Memoirs of a Millionaire's Mistress

‘Of course I’m sure, and, no, I’m not going on my own—I’ve already paid for two tickets. The money raised is going towards a dozen local charities. You’ll want to come—this’ll be a good opportunity to talk about your art, mention the gallery opening and make some contacts.’

The alternative would be to chaperone another woman…

There was no alternative.

She bit off a corner of bamboo shoot, then nodded. ‘Okay.’

On the inside her stomach was churning. How would his business associates view her? Would they know she was only his short-term lover?

And what the heck was she going to wear?

CHAPTER ELEVEN

‘I GUESS my sequined leggings and macramé top are out?’ Didi murmured, only half joking. She liked the glitzy outfit she’d bought at a recycle boutique. It made her feel happy and it drew looks whenever she wore it. She also knew her taste didn’t conform to the conventional fashion trends.

Cameron looked up, his mouth open in astonishment. ‘This is a formal dinner, Didi. The “rich and famous” will be there. You’ll need to wear something suitable. A dress.’

She scowled down at her half-eaten meal. ‘I don’t own a dress.’ Not any more.

‘I told you I’d pay for whatever you need. Leave it with me. My secretary, Chris, knows how to shop and what’s appropriate. Write down your dress size and preferences and I’ll have her send around some items for you to choose from.’

His condescending attitude sent prickles up her spine and she stiffened. ‘I’ve attended a few of these formal shindigs in my time,’ she said coolly. ‘You think I don’t know what’s appropriate?’

He stared at her and she could see him trying to dig his way out of the hole he’d got himself in. ‘Of course you do,’ he said placatingly. In that same condescending tone. ‘But I know you’re busy here. I’m just trying to save you some time.’

He had a point. She couldn’t afford to fall any further behind.

In two weeks their working relationship would be over. Their private relationship would be over. A stark reminder that this was a temporary arrangement and she’d be better off remembering that. But a hollow feeling opened up inside her.

‘You’ll find something we both like,’ he went on, oblivious to her inner turmoil. Mr Super Confident twirled his chopsticks through his meal, picked up a prawn.

She needed to retain her independence and some control over her life. Their tastes were light years apart—she’d seen the way he looked at her clothes. But what he liked wouldn’t matter in two weeks. ‘I still have that cash you gave me. You don’t need to fork out any more.’

‘That’s an advance on your commission. It has nothing to do with this.’ He glanced at her, his smile indulgent. ‘Call the dress a gift.’

A gift. Wasn’t that what men like him gave their mistresses? Oh, how she hated that word. She hated that that was all he wanted from her. She realised she wanted so much more. A chill wrapped around her heart. Don’t you dare cry. Instead she dared herself to look him in the eye and ask, ‘Would that be for services rendered, then?’

His smile disappeared, his eyes locked on hers. ‘Didi.’ He put down his chopsticks, stood and rounded the table. Crouched in front of her and took her face between his hands. ‘You know damn well that’s not what I meant.’

She’d never heard his voice so quiet, so firm. It wrapped around her like blue velvet. No, Didi thought, he wasn’t at all sure how she’d interpreted him. Maybe she wasn’t so sure herself. And when had he become more to her than a casual lover?

He couldn’t be more; she couldn’t let him.

‘Hell…Didi.’ He smoothed his thumbs over her cheeks. His eyes glinted in the down-lights. ‘If I insulted you, I apologise. I want you with me on Saturday night. Only you.’

Her heart melted and a smile tugged at her lips. ‘Ah, but would you want me with you in my sequined leggings and macramé top?’

His eyes flickered, then he blew out a slow breath. ‘Can we compromise on this? If Chris organises some stuff for you to look at and you don’t like anything…’ He rubbed his lips over hers. ‘Let’s just see how it goes with Chris first. Now…come up here.’

He stood, taking her with him, lifting her higher so that his body bits lined up with hers in all the right places. Their mouths feasted on one another’s as he headed for the black rug between the sofas. He laid her down on its luxurious pile, his hands diving beneath her top.