Episode 5: I'm afraid I can't trust your word

As mortified color ran up beneath her fair skin his wide, sensual mouth quirked. 'Look at her, Rowan. Then tell me you still need an answer to that question,' he advised drily.

Still reeling resentfully from that shameless clothes—stripping appraisal, Stella breathed jerkily. 'I mentioned the situation to the woman who normally works up here and asked if I could switch floors with her for a night.

After a lot of persuasions, she agreed, and she did warn me not to clean the office behind the double doors...but unfortunately, there are two sets of double doors—' 'So there are,' Dior Harlequin conceded, his agreement smooth.

'I made a simple mistake, and I was about to slip out again when I heard somebody coming,' Stella confided tautly. 'I was scared it was a security guard.

He might've asked what I was doing up here, and that could have got Grace into trouble. I dived behind the door so that I wouldn't be seen. It was a stupid thing to do—' 'Security hasn't been up here since six,' the older man interposed, unimpressed.

'And when Harlequin arrived just ten minutes ago this entire floor was empty.' 'Well, I don't know who it was. He stood in the doorway for about twenty seconds and then went away again...' Wondering why her reasonable explanation was being challenged, Stella found her voice trailing away.

Expelling his breath in a slow, measured hiss, Dior Harlequin lounged back against the edge of a nearby desk and glanced at the anxious older man.

'Go on home, Rowan. I can deal with this.' 'I should stay and sort this out for you—' 'You have a dinner date to keep,' Dior reminded him drily. 'I've made you late enough as it is.'

Rowan looked as if he was about to protest, and then, meeting his employer's expectant scrutiny, he nodded. Just before he took his leave, he paused to remark gruffly, 'My thoughts will be with you tomorrow, Dior.' Dior Harlequin tensed, his eyes veiling. 'Thank you.'

He closed the door in the older man's wake and swung back to survey Stella. 'I'm afraid I can't trust your word on this, Stella,' he drawled in a tone of daunting finality. 'You listened to a very confidential dialogue—' 'I wasn't listening...

I wasn't interested!' Stella told him frantically, intimidated much against her own will. 'I've got two questions for you,' Dior Harlequin advanced softly.

Do you want to keep your job?' Stella stiffened, even more, despising him for using such bullying tactics. 'Of course, I do—' 'And do you want the other lady who allowed you to come up here and work in her place to keep her job?' Stella sagged as if he had punched her, and turned very pale.