I was thinking how much I wanted to move my hand under her dress. But with my driver and bodyguard in the front seats of the car, I resisted. Just.

Gwyneth was still prowling around when we arrived home. I could see her through the light of the study, silhouetted through the window, talking to someone on the phone.

I was in no mood to talk to her. No doubt she would attempt in her passive aggressive way to tell me off for spending a hundred million. There were times when she felt more like an overbearing parent than my secretary.

I had thought sometimes about hiring a new one but it would take months to get them up to speed and anyway, now was not the time. Get this deal done and I could do what I wanted. I’d be two billion richer. I could have a secretary for every day of the week if I wanted.

“Go in quietly,” I said to Jodie as we got out of the car. “Straight upstairs.”

“Why are you whispering?”

“Because I don’t want Gwyneth to start about the painting.”

“Is she going to be cross?”

“I don’t care if she is. I just don’t want to talk to her right now, I want to talk to you.”

Terrance opened the front door for us and we tiptoed up the stairs. Gwyneth was done on the phone but I could still hear her in there, rifling through papers. I would have a word with her about that in the morning. She had her own office for a reason.

Once we were upstairs and into Jodie’s room, I breathed a sigh of relief. Closing the door behind me, I watched her sinking into the armchair in the corner. “She’ll never look for me in here,” I said. “I think we’re safe.”

“So she doesn’t think you’ll try to sleep with me while I’m here?”

“No, she does think that. She just won’t think I’ll be so obvious as to do it in your bedroom.”

“You’ve got plenty to choose from. I counted about twenty.”

“Twenty four.”

“One for each hour of the day.”

“Maybe they were designed that way. An hour in each. It’d get a bit tiring moving every sixty minutes though. Are you hungry?”

“Starving.”

“What’s your favourite food?”

Her brow wrinkled for a brief moment before she answered. “Spag bol but-”

“No buts. It shall be done.”

“There’s no way I can eat it in this dress.”

“We’ll think of something.” I pulled my phone out of my pocket and rang down to the kitchen. “Carl? Not too late to whip up a spag bol, I hope?”

“I can produce vertical soup, do you know that? I can make a tower of it so it only collapses when you put a spoon in it but does anyone care? Nope, you just want something I could pick up from Sainsbury’s and throw in a microwave. Why even bother? Why not just get a delivery driver to go to the supermarket for you?”

“I’m sure your spaghetti will be perfect,” I said, hanging up. “Carl’s a great cook but he does have a tiny bit of a martyr complex.”

“You’re telling me,” Jodie replied. “He wasn’t exactly ecstatic about collecting a baguette for me this morning.”

“I’m not sure I want you and Carl fiddling with my baguette.”

“Never thought of trying to share your baguette?”

“Maybe with you.”

“Promises, promises.”

I crossed over to her, holding out a hand to help her to her feet. “I seem to recall you thought you might struggle to eat in that dress.”

“Getting a drink on it is one thing. Splodges of tomato all the way down is something else.”

“And I said we’d think of something.”

“You did.”

I was still holding her hand. I looked down at it for a moment before catching her eye. “I’ve got the perfect solution.”

“What’s that?”

“Turn around.”

She spun on her heels, facing the wall in front of her. I placed a hand on her shoulder, letting my fingers hook underneath the strap of her dress. I heard her intake of breath but she didn’t move.

I took my time sliding it down her arm, catching the other strap a moment later, peeling the gown down her body. I drank in the sight of each inch of pale skin that came into view. I paused at her waist, letting it sit there for a minute, running my fingers up her spine to her neck.

I stood, my body pressing against her back. Planting a kiss on her neck, I was rewarded by another gasp, her chest heaving. Glancing over her shoulder I caught sight of her nipples, darker than I remembered from seeing them in the pool. They were hardened points and I couldn’t wait to run my tongue over them.

I kissed her neck again and then her earlobe, feeling her shudder as I did so. Kneeling a minute later, I continued removing her dress. When it reached her hips, I paused again, enjoying the slow reveal of her ass in that tiny little thong of hers. Only when I had drunk my fill of it did I ease it down her legs until it finally pooled on the floor, leaving her in just her heels and thong.

I stood up again and was about to put my hands on her when someone knocked on the door. “Food’s here,” she said quietly.

“Don’t move,” I replied, crossing to the door and opening it just enough to allow Carl to glare in at me. “One spag bol and I hope you choke on it.”

“I love you, Carl,” I replied with a smile, taking the tray from him. “Why don’t you take the rest of the night off?”

“You’ve never given me the night off.”

“You’ve never poisoned me. I think you need a reward for that.”

He turned away and I kicked the door closed, seeing Jodie hadn’t moved a muscle. I set the tray down on the bedside table before fetching the dressing gown from its hook, wrapping it around her shoulders. Much as I wanted to see her eat naked, I also wanted her to be comfortable.

