The Dare Collection January 2019. JC Harroway

shouldn’t have pushed him. Shouldn’t have touched him at all, but it was either that or have him discover what a turn-on I found his fury, and there was no way on earth I was going to let him know that.

      I’d got angry at him, using my rage to cover the fact that my heart was racing and I felt hot—that there was an ache between my thighs that wouldn’t go away.

      ‘You should just fuck and get it out of your system,’ Ajax had said and I hadn’t been able to get that thought out of my head.

      What would have happened if Ajax hadn’t come in?

      I’d been so mad at Xander I’d seriously considered punching his stupid beautiful face, and what would have happened if I had? He wouldn’t have let me hit him, no way. He might have grabbed me, put my hands behind my back. And then maybe he would have forced me to kneel before him and—

      ‘If you think I’m going to ask Richard to pay for a trip to Europe for you, you’ve got another think coming,’ Mum said. ‘I’ve got too many other debts that need to be paid first.’

      My face felt hot. Shit, I needed to stop thinking about...that. About him. Now.

      ‘I wasn’t expecting you to,’ I muttered, trying to force my attention back to what she was saying.

      ‘Well, you need to do something to help out, Poppy. I can’t do this all on my own, not again. What about that waitressing job?’

      My gut clenched. I didn’t have the energy to tell her I’d been fired because I wouldn’t let the boss cop a feel. I knew what she’d say already. She’d get that angry, disappointed look and then tell me that I should have sucked it up and taken the money. Because we needed it and how could I put personal feelings of discomfort ahead of our survival?

      The problem was, she wasn’t wrong.

      My stepdad had given Mum an allowance before he’d gone to prison and it had been a generous one. Xander had continued the allowance after Augustus went to jail and it was enough to live comfortably on. But it wasn’t enough for Mum. She always spent the entire thing on stuff she didn’t need and then complained when we didn’t have enough money for rent, hence her having to find a new sugar daddy and me having to keep working to cover our costs.

      I should have told her to stop spending or just let her get herself out of the hole she’d dug. But I couldn’t. She’d never wanted children and when I came along—her little accident—she hadn’t been glad. She’d been pissed off. Then she’d sucked it up and cared for me, and now it was my turn to care for her.

      It wasn’t her fault Dad had died. It was mine.

      ‘It’s fine,’ I lied about the job.

      ‘Good. Because we’ve got another bank payment due and I don’t have the cash myself. I might see if I can get anything out of Richard, but don’t count on it.’

      Crap. So she’d burned through her allowance for this month. Again.

       You know what the answer is.

      Double crap.

      There were too many reasons why working for stupid Xander King would be a good idea. Not only would I get that internship, but I could earn some money to get me to London and ensure Mum’s debts were paid off as well.

      All I had to do was suck up my intense personal dislike of him.

      The thought made me tired, the stress of the past few years suddenly bearing down on me. All I’d done since earning my degree was go from one crap job to another, earning nothing, getting nowhere. I should be trying for jobs at architecture firms, but I hadn’t been successful so far. And I knew why that was.

      The people in the industry knew of my association with the Kings and they didn’t want to employ anyone who’d had anything to do with that family. Especially not some woman with the name of a burlesque dancer and less than stellar marks. No, if I wanted to get any kind of architectural career, I was going to have to leave the country. Hence the internship.

       Stop being such a baby and suck it up.

      My gut clenched tighter.

      I was going to have to accept working for Xander as the price of getting what I wanted, wasn’t I?

      Great.

      ‘Well?’ Mum was looking at me in the mirror now. ‘Why are you looking like that? There is an easier way and you know it.’

      Yes. By attaching myself to a man and letting him do things for me. I hated the thought. That might have worked for my mother, but I’d never wanted it for myself. I’d wanted to do things my way, using the things I was good at, such as drawing and design, not because I happened to be beautiful and good at giving head.

      At that moment my phone started buzzing in my pocket. Weird—who’d be calling me? I had a few friends, but they only ever texted.

      Digging the phone out, I slid off Mum’s bed and went into the hallway, ignoring her frowning after me. The call was from a number I didn’t recognise, which instantly made me suspicious. Hopefully it wouldn’t be the debt collectors already.

      I hit answer anyway. ‘Hello?’

      ‘Poppy.’ The voice was deep, dark and cold, scraping deliciously over my nerve-endings, making me shiver helplessly and sending my heartbeat into the stratosphere.

      ‘Xander?’ I couldn’t quite believe it was him calling, but it was; I’d recognise that voice anywhere. ‘Wh-What the hell do you want?’ Hating the sound of my stutter, I moved into the tiny lounge of the apartment and went over to the big sliding window that let out onto the even tinier balcony. It was hot outside but Mum had bat ears and I didn’t want her overhearing.

      There was a pause down the other end of the line.

      ‘I wanted to reiterate that the job offer is still open,’ he said at last.

      Well, that was unexpected.

      I pulled shut the sliding window then leaned back against the hot glass. ‘So, after backing me against a door and intimidating the hell out of me, you’re saying you still want to employ me?’

      Another pause, even longer that time.

      ‘Yes. I was...out of line.’

      I blinked in surprise, staring at the dusty expanse of cheap infill housing laid out beneath the balcony, but not seeing the ugliness of it this time.

      ‘Please don’t tell me this is an apology.’ I couldn’t quite keep the shock from my voice.

      ‘All right, I won’t tell you,’ he said stiffly. ‘But I lost my temper back there and I shouldn’t have done what I did.’

      Holy shit. It was an apology.

      For a second I didn’t know what to say. But I was saved from having to, because he kept on talking. ‘Still, I don’t take manipulation well, and I didn’t like you using a private promise to get me to do what you wanted.’

      Ah yes, that.

      A little wash of shame went through me. Okay, I shouldn’t have used that to get what I wanted, not when it was something my mother might have done, but...well... I’d been angry and frustrated, and not thinking straight. Which was totally his fault.

       Really? His fault?

      ‘How was I to know that was important to you?’ I said defensively, ignoring the thought. ‘But...’ I took a breath, then forced the rest of the words out ‘... I guess I shouldn’t have said it.’

      An awkward silence fell.

      I gripped the phone tightly. If he wanted anything more from me, he was shit out of luck. That was as far as I was prepared to go.

      ‘Does that mean you’ll take the job?’ he asked finally.

      I