The Tycoon's Virgin Mistress

by Clare Connelly

  When she saw Nate’s reaction to her later that night though, she thought every one of his pennies had been worth it. He let out a low, appreciative whistle as she twirled slowly in front of him.

  “You look stunning, Missy.” He said on a whistle, admiration dripping from every consonant.

  She laughed. “I look expensive.”

  “Lucky for you, I have expensive tastes.”

  “You don’t look too bad yourself,” she admired frankly. He was dressed in a black dinner jacket, and a pale grey business shirt beneath. He looked rip-your-clothes-off desirable.

  “Missy, I should warn you. When you look at me like that, I want to take you straight to bed. In the interest of sticking to the terms of our agreement, please try not to undress me with your eyes so often.”

  He was teasing her but she felt ready for the floor to open up and swallow her whole. She had been unashamedly staring at him. In order for their arrangement to work, and Missy realised that she was bought and paid for, resisting their sexual magnetism was important.

  “Come on,” he placed an arm around her waist. “Downstairs.”

  The hotel was busy with the usual Friday night guests, and, as they walked past the entrance to her old workplace, Missy kept her eyes averted. A sleek black jaguar was waiting out the front, a suited security agent holding the back door open for them. As they approached, Nate took the door and held it open for Missy. She slid into the car gracefully, sinking into the luxury leather seats. Nate followed and pulled the door gently closed.

  The security agent took the driver’s seat and whisked them off. In the confines of the prestige vehicle, Nate Anderson seemed even bigger and sexier than usual and Missy had to focus on anything but him. She tamped down on the blossoming lust threatening to take over her and stared out the window at the passing London scenery.

  Having only been in the city a month, she still found there was much to explore, and as the car navigated the dark streets effortlessly, she couldn’t help sighing at the sheer beauty of the cityscape.

  He raised an eyebrow sardonically. “See something you like?”

  “It’s all so beautiful.” She turned to face him. “Don’t you think?”

  Despite being born and bred in America, he had spent three years in the English capital doing his post-graduate degree. He had thought it beautiful once, but now it was all rather familiar to him. With his rapier sharp mind for details, he honed in on what she had really told him. “How long have you lived in London?”

  And because she finally felt like the danger that those thugs represented might finally have passed, she answered honestly, “One month.”

  “Not long at all. What brings you to London? You’re from... somewhere Northern, going by your accent?”

  She furrowed her brow. “Family stuff,” she waved her hand in the air to give the impression that it was unimportant but he could read her like a book. He pursed his lips. There was a lot more to Missy than she ever showed, and her secrecy infuriated him. He’d never needed a woman’s confidences before. He didn’t know why he cared that she chose to retain an air of mystery, but he was already sick of it.

  “Tell me about our dinner tonight,” she swiftly changed the subject.

  Realising he was keeping his own cards close to his chest, he hedged. With a voice that gave nothing away, he said, “It’s a contract dispute. I’m settling out the last sticking points and I thought it better to keep it social. And public.” He hoped she wouldn’t be too pissed off when she saw who they were dining with.

  The car pulled up outside the famous Michelin restaurant and Missy felt her tummy do a now familiar flip flop of nervous adrenalin.

  The security guy opened the door and Nate climbed out. He stood on the pavement and as soon as Missy stepped up beside him, he took her hand in his, his thumb stroking the inside of her wrist mesmerizingly. “Missy,” his voice seemed tense to her. “I should warn you. Tonight has the potential to be rather unpleasant. I need you to remember that you work for me. No matter how stressful it seems, your duty is to remain with me. Tonight will also go easier if we give the appearance of being a real couple. Can you do that?”

  All too easily, she thought wistfully, imagining what it would be like to have this powerful, sexy demi-god at her disposal for real. She nodded silently, staring into his jet black eyes.

  “Good.” His tone was all business. “Come along.”

  The restaurant was deliciously warm inside, after the brusque cold of the wintry night and Missy gratefully handed her evening coat to the cloak room attendant. They were seated in a private dining booth, away from the main hustle and bustle of the restaurant. A sheer curtain could be drawn to enclose the booth in almost complete privacy. They were the first to arrive.

