Hi I am an idiot because CHAPTER ONE , scattering the wad of papers she had been holding in a whirling arc round

the feet of the tall dark man in the doorway. 'You made me jump...' Her voice faltered to a halt as she took in the blazing anger turning the cold grey eyes into as an iota. 'Sent you to do more of his dirty work?' 'I her words slowly in icy mockery. 'And you, of course, have no idea what is wrong with him?' 'It's a virus of bite of laughter that made her flinch. 'I'll give him flu when I get hold of him. Youi dear brother, Miss Marcell, is in a great deal of trouble, and if I find out that you are involved, as I suspect you are, you are going to wish you had never been born.' 'Who exactly are you?' She was beginning to feel weak at the knees. She had only returned from a month's holiday in Greece a few hours before, to find Tim firmly settled in her tiny flat, pleading that the big house he shared with three friends was being painted and the smell and commotion was making him more ill. She had beeii deeply shocked at the mentioned the name! Cord Lachoni. The Bij White Chief. Known far and wide for his ruthless efficiency and coldblooded business sense that hat brought him from relative obscurity to the status of multi-millionaire in less than ten years. An entrepreneur to end entrepreneurs, hated and feared as well as deeply respected among his peers. At thirtyseven he had the world at his feet, a broken marriage and a string of much publicised one-night stands to his credit. A giant among men with a lifestyle to match. 'Well?' The stony hard voice was unrelenting. 'What are you hatching in that nasty little brain of yours? I can fairly hear the cogs whirring. 'Look, Mr Lachoni, you aren't going to believe this,' she began slowly, 'but I haven't got a clue what this is all about.' He swore softly in a foreign tongue, the meaning unmistakable. 'You're right, I don't believe it,' he said crisply, moving to stand in front of her, where he towered over her slender frame. His height was terribly intimidating, six feet six at least, with the sleek, broad-shouldered body of a prime athlete honed to perfection. She could 'Do you think I am a complete fool?' There was just a glimmer of an accent on some of his words, an unusual pronunciation of certain letters that, along with the bronzed darkness of his skin, proclaimed he was not English. She tried desperately to remember everything Tim had mentioned about this man as she sat with a small plop on the hard surface of the desk. The hard grey gaze had her pinned like a butterfly on cardboard.