“There’s only one,” she said, looking down at the tray.

“I only eat my own spag bol. I make an amazing one. Come on, eat. You said you were hungry.”

She sat at the dressing table with the plate in front of her. I sat to one side and watched her consume it. It was more erotic than stripping her, watching her enjoying her food.

I could have cut the tension with a knife yet I hadn’t said a word since she’d started eating. Every now and then she would glance up at me as if seeking approval. I’d give her a slight nod and she would continue.

Once she was done, she turned away from the plate, her eyes slightly glazed. “Carb coma,” she said, yawning loudly.

“You should get some sleep.”

“I don’t want to, not yet I mean. What if Gwyneth is still looking for you?”

“I can handle her. Listen. I’m going to be honest with you. I want you to stay longer than a week.”

“What?”

“I want you to stay with me permanently. Never go home.”

“Oh, Mr Stempel. I can’t. I’ve got people relying on me out there. I can’t just vanish forever.”

“I understand.” I got to my feet, crossing to the door. “I should go.”

“No, wait. You don’t get it. It’s not that I don’t want to, it’s-”

“Too big a question for this late at night. Thank you for a wonderful evening.” I kissed her, softly and slowly. “Good night, Jodie.”

I closed the door before she could say anything else. I’d scared her, I could tell. I wasn’t even sure why I’d mentioned it. I could have just kept her after the week was done, not give her any say in the matter.

With so many people working for me, word would get out that I’d kidnapped a woman. My philanthropic man of the people credentials would take quite a battering over that. The deal would fall through. It wasn’t worth it.

Better to get the paperwork signed. Then when Tomlinson couldn’t back out, I could do what the hell I wanted with her.

Taking my time would make it all the more enjoyable when I finally did it. She’d already let me strip her naked. Once I showed her what life was like with me, she’d be begging to stay.

“Nick,” a voice said as I crossed the landing. I turned to see Gwyneth at the top of the stairs. “I’ve been looking for you.”

“Listen, it was worth it.”

“What?”

“The painting. I know what you’re going to say but it was worth it.”

“I had no idea you were so shrewd.”

It was my turn to look confused. “About what?”

“Spending that much to get Tomlinson’s attention.”

I might have been imagining it but she sounded annoyed rather than pleased. “He heard then?”

“He’s so happy he’s brought the meeting forward to noon tomorrow. You’ve personally helped his fundraising efforts quadruple expectations.”

“Noon tomorrow.”

“I thought you’d look more pleased. You’ll be able to get rid of her sooner than expected, get back to business as usual. No more pretending to be a nice guy.”

“I guess so.”

I didn’t feel happy about it. I should have done. Something had changed in a very short space of time. Before Jodie had arrived, all I’d wanted was the deal to be done with, she was just a means to an end.

Now things had changed. The contract had said she would get paid a million but must never speak of what happened here and must never contact me again.

I didn’t want that anymore. I wanted her to stay with me. She had already rejected the idea. For now.

I didn’t sleep for a long time and the next day I was still groggy when Tomlinson arrived just after eleven. “You’re early,” I said, draining my fifth coffee of the morning.

“I couldn’t wait. I needed to thank you personally. You’ve made such a difference to so many people’s lives.”

“You appear to have a cat basket with you.”

“This? This is Mopsy and Flopsy. Your new pets.”

I frowned. “I don’t remember ordering any new pets.”

“The shelter? You said you could take a couple in.”

“I did say that. Gwyneth!”

She appeared in the doorway of the study. “Yes, Sir.”

“Take these cats and make them happy. Play with them or something. Get them some kind of cat sized house.”

“Of course, Sir.” She took the basket from Tomlinson and headed back out of the room.

“A hundred million,” Tomlinson said, shaking his head. “I never knew you were such a Flambert fan.”

“I thought it looked pretty. Plus it’s all for a good cause.”

“You know he painted it on the land I’m selling.”

“I didn’t know that.”

“Mount Cragger. He carted the paints, the canvas, everything up to the top with a tiny little tent, stayed up there two weeks while he painted it, worked in the dark night after night, looking down at the lake. Isn’t that incredible?”

“I suppose it is.”

“That’s why I’m selling you the land. Flambert could walk up there today and the view would be exactly the same as when he painted it in 1821. Isn’t that an amazing thought? I want it to be untouched and I know it will be with you. You’ve proved that to me. If you want to know the truth I wasn’t sure if you’d really changed but after last night I think the old Nicholas Stempel is dead. Long live the decent human being you’ve become.”

“I’m not sure I deserve that much praise.”

“A hundred million is worth a word of thanks. Just promise me you’ll look after the land, Nick. It means a lot to a lot of Flambert fans and to all those people looking for a bit of peace up the top of a mountain.”

“Of course I’ll look after it.” The words rang hollow and something new entered my mind for the first time in years. An emotion I thought long dead. Guilt.