour.

      It was late morning now. She hadn’t had time to change, so she still wore what she now considered her ‘interview suit’. Her shoes were freshly polished, and her hair was looped in an elegant low bun that she was rather proud of. Her stylist back in Perth would be impressed.

      The liquorice-black door opened.

      And revealed a man.

      A tall man. With dark hair, dark stubble. Dark eyes.

      Dark eyes that met her own directly. Very directly.

      Momentarily April felt frozen beneath that gaze.

      So this is what a mysterious tech billionaire looks like.

      Jaw-droppingly handsome.

      She blinked. ‘Good morning,’ she said, well practised from years of socialising at every event anyone could imagine. ‘I’m April Spencer. Are you Mr Bennell?’

      He nodded. ‘You got here quickly.’

      ‘I did,’ she said. ‘The agency emphasised the urgency of this placement.’

      Silence. But, despite her usually sparkling conversational skills, April didn’t rush to fill it. Instead she simply stood still beneath Hugh Bennell’s gaze.

      He was still looking at her. Unreadably but intensely. It was a strange and unfamiliar sensation.

      But not entirely uncomfortable.

      There was something about him—the way he stood, maybe—that created a sense of calm. And of time.

      Time to take a handful of moments to study the man before her—to take in the contrast of his black hair and olive skin. To admire the thick slashes of his eyebrows, the sharpness of his cheekbones, the elegance of his mouth.

      He was more interesting than gorgeous, she realised, with a slightly crooked nose and an angular chin. His too-long hair and his stubble—forgotten, she was sure, rather than fashionable.

      But it was that sum of those imperfect parts that made a darkly, devastatingly attractive whole.

      And definitely not what she’d been expecting.

      Whatever she’d thought a mysterious billionaire who deliberately shunned the spotlight would look like, this was not it.

      He was also nothing like Evan.

      That realisation came from left field, shocking her.

      April blinked again. What was she doing?

      ‘Please come in,’ Hugh Bennell said. As naturally as if only a beat of time had passed.

      Maybe it had?

      April felt flustered and confused—and seriously annoyed with herself.

      She’d just met her new boss. She needed to pull herself together.

      She was probably just tired from the long hours she’d been working.

      But did tiredness explain the way her gaze documented the breadth of her new boss’s shoulders as she stepped inside?

      Nope.

      There was no way she could pretend she didn’t know what the fireworks in her belly meant. It had just been a long time since they’d been associated with anyone but her husband.

      And a pretty long time since she’d associated them with Evan.

      She squeezed her eyes shut for a second.

      No. No. No, no, no.

      She had not flown halfway around the world to turn into a puddle over a man. Over her boss. No matter how mysterious.

      That certainly wasn’t why she was working two jobs and sharing a room in a truly awful shared house.

      She’d come to London to live independently. Without her mother’s money for the first time in her life and without Evan for the first time since she was seventeen.

      And she needed this job. She certainly needed the very generous hourly rate.

      She didn’t need fireworks, or the heat that had pooled in her belly.

      ‘Miss Spencer?’

      April’s eyes snapped open. ‘Sorry, Mr Bennell.’

      ‘Are you okay?’ he asked.

      He did have gorgeous eyes. Thoughtful eyes that looked as if a million things were happening within them.

      ‘Of course,’ she said with a deliberate smile.

      He inclined his chin, somewhat sceptically. ‘I was just saying that we’ll run through your responsibilities in the kitchen.’

      She nodded, then followed him down the narrow hall beside the rather grand if dusty staircase.

      As they walked April did her absolute best to shove all thoughts of fireworks or heat firmly out of her mind—and her body. Frustratingly, Hugh’s well-worn, perfectly fitted jeans did nothing to help this endeavour.

      Neither did the unwanted realisation that—for the first time since Evan had told her he didn’t love her and her sparkling life had been dulled—she felt truly alive.