His Secretary's Nine-Month Notice (Mills & Boon Modern)

by Cathy Williams

  They worked brilliantly together because Violet had always made sure to keep her emotions to herself.

  Had worked brilliantly together, she amended mentally. No more. Now she was leaving and she had been dispatched with ruthless efficiency, a bit like one of his exes.

  She didn’t know how she was going to stick it out for the remainder of the week. It wasn’t a long time, but it was long enough.

  ‘Of course. When would you like me to start on the clearing out?’

  ‘I’m having a late lunch soon. You can begin once I leave. Oh, and while we’re at it, I’ve come to the conclusion that there’s no need for you to work out any of your notice.’

  ‘I thought... What about a replacement? I know a week isn’t a long time, but I can already think of a few candidates for the job if we promote from within the company.’

  Violet realised she was desperate to see a glimmer of the warmth he had always shown towards her and which she had always taken for granted. But his face was as cold as a slab of icy marble as he stared at her quizzically, before saying in a voice that threatened to turn into a yawn, ‘Can you, now? Who are they?’

  ‘I’ve made a list.’

  ‘Of course you have.’

  Violet smiled tentatively because this was a running joke between them, her love of lists. She said they were essential to make sure you kept up to speed on everything. He maintained that they were the sign of an uninspired mind and that life was too short for lists.

  He didn’t smile back. He just looked at her in a way that made her feel hot and bothered and out of her depth for the first time since she had started working for him.

  ‘Maria Callway from Accounts.’ Her voice echoed in the silence. ‘She’s very diligent and I know she would love the work. Then there’s John. He’s new but he’s efficient. You remember he handled all those problems we had with the tech company in Maidstone a few months ago? Well, there’s him. And Agatha Child would also fit the bill, and at fifty-two she’s got just the right temperament for the job.’

  ‘Right temperament?’

  ‘I mean she’s calm. Level-headed.’ Violet filled in the blanks quickly. ‘As is Maria.’

  ‘Maria... Maria... Maria... Is she the one who’s just returned from maternity leave after her third?’

  ‘Yes. She has a brilliant eye for detail. If you like, I could call up their CVs for you to have a look at? I’m not sure whether we would have to advertise the job in the public forum but, honestly, either of those three would fit the bill and the move would be seamless. They’re all already familiar with most of the accounts, and you can...’

  Matt held up his hand and Violet fizzled into silence and stared at him. Now that she was leaving, and within hours rather than days, she felt free to appreciate his beauty without lecturing herself on the idiocy of it. The only sport she knew for sure he played was table tennis, and only because there was a table in one of the rooms three floors down. It was always in use and many a complex problem had been sorted in between racket hitting ball.

  Yet, to look at him, you would have said that he did nothing but work out. He was six foot two of tightly packed muscle and sinew, made all the more beautiful because of his exotic colouring. No one would have guessed that he was a billionaire several times over because the only expensive item she had ever known him to wear was his watch. She had gazed at that watch surreptitiously so many times, taking in the way the dark silky hairs brushed the dull leather strap.

  Occasionally, and under duress, he was known to wear a suit, and his suits were all hand tailored, but usually his dress code for work comprised jeans—usually black—loafers—usually tan—and some kind of tee shirt, usually with a logo of sorts on the front. He liked rock, she caught herself thinking now as she looked from under lowered lashes at today’s tee shirt which featured a prominent rock group from the seventies. No big surprise he had heard of her dad.

  ‘No need to trouble yourself over a possible replacement,’ he was saying now as he vaulted to his feet, taking her by surprise.

  ‘But...’

  ‘I’ll be back in an hour or so. Make sure you haven’t decided to leave in my absence.’

  ‘I wouldn’t. Of course not.’ She clumsily stood up but he was already heading for the door. ‘I won’t be able to get through much of that cabinet in the space of a few hours.’

  He waved his hand dismissively, without bothering to glance back in her direction. ‘Do what you can. Just make sure you’re here when I get back. Oh, and you can take your work computer down to Hannah in HR.’ He turned to look at her. ‘Wouldn’t want you getting any ideas about nabbing customer details in my absence.’

  ‘Matt,’ Violet said huskily. She rested her hand on his arm and just as quickly removed it. It was the first time she had ever knowingly touched him in any capacity and the feel of his flesh was as potent as the punch of a branding iron. ‘Tell me you don’t honestly think that I would ever do anything to undermine you? Yes, I’m leaving, but I would never be disloyal. I would never consider poaching any of your accounts. Never.’

  ‘Duly noted.’

  ‘I have no idea what that means.’

  ‘It means that I didn’t get where I have by trusting other people. After two-and-a-half years, you walk out with a polite one-paragraph email tendering your resignation, and it was only because I showed up at your house that I now have any idea about the person you are and the life you lead. When you discover you don’t know someone at all, it’s time to consider trust issues. So tidy up the cabinet, Violet, and don’t worry about a replacement. I’ll be handling that myself.’

  Reeling from what he had just said, knowing that he was justified in saying it, Violet remained frozen by the door as he whistled his way out of the office and towards the bank of lifts.

