Tied to the Billionaire(17)

“Leave me alone,” she moaned hoarsely. “It isn’t time to get up yet.”

The buzzing increased until it was so loud the noise was like a physical thing inside her head, as if her brain was thrashing around in there, trying to beat its way out of her skull with a claw hammer. With a silent curse, she threw off the covers and sat up.

Whoa. Bad decision. When the room began to spin and a hot flush erupted, her entire body got so hot she thought it was trying to solve the world’s energy problem. She made a grab for the bedside table and gripped it tightly, trying to breathe through the sudden nausea while she waited for the woozy feeling to pass.

The good news was that the incessant buzzing had quit. But why was she so parched? She must have taken up astral projection in her sleep because eight hours of crawling through the Sahara without so much as a sip of water was the only possible explanation for her indescribable thirst. Well, that or the six tequila shots she’d knocked back in The Salsa Bar the night before. Oh, and that bottle of red wine she’d polished off in All Bar One might have contributed.

When images of dancing with a five-foot-nothing Ricky Martin wannabe ran through her mind, Elena put her head in hands and leant back against the headboard. She couldn’t remember much about the night, but she did recall slapping the guy when he’d tried to cop a feel. Made sense. Elena hated men who got all up in her face—or arse as the case might be. What the hell gave them the right to treat women like sex objects? Consenting to a dance did not give him the right to grope her like she was his for the taking—nothing more than a possession. Elena belonged to no one but herself.

The damn buzzing started up again.

“No, no, no, no!” She reached for the alarm clock and squinted at it in the dim light of the room, but the evil thing was silent. Ah, it wasn’t the alarm, it was her mobile phone. Who the hell would be calling her in the middle of the night? Okay, it was nearly six, but what the hell?

She grabbed the phone and fumbled mindlessly with it before finding the right button to answer the call. It had better be an emergency or the sodding sleep destroyer was going to get a piece of her mind.

“Hello,” she all but growled out.

“What sort of greeting is that for your favourite uncle?”

Elena frowned, fighting through the fog in her groggy, sleep-deprived mind. “Uncle Hen?”

Her query was answered with a low, rumbling chuckle. “You’re twenty-six now, Elena. Henry would be sufficient.”

“Wha—?” Elena’s mouth was so dry, she couldn’t finish the question. She grabbed a glass of water from the nightstand, downed the lot then tried again. “What can I do for you Uncle, uh, Henry. Is everything okay?”

“Quite. I thought it would be good to catch up. I’m in your neck of the woods.”

“London?”

“No, Europe. I’m going to be staying at the villa in Cannes for at least a week. I was hoping you’d join me.”

“Oh, that’s, uh, very nice of you to offer, but I have work and…”

“You’re the boss.”

“Well, yes, but I couldn’t…”

“Yes, you could. You work too damn hard for someone so young. I admire your dedication, but it wouldn’t kill you to take a break. You have staff. Delegate.”

Elena started to shake her head, but thought better of it when the claw hammer started its bashing routine again. She couldn’t possibly take a holiday, could she? Elena’s interior design company was fast becoming one of the best known in London. And she’d worked incredibly hard for the past four years to ensure its continued success. The last holiday she took was…wow, she couldn’t remember, but it had to have been at least three years ago—maybe more.

Elena had a great team of designers working for her, but she still preferred the hands-on approach. She was known for being a strict boss, but her no-nonsense approach got results. All right, so she was a control freak, but proud of it. She would never have achieved the same level of success if she’d been more relaxed or too capricious. Running a profitable business required a firm hand. But maybe her uncle was right. What would be the harm in taking a week off to unwind? She certainly deserved it, maybe even needed it.

Twelve-hour working days were commonplace, but it didn’t stop there, did it? Elena not only burnt the candle at both ends, she lit a couple more for good measure. It seemed she wasn’t satisfied lately unless she had a permanent hangover, but her frenetic lifestyle was becoming a little too much to take. Her heavy workload was one thing, but the excessive partying had to stop or something was going to give. A change in pace might be just what she needed to get her life back on track.

“Elena, what do you say?” her uncle prompted.

“Let me see if I can arrange a flight and…”

“Be at London City at ten Monday morning,” Henry interrupted. “I took the liberty of chartering you a flight. You can thank me when you get here.”

When her uncle hung up, Elena cursed and threw her mobile on the bed. “Son of a bitch.” It looked like she was spending a week on the Riviera. She was annoyed that Henry had been so presumptuous, but a very small part of her liked that the decision had been taken out of her hands. It would do her good to relax for a week, if she remembered how.



Chapter Two