The Tycoon's Virgin Mistress

by Clare Connelly

  “I broke a lamp. I uh.. how did you even hear that?”

  “We monitor the apartment constantly.”

  Missy blushed, wondering what they’d heard between her and Nate. She forced a tight smile. “I’m fine. Sorry to, er, disturb you.” Her voice wasn’t steady and she knew she wasn’t far from bursting into tears. “Excuse me,” She said, clutching her date book to her chest. She padded back into the bedroom, gingerly stepped around the lamp, thinking she would attend to it in the morning. She flopped into bed and now she did cry. Silently, indulgently, and cathartically. For all of ten minutes. Then, she picked herself up and showered. No sense even trying to sleep, it wasn’t going to happen.

  She had a warm shower, all the while berating herself for not having seen the signs sooner. She, of all people, should have realised what was happening. She lathered her body all over, and as her hands rubbed across her abdomen, she paused. There was a tiny, fragile life form in there.

  She must be about eight weeks, she guessed, working back to her last period.

  Oh, God. This was a nightmare. A beautiful, wonderful nightmare.

  She couldn’t possibly take care of a baby, and her brother. And Robert still had a long way to go in his recovery.

  The thought of involving Nate terrified her.

  She knew instinctively that he would be a wonderful father. But when she remembered his cool disdain of her, she knew she couldn’t handle telling him yet. He would hate her! He would think her stupid and blame her and even though she knew that it was just as much his fault as hers, she couldn’t think how to even tell him. They’d only slept together once, and they’d used protection. She knew these things happened – and more often than people liked to believe – but why did it happen to her?

  And what about her life? She stared heavenward, biting her lip. She was not going to cry again. She knew what miracles babies were, and this was a real miracle baby. The odds had been stacked against it from the beginning and yet, miraculously, she’d fallen pregnant. It was incredible. But her life had been steadfastly derailed since their great aunt’s passing, and now here was another major diversion from what she had always wanted to do. From what she had come so close to doing.

  She eventually stopped the water running and stepped out of the steamy cubicle.

  She would have to tell Nate eventually. She didn’t believe in keeping something of this magnitude hidden. He had a right to be involved. But just not yet. She would go and see a doctor today, and get confirmation, and then cross all these bridges.

  An emergency appointment with a Harley Street doctor just after lunch was able to quickly confirm her state. He had a miniature ultrasound machine in his room and he showed her the tiny baby, with its little heart beat and bean like shape.

  Missy had fallen in love with the tiny life form then and there. Any feelings of worry about the predicament she was in evaporated. As ever, she would find a way, and she would damned well make sure it worked. If Nate was angry, then he could vote with his feet. She was having this baby, and she wasn’t going to feel anything negative about it.

  She didn’t have the luxury of time to recover from the shocking discovery. They had a fundraising ball to attend that evening. One of the big ones. Usually, Missy liked these best, because there were always plenty of distractions to keep her mind off just how politely distant and cold Nate was with her these days. But she wasn’t relishing going tonight. How could she behave normally, as if her whole life hadn’t just taken on a new meaning in a matter of hours?

  She stopped by the Portia Carvallo boutique that Nate had set up a line of credit for her in. Even though Missy had been the one to put the brakes on their sexual relationship, his ready acquiescence had hurt her. That, and his frequent nocturnal disappearances which left her in little doubt that he was finding release for his sexual requirements elsewhere. No doubt there were plethora of women willing to welcome him to their beds. She sighed in frustration, and the sales assistant tapped her on the shoulder. “Everything alright, Madam?”

  There were so many beautiful dresses, but Missy wanted to look sensational this evening. He could sleep with whomever he wanted, but Missy wanted to see the same desire in his eyes that had been there in those early, lust-filled days.

  She smiled, unaware of the envy she inspired in the sales assistant. Missy truly was heart-stoppingly beautiful, even with very little makeup and zero sleep. “I need to look spectacular this evening. I mean, really out of this world. Can you help me?”

  The sales assistant’s response was arch, “I don’t think you need much help, madam.”