  When she faced the metal cabinet, she was grateful for the tedious monotony of the job he had given her to do, a pointless passing-the-time-of-day exercise because he no longer wanted her near anything that might be considered sensitive.

  Because, in his opinion, she’d deceived him. She had a whole life that he didn’t know about and her secrecy had caught him on the back foot. He saw her now in a different light and it wasn’t a flattering one. Violet hated that, but what he saw as secrecy she accepted as just part and parcel of her personality.

  She had been thrust into growing up when her mother had died and her father had gone to pieces. She had mourned in her own private way because she had had the job of making sure her father was all right and coping.

  From a young age, there had been a gradual role reversal, and Violet had dealt with the responsibilities that had landed on her shoulders by gritting her teeth and getting on with it. She’d focused, amid chaos, on what needed doing—the practical stuff that had kept her father tethered through his wild drinking and drug-taking days. She’d focused on her studies, wherever in the world they happened to be as he toured, taking advantage of the internet and doing all sorts of exams online so that she kept up. There had been private tutors, but they had come and gone without much consistency. She had had to learn to depend on herself and she had.

  And along the way, the simple business of opening up to other people, sharing and having a laugh about the things that happened to her, had gradually disappeared under the weight of her responsibilities. She adored her father, and she wouldn’t have dreamt of putting herself first, but there had been consequences. Living surrounded by people coming and going, by the noise of guitars being played, pianos being tuned and drums being banged, Violet had learned the value of quiet. There had been few kids around her age who had hung around, so she had missed the phase of girlish confidences.

  How was Matt to know all that, however? All he could see was someone who had been by his side 24/7 for over two years, who had decided to turn her back and walk away, and the only explanation had been forced out of her at gunpoint.r />
  She miserably undertook the task allotted to her while mentally trying to convince herself that it was just great that she would be able to leave immediately. Perhaps, next week, she might return to take some of the team out for a farewell drink, but then she thought of Matt coming along and she quailed.

  It was after three when she heard the sound of Matt approaching. Noise usually heralded his entrance. People coming over to tell him about some new development, tech guys trying to persuade him into taking time out so that he could sample some new game or app that was on the brink of fruition. There was always someone who needed his signature somewhere and they tended to get increasingly frustrated when he chose to ignore them.

  She looked up as the office door was pushed open. The job she had undertaken was far from complete and she was sitting amidst a pool of manuals, textbooks and pamphlets.

  ‘You can drop all that,’ he opened, strolling towards his desk. ‘I have another job for you to do before you disappear to the vast blue yonder. Candy, meet Violet. Violet, meet your replacement.’

  Violet turned and stared. Framed in the doorway was a five-foot-ten blonde who looked as though she had just stepped off the catwalk. Her hair reached her waist, a heavy fall of pale vanilla. Not much was left to the imagination with the dress code, and long, tanned legs were on show. Her eyes were a rich, bright blue and a crop top, barely skirting generous breasts, skimmed across her flat belly, proudly showing a pierced belly button. The piercing glittered in the rays of the summer sun shafting through semi-transparent blinds that covered the floor-to-ceiling glass windows.

  ‘Ooh...’ She did a full circle, admiring the office, while Violet carried on staring, literally lost for words. ‘I love the office.’ Her eyes were bright and enthusiastic and they settled on Violet with lively curiosity. ‘You must be Miss Dunn.’ She dimpled. ‘Matt got hold of me from a friend of a friend of a friend and, as luck would have it, I was in between jobs. When shall we get down to things?’

  ‘No time like the present,’ Matt drawled, raising both eyebrows at Violet’s startled expression. ‘Why don’t you show Candy the ropes for the rest of the day, Violet?’

  ‘Of course.’ Violet levered herself up, acutely self-conscious as she smoothed down the creased skirt and slipped her stockinged feet back into the neat black pumps. The blonde towered over her, five foot ten to five foot and an optimistic three and a half.

  She turned her back on Matt. He had sauntered over to his desk and when she headed towards her office with Candy in tow, about to shut the dividing door between them, he called out for her to leave it open.

  Violet glanced behind her. He was sprawled in his chair, feet on his desk, hands folded behind his head. His ‘thinking mode’, he had once told her. Right now, it was going to be his keeping-an-eye-on-the-potential-traitor mode, and she determined to don her best professional hat and ignore him completely.

  The next two hours were painful. Candy, it transpired, was a friend of a friend of a girl Matt had dated four months previously, whom he had clearly met somewhere at some point and had stashed her name in that computer-bank memory of his for future reference. Probably as a potential date down the line but now, remembering her qualifications, as secretary material.

  She was bright enough and enthusiastic enough, but she also asked sufficient questions about Matt for Violet to guess that it wasn’t going to be quite the boss-secretary relationship he needed. But, hey, if he’d come to the conclusion that having someone decorative around was worth more than having someone less glamorous but a whole lot more grounded, dedicated and, frankly, qualified, then good luck to him.

