Australia: Wicked Mistresses

by Robyn Grady

  Nina’s sucked down a breath. No use denying she wanted that to happen. A few minutes away from him seemed like an hour.An hour would seem like a week. By tonight she would be near ready to throw herself at him.

  But she couldn’t afford any more delays. The longer she kept her secret from Gabriel, the more chance he had of finding out the truth. It was better the news came from her.

  “I’ll tell him as soon as I get there.”

  They would either kiss, and the fun times would be on again, or he would not be amused and would refuse to contribute to delinquent behaviour as far as resort standards and reputation were concerned. Then again he was the boss. He could make new rules.

  Sinking further into the couch, Tori draped her arms over her head and spoke to the rattan fan, circulating air around the vaulted wood beam ceiling. “I bet he kisses like a dream.”

  Nina recalled the sensation of Gabriel’s lips covering hers…the way his mouth had coaxed her into sublime submission. “He kisses better than a dream.”

  He was drop-dead delectable. That body. That face. That creamy, dreamy voice.

  “Maybe he has a brother you could introduce me to?” Tori pushed up and, sashaying over to her vacuum cleaner, gave her watermelon earring a sassy flick. “I could handle putting my duster out to pasture.”

  Nina was watching that earring swing. “You could get in trouble, wearing those.” No jewellery was allowed other than studs and a watch. Mr Dorset, the general manager, was a stickler for dress code. Mr Dorset was a stickler for every rule.

  Tori struck a pose oozing with attitude. “You’re playing ‘to the manner born’ and I might get in trouble?”

  The joke was that Nina was to the manner born. She hadn’t appreciated the privileges she’d enjoyed growing up. She hadn’t missed them when she’d had a well-paid job. Her life had seemed full. She’d been good at what she’d done. Her colleagues had respected her and vice versa.

  Tori was deep in thought, fingering that earring. “If you ask me, management need to loosen up. Don’t be overly friendly with the guests,” she sing-songed. “Don’t cough in public or we’ll dock your pay.”

  “You wouldn’t be docked for coughing.” Unless it was excessive.

  Adjusting the vacuum head, Tori sent her a dry look. “This place needs a darn good shake-up. And you can tell your rich boyfriend that from me.”

  “He’s not my boyfriend.”

  “Then what are you waiting for?” Tori stepped on the power, the vacuum roared to life, and she swung her hips in a hoola circle. “Work it, baby.”

  Promising to give Tori an update, either tomorrow or later that night, depending on how things went, Nina headed off to change. But she was preoccupied with hoping things would go well, buoyed by fond thoughts of her previous job back in Sydney. She’d belonged at Shimmer magazine in a way she would never belong here. One thing was certain. She needed to feel that sense of belonging again.

  While dragging her uniform out from the single-door wardrobe, the phone extension caught Nina’s eye. She’d asked the receptionist at Shimmer to keep her ear to the ground; sometimes management cut too many corners and people were needed back to fill the gaps. So why not take the initiative and call?

  A moment later a voice Nina didn’t recognise answered the connection in Sydney, and Nina cleared her throat. “Hello. Would Abbey King be there?”

  “Abbey left last week. Can anyone else help?”

  Nina’s stomach bottomed out. Abbey was gone too? “Uh, I’m not sure who’s there any more.”

  “May I ask who’s speaking?”

  “Nina Petrelle.”

  “And you’re enquiring about…?”

  “I used to work there.”

  The receptionist’s tone changed, became low and flat. “Shimmer have no vacancies at this time.”

  Nina’s hand fisted around the receiver as suffocating heat crept up her neck.

  I was in charge of Features, she wanted to say. I used to buy a latte with extra sprinkles every morning before work. I used to sit around the boardroom and discuss upcoming stories and strategies with my colleagues. I was part of that office, dammit!

  The receptionist’s voice infiltrated the red haze. “Hello? Were you calling about a job?”

  Nina set her teeth. “I already have a job.”

  She slammed the receiver down.

  Don’t cry. Don’t you dare cry.

  If she started she might not be able to stop, because that same draining question was whispering again in her mind…

  Who are you? Where will you end up?

