‘But you are here.’
‘Then think of me as the hired help.’
‘Of course.’ He gestured towards the takeaway containers he’d lined up on the counter. ‘Want some?’
Ruby rolled her eyes and kept right on unpacking. Fruit for the fruit bowl by way of a water rinse. She found the colander and started washing grapes. A grape escaped her and rolled across the counter towards him. He stopped it, ate it, and Ruby’s gaze slid helplessly to his lips. Not good.
‘Does my father treat you like an employee?’ he murmured. ‘Why wouldn’t he?’ ‘Just curious.’
‘Whatever you’re thinking just say it,’ she said darkly.
‘I was thinking that I can see now why plenty of people wouldn’t want to employ you. If there were women around you’d outclass them. Husbands around and you’d captivate them. Furthermore, I’m willing to bet that my father treats you more like a daughter than an employee.’
‘I think it’s because he met me a couple of times as a child. I’m trying to break him of the habit.’
‘There it is,’ he said softly. ‘The reason you’ll never make a good underling. You’re too regal. Taking charge comes as automatically to you as breathing.’
‘So?’ For some reason his words wounded her.
‘It’s not a criticism, Ruby. I’m just saying that asking me to treat you like the hired help is all well and good but it’s never going to happen. You’re Ruby Maguire; part princess, part seasoned survivor when it comes to the whims of the wealthy, and you know it. What’s more, I know it. We’re just going to have to come up with some other way of dealing with each other.’
‘Are we having another serious conversation?’ she demanded suspiciously. ‘Because, I still remember how well the last one worked out for us.’
‘You think we should stick to banter? Flirting without intent?’
‘Yes,’ she said firmly. ‘It’s the perfect solution. Easy as breathing, for both of us—no character assassination intended.’
‘None taken,’ he said dryly. ‘Flirting is comfortable.’
‘Exactly.’
‘Predictable.’ He seemed to be looking for a catch.
‘I’m sure we can make it so.’
‘Safe,’ he said, watching her closely.
‘Possibly a new experience for the mysterious Damon West, but yes,’ she said airily. ‘Flirting with me is comfortable, predictable, easy and safe.’
‘Right.’ Damon’s enthusiasm for flirting—with or without intent—appeared to be on the wane. ‘What if I fall asleep?’
‘It’s all right, Damon.’ Hard not to smile at Damon West’s thorough comprehension of self. ‘I’ll wake you before I leave.’
Ruby did leave Damon’s company eventually, and she took with her plenty of food for thought. She’d never thought of herself in the terms that Damon West had described her. Part princess, part seasoned survivor.
Yes, she knew her way around the upper echelons of society; with its games of one-upmanship and the ultimate scorecard that was money. Yes, she could relate to being a survivor. Always had been. Another lesson from her father. But she’d never thought of herself as authoritative, or a princess for that matter. She’d never considered herself a difficult woman to deal with. Recent bouts of rampant paranoia aside. She’d left Damon enjoying his meal and showing no signs of resentment towards her whatsoever, in the aftermath of her accusations and suspicions. Social disaster alleviated. Good for her. For her and Damon both, given that she’d be seeing a fair bit of him over the next few days.
The rest of Ruby’s afternoon consisted of a charity meeting on Russell’s behalf, and once she’d clocked off for the day, getting her nails done, and doing a spot of Christmas gift shopping, this time for herself. Her modest optic fibre Christmas tree had no gifts beneath it. Now it would.
Ruby let herself into her own apartment shortly after 7:30 p.m. Shoes off at the door—an old habit, drummed into her by a long-ago nanny—and a smile for the tiny half-grown cat who peered at her suspiciously from beneath the lounge chair. The kitten had been haunting the residents’ underground car park, half starved, not tough enough for the streets, and Ruby had been lonely. They’d agreed on a one-week trial. Today was the start of week three and the ribbed look had faded somewhat but the little cat’s wariness remained. ‘Evening, C.’
Such a pity cats didn’t talk back.
‘I met a man today. A man who saw straight through me, and I through him.’
The little cat regarded her gravely.
‘That’s what I thought,’ murmured Ruby as she knelt, stretched out her hand and managed to touch the little cat’s shoulder with her fingertips before he retreated. ‘Scary stuff, but we managed a respectable distance, of sorts. Eventually. Hey, I got you a present.’ Ruby dug in her grocery bag and drew out a fluffy toy mouse and set it on the floor. The cat disappeared back beneath the lounge. So much for progress.
‘All righty then. How about some food?’ Ruby headed for the galley kitchen, switching on lights with her elbow as she went. She fed the cat, set soothing music to playing and put a plate of leftover stir-fried vegetables in the microwave. She poured a glass of white wine and sipped it as she crossed to the window and stared out over the vast and bustling Victoria harbour.
This job for Russell West had only ever been a stopgap while she recovered from the blow of her father’s deception. She’d made of her duties what she could, and she would always be grateful to Russell for giving her safe haven when others had cast her aside, but it was time to move on and Damon’s observations had merely confirmed it. Domestic servitude wasn’t for her. She needed to find something else to do. Start her own business. Study a different type of law. One not associated with big business and big money. Something humanitarian.
‘What do you think, cat? Would I make a good human rights advocate?’ Sighing, Ruby pulled her headband from her hair and tossed it on the nearby table. ‘No? How about family law? Prenups. Divorce.’ Given her family history she knew plenty about both.
Damon West had thought her headband ridiculous.
Damon West had thought a lot of things about her, most of them accurate. Ruby in turn just couldn’t seem to stop thinking about him.
Whether those thoughts were accurate was anyone’s guess.
‘What do you reckon he is, C? A thief?’
No answer from the little cat.
‘But then, Russell would hardly be proud of a thief. Maybe Damon’s a legitimate thief—moral ambiguity aside. Maybe he works for one of those government agencies no one’s ever heard of. Either way, we don’t want any part of him, right, Cat? We don’t like people who keep secrets. Secrets bite. You’d know all about bites, right?’
Ruby took another sip of wine, and breathed a lonely sigh. ‘You think I should have encouraged him, don’t you? Used him to get through the Christmas lonelies, and yes, he’d have been perfect for that. Then I could have handed in my notice come New Year and we’d have never had to see each other again. It could’ve worked beautifully.’
She turned to look at the little cat and the little cat looked back.
‘I disagree,’