Mistress Under Contract

by Natalie Anderson

  Usually she was the one to cut and run, but this time the ground had been sliced out from under her. For a split second she thought about heading to his place, packing her bags and hightailing it out of there a.s.a.p. Her gut instinct was to flee. But she pulled herself up sharp. Not. This. Time.

  She was good at this job and she wanted to be better. She relished the challenge and loved the responsibility—amazing but true. She finally had a job she felt at home in. She was gutted it was being sold, but she’d show the new owner she was the one to keep on running it. Hell, why couldn’t she be the new owner?

  She scoffed at her own flight of fancy. As if she’d ever have the money for that. And if she approached a bank they’d laugh her out of town. Credit limit? Hers stood at about twenty dollars.

  She’d go find Daniel and ask him what was going on and why he’d wanted her out of the way. For once in her life she was primed to fight, not take flight. She’d finally found something worth fighting for. She headed to the office to get her bag just as the phone rang. She answered crisply. Equally crisp tones responded. ‘This is Mona from Hospitality Heroes. I’m trying to track down Daniel Graydon. I’m afraid I’ve misplaced his number but as this is the bar he was recruiting for I wondered if you could pass on a message.’

  Recruiting? ‘Sure I can. It was for another bartender, that right?’

  ‘Ah, manager, I believe. I have some very experienced candidates to talk through with Mr Graydon. I’m sure we’ll find just the person for him.’

  ‘I’m sure. Thank you. I’ll get him to call you, Mona.’

  Lucy blinked and slowly replaced the handset. Her brain processed the conversation in slow motion, her heart hammered it home in triple time. Hurt hampered her vision while an invisible boa constrictor agonisingly squeezed breath and life from her heart and lungs.

  No.

  Experienced candidates…manager.

  No.

  He wanted to replace her?

  No. She pushed at the pain threatening to engulf her and felt her silly hopes plummet as the knowledge sank in. Dreams dashed to smithereens on the rocks of Daniel’s ambivalence. He wanted a new manager. So much for playing things by ear. She hadn’t even worked through her whole three weeks yet. Was she really doing such an awful job? Hadn’t he seen the effort she’d put in? For once she’d given something her all, but she’d still failed. He was a man who gave the best, who expected the best, who frankly was the best and who, damn him, deserved the best. Her best wasn’t good enough—not for him. She wasn’t good enough for him. Even though she’d known that all along, having it thrust on her like this still hurt.

  Her decision to stay and fight faded in a flash. She took deep breaths to blow out the burning anguish inside. Summoned cold anger to replace it. Calm control.

  Slowly, pride reared its ugly head. He didn’t want her to know? Fine. She wasn’t going to fuss or have a flaming piece of him—even though she really wanted to do. She wasn’t going to embarrass herself by revealing an overly emotional response to him.

  She’d started this cool and she’d end this cool. Just like him. Obviously, as far as he was concerned, it was over. He was looking for a new manager. The bar was being sold. Her days were numbered. He must have caught up on all the sleep he needed. She’d even started to think he might actually have feelings. But, no, he really was cold and heartless. The suit said it all. He wanted rid of her? Not nearly as much as she now wanted rid of him and she’d get in first even if it killed her. She’d do it in super-cool blasé style, not showing even a millimetre of the aching wound stretching deep inside.

  What upset her most was his high-handed dealing with the situation. Going completely and utterly behind her back to set everything up. Would he then present it as a fait accompli? Oh, by the way, Lucy, your time’s up.

  How did he expect her to react? Was that part of the game? Well, she wouldn’t react. She’d breeze off before he had the chance to play his mean hand. She’d worked so hard on the report and had been dreaming up all kinds of fun things for the club to branch into. Ways of drawing in the right crowds—keeping the vibe cool but a place for good times. As if Lara or the new owner would even be interested? Man, why had she ever imagined they would? She had nothing much to offer them—or Daniel. Nothing that he needed. She had to accept it, deal with it and move on.

