To Sin with the Tycoon

She had sat quietly and in fear as he had sapped every ounce of her confidence so that she could no longer see a way out, far less find the courage to look for it. And she had not complained when he had told her that, if it weren’t for the money, he would have walked out on the marriage a long time ago.

The fact was that he’d been financially tied to her. There was still a mortgage on the house, too many bills to pay, and if they divorced and she got her fair share he would have ended up living in something ugly and nasty, no longer able to live it up with his various women.

So he had stayed put but he had made sure to make life as unpleasant for his fragile wife as he could.

Whenever Alice felt a little insecure about the way she looked, she would sternly tell herself that good looks brought heartache. Look at her mother.

And look at those girls Gabriel dated, the Georgia lookalikes. Who said that a woman with beauty had it all?

Rex Morgan was dead now, in a car accident that had released his wife from her captivity, but he had left a telling legacy behind him. Pamela Morgan was housebound and had been for a while. The thought of leaving the four walls around her and venturing outside terrified her. Over time, and in small but significant stages, she had gradually become agoraphobic and was fortunate now to live in a small village where people looked in on her during the week to make sure that she was okay. In a city, where their house had been, she would have been completely lost.

At weekends, Alice would gently try to ease her out into the garden and, a couple of times recently, actually down to the nearest shop, although that had been a lengthy exercise.

She paid for professional help, which cost an arm and a leg, but recovery was tortoise-slow and uncertain.

Weekends, Alice suspected, were her mother’s favourite times, so Alice made sure to reserve those weekends for her, whatever the personal cost.

And, after a year and a half of treatment and regular weekend visits, Alice felt like she was beginning to see a slightly different woman in her mother. She seemed less tentative, more open to a short walk. Of course, the treatment would continue. In conjunction with the occasional pep talk, Alice felt confident that at some point in time she would be able to have more than just the odd weekend away from her mother’s side.

To do what, she had no idea. Her love life post-Alan was non-existent and, whenever her mother gently asked her about that, she was always quick to point out that she didn’t need a guy.

The unspoken message was: why would I? Just look at Dad...look at Alan... Men are trouble...

She had told her mother bits and pieces about Gabriel as well, which cemented that unspoken message.

But things seemed to be progressing and so, when Alice had sat her down and told her that she wouldn’t be able to make it the following weekend because of work, she was pleasantly surprised by her mother’s reaction.

‘That’s absolutely fine,’ Pamela had said with a smile. ‘I need to know how to be a little more independent.’

Which, Alice thought, meant that the very costly professional whose services she was paying for was actually beginning to make a difference.

So, yes, she was looking forward to Paris.

They had spent the past week working flat out on every single aspect of the deal that could go wrong. In between, there had been the usual high-volume work load. She had been rushed off her feet and had enjoyed every minute of it.

And Gabriel’s so-called flu had disappeared as quickly as it had come, although he hadn’t failed to remind her that she was probably the one who had given it to him, which had made her lips twitch with amusement.

They had arranged to meet at the airport and now, waiting for her taxi to arrive, Alice once again ticked off the mental checklist in her head.

All necessary work documents, including her work laptop, would be in hand luggage. She had her mobile phone and all the necessary work clothes packed.

They would be going for four days and she had managed to fit everything into one average-sized suitcase with room to spare.

Outside, the weather was cool but sunny, and she gave in to a heady feeling of complete freedom. The feeling was so unusual that for a second or two she felt a painful pang that this was something she should have more of; that this was something most girls her age would take absolutely for granted and yet here she was, savouring it like a tasty morsel that would vanish all too soon.

Tasty morsel! She would be in the company of Gabriel most of the time!

Like a runaway train, her mind zoomed off at speed to the memory of him in his bathrobe—the sight of that bare chest, those strong, muscled legs, the way he had been prone on his king-sized bed, macho, dominant and oozing raw sex appeal.

She uneasily shoved aside the unacceptable thought that part of her excitement might have to do with just being with him for four uninterrupted days in Paris, of all places.