The Mistress Contract

‘Shall we?’

He was every inch the cool suave host and charming dinner companion as he gestured for Sephy to follow Daniella to the dining room, and as Sephy glanced at the other woman she saw nothing but a sweet smile on her face. Nevertheless, she had never felt so acutely uncomfortable in her life as she walked out of the room, and she vowed, with every step, that at some point in the next hour or so she would find some way of telling Conrad Quentin that the arrangement was off. She was returning to the innocuous sanctuary of Customer Services forthwith, and if he didn’t like it— Well, she’d cross that bridge when she came to it!

The bitter experience of her youth had taught her that some people were quite capable of playing cruel and dangerous games with no thought of anyone else but themselves, and she rather thought Conrad Quentin fell into that category.

He was the sort of man who would totally dominate any relationship he embarked on; everything about him proclaimed it. There would be no sharing with him, no compromise, no meeting point, and she just didn’t want to be around someone like that.

Of course he hadn’t been about to kiss her, she reassured herself silently. That had been her wild imagination, that was all. He did that—made her think crazy thoughts—and she didn’t know why. Which was another good reason for not working for him.

But he was a womaniser. That wasn’t her imagination. And a dyed-in-the-wool bachelor with a woman for every day of the week and even one at home!

But if he thought he might be getting one at the office too he could think again!

CHAPTER FOUR

AS IT happened the chance to tell Conrad she wanted to return to Mr Harper came and went a few times during the excellent meal which Daniella served them, but every time Sephy opened her mouth to grasp it she lost her nerve.

This was partly due to the perturbation she was feeling as she sat opposite Conrad at the magnificent dining table in a room that matched the drawing room for opulence. But the fact that Daniella was forever popping in and out, and also that Conrad had metamorphosed into engaging, butter-wouldn’t-melt-in-his-mouth host, didn’t help either.

However, once she had spooned the last remnants of a quite wonderful lemon soufflé into her mouth, and a smiling Daniella had taken their order for coffee, Sephy steeled herself for the inevitable. She would be short and concise and firm, she told herself silently, and she wouldn’t be persuaded to deviate from her decision, even if he threatened her with dismissal. She couldn’t handle this—she couldn’t handle him—it was another world from the one she was used to. If this was what was entailed in being the secretary to a high-flying tycoon she’d settle for dumpy little Mr Harper any day.

‘Mr Quentin—’

Black brows frowned at her and she hastily qualified, ‘Conrad. I need to say something.’

‘Fire away.’ He settled back more easily into the large antique carving chair and she forced her eyes not to flinch from the searching scrutiny of the laser-sharp gaze. She couldn’t afford to show any weakness in front of this man—she already knew him well enough to know that!

There had been a telephone ringing somewhere in the house a few moments before, and now, as Sephy opened her mouth to speak, there was a tap at the dining room door which was the prelude to Daniella entering a second later.

‘It is Mr Walton,’ she said quickly. ‘He say it very important he speak with you. He sound upset, very upset.’

‘Walton?’ Conrad’s brow wrinkled as Daniella handed him the telephone, and he glanced at Sephy, saying briefly, ‘Excuse me a moment, would you? Walton’s the manager of a company I’ve set up recently in the States and there’s been a few teething troubles which I thought were sorted,’ before he spoke a few succinct words into the receiver.

There was silence for a moment or two, and from Conrad’s darkening face Sephy assumed the news was not good. The jovial, charming, amusing dinner companion had vanished, and in his place was the cold hard man who was a legend in his own lifetime in business circles.

‘Don’t do anything until I get there.’ It was a terse bark, and Sephy inwardly flinched for the hapless Mr Walton. Then, as the phone was slammed down with a great deal more force than was necessary and he raised his head, she stiffened. ‘It looks like I’m on the next plane,’ he said mildly, with a complete change of tone as he looked straight at Daniella. ‘Arrange it, would you? There should be something later tonight or early morning. I need to get out there and see what’s going on for myself.’

‘Tonight?’ It was Sephy who squeaked the word, and now the diamond-hard eyes focused on her, but she could see he was already concentrating on the problem in the States and was only with her in body. He had gone into work mode.

‘You’ll hold the fort.’ It was a statement not a question. ‘You’ve work for a couple of days, haven’t you?’

Sephy nodded dazedly.

‘And I’ll fax any instructions, as well as communicating by phone, of course. You’ve got Madge’s keys now, so you have access to everything you need.’

She nodded again; it was all she could manage. She had heard of living life in the fast lane but Conrad’s lifestyle was something else. Grand Prix speed.

‘Could you ask Enrico to take Sephy home, Daniella, before you make that phone call?’ he asked smoothly, and then, as the housekeeper scurried from the room, he smiled at Sephy and said softly, ‘I’m sorry for such an abrupt ending to our meal.’

‘Who’s Enrico?’ she asked bewildered. She had thought he and Daniella lived here alone.

And then, in the instant the smile became shark-like, she realised he had known what she had been thinking all along. ‘Enrico is Daniella’s husband,’ he said easily as his lids dropped lazily, hiding his expression for a moment. ‘He is training to be a chef and had the chance to work in a big London restaurant, so it seemed opportune for the pair of them to live with me for a time. Daniella insists on looking after things, which isn’t necessary, of course. She is my niece after all.’ And the lids raised as mocking blue eyes took in her confusion with a relish that wasn’t lost on Sephy.

His niece! He had known what she was thinking and all the time he had been playing a game with her. But if Daniella was his niece that meant she was his dead sister’s child.

As if in answer to her thoughts, he said silkily, ‘When Janette left England she ran away with her lover, Daniella’s Italian father, and they married once they were in Italy. When Daniella was born some years later her birth prompted my sister to seek out my parents, to see if some sort of relationship could possibly be established. She wasn’t sure of her reception and so they decided—her husband and herself—that she would come alone. That decision probably saved the lives of Daniella’s father and Daniella, but meant my niece had only one parent to bring her up. And a host of Italian relatives, of course,’ he added with a wry smile.

Sephy took a much-needed gulp of the last of her wine, draining the glass before she said, ‘So you do have some family you’re close to?’