  She stared at her laptop and blinked back tears. Lucy didn’t cry. Ever.

  She managed a frigid goodbye when Peter and his agent called out they were leaving and realised she’d need to move fast. Peter would be in contact with Daniel so he’d know she was there and that she knew about the sale. She needed to compose herself before seeing him again.

  As for staying and fighting for it? No chance. She’d thought she could put in a mark for the job at the club but he wasn’t going to let her. And she’d never grovel. He didn’t know she knew about the search for a new manager. She’d keep that one up her sleeve for the right moment. It was time to go home and sort her stuff out. She could be out of there in half an hour if necessary. Fifteen minutes even.

  She paused, reconsidering. Working it out. She didn’t want to look as if she’d left in a mad fit of pique—there was dignity to consider. Her cool, ‘I don’t give a damn’ response. She needed an excuse.

  She mentally flipped open a map of New Zealand. Threw an imaginary knife at it. Daniel’s image popped into her head right then and the knife landed in his heart. She screwed up her eyes and abandoned the decision for now. Anywhere would be OK so long as it wasn’t here. Better weather—that was it. And she could always fall back on her age-old excuse for up and leaving—boredom. That would get him. Fake reasoning in place, she shut up the club with time enough to get back and pack before having to return for opening.

  And there was no way she was sleeping with him again.

  To her extreme annoyance he was home when she got there. ‘Shouldn’t you be at work?’

  He looked up from where he was sprawled on the sofa reading one of her magazines. ‘Took the afternoon off.’

  Dumbfounded she stared at him and then wrenched away, not wanting to be taken in by those golden eyes that seemed to promise the earth. She knew they told other tales behind the light. She tried to keep her movements slow and as natural as possible to hide the tense twitching inside.

  ‘Did you go for your swim?’

  She jerked her head in negation. ‘Just a walk.’

  If he’d taken the afternoon off he might not have seen or spoken to Peter. She’d bluff it.

  ‘What time are you due at the club?’

  ‘Not for another couple of hours.’

  His eyes lit up. ‘Fancy a rest between now and then?’

  Here he was going behind her back to oust her from her job, going to sell the club and not mentioning a thing about it, and still he wanted to sleep with her? When was he planning on telling her? Once he’d had his way another couple of times? Her anger grew to volcanic proportions. The awful thing was, despite the rage she felt there was a part of her that still wanted him. Her weakness made her even angrier. But she reined it in, refusing to blow her stack—that would reveal too much of how she really cared.

  ‘Actually, I need to organise a few things.’

  ‘Oh?’ He rose from the sofa and looked at her closely. ‘You OK?’

  ‘Mmm.’ Not meeting those penetrative eyes, she attempted a casual stroll to her room, keeping her shaking hands in her jeans pockets. She got to her room and pulled her pack from the wardrobe.

  ‘Going somewhere?’ He’d silently followed her and now leant against the doorjamb.

  ‘Actually, yeah. I’m thinking it’s time to move on.’

  ‘Really.’

  ‘Mmm hmm.’ She didn’t look at him, kept her mouth firmly closed as she focused on unzipping the bag she’d tossed up onto the bed.

  ‘When do you leave?’

  ‘I’m thinking after the shift tonight.’

  ‘Just like that? No notice?’

>   She sucked in a quick painful breath. ‘Well, it is nearly the end of the three-week trial.’

  ‘I thought you were staying on.’

  ‘No.’ She straightened and tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear. Her fingers brushed her clammy forehead. ‘I think it’s time to move.’

  ‘It’s a little shorter than your usual stint, isn’t it? Aren’t you usually a three-months kind of girl?’

  ‘I don’t think it’s working out.’

  ‘Not working out.’

  She didn’t like the way he spoke, so quiet, measured. It didn’t give much indication of his thoughts.

  ‘Lucy.’

  ‘Mmm?’ She didn’t stop unloading her clothes from the drawer into the pack.

  ‘Look at me.’