  Missy blushed. “Truly, show me whatever dress you think will do the most for me. I’m no good at fashion.”

  An hour later and Missy had selected a black dress that had taken a leaf out of the Angelique fashion pages. It was far lower cut than Missy normally wore, and her newly more-fully-rounded breasts were displayed to quite seductive effect. Missy had worried it was a bit much, but the sales assistant had insisted it was still perfectly modest, and very alluring. The dress was fitted through the waist, which was mercifully still as slim as ever, and then fell into a full skirt to a few inches above the knees. It was a rather vintage style, in fact, and it inspired Missy to have her hair set in a Grace Kelly-esque chignon at a nearby salon.

  That night, she dressed in her room, and was careful to stay there until Nate came looking for her. She had shaved her legs and rubbed them with oil, her makeup was minimalist but she had paid special attention to her eyes and lips, making her eyes smoky and her lips full. Missy was not a fan of wearing too much black, so she accessorised the dress with turquoise stilettos and a matching handbag.

  What she needed was to eke out as much pleasure as she could before this whole situation went up in flames. When he knew about the baby, he’d be unlikely to touch her ever again. And she knew she couldn’t let that happen. She wasn’t going to be careful anymore. Her whole life had already changed, and so she might as well make the most of Nate while she could. Make memories that would get her through the rest of her life... a life that would see him in her life, but always out of reach.

  A few minutes before seven, there was a knock at your door. “Missy, are you ready?” Nate called.

  “One moment!” She answered breathily, dabbing some perfume behind her ears. Ignoring the sudden wave of nausea that assailed her at the strong fragrance, she flashed an over-bright smile at herself in the mirror. Not normally vain, and certainly not normally pleased with her looks, Missy was taken aback by how well it came together. Casting one last look at her cleavage to reassure herself it was decent, she opened the bedroom door.

  Nate was leaning against the door jamb, his back to her as he faced into the lounge room.

  When he turned to survey her, his eyes slowly raking her body from head to toe, and he let out a low whistle. That was already an improvement on recent weeks, she thought, pleasure making her smile even more beautiful.

  He was dressed in a tuxedo, and they made a striking couple, as they entered the benefit. It was thronging with well-dressed people, and again, Missy felt a wave of nausea as the sudden heat hit her full on.

  Nate placed a hand on her elbow. “Ok?”

  “Fine,” she answered immediately, her heart racing. She must be careful not to give the game away. Not yet.

  The format of the evening was cocktail canapés, followed by a sit-down dinner and then charity auction. Missy noticed that, as with most events, Nate was under siege almost immediately. Women, yes. Many women, all glamorous and beautiful, some married, most single, but all wanting their share of time with the great Nate Anderson. It was as though Missy wasn’t even there. Nate was polite but disinterested for the most part, but it still got under Missy’s skin. “It’s like women don’t even notice I’m here,” she fumed at him, when they were finally alone for a brief moment.

  He grinned down at her. “You’re not jealous, are you, Missy?”

  She rolled her eyes. “It
’s just rude, that’s all. I abhor bad manners.”

  Nate laughed. “Well, you’re welcome to make it obvious that I’m not available.”

  “How do you suggest I do that?” She remembered what he’d said when they had kissed at Selfridges. That was just the kind of demonstration he was alluding to, and it was everything she wanted. She leaned forward , so they were now practically touching. Her breasts were literally right under his nose, and she felt him still. His eyes flashed.

  “Let me think,” he murmured, and he put his hand at the small of her back, pulling her closer towards him. Just at the nearness, as their bodies came into full contact, she shuddered. He emanated such warmth, such strength, as she had never known. His chest was rock hard, and she ached to kiss it, all over. “You could always kiss me.”

  She pretended to think about it, long and hard. Then nodded. “Yes. You’re right. I mean, I know we’re just working but I don’t like being ignored. I mean, what if I were really your girlfriend.” Her tone of mock offence brought a smile to his lips. But his smile died the minute he saw her intentions. Shit. She was going to kiss him, here, now.

