The Billionaire's Housekeeper Mistress

Just like that…on Ethan’s personal recommendation, she’d zoomed straight to the top of the list. Daisy was too stunned to speak. Ethan looked enquiringly at her and she shook her head at the injustice of it all. ‘It’s not what you are. It’s who you know,’ slipped out of her mouth.

‘Connections do cut through a lot of time-wasting,’ he remarked. ‘But this isn’t a case of jobs for the boys. I’m not passing my client a lemon. I wouldn’t do that. I’m confident you’re capable of pulling off anything you set your mind to.’

She flushed with pleasure in his high opinion of her. ‘Thank you, Ethan. And thank you for recommending me. I won’t let you down.’

His mouth tilted in an ironic little smile. ‘No. You’re not into letting people down, are you, Daisy? Forgive me for doubting you, even for a moment.’

The moment when he’d thought she’d gone. ‘You can count on me to keep my word, Ethan,’ she quietly assured him.

‘Yes. I believe I can,’ he said, and this time his eyes twinkled with his smile. ‘I’ll give you all the job details after breakfast. I’ve written them down.’

She smiled back. ‘Great! Thank you again.’

His smile stretched into a grin. ‘And may I suggest you don’t wear brown to the interview. This is a guy, not a Lynda Twiggley. You’ll be fronting for his publishing house. He’ll want you to power-dress. Red is good. You look great in red.’ His gaze dropped to her kimono. ‘And orange and yellow and green.’

She laughed, a lovely bubble of joy dancing inside her. ‘Okay. Not brown.’ The future was definitely looking up for her, regardless of how and when this time with Ethan ended.

Breakfast was, indeed, yummy. Ethan cooked a tomato salsa with a spicy touch of Tabasco sauce, placed a poached egg in the middle of each serving and accompanied it with fingers of French toast. They shared the newspaper while they ate, which put Daisy in a very relaxed mood, no longer worrying about what they’d do for the rest of the weekend.

They played tennis. They swam and lazed around the pool. He beat her at Scrabble, right at the death, scoring eighty points with a seven-letter word which Daisy declared was grossly unfair since she’d led all the way. She asked him to teach her some of the board games he played with his friends, which he willingly did. It was fun. There was not one boring or unpleasant moment, probably because underlying everything was a highly acute sexual awareness of each other, a constantly buzzing excitement that was ready and eager to burst into arousal with a touch or a kiss.

After their swim.

After Scrabble.

During the movie they semi-watched after dinner.

When they retired for the night.

Daisy did not leave Ethan’s bed on Sunday morning until they left it together, satisfied that the harmony they’d reached on Saturday was still a beautiful thing between them. It continued without a hitch until after lunch, when Ethan announced he would show her the apartment she was to move into for his convenience.

He didn’t use those exact words, but the illusion of mutual lovers enjoying each other was jolted straight out of Daisy’s mind by the reminder of the mistress deal. The apartment was for his convenience—no parents to consider, no one else sharing it with her except him when he wanted to.

‘Where is it?’ she asked, trying to sound interested instead of totally flattened by the reality of their relationship.

‘At Pyrmont. It will be handy to your work if you get the job, with the publishing house situated in Market Street—just a walk across Pyrmont Bridge to the city centre.’

Handy for him, too, dropping in after his work in the city.

She forced a smile. ‘Sounds good. Let’s go and see it.’

He took her to an apartment complex which had direct harbour frontage at Pyrmont. It had a community gym and indoor swimming pool for the use of all residents. They rode an elevator up to the penthouse floor and he ushered her into an apartment, which had to be worth millions of dollars with its commanding view of the harbour and the great arched bridge that crossed it.

The living area—kitchen, dining and lounge—was incredibly spacious, all making the most of the view, as did the master suite. There were two other bedrooms, a second bathroom and a study. Every room was furnished and the decor was mostly black and cream which felt very masculine. Daisy didn’t see any feminine touches anywhere. Even the kitchen seemed male with its black granite benches and stainless-steel fittings.

A billionaire bachelor pad, she thought, and asked, ‘Is this where you lived before moving to Hunters Hill?’

‘Yes. I haven’t yet decided on whether to keep it or put it on the market’ was his carefree reply.

Obviously he felt no urgent need to capitalise on what had to be a huge investment.

This was how the very wealthy lived, Daisy thought as she wandered over to the wall of glass in the living room and gazed down at the white wakes of the water traffic on the bright blue harbour. She would be sharing these heights with Ethan for a while, but she had to keep remembering she was an ordinary person who would have to return to an ordinary life when his interest shifted to someone else.

This apartment probably should be delighting her. She had never had such glamorous living quarters and she would have them all to herself except when Ethan visited. Yet she could not stop a black wave of depression from rolling through her soul. Her arms instinctively folded themselves across her chest, hugging in the dark sense of misery.

Her mind insisted she should be feeling good.

Ethan had given her parents what she had wanted for them.

He was giving her a new start with the top running for a good job and a lovely place to live until she became independent again.

He was a generous man, a fantastic lover.

It was stupid, stupid, stupid, for her heart to yearn for a different situation with him. This was what she had agreed to. This was where she was, and next year she would be down there with the ordinary people. Nothing was going to change that.

Ethan had strolled on to the kitchen. He’d placed a bottle of champagne and a dish of strawberries in the refrigerator on Thursday night, planning ahead to this move with Daisy, intending to take her to bed with him after she’d looked through the apartment. As he placed two flute glasses on the bench which separated the kitchen from the dining area, he checked that she was still engaged with the view.

She’d dressed in jeans for this trip out and he smiled at the sexy way they hugged her cute derrière. This weekend with Daisy had been better than he could ever have imagined. Not only was she great in bed, she was great company, as well. He had enjoyed every minute of being with her.

He wished she was staying on at Hunters Hill. He would miss not having her there. The idea of asking her to live with him flitted through his mind, but he instantly shied away from it. Involving himself in a de facto relationship left him vulnerable to being stripped of a lot of money, possibly even losing the house he now considered his home. No way was he about to leave himself open to massive plunder.

As it was, Daisy could possibly take this apartment from him if he let her live here without paying any rent, but he’d already decided to risk that outcome. She hadn’t shown any bent for filching anything that didn’t belong to her and had been absolutely meticulous about not taking money she hadn’t earned. Given her willingness to stick to the deal this weekend, he believed she would keep to the letter of their agreement.

Integrity was a marvellous thing.

Especially in a woman.

Of course, he could be proved wrong, but right now he had Daisy Donahue locked into a relationship with him for the foreseeable future and he saw no darkness in that future with her.

Still smiling, he loaded the bottle of champagne and glasses into an ice bucket, grabbed the dish of strawberries, and carried the lot into the master suite. He had a few more hours with her before she’d have to go home to get ready for tomorrow’s interview. Ethan intended to make the most of them.

Daisy’s heart jumped at Ethan’s touch as he slid his arms around her waist. She hadn’t heard him come up behind her, the thick cream carpet muffling any sound of footsteps. He gently pulled her back against him, bending his head to brush her hair away from her ear with his cheek. ‘Happy with the view?’ he murmured, his warm breath tingling over her skin.

‘Yes. Who wouldn’t be?’ she answered, making a conscious effort to relax and be happy with what she did have of him.

‘You could move in tomorrow afternoon.’

So as to be ready for him tomorrow night…his convenient mistress.

Daisy clamped down on the bitter thought. She had nothing to be bitter about. Nothing!

‘I should be able to do that,’ she agreed. ‘I’ll have to square it with my parents first.’

‘Say the friend you spent the weekend with has asked you to share an apartment in the city. It’s the truth.’