Driven By Fate(10)

It had to be her unusual nature. She kept her hands in fists at her sides as she took a turn around the apartment, running her gaze over his belongings, but never her fingers. For some strange reason, he would have liked to see that, her touching things he owned. Whatever she meant to convey, the hard, tight-lipped expression only made her lips pout, made her look even younger.

Bad. This was so very bad. He was only thirty, not quite so much older than she. But in terms of experience, he’d hazard a guess he had a decade on her.

Around the time she’d been born, he’d been spending his birthdays alone, celebrating with his caretaker of the moment and a store-bought Yorkshire pudding. He would love to forget the memory of that first solitary birthday, but he held onto it stubbornly. He’d just been rejected by the exclusive primary school where his parents’ career-driven friends sent their children—every single one of them. When the letter had arrived, his parents hadn’t said a word, merely passing it back and forth. Then they’d gone to work…and they’d never stopped working. By his fourteenth birthday, he’d gotten used to keeping himself company. Preferred it, even. Without the pressure of making others happy, he couldn’t fail at it, the way he’d done with his absent family.

So he’d begun to fail on purpose.

Francesca stopped at a picture of him with the Prime Minister and arched an eyebrow. “You have some interesting friends.”

“Actually, he’s rather dull, to be honest.”

Her burst of laughter made him frown, mainly because it made him want to smile. This being the first time he’d invited another person to his home, he was surprised to find he didn’t mind her exploring, so long as she didn’t ask questions. The private security firm he’d built in London after his four-year stint with the military tended to be a sore subject. Returning to his business, repairing the damage that had been inflicted on his reputation by a mistake he hadn’t committed, weighed on his mind enough of the day. No need to entertain those thoughts now. Not when she’d miraculously managed to crowd them out.

“Are you done with your self-sanctioned tour? We have work to do upstairs.”

She retrieved her backpack. “Well. That answers my most pressing question.”

“Which would be…”

“If the offer of work was just a pretense.” She stopped in front of him, and the smell of crushed berries backhanded him across the face. Delicious. “Or if you were just trying to get into my pants.”

His cock pressed against the fly of his trousers, but he kept his expression cool. “I believe those are leggings.”

Her eyes sparkled. “Noticed them, did you?”

“Are you flirting with me, Francesca?” Porter eased closer, satisfied when his proximity wiped the shit-eating grin off her face. “It’s not five o’clock yet. If you learn one thing about me today, learn that when I make a rule, I don’t break it.”

“Is that, right?” That damnable pout became more exaggerated. “What other rules do you have, my lord?”

He should have hated that nickname. Really, he should have. It was meant to needle him. But he couldn’t stop himself from imagining her addressing him with the title from a kneeling position. “We will discuss my rules and your limits upstairs.” Don’t touch her. Don’t. Jesus, he couldn’t help it. Not when she was so clearly waiting for him to make a move. Porter lifted her chin with his index finger. “You realize what will take place here, don’t you, Francesca?” She’d gone from obstinate to rapt, making his gut tighten, forcing him to bring his face closer to hers. “You strike me as an intelligent person, but I want to hear you say it out loud. I’m to be your Dominant. Your attempts to retain that attitude of yours are more than welcome, but I will wear it right off you at the earliest opportunity. Is that understood?”

“Yes, Porter.”

His thumb joined his index finger on her chin, gripping firmly. “You will call me Sir at all times.”

“Uh-uh. No way.”

He tilted his head. “Excuse me?”

“You said I was more than welcome to retain my attitude.” Her throat worked. “Not so sure anymore, huh?”

Where in God’s name had this girl come from? How could she look up at him with breathtaking vulnerability while serving up such a healthy dose of disrespect? “Is there some reason you find that title disagreeable?”

“Yes.” She looked to the side, but he lifted her chin until she met his gaze once more. “I heard that redhead call you Sir when I was leaving the room at Serve. I don’t want to call you the same thing as her. Or everyone else.”

Hmm. He hadn’t been expecting that. A part of him even softened at her reply, but he ignored the strange reaction. “Let’s say for a moment I was amenable to you calling me something else, what would be your preference?”

“What’s your middle name?”

“Jeremy.” He narrowed his eyes. “Why?”

“Porter Jeremy.” She wet her lips. “What about P.J.?”

“If you call me that, I assure you, I shall decline to answer.” He blew an exasperated breath toward the ceiling, refusing to acknowledge the fact that he wasn’t half as irritated as he damn well should be. “This is highly irregular, Francesca.”