His Rules: Ludlow Nights - Book1 (A Ludlow Nights Romance) Read Online Free PDF Page A

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    Her plan, and she'd made that plan perfectly clear to Nico, was to have an early night. Instead she found herself sitting in a cosy Italian bistro a block away from her apartment, trapped, between two ridiculously handsome Italians. Since she'd gorged herself on Oscar's fabulous food, Anastacia stuck to fish. Seared cod. Nico had tempted her with a forkful of fusilli and pesto with peas, which appeared to give the green light to Olivier to feed her slivers of veal.
    She held up a hand to stop him sliding a piece of garlic bread onto her plate.
    "Thank you, but I've already eaten."
    Nico nodded in agreement, took a sip of Chianti.
    "She did. Oscar made up a basket. She scoffed four wraps and two strawberry tarts, an apple and two bottles of water."
    Olivier grinned at the dark look Anastacia sent Nico.
    "Do I analyse your food choices?" she asked her boss in a too soft voice.
    Nico just patted her hand.
    "You are so tiny a puff of wind might blow you away, we are looking after you, cara ."
    "I don't need looking after."
    "Who skipped lunch today?" Nico shot back.
    Anastacia rolled her eyes.
    Nico had a memory like an elephant.
    That'll teach her to open her big mouth.
    She smiled, gave him wide eyes.
    "I was busy organizing your new campaign. My boss likes to crack the whip."
    Nico just shook his head and dug into his meal.
    And all the time she was too aware of the fact that Olivier had been avidly watching and listening to their exchange.
    "How long have you worked for Nico?" Oliver asked.
    She turned to find dark eyes watching her with an intensity that made her blink.
    "Two years."
    "You are very young to hold such a responsible position."
    Anastacia opened her mouth, but before she could speak, Nico stepped in.
    "She is. But she is the best. You have nothing to worry about, Oli. As I said before, Anastacia will take very good care of you."
    By the look on Oli's face, he wasn't convinced.
    It didn't bother Anastacia that the football star was wary, even worried, about working with her. She was good, very good, at her job. Some might say her most besetting sin was to niggle a person when that person showed weakness. And as far as Anastacia was concerned Olivier was showing a big yellow stripe of weakness right now.
    She patted his hand.
    "You have nothing to worry about, Oli , darling," the way she said his name, as if he was five years old, made his dark eyes narrow into hers. "As long as you do exactly what Anastacia says, all will be well."
    Nico didn't comment, he signalled for the bill, turned to Olivier.
    "Are you coming with me, or staying in town tonight?"
    Actually, Olivier had planned to go with Nico, spend a few days at The Dower House with Bronte and the kids. But now he changed his mind.
    "I'll stay in town for a couple of days, if that is okay with you?"
    Nico stood.
    " Nessen problema ."
    Anastacia gave both men an over-bright smile, held out her hand to Olivier.
    "Well, it's been so lovely to meet you," she said, not meaning a word of it. "Good luck in the final."
    She tried to tug her hand free, but Olivier kept it firmly in his, even when Nico kissed her cheeks in farewell.
    And he still held her hand when they stood outside the restaurant and watched Nico's chauffeured limo glide down the road.
    She turned to him with a flinty look in her cobalt eyes that did something crazy to the rhythm of Olivier's heart.
    "I need my hand back."
    She tugged.
    He held it tight, linked his fingers with hers.
    "I am walking you home."
    "Nope."
    He started to walk down the road, toward the river Thames, towing her in her high heels behind him.
    "You have no idea where I live," she huffed out an irritated breath.
    "You live in the new apartments near Ferranti Communications. Nico told me."
    "Nico," Anastacia muttered under her breath, "has a big mouth."
    Olivier turned to look at her face.
    A face with an expression that could curdle cream.
    He slowed his pace, wrapped a friendly arm around her tiny waist.
    "I am a