She bent to pick the card up again, and studied the lettering once more. There was no mistake. His distinctive slanting hand leapt from the card, damning him with every stroke. Ignoring her instinct to rent the card in two, Callie carefully placed it back on the mantel, barely able to draw breath.
“Are you all right, dear? You’re very pale.”
Irene’s voice swam through the fog in Callie’s mind. Callie had to get out of there. She couldn’t stay and go through the motions of a late-afternoon tea with the woman who’d been deceived by her husband for more than thirty-five years.
It was all too much. Somehow she had to gather her thoughts together and she knew she couldn’t do that with Irene sitting directly opposite her. Not today. Not when the realisation was all too raw and monumental in her mind.
“Actually, if you don’t mind I won’t stay, Irene. I’m sorry, but I’m really not feeling all that well. Can I call you a bit later in the week?”
“Certainly, but will you be all right to drive home?”
“Yes, I’ll be fine. I think I need an early night is all. Again, I’m very sorry.”
“Don’t even think about it,” Irene said. “We’ll catch up before the weekend and you can get me up-to-date on Tremont at the same time.”
How she made it out to her car and safely home was a mystery to her, but the instant Callie set foot inside her house she crumbled. On legs that had the consistency of overcooked spaghetti she made it up the stairs to her bedroom where she threw herself onto her covers and lay, eyes burning, staring at the ceiling.
The truth stared her starkly in the face. Bruce Palmer had to be the married man Josh’s mum had had the affair with.
Bruce was Josh’s father.
Callie couldn’t reconcile the head of Palmer Enterprises with the man whose intimate thoughts she’d read in a letter to his mistress. Nor could she reconcile that man, the lover, with the one who’d rejected both his mistress and his unborn child so callously.
Josh Tremont and Adam Palmer were about the same age. Irene had obviously gotten pregnant around the same time as Josh’s mother, and with the benefit of a legitimate heir in his near future, Bruce had clearly chosen to shun the woman he’d professed to love.
Or had it all been a lie, as Josh had said? Had he never loved Josh’s mother? Had he just seen a pretty face in the workplace and, using the power and charisma of his position, wooed her into his bed?
It just didn’t seem right. Bruce Palmer had always had such a dignity about him. She knew about the loss of one of his twin sons shortly after birth and had been told that afterwards he’d poured himself heart and soul into his work, almost at the expense of everything and everyone else.
Were those the actions of a man who’d discarded his illegitimate child without another thought? It just didn’t feel right. And yet, it had happened. Josh had the proof. He had the curt letter of dismissal, the cheque his mother had never cashed, all there in the bundle of letters.
Callie’s heart ached for Josh and for his dead mother. They’d had nothing and no one but each other, and they could have had so much more. Bruce Palmer could have ensured their financial security with very little hardship to himself. It would have been the right thing to do. The honourable thing to do.
Suddenly, Callie was faced with the awful truth that a man she’d long admired was not who she’d thought he was. Above all else, what could she now tell Irene? The woman expected answers, truthful answers.
Bile rose in Callie’s throat, forcing her upright and into her bathroom. She clung to the cold surface of her bathroom vanity as thoughts tumbled through her head, one after the other.
Now she understood Josh’s relentless pursuit of Palmer Enterprises and his apparent aim of bringing the company down around Bruce’s ears. Fear made her stomach lurch and Callie fought to keep it under control.
What did Josh plan to do, she wondered? At what stage would he play out the final stages of a drama she had no doubt he’d planned for years. He’d said he would force his father to publicly acknowledge him. He obviously planned to use the letters to do so.
Realisation dawned. She knew exactly when Josh planned to go public. At the time it would do the most damage to Bruce’s credibility. The consul announcement would be made on Christmas Eve and she knew there’d be much feting and fanfare surrounding it. The truth about Bruce’s behaviour—about the woman he’d used and discarded and the son he’d ignored—would be blown into the stratosphere of tabloid gossip.
The Palmers stood to lose everything they held dear.
Callie ran cold water in the basin and splashed it against her face. What should she do now? Did she go to Irene and tell her the truth? Shatter the very foundation of what she’d built her life around? Tears filled Callie’s eyes and began to tumble in a steady stream down her cheeks as she realised she could never be the one to destroy Irene’s world. Not when Irene had been the one to create one for Callie.
So where did that leave her? Did she warn Bruce that his bastard son was hell-bent on revenge? Or could she forestall Josh, confront him about his father? Beg him to withdraw from the retribution that was honestly his? By her reckoning she had four weeks before the announcement was due to be made. That was four weeks in which she had to turn things around. Right now she had no idea what to do.
