His Mistress for a Week

by MELANIE MILBURNE

  Alistair’s throat moved up and down. Clem knew she had shocked him. Who wouldn’t be shocked at what her father had done? So many lives ruined and her father not showing an iota of guilt or remorse about it. She had been able to distance herself because she bore her mother’s maiden name, but the shame of what her father had done was ever present.

  Like now.

  Panic was knocking on her heart, tripling its beat rate, sending an icy chill across her scalp like ants on a march with frozen feet. You can’t escape your past. It will follow you wherever you go. It will destroy any chance of happiness.

  ‘You’re not your father any more than I am mine,’ Alistair said. ‘Don’t do this to us. We’ve only just found each other. Don’t let us fall at the first hurdle.’

  Clem couldn’t get enough air into her lungs. A shipping container was sitting on her chest. Her throat was so dry it felt like she had swallowed plaster dust. She had to get away. She couldn’t stay here and be talked into a lifetime of looking over her shoulder. Waiting for the next axe of shame to fall, to have it hack away at the happiness she had waited so long for.

  She had to end this.

  She had to get away.

  She had to be alone.

  There was no other way. Every time something like this happened she would turn into a heaving, sweating, nervous wreck. Sure, Alistair was patient now, but what about in the future? Who could blame him for getting a little tired of her freak-outs? How long before he ended up mocking her instead of supporting her?

  She couldn’t risk it.

  She couldn’t bear to see him look at her like that one day. It was better to end it now before any more damage was done. She would get over it. She would have to. He would find someone else.

  Oh, God, please let me cope with seeing him with someone else. Her heart pounded so hard it felt like it was in her throat. Sweat trickled down between her shoulder blades. Her palms were clammy, her knees shaking. ‘I’ve made up my mind. You can’t force me to marry you. I’m ending our engagement and that’s that.’

  He took her by the upper arms, his gaze pleading. ‘We can sort this out, ma petite. You know we can.’

  Clem wrenched out of his hold, hair flying, eyes glaring. Be cruel to be kind. Be cruel to be kind. It was a mantra inside her head in time with the frantic rhythm of her pulse. ‘I didn’t say I loved you. Think about it, Alistair. I didn’t say those words, I just let you think I did.’

  It was the knockout punch.

  Clem saw the way his expression shifted from concerned to frowning and reflective, as if he was going back over every word of their conversation last night and realising what she’d said was true. She hadn’t told him she loved him. She wasn’t sure why she hadn’t. Maybe deep down she had always known something like this was going to happen. She and happiness were never going to work. It wasn’t her lot in life. Suffering was her calling. Cringing and suffering and always feeling on the outside.

  ‘Fine.’ His mouth was set in a tight line. ‘End it. Walk out. Run away from all the crooked tea towels and scattered cushions life throws at you. Go and straighten up all your little pots, if that makes you feel good. But remember when you’re old and lonely what you threw away.’

  Clem turned away when the door closed on his exit. She had to pack. She had to get out of here. She had to get a flight. She had to say goodbye to Jamie. There was so much to do. Her heart was beating too fast. Her breath was locking in her throat. Her fingers were tingling, going numb. Her legs were trembling so much she could barely get them to move. She was going to cry. No. No. No. Mustn’t cry. Mustn’t cry. Must be strong. Must be, must be, must be... She drew in a breath but it was full of barbed wire. She couldn’t breathe.

  Oh, God. She couldn’t breathe.

  Later, Clem had no real recollection of how she’d packed and got to the airport and on a plane to London. She could barely recall the quick conversation she’d had with Jamie and her little white lie about having to rush back to work. As if to make her feel even more miserable, the weather in London had turned against her. Drizzling rain, heavy clouds, no sunshine. Somehow she managed to avoid the paparazzi but there was no avoiding her neighbour Mavis.

  Clem had only put one foot out of the taxi when Mavis popped her head out of the window. ‘Where’s your handsome young man? I read about it in the paper. How exciting. Are you going to get married? Can I come to the wedding? I love weddings.’

