The Twelve Nights of Christmas. Sarah Morgan

was famed, and she was the next problem on his list. The worst was still to come.

      She looked round desperately, searching for an escape. Apart from flushing herself down the toilet or trying to squeeze down the plughole, there was no way out of this bathroom.

      Why, oh, why, had she taken up creepy Carlos’s suggestion of sleeping in the Penthouse? Why hadn’t she followed her initial instinct that it was a bad idea? And why had Rio Zaccarelli decided to arrive at the hotel early when the rest of London was asleep? The man obviously was a machine.

      ‘Two seconds—’ The hard, cold voice made her jump and Evie stared helplessly at the door, trying to think what to do. She needed a plan. She needed to think what she could say that might help her situation.

      While she was in here, she was safe. What could he do? He was hardly going to break the door down, was he?

      There was a tremendous crash, the sound of wood splintering and Evie screamed as the door crashed open, slamming against the sleek limestone wall of the luxurious bathroom.

      Rio Zaccarelli stood in the doorway rubbing his shoulder. ‘What is the matter with the staff in this place? When I give you an order,’ he thundered, ‘I expect you to follow it. And I don’t expect to have to demolish my hotel so that I can hold a conversation with one of my employees.’

      Stunned that the door was still on its hinges, Evie gulped. ‘I—you—are you OK? I mean—I’ve seen people crash through doors in the movies but I always assumed the door is made out of cardboard or something. I’ve never seen anyone actually do it with a real door. That must have hurt.’ She looked at his powerful shoulders doubtfully, wondering whether all that muscle would act as a barrier to pain.

      ‘Sì, it hurt.’ He rolled his shoulder experimentally, checking for damage. ‘Which is why, next time, I’d appreciate it if you’d just do as I say and open the damn door.’

      Evie gave a choked laugh, clutching the silk throw against her. ‘Why? So that you can fire me in person?’

      ‘Who says I’m going to fire you?’

      ‘You fired the tyrannosaurus.’

      ‘Tyrannosaurus?’ Still rubbing his shoulder, he frowned, his expression dark and menacing. ‘I presume you’re talking about that officious woman with the unfortunate hair. That’s what you all call her?’

      Evie froze. ‘No, of course not,’ she lied. ‘We call her Tina.’ Or meat-eater, because she feasted on hotel staff for breakfast.

      ‘She didn’t seem too impressed with you.’

      ‘No.’ It was impossible to argue with that. Utterly defeated, Evie felt the last dregs of spirit drain out of her. What was the point in defending herself? It was over. ‘I think it’s fair to say I don’t have an enormous number of supporters in high places.’ Tina had demoted her. Carlos had tried to grope her and, when she’d rejected him and humiliated him, he’d set her up.