  Now that she really didn’t want to do, because it might just cause her to lose it completely. She wanted nothing more than to yell right in his face. She wanted to shake him—she was so angry. And so, so hurt.

  She put a top in the bag.

  He stepped into the room, grasped her upper arm.

  ‘Look at me.’ His voice was still soft; the pressure of his fingers wasn’t.

  She reluctantly raised her eyes to his.

  ‘Tell me the truth.’

  ‘The truth is I don’t want to be here any more.’ And it was true. Not when she wasn’t wanted.

  ‘So that’s it? It’s all just down to what you want, when you want it?’

  ‘Sure.’

  His stony façade began to crack. ‘What about the club?’

  ‘What about it? Isabel and Corey can manage it between them. You don’t need me.’ And he didn’t. Never had.

  ‘Have you no sense of responsibility?’ Volume rising. Anger audible. ‘You really are a hedonist, aren’t you? Only into something if it’s good for you. Not worrying at all about how that impacts on anyone else. What about Isabel and Corey? What about me?’ His nostrils flared as he snaked in a breath. ‘You don’t even care, do you? Do you?’ His fingers tightened.

  She braced and let him throw the accusation, let the pain wash through. She’d sworn never to lie to him, but she refused to lay herself on the line when he’d betrayed her. He could think what he liked. She wasn’t going to answer. Couldn’t. How dared he be so two-faced? Expecting her to be there for him right up to the moment when he decided he didn’t need her any more. Planning to turf her out without even giving her the time to find alternative arrangements.

  He took her silence as confirmation. ‘Fine. Get your bags. Go.’ He flung her arm away, as if touching her had burnt him. His words flew at her, louder and louder. ‘Get your bag!’ He went to the drawer and scooped up the remaining items, tossing them into the open pack with visibly shaking hands. ‘Don’t bother with your shift tonight. I can manage fine without you. I don’t need you!’ His face had reddened and his voice roughened. ‘You don’t want to be here, then go!’

  She stared. Mr Cool, Calm and Collected had lost it. His chest rose and fell as if he’d been running endurance for hours. His fists were clenched at his sides. Anger and scorn bled from his pores. ‘Go.’ He jerked his head towards the door.

  Equally high emotion raged through her. He wasn’t even going to try to stop her. Wasn’t even going to question why. Well, now she knew for sure. It was over. Well and truly.

  Without another word she gathered her bag in both arms and marched out. Not looking back.

  Daniel stood rigid in the middle of her room, listened as the front door slammed, and swore. Loudly. Lots. He really wanted to pull something apart with his hands. He’d never felt so angry in his life. He strode out of the room and to the lounge, paced around and swore some more. Overly eloquent Daniel was for once unable to think of a thing to say other than a few four-letter words over and over. Absolute rage ripped through him. She had left him. Up and out without a hint of why, without a speck of fight. His vision clouded in swirls of red. Finally in frustration he pulled back his fist and punched the stainless steel door of the fridge.

  He punched hard. The door was harder.

  The stupidity of his action was nothing on the stupidity of letting that woman into his life.

  The pain shooting up his arm was nothing on the pain crunching up his heart.

  He stalked round the room, shaking his hand out, and half stumbled on something. Glancing down, he saw her cowgirl boots lying toe to toe, doing their own mad dance. Mocking him.

  He’d known it. As soon as she heard the club was up for sale she’d be off. Out of there faster than a rat in a cattery.

  He gulped in air. Wait a second. She didn’t know—did she?

  As he stared at her boots his brain started functioning again, albeit at a much slower rate than usual. He cursed his hot-headed explosion. That would have to rate as one of his densest moments ever. That and the fridge thing. But he’d been too angry to think. He hadn’t been thinking at all. Usually he was able to divorce his emotions from his reason. But all that registered at the time was that she was leaving. Just like that. Skipping out of his life without a care. And it really hurt.

  What hurt more was the realisation that he didn’t want her out of it at all. The one thing he swore he’d never let happen. Never let a woman get to him. Never need.