  She knew she would survive. It was just a matter of staying strong.

  But if Gabriel threw her out tonight she didn’t know what she’d do.

  With a spring in his step, Gabriel headed down the wide slate path, which was lined by a jungle of lush tropical garden. Unwilling to admit defeat, he’d made a no-holds-barred play to see Nina again and she’d acquiesced. He wasn’t prepared to throw in the towel without at least writing a closing chapter to their beach-side affair.

  When he’d told her that he owned this island resort initially he’d thought she was embarrassed. Then he’d thought she was being a princess, and then he’d surmised that he’d merely lost his appeal. But when she’d walked away, resigned yet also somehow brave, he’d known something more lay behind her change in attitude.

  He remembered their conversation the previous night…the way she’d opened up.

  What had knocked the wind out of her? he wondered. She’d said she wanted to know who she was. He’d blamed her general dislike of the resort on service and facilities, but after seeing how bereft she’d looked before he’d called her back, he knew it went deeper than that. The obstacle, the crisis bringing her down, was waiting for her here.

  Something dug into his hip. He reached and pulled a shell from his pocket. Before leaving this morning he’d found it on the bathroom shelf. Knowing Nina must have left it there, on impulse he’d taken it with him. He focused on the shell’s decorative rays and remembered Nina’s incredible smile.

  He held the shell tighter.

  He wouldn’t rest until A: he found out all of Nina’s story, and B: he fixed whatever was wrong. If she needed an ally, no matter how busy he got here, he’d be it.

  “Excuse me, Mr Steele?”

  Gabe wheeled around. Horace Dorset, General Manager of Diamond Shores Resort, was striding up the path. Dorset, with a lemon rosebud adorning his lapel, gave him a pleasant, enquiring look. “Everything well with you, sir?”

  “I received your message,” said Gabe. Dorset wanted to speak with him about standardising staff prerequisites. Good plan, but not now. “I’ll get back to you tomorrow.”

  Dorset nodded, but didn’t bow off. “I see you’ve introduced yourself to some of the staff.”

  Gabriel cast his mind back. “No. Only the managers.”

  “The young lady…?”

  Young lady? He meant Nina?

  Gabriel laughed. “You’re mistaken. Nina’s a guest.” Dorset’s brows slanted, then he shook his head. “You’re confusing her with someone else,’ Gabriel pointed out. Although he wasn’t sure how anyone could mistake an air that confirmed an impeccable upbringing…the way she held herself…the way she spoke.

  Dorset thought she was staff? Absurd.

  And yet Dorset kept looking at him with something like pity pinching his brows.

  Gabriel thought more, then waved an impatient arm towards the hotel. “I saw her go into her room, for God’s sake.”

  “Not her room, Mr Steele. A housekeeping trolley was outside. Perhaps Nina entered to help another staff member clean.”

  Gabriel probed Dorset’s cool gaze. If Dorset thought this was funny, he wasn’t laughing. “What the hell are you talking about?”

  “The woman you saw is a waitress. Nina Petrelle started with Diamond Shores six weeks ago.” Dorset’s shoulders rolled back. “We like to pride ourselves on our standards, and I’m afraid
Nina has made one too many errors. I’ve been patient so far, but this episode, withholding her identity from a guest—from you, Mr Steele—is an infringement that cannot be ignored. Measures must be taken.”

  Gabriel’s mind felt frozen. He opened his palm and glared at the shell. Had he heard her name right?

  “The staff are well aware of our number one rule,” Dorset continued. “No fraternising with guests. I want you to know I’m very strict on that. It can be tempting for a single young woman to covet what others here enjoy—”

  Gabriel shot up a hand. He was interested in only one thing. “What did you say her name was?”

  “Nina.”

  “Last name?”

  “Petrelle.”

  Nina Petrelle. Anthony Petrelle’s baby sister?

  A thousand memories flashed through his mind—playing touch in the Petrelles’ enormous manicured backyard…surfing at Bondi that last summer…Anthony’s sister, that right little madam, sticking it to him every chance she got. If she wasn’t jeering at his favourite shoes, she was niggling about his numerous after-school jobs, or insisting he should do them all a favour and buy a new pair of glasses.

