Haunting Rachel Read Online Free PDF

him look even more thuggish. His cheekbones were high but flat, his brow high and wide, and his nose had most certainly been broken at least twice. There was a ludicrous dimple in his strong chin, his mouth was a straight, thin slash without any particular shape and definitely without softness or charm, and his deep-set eyes were such a light shade of brown that they were almost eerily hypnotic.
    Like the eyes of a cat. Or a snake.
    Mercy knew almost nothing of his background, except that it had been hard and that he had seen parts of the world tourists were warned away from. He didn’t talk about himself, so what little she knew or had guessed came from observation, and from the occasional snippets of information he let slip while talking of something else. Such as when he had once said absently that the summer heat of Richmond was worse than the Kalahari. And when he had recommended to a Europe-bound client all the best places to eat in Florence.
    And when he had startled her on various occasions by being fluent in French, German, Italian, and Japanese.
    Wherever he had been, and whatever he had done, Nicholas Ross had turned up in Richmond about five years previously, his ugly face already worn by time and experiences and his unsettling gaze cynical. He had been obviously wealthy, though the source of his wealth remaineda mystery, and he had wanted to get into investment banking.
    For reasons he had never explained to anyone, Duncan Grant—who had never needed and seemingly never wanted a partner—had invited him to join the firm.
    Mercy had signed on as Duncan’s assistant not long after that, and even that early Nicholas was already becoming known for his uncanny instincts for seemingly risky business ventures that would prove to be wildly profitable.
    He was smart and he was lucky. Or maybe he was smart enough to make his own luck. In any case, Nicholas Ross was a success.
    “You’re looking very serious,” he said to her as he hung up the phone, his voice harsh and deep.
    “I have a serious problem,” she told him. “Someone keeps telling people around here that I’m going to be your personal assistant.”
    Heavy lids veiled his eyes as Nicholas glanced down at his immaculate blotter, and continued to half hide his gaze even after he looked at her once again. “That
doesn’t
have to be a problem.”
    “Nick, we’ve had this discussion before.”
    “I know.” He grimaced slightly, producing a face likely to frighten small children. “But I hate losing. You know I hate losing.”
    Mercy sighed. “I’ll say it one more time. I will work for you, or I will sleep with you. But I will not do both. You choose.”
    His eyelids lifted and those pale eyes flickered. “I want both.”
    “No.” It was said very simply, very quietly.
    It was his turn to sigh. “Have I ever told you what a stubborn woman you are? Dammit, Mercy, what would bethe harm? I need an assistant and you’re the best I’ve ever seen at the job. So what if we’re sleeping together? We’ve managed to be discreet for nearly a year. The sky hasn’t fallen in, and our clients haven’t turned up at the door foaming at the mouth because you spend an occasional night at my place or I sleep over at yours. Nobody could even imagine you might be promoted or get a raise for any reason other than solid good work. So why the hell not?”
    “I’m not going to sleep with my boss. Period. Full stop. End of statement. How much plainer do I have to be?”
    “That’s plain enough,” he growled, clearly annoyed.
    Mercy shrugged. She was actually getting quite good at pretending to be indifferent. “Hey, if a personal assistant is more vital to you, just say the word. I’ll pack up the stuff I’ve left at your place and tear up my resume.”
    He grunted. “You would too.”
    “Well, of course I would. Good lovers may be scarce, but good jobs are almost impossible to come by—and the latter pays the rent. Look, stop giving me a hard time