  He took the initiative and pressed his lips to hers, feeling her submit immediately to what they both wanted. Well, to the start of what they both wanted. Her hands snaked around his neck, her fingers brushed through his hair and he felt his erection jump to life. She pressed her hips seductively against him and he growled hungrily. He had to stop this, or they’d end up being thrown out and probably arrested. He pulled back from her mouth, but kept his arms locked loosely around her waist, clasped behind her back.

  “We’re causing a scene,” he explained.

  “Oh.” She whispered, but didn’t try to move away.

  “So this is where you decide you want me?” He was joking, but the way he felt about this woman, and how badly he needed her, was no laughing matter. “Your timing sucks, angel.”

  Missy threw her head back and laughed and it was such a glorious sound that his heart stopped beating. He looked at her, so youthful, so stunning, exquisitely beautiful, and so kind. More than that, she had integrity. He’d slept with many women in the past, and he knew that a proportion of them had been influenced by wealth. Not Missy. She might know him to be one of the richest men in America, but she didn’t care. That impressed him.

  The direction of his thoughts made him uncomfortable. To break the mood, he pulled his hands away and took a champagne flute from a passing waiter. He asked for a lemon, lime and bitters to be brought to Missy. As it arrived, people were being ushered into the dining room. They followed and took their seats, right at the front of the room.

  Six other people made up their group, and Missy recognised the elderly man who had been lunching with Nate that first day. He nodded to her and Missy smiled back. She was pleased to see they were sitting next to one another.

  He introduced himself as Chuck Beauchamp. A very British name, but he also had an American accent. She learned that he was Nate’s godfather, and attorney, and he had travelled to the UK to oversee the purchase of a large chain of supermarkets that Nate’s company was undertaking. His wife, Mary, was similarly lovely, and Missy found she really enjoyed speaking with them. While Nate was engaged in conversation with another guest, a beautiful woman, Missy noticed glumly, Mary leaned towards her. “Missy, my dear,” she tapped her on the arm to get her attention.

  Missy reluctantly stopped staring daggers at the red-head who was flirting with her pretend boyfriend. She smiled at Mary in response.

  “Tell me, how do you know Nate?”

  Missy had to compose herself quickly to come up with a suitable reply. “I work for him at the hotel in Mayfair,” she said, only slightly stretching the truth.

  “Oh, yes. It’s a beautiful location, that one.” Mary leaned closer, conspiratorially taking Missy’s hand. “Do you like him, dear?”

  Missy smiled softly at the older woman. “Oh,” she said thoughtfully. “We’ve really only just met.”

  “You know about his divorce, of course.” She said, sighing with sadness. “His parents weren’t surprised. They never liked his ex-wife. I had always hoped for Nathaniel’s sake that it would work out. Divorce is such an ugly business.” She pulled a little moue of distaste and Missy nodded sympathetically.

  “Better to divorce than be unhappy though, don’t you think?”

  “No, dear. Better to have never married in the first instance,” she quipped, clinking her wine glasses to Missy’s water with a wink of understanding.

  Missy smiled and sipped her drink. “Do you have any children?” She asked, changing the subject.

  “Oh, no. Sadly, Chuck and I weren’t blessed with kids. I would have loved them, but it wasn’t meant to be.” Her face was briefly wistful and Missy felt a stab of sympathy for her. How easy it was for some to conceive, and how difficult, nay, impossible, for others.

  “BJ and Nate are our god kids, and they’re as much our children as real children could be. Their parents are our closest and oldest friends, and the boys have been as much in our house as theirs growing up. We’re lucky to have them.”

  Missy lifted her cheeks into a small smile. “Nate’s lucky to have so many people who loved him so much,” Missy observed quietly.

  Mary nodded. “While I think of it, dear, we’re having BJ and Nate for dinner, the Friday after next. I’m sure Nate was intending on bringing you, but just in case, I thought I should mention it. You know what men are like!” She raised her eyes heavenward in a gesture of apparent frustration. “If it’s not written down for them they forget all about it. But it’s BJ’s birthday and he’s coming from the States especially.”

