The Tycoon's Virgin Mistress

by Clare Connelly

  “I don’t fucking believe this. Are you here to blackmail me?”

  Her mouth dropped open at the suggestion. She wasn’t. She was there to beg for his help, just to get her job back, nothing more. That he could suspect something so low of her made her stomach ache.

  “What would I possibly blackmail you with?” She responded coldly.

  He shrugged his powerful shoulders. “I’m a rich man. Newsworthy. Our sordid night might make good reading to the gossip rags. Billionaire Beds Virgin. Something like that. Perhaps you want to trade on what happened, but you’re offering me the chance to buy your silence before the rags?”

  Missy stood up and, without thinking, crossed the floor, so that she was standing toe to toe with him, chest to chest. Her large green eyes were saucer wide and beseeching. “I can’t believe you really believe me capable of that.”

  “What I know about you does you little credit, Claire. Or is it Marissa? Or Missy?”

  Missy coloured. There was no sense in lying now he’d already discovered the truth. “Missy. And how did you find out?”

  “That you lied about your name?”

  She nodded.

  “I asked at the restaurant. I have been dining there frequently while staying in the hotel. When I didn’t see you again, I wondered if you had quit to avoid seeing me. Imagine my surprise when I was told no one by the name of Claire worked in the restaurant.”

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to mislead you.”

  “About your name? Or your sexual experience?” He asked furiously, and she took a step back. His rage hit her straight between the eyes. “They told me you’d been fired for flirting with a customer. Given how you behaved with me, I didn’t find it so hard to believe.”

  She wanted to set him straight, but something stopped her. She couldn’t look at him. “I don’t want to fight with you.”

  “Ah, yes. The question of money.” He sighed. “How much do you need? What will your silence cost me?””

  She shook her head in frustration. “Please. That’s not why I’m here. I don’t need money. Well, I do, but not from you. I need my job back.”

  “That is money from me, indirectly,” he showed his teeth, in an imitation of a smile.

  “It’s not a handout I want, though. I want to work for it. Please, can you do something?” She brought her hands up to his chest and pressed them flat against his muscular wall. His sharp intake of breath surprised her. He either loved or hated that she was touching him.

  “You say you’re prepared to work for your money?” His voice was thin.

  She nodded, her throat suddenly dry.

  “I have the perfect job for you,” he spoke slowly, his American accent particularly thick.

  Relief washed over her. “Oh, Nate, thank you, thank you. You won’t regret it.”

  “Don’t you want to know what the job is, Missy?” Even in the darkness she could see the determined set of his angular cheekbones.

  “Waitressing, I presume.” Her voice held caution.

  “Oh, no, angel. Though we both know you’re far from an angel.” He linked his hands behind her back, and she had to focus to avoid the hot lava of attraction that was taking over her ability to think. “This job is far more suited to your particular talents. And rather more handsomely remunerated.”

  She held her spine straight. “What is it?”

  “My companion.” He said simply and a shiver of disgust went through Missy.

  “Your companion?” She enquired archly. “Pray tell, what exactly does that encompass?”

  “Anything you want it to,” he growled, and without warning, he kissed her, hard on the lips. His tongue invaded her mouth and she shuddered with pent up frustration.

  The implication rang in her head. He was offering her money in exchange for sex. Even in her desire-addled state, she was sober enough to be offended. She pulled away from his kiss and slapped him hard on the cheek. He held a hand to his face instinctively, his dark eyes brooding, taking in her flushed face, and heavy breathing.

  “You... rat bastard!” She muttered angrily, grabbing her handbag from the sofa. “You’re treating me like..a...a prostitute!” She turned away from him and stalked towards the door. She wrenched it open. “You can go to hell. Forget I even came here.”

  He was behind her in an instant, his arm around her waist pulling her back towards him.

  “Let me go,” she ordered through gritted teeth.

  His voice was like iron. “I will let you go. Just hear me out, Missy. I don’t enjoy being walked out on, and you seem to be making a habit of it.”