  But Lucy had slipped in—the worst possible person because she’d slip right out again. As she just had.

  He had to get her back.

  Something must have happened in the morning. Something had made her mad. Something had hurt her. That he had seen. Despite her attempt at indifference, he’d seen the fire in her eyes, the defiance in her chin, the frantic pulse at the base of her neck—emotional as and fighting hard to hide it. He’d been just as emotional and lashed out when he should have been probing. Idiot.

  But when it came to Lucy he couldn’t seem to think straight—not until right now. He did need her. He needed the peace and comfort he felt in her arms at night. He needed the fire when she teased him through the day.

  The thought of her leaving made whatever decisions he had to make seem irrelevant to his happiness. She was the key to his happiness. Finally Daniel understood the overpowering need to risk it all.

  But she’d just walked out the door to who knew where.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  You like to have the last word

  LUCY couldn’t resist. She had to go back one last time to say goodbye.

  She phoned ahead and got Isabel. Made sure he wasn’t there. Not that there was much doubt about that. Opening time on a weekday night he’d be sitting behind his desk saving someone’s world.

  She’d been sleeping on a sofa for four nights now, but it wasn’t the hunched position she had to lie in that had her aching. It was him. The hurt in her heart radiated out through her whole body.

  She walked in and managed a slight smile at Isabel and Corey. The bar was just as she’d left it—no mark of her absence, nothing to show she’d even been there at all. She could safely disappear and not matter. She hated not mattering.

  Corey leant on the bar texting on his cell phone. She raised her brows at him. ‘On work time?’

  He gave her a wide grin. ‘You’re not the boss now.’

  No. She tipped her chin. ‘I just wanted to get a couple of things from the office.’

  ‘No worries. Take your time.’

  She went in, closing the door behind her. She didn’t dare glance at the small two-seater sofa in there. As it was she was having heated memories of the night she’d taken him there. She tidied a couple of files in the cabinet and checked over the last entries she’d made in the computer. She printed the document she’d written up regarding future events at the club and put it on the desk for whoever was going to take over. She’d put hours into it. They could put it in the rubbish themselves. Picking up her favourite pen, she put it in her pocket, took one final glance around the little empire she’d loved to regard as her own. Then she squared her shoulders and headed back out for the final time.

  Dani
el stood at the bar. Not sitting in his usual seat but standing right in front of the office door. And of all things he had her cowgirl boots under his arm. They stared at each other until she could no longer stand the accusation in his gaze and looked away first. She glanced over at Corey, whose grin was even wider than before. She didn’t need him to tell her it had been Daniel he’d been texting. Men clubbing together, that was what it was. Isabel would never have done that—she was throwing Lucy an apologetic look.

  ‘I’d like a word.’ Daniel marched past her through to the office. Every hair stood on end as his arm brushed hers on the way past.

  Not wanting a scene in front of the others, she turned and followed him, shutting the door. There was a moment’s silence and she became aware the music in the bar had unsubtly been turned up.

  ‘You know the club’s up for sale.’ He still had a firm grip on her cowgirl boots.

  She stared anywhere but at him.

  ‘You go from being happy in my bed, happy pulling pints here to walking out just like that. There had to be a reason—I forgot to ask the other day because I was feeling extremely angry.’ He put her boots on the table between them. ‘Once I calmed down I realised something had to have happened, that was the logical thing. Am I right?’

  ‘Possibly. Does it matter?’

  ‘Of course it matters. It clearly matters to you.’

  ‘Not really, Daniel.’ Which was a major understatement, but if he could be clinical and detached, so could she. ‘It’s time for me to move on.’

  ‘Really?’

  She nodded, not trusting that her voice wouldn’t betray her wobbly innards.

  ‘What about us?’

  She steeled. ‘What about us? It’s just an arrangement, isn’t it, Daniel? Bed mates—providing a little relief for each other to ensure a few hours’ sleep.’