  Clem searched for her keys in her tote bag. ‘There’s not going to be a wedding.’

  ‘Not going to be? But why?’

  ‘You can’t believe everything you read in the papers,’ Clem said. ‘They make that stuff up.’

  Mavis frowned. ‘But aren’t you in love with him? I would be if I were forty years younger. He reminds me of my first husband. Did I tell you about him? He was—’

  ‘Maybe some other time,’ Clem said, softening it with a tired smile. ‘I have to unpack.’

  CHAPTER TEN

  ALISTAIR CHECKED OUT of the hotel and was about to make his way to the airport when Jamie intercepted him. ‘Can I have a quick word?’ Jamie asked.

  Alistair gestured to the valet-parking attendant that he would be another five minutes and then turned back to Jamie. ‘I have a plane to catch so make it snappy.’

  Jamie shifted his feet as if the soles of his shoes were too hot. ‘I’m worried about Clem. She said she had to rush back to work but I know she was lying. What’s going on? Is it about that crazy interview our mother gave? Harriet showed me the link. Did you break it off with her because of that?’

  Alistair shook his head, annoyed the boy thought that lowly of him. ‘No, of course not.’

  ‘Then why has she left without you?’

  Because she doesn’t love me. She had never said the words. He’d thought back to their conversation time and time again and he couldn’t recall her saying, ‘I love you’. Not once. He had been the one to express his love, not her. ‘She has her reasons.’

  Jamie frowned. ‘But she loves you. I know she does. I’ve never seen her like this before. You bring the best out in her, make her chill out and relax. Why’d you let her go?’

  ‘I can’t force her to stay with me,’ Alistair said. ‘She’s an adult who has to make her own choices.’

  Jamie did the foot-shuffling thing again. ‘Look, you’ve got to understand Clem. She copes with stuff, you know? She hides what she’s feeling. But I know her well enough to know she loves you. She’s left because she thinks it will protect you. Remember how I told you I keyed your car? She took the rap for that for years. She never said a word, not even to Mum. That’s the sort of person she is. She would rather be unhappy herself than make someone else unhappy. She’s always been embarrassed about her OCD. It always gets worse when she’s stressed. But when she was with you she was so much better.’

  Alistair swallowed a monkey wrench of regret. He had let Clem go. He had let her walk out of his life without seeing what was right before his eyes. She was sacrificing herself for him, as she had done for Jamie ten years ago, hiding what she felt, hiding her hurt behind that tough-girl façade. Was it too late to try again? To talk to her and convince her he was in for the long haul? That he would fight for her and with her against anything that was thrown across their path?

  Alistair gave Jamie’s shoulder a firm man-to-man squeeze. ‘Look after Harriet for me.’

  Jamie’s frown loosened but hadn’t completely disappeared. ‘Does that mean you’re going to be my brother-in-law?’

  I hope so. Alistair gestured to the parking attendant before turning back to Jamie. ‘If you need anything, just call, okay? I’ve got your back and Harriet’s.’

  Jamie’s cautious smile made something in Alistair’s chest lift. ‘And Clem’s?’

  ‘I’ve got her back too.’

  Now I just have to get her back.

  * * *

  Clem had been too emotionally exhausted to unpack the night before. But when she went in search of
her mug the next morning she found it in pieces inside the T-shirt she’d wrapped it in. It seemed fitting somehow. She cradled the shattered bits in her hands like she was cradling her own heart. But instead of feeling panicky she just felt sad. Achingly sad, that Alistair wasn’t here to help her fix it, for fix it he would have. He would have found some way of putting her mug back together. It was the sort of person he was. He would make sure she had the security she craved.

  What have I done? Had she made the biggest mistake of her life by running away? Of course it was embarrassing, having a mother like hers. But Alistair had an equally embarrassing father. It was something that bonded them. A connection no one else could understand quite the way they did. It was something they could cry or laugh about depending on the situation.