  “I don’t enjoy being made to feel like a cheap slut, and you seem to be making a habit of it.” She threw back at him. Her expressive eyes showed her hurt, and he winced inwardly.

  He’d misread her, and he was glad. He was glad that she’d turned him down so spectacularly; he was glad that she was outraged by his suggestion, for it had been a cheap shot. He wasn’t proud to realise that he would do whatever it took to get her back in his bed. Even lie to her now about his intentions.

  “This arrangement of ours wouldn’t include sex. Well, not unless you want it to,” he tacked on as an afterthought. “I’ll be in town another two months at least, and I need someone to accompany me to various events. You know I’m recently divorced. I could frankly do without the headache of women looking for a rich husband.”

  She shook her head slowly. “It would be madness. Given how we feel about each other. I mean, we hate each other.” She clarified. “It’s obvious. Surely you could find a companion who would be less... complicated.”

  “No. I want you.”

  “Why?” She asked, curious in spite of herself. “Why me?”

  “You’re heart-stoppingly beautiful, for one. You’re just the kind of woman I used to like on my arm. It’s plausible that you would hold my attention and women will think twice before trying to usurp you.” His arrogance would be off-putting if she weren’t already used to it. “You don’t drink. You’re not likely to become a liability.” He shrugged.

  She shook her head miserably. “That works for you. But not for me.”

  “Ah, I wondered when you’d get to that. You need money. I have money. And I would expect that, so long as I compensate you appropriately, you will be loyal to me and my needs.”

  It was a cruelly cynical analysis of her circumstances, but he was right.

  Swallowing down a lump of dread, she forced herself to ask, “What would our arrangement entail? Specifically?”

  “You’d move in here.” He held up his hands when he saw that she was about to demur. “You’ve seen the size of my apartment. You would have privacy. Your own bedroom. I work long hours so you’d have your days mostly to yourself. I’d give you notice for night time commitments. This would be like a real job. You’d have rights. We can negotiate your days off if you like.”

  “Why do I need to move in?”

  “I will need you at a moment’s notice, sometimes. I entertain here. It’s more plausible that I’d want to keep you where I could have you around the clock. It’s more my style.” He saw the way her cheeks flushed and took it one step further. “I’m not the kind of man who likes to wait for his satisfaction. My lovers are always prepared to accommodate my requirements.”

  Her skin blushed at the idea of being had around the clock. She marvelled at the very notion of what life as his partner, in the truest sense of the word, would be like.

  “We wouldn’t be lovers.”

  “Sure. If that’s what you want.”

  His nonchalance was even more hurtful. “It is,” she lied, wrapping her arms around her chest.

  “Sex is negotiable. But the rest – that’s the deal.”

  Living with him was very tempting. She had no real friends in London, no need for days off, but she didn’t want to confess that to him. Her bedsit was a shambolic hole; she wouldn’t be sorry to leave it behind. And, while the rent was meagre, it was still money she could sav
e every week, if she weren’t paying it to her landlord.

  “And salary?” She asked, clearing her throat nervously. In a move that Nate took as acquiescence of his offer, Missy walked back towards the leather sofa and sat down.

  She hated that she had to take money from him, but she was simultaneously relieved that help was in sight.

  He named an amount that would have made Missy fall over, had she not already been sitting down. It was enough to clear Robert’s debts within six weeks or so. “You will also have a line of credit at Portia Carvallo,” he said, naming an exclusive Mayfair boutique. “I don’t know what your wardrobe is like but we’ll have a lot of events to attend and the dress code will be largely black tie. You are welcome to buy as many outfits as you would like. As my fictional lover, you’ll be expected to dress a certain way. Google me if you need to research the women I usually date.”

  Googling the stunning women he was used to bedding was not high on her to-do list.

  “Oh, there’s just one other thing,” he said, quietly, his eyes raking her face.

  “What is it?” She asked suspiciously.