  Missy couldn’t say whether or not Nate would want her there. It sounded like a rather intimate affair and one where her professional services were probably not sought. The thought upset her, for some reason, but she was saved from having to make a response. Two tables over, a chair suddenly tipped backwards and a rather overweight woman fell backwards with it. “We need a doctor! Good God! HELP!” The woman’s companion started shouting frantically.

  Missy’s training instantly kicked in and she didn’t hesitate before scraping her own chair back and rushing across to the hive of activity. The woman on the ground had turned a worrying shade of grey. Missy knelt beside her and leant forward, placing her heart on her chest. She grabbed a wrist to feel for a pulse. It was very, very feint, but there.

  “Call 999,” she commanded.

  “Missy, what are you doing?”

  “Nate,” she said through gritted teeth, “Get everyone back and let me work.”

  She began CPR, and as a crowd began to form, she heard Nate urging people to keep their distance. She persisted with the CPR, knowing it was the best chance this woman had for survival. As she worked, she hummed the BeeGee’s Staying Alive. It was silly, but she had learned long ago that effective chest compressions had to be rendered at a rate of one hundred per minute, exactly the same as the beat of the seventies disco hit. It had always worked for her in the past.

  There was a large clock above the wall and she kept checking it, watching the woman for any change. Her colour was appearing marginally better, but she needed to get her a hospital. Behind her, Nate said, “Missy? Let me take over.”

  She shook her head. It was far more difficult for a layperson to render effective CPR in a full blown heart attack episode, which this woman was in the midst of.

  It had been eleven long minutes when the doors burst open and two crews of paramedics arrived. The dinner guests parted for them instantly and Missy continued CPR, kept compressing, watching the clock, wilfully ignoring the burning pain in her arms, until they’d reached her.

  “What have we got?” The female paramedic asked, leaning down to take over.

  “Immediate and massive spontaneous myocardial infarction. I’ve administered CPR for eleven minutes. Colour has improved. No speech, no consciousness. Pulse thready but improving.”

  The paramedic no
dded. “Great. We’ll take her to Central.” Two paramedics slid the woman onto a gurney while the other continued CPR. The patient was gone in an instant and pandemonium broke out.

  A woman at the table, badly shaken, looked like she herself was about to faint and Missy put an arm around her waist. “My sister,” the woman explained, her face colourless.

  “What’s your name?” Missy asked, her voice calm, despite the physical exertion and stress she’d just undergone. Beside her, Nate was silent and deathly still, but she was too caught up in what was happening to wonder how he was reacting to this sudden turn of events.

  “Beatrice,” The woman answered.

  “Beatrice, you need to sit down and have some fruit juice. You look like you’re about to pass out.”

  She heard Nate order some orange juice from a waiter and it appeared almost instantly.

  “Oh, my dear. Thank heavens you were here. You were so fast! How did you know what to do?”

  Missy answered automatically, for the first time in months, without wondering if she was safe to be completely honest. “I’m a doctor. The training just took over.”

  “You’re a what?” Nate demanded, turning her around to face him.

  Slowly, registering the shock on his face, she said, “A doctor, Nate.”

  “And when were you going to tell me this?”

  “Can we talk about this later?” She said calmly.

  He looked around and realised with consternation that quite a crowd had gathered. Everyone wanted a piece of Missy, and he stood beside her, watching in awe as his innocent and shy protégé, for want of a better word, became the instant crowd sensation. And deservedly so. He had never seen anything more impressive than what he’d just witnessed. Missy, Doctor Missy, was a natural. She had seemed so calm, and totally in control.

  He was filled with questions. Chiefly, how come she hadn’t told him? He felt a sharp pang of self-recriminatory regret. He hadn’t exactly evinced any interest in her life, had he? He’d just presumed she was a waitress, with no hopes and ambitions beyond it. He hadn’t bothered to look beyond the sheer force of his lust for her, if he was frankly honest. She should have told him though... And why was she in such dire financial straits when her trained qualified her for an excellent salary?