Ruthless Boss, Royal Mistress

Liss wanted to kick herself for her stupidity. She’d got half the locals offside for flying in her own team— killing the budget and destroying what goodwill she might have had. A few summers partying at Ben’s club several years ago obviously wasn’t enough.

‘It’s a top night at the club—we need the gear here,’ he said gruffly. ‘I can’t help you, princess.’

Liss stared at him amazed—aghast. ‘But, Ben—’

He turned away. Literally turned his back on her. She was left standing, feeling foolish. In the end she had no option but to walk out—alone and empty-handed.

She tried another club only to discover her old ‘friend’ was now barely an acquaintance, uninterested and unable to assist. She left that one more quickly than the first, decided to try just one more. The streets seemed dark and foreign. She couldn’t believe it—this was her home turf and yet she felt like an unwelcome stranger.

She started to wonder if there was anyone on Aristo who she could turn to. None of the people she’d thought she could count on were willing to help her out. Had she been away so long they’d forgotten? Or hadn’t they been her friends in the first place? Had they only encouraged her company back then because she brought in more customers? Now she no longer lived here she didn’t have that to offer—and they weren’t interested. Humiliation seeped into her. She felt like such an idiot. Such a naïve fool to have thought they might actually have liked her for her. It was all about the publicity, the crown, the money. She stood outside the third club and had to dig deeper for the courage to go in. She didn’t stay long—could tell from the manager’s face that he wasn’t willing. She didn’t want to try any more—just wanted to slink back to the hotel, lick her wounds and build her defences. But James was there and with James she needed more defences than ever. Rejection threatened her from all sides.

The next day James surprised her as she sat staring at her laptop, despairing.

‘Come and have lunch with me.’

They took a taxi into the heart of Ellos, selected a small restaurant that had privacy and fast, excellent food.

They sat and she looked through the menu. He got a message on his Blackberry and, with an apology by way of a wink, sat and tapped out a reply.

Knowing how long he might take and how hungry she was, she summoned the waiter and ordered for both of them.

He looked up as the waiter departed, surprise on his face.

‘Is what I ordered for you OK?’ She smiled.

‘It’s exactly what I would have ordered.’ He switched off the Blackberry and pushed it to the side.

She’d observed him at enough dinners and seen him hoovering enough hors d’oeuvres to understand his appetite. ‘I know what you like.’

He regarded her, the glint in his eye steady but somehow more intense. ‘That you do.’

Her tingling sensation spread from the inside out. It wasn’t just desire that he was reflecting. He seemed to be looking at her with fresh eyes—could see more clearly—and he liked what he saw even more. A little thrown, she put the focus back on him.

‘Do you always work this hard?’ He rarely seemed to have time out. But he never complained. He seemed to thrive on it.

‘My father ground a strong work ethic into us. It didn’t matter that we were born into wealth. We were still expected to prove ourselves—to succeed independently.’

And he had of course. And she knew he thought the same couldn’t be said of her. ‘What would happen if you didn’t?’

He blinked. ‘There’s no question we wouldn’t. You put in the work, you get there.’

‘You really think it’s that simple?’

They both sat back as the waiter placed their plates. ‘Sure. With effort everyone gets there eventually.’

Ha. She knew all about putting in effort and still not quite making it. But then, maybe her effort hadn’t quite been big enough. ‘How many brothers and sisters do you have?’

‘Two brothers.’

‘Let me guess, you’re the eldest.’

His smile was immediate. ‘How did you figure that?’

‘You’re responsible. Perfectionist. You’ve taken on the family expectations and more than met them. And if you’re going to get into trouble you’ve learnt to do it discreetly.’

He chuckled. ‘So what about you?’

‘I’m just one of the spares.’ She shrugged, losing her appetite for her Caesar salad.

‘And fast learned getting into trouble publicly gives you the attention you need?’