Memoirs of a Millionaire's Mistress

‘Hello, Didi.’

Ah, the way he said her name…as if she were special. She knew better but her heart clawed its way up her throat along with a rising humiliation, her green eco-shopping bags slipping from her fingers as the strength drained out of her.

Didi had never been afraid of anything or anyone. Not until she’d met Cameron. Not until she’d fallen in love—really in love. Jay had been a mere rehearsal for the ultimate performance.

She was afraid now.

Afraid of what he might say. Afraid of what she might do. Of what she wanted to do. Even now, after the cool way he’d ended it, she wanted to rush right over and hurl herself into his arms and beg him to take her back.

‘What are you doing here?’ Pride kept her voice firm and prevented her from running in the opposite direction. Pride and a fragment of that inner strength she thought she’d lost but managed to grapple back. ‘I don’t want you here, Cameron, nor do I want to talk to you. Anything we have to discuss we can do via a phone call or email.’

‘Didi,’ her father rebuked mildly. ‘We brought you up better than that.’

‘I’m here to talk to your father,’ Cameron said.

She reached down, picked up her grocery bags. ‘I’m going to put these in the kitchen. Please be gone when I get back.’ Somehow she managed to walk away, hearing her mother say, ‘Well…give Didi a moment. It’s nice to finally meet you, Mr Black. What refreshments can I offer you?’

And Cameron’s, ‘Thank you, but I’m fine for now. Maybe later.’

Which left Didi with two alternatives. She could hide or she could show him she was managing just fine on her own. As they’d agreed. And whatever he had to say to her father…well, it couldn’t be worse than what he hadn’t said to her, could it?

Moments later she stood at the doorway. Her parents were seated, her mother saying something inane about the weather while Cameron stood to stiff attention in the centre of the room, his hands behind his back. He turned the moment she stepped into the room and met her gaze.

‘You’re still here,’ she said.

His posture straightened, something flashed in his eyes. ‘I’m not leaving yet. I have something to say.’

‘Give the man a chance, Didi, for God’s sake,’ her father ordered.

Holding her head high, she crossed the room, conscious of Cameron’s eyes tracking her the whole way. She stood rigid beside the sofa.

Cam dragged his eyes from Didi’s and directed his gaze at her father. ‘If you do a background check on Cameron Black you won’t find me. Because my birth name isn’t Black. It’s Boyd. You may have heard of my father, Bernie Boyd. He was a known criminal and he died during a police chase.’

Silence rushed through the room. But James’s expression didn’t alter. He knew, Cam realised with a flash of insight. Of course he’d know. A man like James O’Flanagan would make it his business to know. He’d probably known the day after Veronica’s visit.

Why hadn’t he hunted Cam down?

‘You never bothered telling me this stuff—why are you telling my parents?’

Cam turned at Didi’s harsh voice. She was clutching her hands to her chest, her eyes grey and sharp, running him through.

‘My father had a string of mistresses,’ James said as if Didi hadn’t spoken. ‘He cheated on my mother for thirty years and drank himself into the grave. Does that make me a lesser man? I’d like to think not. I’d like to think I’m judged on my own merits.’ He inclined his head. ‘The same way I judge you, Mr Black. From what I’ve read about you, you made your fortune through sheer hard work. My enquiries have uncovered a man of persistence and integrity. A man I can respect and admire.’

Cam unclenched the hands he’d fisted behind his back. ‘Thank you. I appreciate that.’ The tightness in his chest eased, but only some.

He turned to the white-faced woman before him. He’d loved her the moment she’d voiced her low opinion of him loud and clear that first night. He just hadn’t known it then. And she loved him too. She had to, he thought as something like panic skittered through him—his heart recognised hers.

Because love, he knew, was such a fragile experience—for both of them—he took a moment to soothe her with his eyes and spoke with a forced calm he didn’t feel. ‘Didi, why don’t we go outside for a few moments? I’d like to talk with you privately—’ he glanced at her parents ‘—if you’ll excuse us?’

James nodded. ‘Fine by me.’

‘Why would I want to go outside with you?’ she shot back in turbulent contrast. But he heard so much more behind the defiance and the stormy emotions in her eyes. Panic, pride. Passion.