  “Our agreement will be exclusive. I don’t want to hear that you’ve been seeing anyone else while living under my roof. Got it? If I suspect you have someone else in your life, it will be grounds for instant dismissal.”

  Missy nodded mutely. She felt invigorated and terrified at the same time. She hadn’t stopped thinking about Nate Anderson since that fateful night they’d slept together, and here she was, blindly agreeing to move in with him as a sort of glamorous after-hours PA, and possible concubine. But it solved all of her problems, didn’t it?

  Nate turned away from the beautiful blonde, his face drawn. He couldn’t believe what he’d just proposed. It had been strictly spur of the moment, and he couldn’t explain what had prompted it. But the panic he’d felt at finding her gone that night, and not having been able to track her down in the intervening weeks, had made him act rashly just now.

  He knew nothing about her, and what he did know, he didn’t particularly like. And yet, there was just something about her that was addictive. Having her under his roof would cure his insatiable obsession, and that was no bad thing. He couldn’t go another day with the thoughts that had been tormenting him for a fortnight. He needed to get this woman out of his system, and he was hoping over-exposure would do the trick.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Missy left the Nate’s penthouse feeling shell shocked. She couldn’t believe what she’d just agreed to. He had a way of making even the most ridiculous notion sound totally pedestrian. What would life be like? Was it too late to renege? Surely she would find it unbearably confusing to be in such close quarters to him.

  She had agreed that she would return to her tiny bed-sit for the night, and then she would move her things to his luxurious apartment the next morning. It was surreal to think she’d be going from such a squalid little room to that magnificent penthouse in the space of twenty four hours. When she pushed open the front door to the townhouse, her heart leapt into her mouth. Unmistakably, her home had been entered, and ransacked.

  Heart in her throat, she crept through the house, peering in every room, before finally reaching her own. She clutched her phone in her hand, ready to dial emergency services at a moment’s notice. Pulse racing, she banged open the door and looked around. Everything had been torn apart, and on the mirror, written in her lipstick, a note: “Pay up, Bitch.”

  Missy didn’t give her actions a second thought. She threw her meagre possessions in a bag, wiped the mirror clean, hastily returned a semblance of order to the room, and left. As she walked, head down, to the tube station, she tapped a text to the landlord explaining hastily that she had to go away owing to a family emergency and that her room was available.

  Twenty minutes later, Nate had showered and a strange sense of calm had overtaken him at the prospect of having Missy on hand, twenty four hours a day. Oh, he knew he was crazy. He knew his brother would have a thing or two to say about it, he acknowledged ruefully, but something had made it imperative. There was, however, the very troubling and very exciting notion of temptation being in his way constantly.

  A buzz at his door roused him for the pleasurable direction of his thoughts. Dressed in just a low slung pair of jeans, he strode to the entrance and peered through the security hole. He frowned at the sight that greeted him and promptly flung open the door.

  Missy, slightly dishevelled and looking nervous, stood before him, a tattered backpack over her shoulder.

  Her smile was tense, just a shadow of the real thing, and her eyes concealed by fluttered lashes. “Do you mind if we start our agreement tonight?”

  He stepped back to allow her entry to the apartment, asking firmly as he did so, “Missy? What’s happened?” He lifted the backpack off her shoulder and put it down by the door.

  She wrung her hands in front of herself, clearly agitated. “I... I can’t say,” her voice was overwrought. She was shivering uncontrollably and he frowned. Spontaneously, he found himself wrapping his arms around her, pulling her into a bear hug against his chest. She was thinner than he’d appreciated. In the two weeks since that marvellous night, she had lost at least a dress size.

  Nate was not used to having salient facts kept from him.

  “Missy, as part of our arrangement, let me help you,” he ground out, his chin resting on the top of her head.

  “I can cope,” she lied, not sure what she was going to do. If the thugs had found her in Earls Court, how long until they found her here? And would that put Nate in danger? “Nate, do you have security?”