  She’d been the kind of over-indulged kid who had a tantrum if no one noticed the new designer ribbon in her silky blonde hair. Nina Petrelle had been the poster girl for spoilt rotten. But for the sake of his friendship with Anthony, who’d been as down to earth as the next bloke, he’d kept his mouth shut.

  Gabriel shook his brain and came back to the present.

  How the tables had turned. When he’d known Nina last his surname had been Turner, his mother’s name. But if Nina didn’t recognise him, he sure as hell hadn’t recognised her. For one, she was twice the size—and in all the right places. Her hair was six shades darker too.

  He remembered her body writhing beneath him in the firelight last night and his insides twisted.

  He’d made love to Nina Petrelle?

  Dorset’s voice cut into his thoughts. “Mr Steele, I apologise for her behaviour. Gold-digging will not be tolerated here. I’ll go speak with her now.”

  As Dorset moved off, Gabriel gripped the older man’s forearm. His tone was close to dangerous. “I don’t want you to say or do a thing with regard to Miss Petrelle.”

  “I—I beg your pardon—?”

  “You heard me.” He released Dorset’s arm. “I’ll handle this.”

  Dorset opened his mouth to protest, but when Gabriel glowered Dorset nodded, although clearly unhappy with the decision. “As you wish.”

  Gabriel continued on to his accommodation, the shell tucked inside one clenched hand. He felt as if his chest had been rammed by a tree trunk.

  Yes, when she’d told him her name he’d thought twice, but she looked nothing like the squirt who’d hung around and annoyed the crap out of him all those years ago. What was she doing working here? Her family was loaded.

  Perhaps they’d had a falling out? She obviously needed money—badly enough to hunt down and snare herself a millionaire. Although her near drowning must have been an accident; no one would risk their life that way. But clearly she’d taken advantage of the situation from there, playing him with a combination of coy and sassy to see which stoked his fires best.

  Let someone have faith in you again, she’d said. Hell, he’d really thought she’d cared.

  He kicked open his front door.

  What a schmuck!

  As he stood in the foyer of his bungalow, another thought sprang to mind.

  Nina knew he owned this island, but she didn’t know who he was—or rather who he’d been: Gabe Turner, her brother’s egghead friend, the “pauper” she’d lived to humiliate. The guy who’d kept his lip buttoned while she tried to put him in his place.

  Gabriel’s smile was more a sneer.

  He couldn’t wait to see her face when she found out.

  But a greater challenge awaited her. Not only was Nina a down-on-her-luck gold-digger, according to Dorset she was no good at her job. How on earth had she got a position here in the first place?

  But the bigger question was…

  He dropped the shell and ground it beneath his heel.

  How soon could he get rid of her?

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  AFTER her shift in the kitchen, Nina showered, slipped into a light summer dress, and made her way to Gabriel Steele’s ultra-private bungalow. Her throat was tight with nerves and her stomach was riding a rollercoaster by the time she dropped the knocker on the imposing double doors. After several moments, when no one answered, she dared to turn the handle and ease inside.

  Towering potted palms, mirror-polished marble counters, exquisitely crafted teak furniture, fresh sprays of exotic flowers…Surrounded by such luxury, in “guest” versus “employee” mode, she felt the dizzy scent of excess fill her head.

  Spending last night with Gabriel in that cabin had been like a beautiful elixir, a once-in-a-lifetime experience which would live for ever in her mind and her heart. Being here in this setting, about to be with Gabriel again, was possibly an even headier thrill. After spending hours packing dishwashers, the sight of that cushiony white couch was almost enough to convince her that indulgence—this kind of over-the-top lavish extravagance—wasn’t so offensive after all. She would love to lie back on the couch and put her feet up.

  Massaging the weary small of her spine, she did another sweep of the main room. Gabriel wasn’t here. Limping slightly, she edged towards the opened concertina doors.

