Secrets In The Boardroom: A Perfect Husband / The Boss's Secret Mistress / Between the CEO's Sheets. Fiona Brand

set her handbag down on the end of the bed. “This is a two-bedroom suite.”

      His gaze was neutral. “I prefer to sleep alone.”

      Her stomach and her heart plunged.

      Desperate for a distraction, Lilah switched her gaze to her cases. “Oh good, you’ve brought my laptop.”

      She forced a bright, professional smile and grabbed the lifeline of an internet connection.

      “You’re going to work?”

      Blinking back a sudden urge to cry, she picked up the computer case. “I have some private correspondence to see to.”

      Blindly, she walked past Zane out into the sitting room and headed in the direction of an elegant writing desk. Placing the case on the glass-topped surface, she busied herself setting up the laptop.

      Zane’s clinical approach to their sleeping arrangements, his rejection of any depth of intimacy, was a reminder she badly needed. Now more than ever, she needed to carry through with her schedule for the following week.

      Zane frowned as he watched Lilah. The blank look in her eyes tugged at him, warring with his habit of carefully preserving his emotional distance. He was almost certain she was crying.

      Instead of backing off, he found himself irresistibly drawn as she booted up her computer. “I thought we could go out for lunch.”

      “That sounds nice.”

      Zane frowned at the brisk note in Lilah’s voice. He glanced at her laptop screen. The separate rooms dilemma suddenly evaporated. “Are these online ‘friends’ all male?”

      “As it so happens, yes.”

      The emotional calm he had worked so hard to maintain since the riveting hours in the cave was abruptly replaced by the same fierce, unreasoning jealousy he had experienced when he had found out that Lucas was taking Lilah to Constantine’s wedding. “Have you dated any of them?”

      She fished spectacles out of her handbag, pushed them onto the bridge of her nose and leaned a little closer to the screen as if what she was reading was of the utmost importance. “Not yet.”

      Dragging his gaze from the fascinating sight of the spectacles perched on the delicate bridge of Lilah’s nose, he studied the list of men she was perusing. The lineup of photographs portrayed a selection of Greek gods, some flashing golden tans and overly white teeth, some dressed with GQ perfection. The one exception was a slightly battered, bleach blond surfer type.

      Lilah scrolled and he glimpsed the logo of the matchmaking agency. The lightbulb flared a little brighter. “But you intend to?”

      “That’s right. Next week when I have my annual vacation.”

      His gaze snagged on the four men who had withdrawn. He noted the dates. Just days after the scandal had erupted into the newspapers.

      He also noted that the flood of new applications had all come in at a similar time. “How many?”

      “Fifteen so far.” She scrolled down to a chat page, which had several comments posted. “Seventeen if two other very good prospects come on board.”

      The corporate-speak momentarily distracted him. He had to remind himself that the businesslike approach was entirely consistent with Lilah’s view of marriage. She didn’t just want a man, she wanted a paragon, someone who would tick every one of the boxes on her corporate marriage sheet.