  Nate ordered a martini for himself and turned to Missy to enquire as to her preference. She didn’t want to seem like a juvenile, always having water, so she asked for a lemon, lime and bitters.

  “This is a beautiful restaurant,” she observed to fill the silence, which was palpating with nervous tension.

  He dipped his head in agreement.

  “Not one you own?” She teased, for it seemed like he or some Russian mobster owned most of London’s prestige establishments.

  “No. Sometimes it’s nice to dine somewhere without it being about work.”

  “It must be hard to switch off your analytical brain in those circumstances,” she supposed and he nodded.

  “I have to see only the bigger picture. I’m naturally detail orientated though, so when I’m dining in a restaurant of mine and I see a chipped wine glass, or staff being sloppy, I find it hard not to say something then and there.”

  “What about when you see waitresses drooling over particularly sexy customers?” She asked with mock innocence.

  His smile was broad and genuine, and she felt a shiver of appreciation. “Depends on the waitress.” He leaned forward and took her hands in his. “When I saw you, I knew there wasn’t a hope in hell that I wouldn’t get you.”

  She bit down on her lip. She wanted to ask the question that had been zipping mercilessly around her brain. Did you really regret it? But she couldn’t. She suspected he would say that he had, and then her heart would be broken beyond repair.

  “And what about those chipped glasses? Do you whip them straight into the bin? Storm them into the kitchen and demand an explanation?”

  He grinned. “I’m tempted to. But my business interests are expansive. As much as I’d like to micro-manage every operation, I can’t. That’s why I have good management teams in place, and an all-important chain of command.”

  Missy thought about telling him that Dean, the manager at his restaurant she’d worked at, was not particularly on the ball. He’d probably broken a million labour laws letting her go so unceremoniously.

  “Are you the top of the tree?” She asked, wanting to build a bigger picture of his life.

  “In charge of everything?” He clarified, and she nodded.

  “I took over from my father as group CEO ten years ago.”

  “Ten years ago you would have been twenty five. So young...” she remarked thoughtfully.

  “A year older than you are.” His voice held a note of something that she didn’t like. As if just realising the age gap between them spanned a decade. She frowned.

  “I mean for such a stressful position as CEO of an enormous company.”

  “I don’t find it stressful. Perhaps compared to waitressing.” He had only meant to tease her, but he saw in her reaction that she wasn’t amused. She raised her eyebrows archly and he shook his head, quickly glossing over something that might have caused her offence. He wasn’t a bloody snob, so why the hell had he just sounded like it? “I don’t do it all alone though. My brother BJ has no interest in the CEO responsibilities, but he takes on particular projects and manages them from beginning to end. He’s General Manager and shares a lot of the burden.”

  Missy was fascinated by this. It was ve
ry interesting to her to know what his work life involved. Their conversation was halted by the arrival of the rest of their party. A very beautiful and exotic looking woman sashayed through the curtain and into their booth.

  Missy recognised her instantly, of course. She was one of America’s most loved comedy actresses. She’d made a name for herself on a long running television show that was still popular the world over, and she’d gone on to star in several hit films. This was Angelique Bradley-Anderson. Nate’s wife. Or ex-wife, she hastily amended.

  The brunette had dressed to kill. Her stunning figure was only just sheathed in a skin-tight mini-dress that plunged at the neckline. Her impressive bosom was on display for all to admire. Her hair had been straightened to within an inch of its life and hung in dark, silky curtains down her back. Her makeup looked professionally done. Missy, who had until then felt self-conscious in such a fancy dress, silently thanked god she’d stuck with her instincts and bought the damned thing.

  Behind Angelique there was a middle-aged man who looked a little daunted. Displaying his innate good manners, Nate stood and nodded at his ex-wife. “Angelique,” he acknowledged almost pleasantly. Missy followed his lead and stood, ignoring the speculative glare the other woman threw her. Sensing her discomfort, Nate took Missy’s hand in his and squeezed it. She wasn’t sure if he was trying to reassure her or thank her, but she appreciated the small gesture. The sparks that flew through her at his touch left little room for insecurity or shyness. Only need, raw and desperate.