  Clem got off the floor and put her mug on the kitchen table still wrapped in its nest of her T-shirt. Should she call him? What if he didn’t answer? What if he did answer and told her to get out of his life? That she had ruined her one chance at happiness with him by rejecting him? She looked at her phone. She could send him a text. No. That didn’t seem quite right.

  She heard a car pull up outside. She glanced out of the window and her heart flapped like a sail in a stiff wind when she saw Alistair’s tall, leanly muscled frame unfold from the car. He lifted a hand in a wave to Mavis who was leaning out her window. Clem didn’t hear what he said to her neighbour but Mavis’s round face was beaming.

  Clem didn’t wait for him to knock. ‘I’m sorry but I—’

  Alistair shut the door and reached for her, pulling her into his arms. ‘I don’t want to hear your denials. I know you love me. I feel it every time you look at me.’ He brought his mouth down to hers, kissing her soundly, lingeringly. He lifted his head and looked down at her flushed features. ‘Now tell me you don’t love me.’

  Clem was pressed so tightly against him she could feel the desire raging in him, the same desire raging inside her. But not just desire.

  Love.

  Strong, resilient love. Love capable of withstanding setbacks and heartbreaks, tragedy and the passage of time.

  And, yes, even panic attacks.

  Clem gazed into his eyes and wondered how it could be possible that someone like him would love someone like her. But it was true, because she could see it in every look he sent her way, every touch of his hands, every caress, every stroke. ‘You can’t possibly love me as much as I love you.’

  His smile made her chest fill with warmth. ‘Give me the next fifty years or so to prove it. Marry me, my darling girl? Let’s be a family for Jamie and Harriet. Let’s be the family you missed out on and the one I wish I still had.’

  Clem blinked away the sting of tears. ‘I want to marry you more than anything. But I can’t help thinking you’re the one who’s getting the raw end of the deal. My mother...’

  He put a finger over her lips. ‘Is someone we’ll have to deal with—as we’ll have to deal with my father. I won’t let anyone hurt you. Trust me, ma petite.’

  Clem realised with a rush of relief that she did trust him. She trusted him with her life. With her pain. With her past. He was the only one she could trust to be there for her. To accept her. She didn’t have to be someone she wasn’t.

  She just had to be herself.

  She looked up at him through fogged-up glasses that were half-on, half-off her nose. He gently pushed them back in place and smiled a tender smile. ‘Are we good?’

  Clem smiled a wobbly smile. ‘We’re good.’

  He brushed the hair back off her face, his expression so full of love it brought fresh tears to her eyes. ‘I know you don’t like surprises but I have one for you.’

  ‘What is it?’

  His eyes twinkled. ‘I bought the villa.’

  Clem blinked at him again. ‘What villa?’

  He playfully pinched her chin. ‘Your villa, little goose. The one you’ve loved since you were a child. It can be our holiday home; somewhere we can take our children so they can have the sort of childhood you missed out on.’

  ‘You bought it? For me?’

  He gathered her closer. ‘I figured we need a bolthole away from our crazy parents. We won’t tell them where it is. It will be our secret hideaway.’

  Clem didn’t think it was possible to love someone more than she loved him. And what was even more amazing was he felt the same about her. ‘You truly are the most wonderful person. I’m the luckiest girl in the world.’

  ‘There’s something else.’ He gave her a wry smile. ‘I really like Jamie. He’s a cool kid who’s showing signs of maturity. I think by the time we have teenagers of our own I’ll be as good as you are at handling them.’

  Clem stroked his jaw, her heart feeling so full of love it was threatening to burst out of her chest. ‘Do you have any idea how much I love you?’

  He brought his mouth down to within reach of hers. ‘Why don’t you show me?’

  ‘How long have you got?’

  He smiled against her mouth. ‘A lifetime—starting now.’

  * * * * *

  Read on for an excerpt from IN THE SHEIKH’S SERVICE by Susan Stephens.

