The angry grey sky on the opposite side of the giant sash window was a stark contrast to the interior lighting of the converted Georgian building. Whilst inside was wonderfully warm, a quick glance outside made me shiver. Fresh out the shower, the morning had been spent trussed up in a suit, buttoned collar and tie, and the idea of wandering around in just a towel had felt quite free ... or at least it had until I'd seen the British weather.

The overzealous toaster popped, almost ejecting the bagel it had been warming. As I set about spreading it with butter a weird sound came from the walk in pantry adjoining the kitchen. I didn't pay much attention to it as the refurbished apartment seemed to have a life of it's own. On several occasions I'd head a creak or a groan. Odd sounds that after much investigating I had to put down to the original building. I chuckled to myself at the thought that Alan would have claimed ghosts.

Then it came again ... the sound of grinding rusty metal followed by a thud.

I turned, cautiously, towards the noise coming from through the pantry door just in time to see the latch holding the door of the dumbwaiter ping off across the room and a blur of limbs come rolling out of the abandoned old-fashioned lift in there ... a quaint invention from days past, that had been used to haul things from lower floor up or delivering food from the lower level staff. I was surprised it still worked.

And even more surprised that it seemed someone had found another use for it.

As the form of a woman came hurtling out from the small confines. My brain briefly brain registered long legs, blonde hair, wearing something navy, and covered in dust and cobwebs. Mostly my reaction was a straightforward WTF?

Her momentum was so great she'd ended up starfished belly down on the floor. As entrances go it wasn't the most dignified, rather surprising and almost certainly illegal. Either she had a damned good reason for being in there, which frankly was unlikely, or she'd just broken into the apartment where I was staying.

Now, on occasion women have done some pretty crazy things to get my attention, shown up at my door wearing just stilettos and a smile, as example. Not unusual for a guy with wealth and public profile who was also - I'll modestly admit - not uneasy on the eye. But none had ever gone quite this far. At once I dismissed the idea that the blonde had seduction in mind.

Best case scenario she was an opportunistic thief expecting to find the place empty who had been lucky enough to find and exploit a weakness in the security systems. The fact that she turned up within hours of Lady P warning me about reporters gunning for me about the lack of my Father's presence, however, gave me cause for concern

I know how seriously some of these paparazzi take their scoops, but they generally just harass as you exit a lift or a car ... exploding into your kitchen was new. All the same, if there was a time to err on the side of caution this was it.

With that in mind, I didn't hesitate longer. Before the woman could fully get to her feet, i got to her, slamming her up against the wall with my arm across her shoulders. My intent was to control her long enough to find out what she was doing here while providing just enough physical intimidation to get her to tell me.

But she had other ideas. Her head reared back, then quickly slammed forward in a move intended to jam the cartilage of my nose up into my brain. I barely managed to avoid the blow while also fending off what she was trying to do to my privates and the rest of me.

Any lingering doubt of how to deal with her vanished. As far as I was concerned she was the person in the wrong and all I was doing was defending myself. If she wanted to fight dirty, fine by me.

To that end I maneuvered and pressed my forearm against her throat to let her know i was serious and growled out "quit it!"

I was using my chest to keep her trapped up against the wall. One of my thighs wedged between hers. Red blooded nature that I am i couldn't help noticing that she was all long legs, slim waist, full... control yourself Tracy.

That was distracting but I still had enough sense to know that my first priority had to be securing any weapons she might be carrying. Still, as I moved my hand over her, feeling for a gun or knife, I may have lingered a little longer than was strictly necessary.

Her breath started coming in shallow little pants that I associate with a different kind of physical activity. That definitely didn't help the situation. Nor did the fact that she was still struggling, so much so that the softness of her flat, smooth abdomen kept rubbing against my groin.

Okay, maybe I should have got dressed after my shower. The towel wrapped around my hips, and it wasn't exactly much of a barrier between us. It sure as hell didn't conceal the fact that I was suddenly getting … aroused ?

Now that was just downright disturbing. I prefer my women more compliant ... wrong word, co-operative ... purring under my hands and begging for more. Trying to crush my balls and rip my eyes out just doesn't do it for me. Still, the truth was that I was becoming aroused for reasons I didn't care to explain – the caveman stuff of controlling the furious wildcat in my arms and bending her to my will was definitely not my usual style.

I was trying to sort out that while coming to terms with the fact that she wasn't armed when a shudder ran through her and she suddenly went limp.

SHIT!

I yanked my arm from her throat and caught her as she started to slide down to the ground. Holding her I stared down in shock. Okay, okay, I know you can knock someone out by obstructing their breathing but shit I didn't think I'd been putting that much pressure on her. I was relieved on checking her pulse and breathing, it was strong so she was only unconscious. I sure as hell hadn't intended to take it that far, no matter how much her trying to hurt me.

Scooping her up, I carried her to the living area and laid her on the couch.

Something about her was familiar, and I couldn't help noticing my earlier impression that she was damned attractive wasn't mistaken. From the long silky strands tumbling loose from the hair clip to the slim ankles she was the stuff of dreams ... wet ones at that. Gorgeous long eyelashes, naturally so at that ... sweet lord that mouth, full, soft, the perfect shade of pink, I could easily imagine it wrapped around my -

Okay, Scott stop it... it's official ... you're a sick bastard. Here she is lying unconscious and all you can think of is ...

*breath*

... my thinking WAS that I had a good opportunity to try and find out who she was before she came to. But first, I didn't want to risk the chance that she'd wake up suddenly and try to run, or worse inflict me some serious bodily harm which I might at this moment actually deserve. That is how I justified my next action. Scanning the room, unthreading the tiebacks from the drapes and using them to tie her hands and feet together.

Looking down at the thick cord secured around her pale skin I was shocked - yet again - that my lower half made himself known again. Yes, I'd played bondage games with willing partners who were inclined that way, and actually enjoyed both the dominant and the submitting control sides of it, but this was real and definitely not a game.

Checking her breathing again it was slower and deeper, a lot closer to normal, so I'd best be quick.

An array of items were spilled over the dumb waiter and pantry floor. A pair of flat shoes, a purse which had spilled a set of keys, a makeup compact and a couple of cards.

Nothing photographic, credit card with the name Emeline Phillips, a medical card, she was 24, willing to be an organ donor, O positive, mild corrective lenses, living at ...

Emeline Phillips?

Emeline? EMMY PHILLIPS!

Was this the young woman who a few years back had been snipping at our family heels? She'd been the trainee wannabe of the reporter who'd been chasing Gordon around right after the Olympics. The stories about him had been completely discredited and suddenly this girl had been found in some compromising position and her boss had mysteriously disappeared ... I'd always wondered if Dad had had a hand in that.

But, THAT Emmy Phillips,

Well, things are getting interesting. Not such a boring business trip after all.

A thoughtful, knowing smile grew on my face as I wondered why this junior parasite that had loved to hate our family had walked ... well tumbled ... back into our lives.