  Angelique’s guest extended a hand, “Mr Anderson, I’m Karl Finn.”

  “My lawyer,” Angelique said haughtily. Her accent, which on TV and films had always seemed soft and international like Nate’s, rang with the deep south in person. In fact, she reminded Missy a little of the film version of Scarlett O’hara.

  “I thought we agreed to keep this civil,” Nate reminded his ex-wife, sitting down.

  “You’ve brought someone,” Angelique said scathingly. She took up a seat opposite Nate, and the lawyer beside her.

  Missy smiled at them both, her features serene despite the barbed wire that was wrapping around their tense little group.

  “Allow me to introduce Missy to you, Angelique. Karl.”

  Missy held out a hand which Angelique reluctantly took.

  “You brought a date to our divorce settlement meeting?”

  He shrugged, “I thought having Missy here would keep things civil. Besides, I find I don’t particularly want to spend any time apart from her.”

  If Missy hadn’t already been paid so handsomely for her performance, she would have rolled her eyes at his completely false and sickeningly saccharine assertion. She didn’t though. Instead, she simpered back at him, to all the world looking like a devoted lover.

  Angelique snorted. “I wouldn’t get used to the attentions, Missy. My husband loses interest faster than race cars change tyres.”

  “Ex-husband,” Missy correctly sweetly, though the woman’s warning did hit its mark. She wasn’t going to give the brunette the satisfaction of thinking she could upset her, though.

  Beside her, Nate inwardly heaved a sigh of relief. She might look like butter wouldn’t melt, but Missy clearly had nerves of steel. He had been sceptical about how she’d handle the myriad social engagements that she would be thrown into, but now he saw he needn’t have worried. If Missy could handle Angelique’s particular brand of poison, she could handle anything.

  “Let’s get down to business,” Angelique said tersely. The lawyer slid a brown folder towards Nate and he took it. He looked over the details. It took a few minutes, and while he read, the actress beckoned a waitress. She ordered drinks for the table – cocktails, and a bottle of wine which Missy knew from her brief hospitality stint cost an absolute fortune.

  Expensive tastes, she reminded herself, thinking of Nate’s earlier comment. Had that been part of the attraction to this glamorous actress? Missy didn’t think she would ever feel comfortable throwing such ludicrous amounts of money away, and on alcohol, of all things.

  Eventually, Nate separated the document, page by page. Then, he picked up the first three, and handed them back to the lawyer. The remaining wad of, perhaps ten A4 sheets of paper, he tore in half. “Those three pages are what I’m prepared to offer, Angelique. You’ll remember we had a watertight pre-nup, and what I’m offering tonight is in excess of what that allows.”

  Angelique’s cheeks flamed, and somehow she looked even more beautiful. Missy slid a side-long glance to Nate. She wondered if he was still attracted to this famous actress. How could he not be? She was very beautiful, and obviously he had loved her at one stage. Enough to marry her.

  Missy took a sip of her soft drink. The alcohol arrived and she watched Angelique throw back a martini as if it were fruit juice.

  “I’ll fight you,” she snarled warningly at Nate. “I’ll fight you for what’s mine.”

  Nate did not seem concerned, and the lawyer did not seem keen. Missy watched as Karl shifted anxiously in the leather chair.

  “You can fight me, and I’ll withdraw my offer. You’ll get exactly what the pre-nup states, which is less than what I’m prepared to sign for now. And a messy and expensive court case as well.”

  “You wouldn’t. You hate publicity.”

  He shrugged. “I hate you more.”

  Missy was taken aback by his cruel derision. Nate’s eyes clashed with hers and she felt a chill down her spine at the cold fury that was on display there. She looked away quickly.

  She actually felt a chord of sympathy for this woman, who had been chewed up and spat out by Nate and was none too happy about it. She stood up awkwardly and was on the receiving end of her own particularly unpleasant glare from her date.

