The Dare Collection September 2019. Stefanie London

didn’t waste any time, putting through a few calls there and then. Bill was more than happy to take an evening off and the chauffeur company was more than happy to accept my exorbitant offer for one night of Ellie Little’s services. It was very late notice, but they could certainly accommodate me.

      That sorted, I shoved my phone back into my pocket and turned to rejoin the meeting, trying to ignore the way the lightning in my veins had become hot, electric.

      Nothing to do with the prospect of seeing Ellie again, definitely not. I was simply pleased to have solved the problem of how to get Delaney on my side.

       Liar. You still want her.

      No, I didn’t. Been there, done that, and I didn’t go back.

      This was business. Nothing more.

       CHAPTER NINE

       Ellie

      I WASN’T HAPPY when the job came through and I almost refused. I didn’t even want to see Ash Evans again, let alone drive for him.

      But I couldn’t say no, not if I wanted to stay on the chauffeur company’s books, and I did want to, because my options for money were few and far between.

      I’d spent the week since getting back from Paris trying to figure out what my next move should be. I couldn’t bear the thought of calling Dad to tell him I’d failed—not that I had failed. I just needed to...regroup.

      Failure wasn’t an option anyway, not when I was the whole reason the company was having difficulty in the first place.

      So I accepted the job and tried to ignore my own personal doubts about seeing him again. Tried not to think about why he’d asked for me, especially given how angry he’d been back in Paris.

      Perhaps it was for another encounter in the back seat, though if that was the reason then he was shit out of luck. No way I wanted to have sex with him again, not given how emotional I’d been after the first time. And then there had been him getting so furious with me...

      No, definitely not going back for that. I wasn’t a masochist.

      Thoughts of what we’d done together that night in the limo wouldn’t leave me alone, though.

      The whole week I’d tossed and turned in my uncomfortable single bed in the Shepherd’s Bush flat I shared with a few other Australians, my body aching. Unable to stop thinking about him. His hands on my skin, his cock inside me, pushing deep and hard. The weird sense of freedom as I’d given myself up to him...

       And you crying like a fool afterwards.

      Yes, there was that. I should have been able to put the experience behind me, and the fact that I couldn’t disturbed me.

      So, by the time I reluctantly turned up for my shift as Mr Evans’s driver, I was already feeling restless and out of sorts.

      The address for the pick-up point was odd into the bargain and I had to double-check it numerous times to make sure it was right, because it seemed very much not the kind of place from which to pick up a billionaire.

      A large, featureless council estate tower block, it had a scraggly green lawn out the front with a couple of spindly-looking trees dotted here and there. A group of teenagers were hanging around outside, shouting and playing loud music, and being generally annoying.

      There was a grim feel to the place, a kind of hopelessness that made me sad. I might have had a lonely upbringing after losing my mother, but at least I’d had a decent home and food on the table, and no drug dealers hanging around my front door.

      I frowned out of the window. Surely Mr Evans wouldn’t be here?

      A young woman pushing a small toddler in a stroller approached the entrance to the building, prompting a swirl of attention from the gathered teenagers.

      Tension crawled over me and I reached for the door, ready to spring out and go at them if they started threatening the woman.

      Except at that moment a tall, powerful figure came striding out. And instantly the teenagers swarmed, clustering around him instead, hooting and calling out greetings, their faces alight.

      I stared in amazement as Mr Evans gave out high fives as demanded then paused to chat, the group hanging on his every word.

      The woman waved at him as she passed, entering the building unmolested as the air filled with the sound of raucous teenage laughter.

      Then Mr Evans extricated himself from the crowd of youths, striding on to where I sat waiting for him in the limo.

      And all of a sudden my heartbeat accelerated, my pulse so loud it just about competed with the beats coming from the teenagers’ phones.

      Somehow I’d reduced him in my mind. Made him not so large, not so muscular. Not so powerful. Not so compelling. Certainly I’d turned down the burn on the intense energy that trailed along in his wake like his own personal force field.

      How could I have forgotten the sheer physical reality of him? How could I not have remembered how completely and utterly hot he was?

      I stared dumbly, my mouth dry as he came up to the limo, pulled the door open and got in.

      And when I looked in my rear-view mirror, there were those eyes. Those searing blue eyes.

      ‘You didn’t open the door for me,’ he said, his familiar, deep, gritty voice vibrating through me. ‘I really expected better service from you, Miss Little.’

      Oh, hell. I’d forgotten about the stupid door. I’d been too busy staring at him.

      I tried to find my usual laid-back, cheerful persona, but it had slipped away on me and all I managed to take hold of was anger. At him for being so ridiculously hot and at myself for being so susceptible.

      ‘Sorry, Mr Evans.’ I let a touch of acid tinge the words. ‘I wasn’t sure what temper you were going to be in this evening. Outright rude or merely mildly offensive.’

      His eyes gleamed, as if with appreciation. ‘Tonight I thought I might try pleasant.’

      ‘Pleasant? You?’

      ‘Drive, Miss Little. There’s a bar I want you to take us to.’

       Us?

      I opened my mouth to ask what he meant by that, then decided against it.

      Not my business. Just as it wasn’t my business to ask him why he’d chosen me to drive him for the night. Silence was probably the best response I could give.

      It was a resolve that lasted all of two seconds.

      ‘Interesting pick-up address,’ I said, unable to contain my curiosity. ‘Not your usual billionaire hang-out.’

      There was something about his expression in the mirror that fascinated me, similar to the savage satisfaction that had burned there the night after he’d come out of the club in Paris. The look of a man who’d beaten all comers to win.

      ‘Not usually,’ he said. ‘But it’s mine. I used to live there.’

      I blinked in surprise.

      So that was the dodgy council estate he’d grown up on. Interesting. Was that where he’d fought too? I could imagine that, him with his fists raised, blood on his face and on his knuckles, that savage look in his eyes...

       Hot.

      A shiver went through me. I had no idea why I found the idea of him as a street fighter so damn sexy, but I did.

      I glanced in the mirror. ‘Really?’

      ‘Yes. My mother still does.’ His hard mouth quirked in something that looked very close to