  CHAPTER ONE

  A POLE-DANCING CLUB across from the Michelin-starred restaurant where he was dining with his ambassador was an unhappy coincidence. He should have known what to expect when his people booked the ambassador’s favourite table for dinner. This was Soho, London, England, where strip clubs coexisted happily with top-end eateries, but the ambassador was an old friend, and Shazim had fallen in with the old man’s wish to try something new. The downside was that the ambassador’s son had come along too.

  Sitting still seemed beyond the edgy thirty-something. Girls dancing in the club across the road had grabbed his attention. It wasn’t just the guy’s blatant lack of good manners Shazim found appalling, but something more nagging at his senses. Whatever happened, he would not allow the ambassador’s son to harass the girls.

  ‘Have you finished eating?’ The ambassador’s son stared imploringly at him. ‘Can we look in across the road?’

  He was like a puppy on a leash. Shazim had to grab a glass to steady it as he lurched away from the table in his hurry to leave the restaurant.

  Shazim caught up with him at the door. His security guys hovered. With a look, he ordered his men to stand down.

  ‘Aren’t you a bit old for this?’ He angled his chin towards the rose-tinted windows of the club, where shadowy forms were undulating back and forth.

  By this time the ambassador had joined them, and there was real danger of a scene. ‘Go with him, Shazim,’ the ambassador begged. ‘See that he doesn’t get into trouble, will you? Please? For me?’

  Tasking one of his team to escort the elder statesman home, he thrust a bundle of notes into the maître d’s hand and followed the ambassador’s son out of the restaurant.

  * * *

  Oh, for goodness’ sake! This was ridiculous. Her friend Chrissie wasn’t exactly lacking in the bosom department, but Chrissie wasn’t exactly overabundant, either, Isla fretted as she attempted to squeeze her ample frontage into the microscopic bikini top.

  If someone had asked Isla to name the very last thing on earth she liked to do, it would be to make herself look provocative in front of a room full of men—and there was every reason for that, but Chrissie was a good friend and Chrissie had a family emergency tonight.

  The past couldn’t reach out and hurt her, Isla told herself firmly, not unless she allowed it to, and tonight it wouldn’t.

  Her mother’s death eighteen months ago had left her shaken to the core, and what had happened directly after the funeral could still send her reeling, but tonight was Chrissie’s night, so she would get on with the job—if she could force her breasts into submission. Turning this way and that, she measured the risk factor of her breasts going one way while she went the other. Here was living proof that no one could squeeze a quart into a pint pot. Nor could they make a plain, stocky woman into a sugarplum fairy o
vernight. She was a down-to-earth mature student in the veterinary sciences department. Far from being the glamorous type, she usually had grime of unspeakable origins beneath her fingernails. On the plus side, the costume was gorgeous. She loved a bit of twinkle, and the bikini was a deep, rich pink, exquisitely decorated with glittering crystal beads and sequins. It would look fantastic on Chrissie, as it would on any woman with a normal figure, but on Isla’s super-sized, top-heavy figure?

  It looked like a sparkling bandage wrapped around a bun.

  One of the many jobs Isla had taken in order to pay her fees at the university was to lead a class of enthusiastic children in gymnastics at the university gym, but she wore a sports bra for that, not an unfit-for-purpose sequinned bikini. This was the first time she could remember having a flexible body and the ability to use it being both an advantage and a disadvantage. She would never have agreed to do this if Chrissie’s need hadn’t been greater than Isla’s fear of ever making it seem that she was trying to lead a man on. Once upon an ugly time, that accusation had been cruelly levelled at her, and it had left a lingering doubt.

  She had to hope the apprehension she was feeling went away once she lost herself in practising her moves for the Christmas concert at the gym.

  Get over yourself and get out there—

  She swung around at a knock on the door.

  ‘Five minutes, please,’ a disembodied male voice informed her.

  Five minutes? She’d need five hours to make this disaster fly! She took a last look in the mirror and wished her breasts would shrink.

  ‘I’ll be there,’ she called out, slipping on her high-heeled shoes with agitated fingers. She’d kick the heels off once she got started, but Chrissie had said first impressions were all-important to the audience, and she had no intention of letting Chrissie down.