  “Excuse me,” she said, slipping behind his seat and heading for the curtain.

  “Missy?” His voice, laced with calm authority, stopped her. “Where are you going?”

  She coloured, flashed him a smile that showed how pissed she was at the interrogation. “The powder room.”

  He let out an exasperated grimace. The situation with Angelique had robbed him of any good manners to Missy, and he hated that he had taken his general frustrations out on her. He softened his tone with effort. “It’s along the far wall, to the right.”

  Missy nodded and slipped through the curtain, glad to have temporarily escaped the tension.

  Once closeted inside the rest rooms, she leant against the marble wash basin, and ran a hand over her hair. She almost didn’t recognise her face. Her eyes were glowing with lust, her cheeks were flushed and her skin shone. She dabbed some lip gloss on and tried to regain her usual equilibrium. A minute or two later, the door swung open and Angelique appeared. She was such a vision of radiant beauty that Missy felt pale and ordinary, immediately.

  Missy gave her a small smile, unsure how one acts to one’s fictional boyfriend’s ex-wife. She went to leave the bathroom, but Angelique stopped her with a hand on her wrist.

  “You seem nice. You seem young. Nate Anderson is not the guy for you, trust me.”

  Missy looked at her in confusion. “Oh... we’re not...ah...serious, or anything.”

  “Nate might not be serious, but you are. I can tell by the way you were looking at him. I’m warning you now because I don’t want another woman to go through what I did. He is a callous bastard. He will break your heart. Stay away from him, for your own sake.”

  Missy shivered at the intensity of the other woman’s advice. She removed her hand and walked out, feeling shaken by the unpleasant encounter.

  When she returned to the table, Nate was alone. “Karl’s gone to file the papers with his office immediately and Angelique stormed out in a huff. They’re probably both worried I’ll change my mind. Truth is, at double that price I’d be well shot of her.”

  And so it was that Nate and Missy ended up eating a deux. He’d ordered an eye fillet for himself, and she’d chosen a crab linguine. It was delicious, but she found
her appetite had deserted her after the unpleasant confrontation in the bathroom. She pushed the pasta around her plate, under his watchful disapproval.

  “Is something wrong with your dinner?”

  Missy, caught by surprise by his question, shook her head. “Oh, no. It’s delicious. I’m just not very hungry.”

  He put his cutlery down and leaned towards her. “Do I need to insert a consumption clause in your employment agreement?” Her pale green eyes showed her confusion. “I want you to eat more. You’re fading away in front of me. I don’t like skinny women.”

  “Gee, thanks a bunch,” she said on a weak laugh.

  He raised his eyes skyward. “I told you the first night we met, I’m bored by coyness. You must know you have the kind of body guys go wild for. I don’t like that you’ve lost so much weight.”

  Her voice was cold. “My weight is none of your concern.”

  “It is while you’re working for me. Eat.”

  “It’s not what you think,” she said, driving the pasta around her fork slowly. “I ran into Angelique in the ladies’ room.” This caught Nate’s attention. He raised an eyebrow inquisitively and Missy nodded. “She seems pretty broken up about your split.”

  His laugh was humourless. “My ex-wife is a terrible human being, but a world class actress. I learned the hard way not to believe a word she says.”

  People always bad-mouthed each other in break ups, it was true. Perhaps the glamorous actress had just been venting her spleen to Missy. But Missy had become an expert at reading people. Growing up, her parents had shown multiple personalities depending on their moods and their level of drunkenness, and Missy had always to know which mood she was likely to encounter and modify her behaviour accordingly. That sixth sense made Missy believe Angelique had been genuinely upset.

  She knew it wasn’t any of her business, but she did judge Nate for breaking the other woman’s heart so brutally. And then treating her so contemptibly over their divorce settlement. She took it as fair warning not to get too invested in him. She ate her dinner half-heartedly, trying to show him that she wasn’t on some crazy diet. But she couldn’t finish more than half the serve.