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make you my Prince
Charming then,” I teased, kissing his nose. “Although I don’t
remember Mum reading me the part in the story where Prince Charming
shagged Cinderella’s brains out all night.”
    “He didn’t get the chance, did
he? Because she kept running away. If she’d stayed past midnight
for once, all I can say is if the pumpkin coach is a-rocking, don’t
come a-knocking.”
    I giggled and pushed him off me.
I managed to make it off the bed this time and dressed quickly in
my work uniform again. I pulled on my socks and slipped my feet
into my boots. I didn’t bother putting my utility belt back on,
slinging it over my shoulder instead. I probably should have gone
home to change before I came to his house, but I hadn’t wanted to
waste any of the precious little time we had together.
    “Tilly,” he remonstrated in a
sulky tone.
    “Will,” I replied patiently. “I
have to go. My ride will be here any second. And he hates to be
kept waiting.”
    “You never stay all night. It
would be nice to wake up next to you one morning. I want to make
you breakfast.” His soft brown eyes regarded me plaintively as he
ran his fingers through his wild, curly brown hair. We’d been going
out for about three months now and had had this same conversation
every time we’d seen each other. To tell the truth, it was becoming
a little tiresome.
    I suppressed a huge sigh. If
only he knew what I had to go through to even be allowed to spend
half the night with him. I leaned over the bed and kissed him
gently.
    “I know you do, babe, but I have
to go.” I checked the time on his bedside clock. “Shit! I’m
late.”
    I kissed him again hurriedly,
leaving him watching after me unhappily as I raced out his front
door. I flew down the front path, vaulted over the gate and threw
myself in the passenger seat of the black Mercedes 4WD that was
idling outside his house.
    “You kept me waiting, Matilda,”
said the man in the driver’s seat.
    “Sorry. I lost track of the
time.”
    He leaned over, grasped my chin
in his hand and searched my face intently, taking in my satiated
features. He rubbed the back of his thumb gently over my lips. “You
have a rash. You should tell him to shave more carefully.”
    I gazed into his piercing blue
eyes and smiled lazily. “I don’t mind. It was well worth it.”
    “You had a pleasant
evening?”
    “Very.” I stretched languorously
and yawned hugely as he drove off. “Did you?”
    “We had a poker match. Niq won.
He scammed twenty dollars out of me and forty dollars out of
Daniel.”
    I laughed. “We’ll have to keep
our eye on him in the future. Last time I played with him, he did
me for fifty bucks! He’s practicing on the internet, you know. He
could turn out to be a card shark.”
    “Tell me about what you did
tonight.”
    “No! Don’t be an old perv. It’s
private.” He smiled at that.
    I rested my eyes on him while he
drove. It was almost a sinful pleasure to view him, with his strong
chiselled features, spiky blond hair, strikingly blue eyes and
beautiful mouth. He was in his thirties, very tall with a sexy,
muscular body and was quite easily the most beautiful human being
I’d had the fortune of setting eyes on. All this deliciousness was
topped off with a very charming German or Scandinavian accent (as I
said before, I’m not good with accents and he refused to tell me
where he was from). He was also the most enigmatic person I’d ever
met and I couldn’t quite believe anything he said about himself. He
called himself Heller, although he’d told me once that it wasn’t
his real name. I lived with him and his assortment of ‘lost boys’
that he’d collected during his life – mountain-sized identical
twins, Sid and Clive; vulnerable, scarred Daniel; teenaged Goth,
Niq; and his mysterious, never-sighted valet, Victor – at the
Warehouse, his fortress-like business premise and residence.
    My name’s Tilly Chalmers, but
Heller always calls me by my full