  He furrowed his brow but answered her strange question, “Of course. I’m under constant watch.” He’d been born into one of the wealthiest families in America and under his management the business empire had gone from strength to strength. Both he and his brother were shadowed around the clock. Then, quietly, “Missy, I’m going to assign a security detail to you while we are together. It’s a wise precaution.” He didn’t know why he felt it was necessary, but he knew he would feel better for taking the measure. When she didn’t argue, he knew that his instincts were right on the money. He also knew that money motivated much of the evil in the world, and Missy had come to him tonight, in desperate need of employment. It wasn’t a long bow to draw to think that money was at the root of her problems.

  With his finger, he tilted her chin so that she was looking at him. He stared into her beautiful eyes, felt all the vulnerability and uncertainty there and he realised that he really did want to help. For no other reason than to alleviate this beautiful creature’s suffering.

  He pulled away from her, walked to the bureau in the corner. Missy watched him, unable to help admiring the elegant grace and litheness with which he moved. He opened a draw and a moment later crossed back to her, holding out a piece of paper, envelope size.

  It was a cheque, she saw as he got closer. An unimaginable sum was written on it. More than the debt that Robert had accrued. She looked from him to the cheque, her cheeks flushed. “It’s an advance on your salary,” he said quietly, holding it out to her.

  She shook her head, digging her toe into the plush carpet. “No. I won’t take it.” She said forcefully. While it was true that the money could get her out of a bind, there was an over-riding need for Nate not to think the worst of her.

  He breathed out exasperatedly. He did not like being countermanded. “Listen, Missy. We’ve already agreed the details. I trust you won’t run away again. Just take this advance and sort out whatever it is that is making your pretty face look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

  She shook her head again, tears stinging her eyes now.

  Nate came so close to her that she could feel the movement of his chest with every breath. He leant forward and kissed her on the lips, heatedly plundering her mouth. Missy sank into him, and he took advantage of her weakness to push the cheque into the palm of her hand. Against her mouth, he muttered, “This is less than s
mall change to me, Missy, but I sense it could make a big difference to your life. Take it. I don’t want to hear another word about it.”

  Hating herself, and the predicament she found herself in, Missy folded the cheque and slipped it into her back pocket. He was right, it would solve her most immediate problem, which was getting those thugs of her back.

  “Thank you,” she whispered huskily.

  “You’re welcome.” He bent down and scooped up her overnight bag. He took it to the room they’d been in the other night. “You will sleep here.” His tone was suddenly business like. It was probably for the best, but disappointment, bitter and strong, unfurled in her gut. “I have a meeting in Hertfordshire tomorrow but I’ll be back by six. I have a dinner in the evening which I’d like you to attend. Can you organise something suitable to wear?”

  Missy nodded. “What will the dress code be?”

  “It’s at a fairly formal restaurant, so a cocktail dress or similar.”

  The next day, Missy had two pressing matters of business. To find a suitable dress, and to pay off the loan sharks who were after them.

  As soon as she heard Nate leave the apartment, she called Robert. “Robbie, I have the money you need. I’ll transfer it to you first thing Monday, when a bank opens. I need you to listen to me. You pay off these guys and you do it as soon as you can. They came to my home last night. They ransacked my bedroom. If you think for one second about gambling this away, I want you to imagine what they would have done to me had I been home.” She issued the ultimatum with a voice not quite steady. Her brother had the decency to sound flummoxed.

  Missy disconnected the call feeling like a weight had been lifted from her. She hoped against hope that Robert was finally coming back off the ledge that their great aunt’s death had pushed him onto.

  Surprisingly, the money situation was easier to handle than the dress shopping. Despite having model proportions, Missy was not an enthusiastic clothes horse. After an hour at the boutique, she begrudgingly settled on a green silk dress with lace cap sleeves. She had to acknowledge that it did flatter her alabaster skin, her curves and her newly discovered slender waist, but she felt mortified by the cost of the gown.