  Candy had very long nails, painted a brazen shade of pink, and Violet idly wondered how they were going to fare on the keyboard of a computer. She wondered whether the frantic clicking of long nails on the keys would irritate her notoriously short-tempered boss and promptly decided that it was none of her business.

  ‘You can scuttle off now,’ Matt interrupted them when Violet was just about at the end of her tether. ‘And I’m talking to Candy. You, Violet, are to stay a while longer.’

  They both waited while Candy rustled her possessions together, talking all the while, breathless, bubbly and very much like the women he dated...

  ‘I’m not sure she’s the right one for the job,’ was the first thing Violet said as soon as they were alone together back in Matt’s office, and the outside door was firmly shut against wagging ears and prying eyes.

  ‘Are you saying that because I’ve put your nose out of joint by ignoring your words of wisdom and not taking on board the suggestions you so very kindly made?’ He swerved round his desk, sat down and then pointed for her to pull up the other chair. ‘Maybe I fancy having someone open and honest and... What’s the word I’m looking for...?’

  ‘Not really up to anything too complicated?’

  ‘Eye-catching.’

  Violet flushed and looked away. That hurt but, damn it, she wasn’t going to show it. She breathed deeply, gathered herself and met those navy-blue eyes coolly. ‘Maybe you do and you and Candy will have a long and rewarding relationship,’ she said. ‘But maybe you’ll end up having to siphon off loads of accounts to Maria because, quite honestly, Candy isn’t going to get to grips with that stuff.’

  ‘Damn it, Violet!’ Matt roared, leaping up so suddenly that she started with surprise. ‘Maybe...’ He skirted round his desk to stand right in front of her, all alpha male and simmering anger. ‘Just maybe I gave in to the temptation to have someone bloody straightforward around for a change!’

  ‘Keep your voice down!’ But she was shaken because this was the first time he had ever raised his voice to her. He did it all the time. If someone fell short of his stratospherically high standards, he had no qualms in bellowing his disapproval. If he was frustrated, he was not averse to taking it out on inanimate objects.

  But he had never directed his anger at her.

  ‘Or else what? You forget that I own all of this!’

  Violet looked down and didn’t say anything, which seemed to infuriate him even more, because before she could start getting her thoughts together, before she could begin to make noises about clearing out her desk, he leant forward and gripped the arms of her chair, a suffocating presence that made her breath catch in her throat and sent all her thoughts flying through the window.

  Her mind went completely blank. Her mouth went dry. Her pupils dilated and hot colour rose in a tide in her cheeks.

  She could breathe him in and the woody scent of whatever aftershave he used filled her nostrils until she wanted to pass out.

  ‘Do you mind?’ she gasped and he glowered at her.

  ‘Yes, I bloody do mind! Straightforward Candy is going to be a breath of fresh air after you, and if she takes a while getting there with some of the more complex issues, then I can always call one of your recommendations into play. Either the granny or the happily married mother of three. Or maybe the guy who has a boyfriend safely tucked away on the home front! Maybe I’m looking forward to having someone around who doesn’t think that it’s a gross invasion of her privacy to spend five minutes telling me how her weekend has been! Or that she might have a famous father who used to tour the world!’

  Violet felt faint before the full force of his accusing blue stare. She wanted to shrug off his anger, which was understandable, given his temperament, but instead she just felt as though she’d somehow let him down in ways that were unforgiveable.

  After today, she wouldn’t be seeing this man again. He had dominated her life for over two years, had given her focus. He had trusted her completely and promoted her way beyond her pay grade. He had treated her with respect and admiration and suddenly she didn’t want to quit his employ under a black cloud.

  She didn’t want to leave him thinking the worst of her, thinking that she had it in her to betray the trust he had placed in her by doing a bunk
with his client base.

  But she had turned down the best job offer he could have made, and to him that would have signified betrayal.

  ‘You don’t understand,’ she protested, but without vigour.

  ‘What don’t I understand?’

  ‘My life,’ she said quietly. ‘You don’t understand my life. You have no idea what it was like to grow up with a rock-and-roll dad. You couldn’t begin to comprehend how that made me the person I am today.’ She was mortified at how personal the conversation had become, but she ploughed on anyway, knowing that it was her last day, her last hour probably, before she disappeared to the other side of the world.

  Her head was lowered, but she could feel the force of his stare on her and it was hard to think. When she raised her eyes, they collided with his with shattering impact. His face was so close to hers that she could see the streaks of black against navy, the thick, lush fall of his lashes, the curve of his sensual mouth.

  She was appalled by a sudden urge to reach out and stroke that lean, sinfully handsome face.

  She balled her hands into fists and tried not to cower.

  ‘I didn’t accept your job offer because I want to make something of my music,’ she continued in a barely audible whisper, nothing at all like her usual calm, composed, assured voice. ‘I love playing the piano. I do it all the time. The piano was my constant in a life that was full of upheaval. Dad always felt guilty that it was a talent I never had the chance to develop, and he suggested that I try my hand at getting back into it when I’m over there. He knows people. I could give lessons. I’d enjoy that.’ She took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. ‘So there you have it, Matt.’