  The full moon spilled a shimmering river of gold across an otherwise black sea. The scent of salt and natural floral perfumes filled the warm air, and on the deck Gabriel stood with a phone pressed to his ear. He wore dark tailored trousers and a crisp white Oxford shirt. His sleeves were rolled to below the elbow, leaving tanned corded forearms exposed. His dark hair was freshly showered, wet and stylishly messy.

  The overall picture—complete with a vee of wiry hair visible at his throat and broad shoulders adorned in silk weave—was enough for Nina to clutch at her fast-beating heart. She hadn’t thought he could be more attractive than when she’d first seen him—muscles pumped and bare chest battle-whipped.

  She’d been wrong.

  Without trying, he dominated any scene.

  Angling around, Gabriel spotted her. He nodded twice into the phone, gave a parting remark, then disconnected and moved towards her.

  “Important call?” she asked, when she might easily have said, The sight of you turns my legs to jelly.

  “My second in charge,” he said, sauntering nearer. “Zane Rutley knows as much about my company as I do, but he likes to keep me up to date. Says there’s no rest for the wicked.”

  “You’ve known him long?”

  “Since university. We duxed Management Accounting and Strategy.”

  “Ooh, bad boys.”

  He grinned. “I can’t speak for Zane.”

  She didn’t know about Zane Rutley either, but Gabriel Steele could make any woman melt at a hundred paces. His every move was measured, exact, and at the same time effected with inherent masculine grace. Her cheeks heated. Although he hadn’t touched her yet, she was already simmering inside.

  When he stopped before her, she expected his mouth to break into his trademark sexy-as-sin smile. She expected him to sweep her up and kiss her as he’d kissed her through the magical hours of last night. But his lopsided grin remained fixed, and the gleam in his eye seemed somehow…cool.

  She felt a little off balance when his fingers curled around her arm and his freshly shaved cheek rubbed lightly against hers.

  His lips brushed her temple. “How was your afternoon?”

  “Busy.” Her ankle throbbed to punctuate the point.

  He drew away and assessed her butter-yellow dress, his gaze deliberately trailing her shape in a vaguely predatory fashion before he ushered her, a hand on her elbow, towards the outdoor setting.

  He indicated an ice bucket. “Champagne?”

  “You said yo
u’d have it poured,” she teased.

  “Nothing worse than when bubbles go flat.”

  He popped the cork, and foam spilled over the rim to darken the timber near his feet. To take her mind off his intoxicating sandalwood scent, she inspected the champagne label.

  “My father used to keep a couple of bottles of that for special occasions.”

  “It’s a rare vintage.” He handed her a glass. “Is your father here with you on the island?”

  The breath went out of her. “He died a few years ago.”

  His gaze jumped up from his pouring of a second glass. His searching eyes clouded and his voice dropped. “Nina…I’m sorry.”

  She sighed quietly. Gabriel could be so strong, yet there were times, like now, he could be so sensitive. As if he truly knew her. Knew her like no one else could.

  But then he cleared his throat, raised his glass to his lips, and the deeper moment was gone.

  “I bumped into someone this afternoon.” He sipped, swallowed. “He told me the most fascinating story.”

  He was watching her over the rim of his glass and the glint in his eyes now seemed almost steely. She’d seen a few sides to Gabriel—uncompromising hero, charmer, believer, lover. When they’d left the cabin this morning he’d been cagey. But the vibes she caught now didn’t fit with any of that.

  That pointed gleam in his gaze was enough to make her shiver. Who was the “someone” he’d spoken with?

  She sipped champagne without tasting it and when he didn’t divulge more she asked, “What did this man say?”

  A humourless smile tugged one side of his mouth. “I thought you might like to tell me.”

  Her breath died in her chest. She closed her eyes as her stomach rolled over twice, then sank to her knees. Her throat convulsed and she swallowed.

  “You know.”

  His chin went up. “I know.”

  She’d been caught out before she’d had the chance to come clean. Someone had let on that she was an employee of the island and, given the hard line of his jaw, Gabriel wasn’t pleased.

  She managed to keep her voice steady. “Gabriel, let me explain—”

  “I will. But first…”