“What do you mean Palmers beat us to the punch on this one? We had this deal all but signed.”
Josh glared at the assembled management team in the boardroom and scoured their faces for any hint of what had gone wrong.
“Josh, we don’t understand it ourselves. Somehow they must have gotten an inside track on our proposal,” one of the executives offered.
An inside track? Josh pondered the ramifications of that suggestion for a split second before speaking again.
“Is there any way we can block them? Go lower? Offer more?”
“It’s a done deal. The trade ministry has signed off on it already.”
Josh swore, long and low, before dismissing his team.
“This had better not happen again,” he growled to his legal advisor as the man held back after everyone else had filed out of the room.
“Josh, there’s no way the leak came from any of them. They hadn’t even been made privy to your final proposal before Palmers swooped in under us.”
“What are you suggesting?”
“That maybe you’ve been employing the same underhanded tactics yourself for so long that now you can’t even trust your own men. Think about it, Josh. Who else could have disseminated that information? Who else might have something to gain by it? Either your computer system was breached externally by some hacker, or perhaps you need to look a little closer to your own office before you start accusing these guys of foul play.”
His own office? There were only two people who had access to his computer. Himself and once, very briefly, Callie—and he knew for damn certain he hadn’t shared his proposal with Palmers.
Had she double-crossed him? An ember of fury flared to life deep in his gut. The evidence certainly pointed to it. Had she hoodwinked him all along? A wave of disgust nearly swamped him. He’d allowed his libido to rule his head. He’d let her get close. He’d seen her, wanted her, had her and he’d shared truths with her he’d never shared with any other person.
Above all, he’d trusted her. The words she’d uttered weeks ago now came back to haunt him, “Seems you ought to be more concerned about the loyalty of people you can buy.”
People like her, maybe?
If it was true that she’d betrayed him, she would pay for her deceit, along with that of her old boss. He’d make sure they were both hung out to dry. It shouldn’t be too hard to find out where her loyalties lay.
Palmers would be high on the success of this latest contract, they’d be eager to do the same again—to pip him at the post—and this time he would let them. An idea began to formulate in his mind. He’d have to be careful, but he knew he could do it, and prove Callie’s innocence or guilt a
t the same time.
And when he carried this one off, he’d have destroyed his competition for good.
Ten
I t was two days since she’d made her discovery and she still had no idea of what she was going to do. In the office, Josh had been the same as ever—focussed, professional—yet every now and then she’d caught him watching her as if something else weighed on his mind. They hadn’t been intimate since the weekend, and she found herself missing that special closeness they’d shared.
She started at her desk, her senses on instant alert as Josh came through from his office.
“Callie, I’d like you to type up these notes now—top priority and top level confidentiality. Make certain you password the file with this code.”
She noted the code he’d written on the top of the sheets of his hand-scrawled notes.
“Do you want these back when I’ve completed the computer file or should I destroy them?”
“Destroy them. The file is all we’ll need.”
He turned to go back into his office.
“Josh? Is everything okay?” she asked, rising from her seat and walking over to him.
To her relief, he smiled and bent down slightly to kiss her cheek.
“Everything’s fine, just busy—making up for losing the Flinders contract to Palmers.”
Callie felt guilt run cold through her veins. The Flinders contract had been the one she’d given the information on to Irene. It was what she’d had to do at the time, but now she wished she’d never agreed to be the go-between in this crazy game. She wasn’t cut out for the subterfuge or the emotional cost it demanded.
“With any luck, the material you’re working on today will cover that quite nicely,” Josh smiled. “Are you busy tonight?”
Callie dragged her thoughts together. “No, I don’t have any plans.”
“Let’s have dinner together.”
“I tell you what,” she started, thinking quickly. She didn’t want the anonymity of some restaurant tonight. She needed Josh’s attention on her and only her if she was to assure herself that nothing was wrong between them. “Why don’t I cook for you?”
“Are you sure you wouldn’t rather go out?”
“I’m certain,” she said, nodding for good measure. “What time will you be finished tonight?”
“I’ve got that meeting away from the office at four-thirty,” he considered, and she could see him mentally juggling how long it would be expected to take. “I can be at your place by seven, but why don’t you go around to my place instead. It’s closer to where I’ll be and I can get there to be with you sooner.”
“Perfect. I’ll bring everything over for dinner.”
“Bring a change of clothes for tomorrow while you’re at it,” he said. He handed her an electronic key. “Here, you’ll need this. It’ll open the gate and garage door. Just leave the gate open for me.”
“And the alarm?”
He repeated a numerical code, which she committed to memory.
Excitement unfurled within her. Clearly, he couldn’t suspect her of wrongdoing. She still stood a chance of making things work, of maybe even turning his need for revenge into something else. Realistically, she knew she’d be fighting against a current that had roared through his life for far too long, but she had to hope that somehow she could make a difference.
The sheaf of notes Josh had given Callie were extensive. How he’d managed to corner another proposal so quickly after losing the Flinders job explained why he was so successful. As Callie automatically transcribed his crabbed handwriting, she started to mentally plan for the evening ahead. She wanted everything to be perfect.
It was exactly a month until Christmas. Would it be too early to give him a gift? Perhaps herself, gift-wrapped in something special? At lunchtime she found the perfect thing. A rich burgundy satin nightgown and matching organza peignoir. She couldn’t wait to see Josh’s face when she wore it.
It was nearly five o’clock before she finished typing up the notes. She was getting her handbag from her drawer, in readiness to leave the office, when the strident shriek of the building alarm cut through her thoughts like a hot knife through butter. She knew the routine—drill or genuine alarm, she had to leave her office immediately.
As far as confidentiality was concerned, everything on her computer was set to auto backup already, and her computer itself would lock down without activity within five minutes. But that left the notes Josh had given her. She hadn’t shredded them yet and had no time to do that now.
Callie folded the sheets up and shoved them in her bag. She’d have to shred them when she came back once the building had the all-clear, but she couldn’t leave them lying around. As she joined the throng of staff members in the stairwell, and steeled herself for the long climb to the ground floor, she hoped this was only a drill and that they’d be back inside soon.
Her hopes were dashed as she waited at the staff assembly point. A small fire had started elsewhere in the building and the fire department had said it would be some time before they’d be letting everyone back in. The news was met with groans of dismay as most people would have to wait for the all-clear to be able to go inside and recover their means to return home.
Callie thanked her lucky stars she had her bag with her. While she couldn’t get into the underground car park to retrieve her car until the building was reopened, she could certainly taxi home and then taxi to Josh’s place. Once cleared by the building warden that she could go, she did exactly that.
The cab driver was all too happy to stop outside a nearby supermarket so she could gather the ingredients she wanted for the dinner she’d planned tonight, and then, for a nominal extra fee, to wait while she rushed inside her town house and gathered her things for the night ahead.
By the time she reached Josh’s house, she was racing. She dropped the ingredients for her dinner preparations in the kitchen. She put on a large pot of water to boil, and set to work slicing onions and garlic together with mushrooms and bacon for the fettuccine she’d decided on. At least the meal was quick and easy to prepare.
She hummed to herself as the aromas from the fry pan blended together and she added the ribbons of fresh pasta to the boiling water before stirring in cream and parmesan to the ingredients in the pan. The fresh pasta was ready in minutes and, once drained and lightly tossed with the sauce, she slid the whole mixture into a large shallow bowl, covered it with foil and set it in the oven to keep warm.
A quick cleanup in the kitchen and she was ready to race upstairs to the master bedroom where she stripped off her work clothes and underwear and slid into the nightgown and peignoir. She took a minute to freshen her fragrance, the spritz between her breasts sending a shimmer of something more to spiral through her.
The swish of her nightgown between her thighs as she made her way back downstairs started up a thrill of longing that beat from her core. She couldn’t wait for Josh to arrive home. A smile danced across her lips. There was something deliciously decadent about not wearing any undergarments. It ranked right up there with skinny-dipping in the rain.
Callie distracted herself by setting the dining room table and searched out a couple of candles to dress it up a little. She remembered seeing some lovely squat scented candles in the living room the last time she was here.
In the living room her eyes were inexorably drawn to the bookcase and, more particularly, to the small chest that sat there. In it lay the seed of Josh’s bitterness. The only physical evidence he had to say who his father really was.
Callie reached out and let her fingers rest on the lid. What would Josh be like now, she wondered, if those letters had never existed? Would he have been as driven to triumph in his chosen market? Had his very need for revenge been the catalyst that saw him reach the heights he knew today or would he have gotten there anyway? Had his father, by his neglect, inversely created Josh’s success?
In the distance she heard a door slam and she jumped, knocking the box. Surprisin
gly, the lid jumped, too. Josh hadn’t relocked it. She lifted the lid cautiously, as if doing so would unleash the miseries of Pandora’s box, then let the lid drop closed again. Obviously, he’d forgotten.
Footsteps echoed on the parquet floor of the entrance hall as Josh came through from the garage. She snatched her hand away and wheeled from the bookcase, all thoughts of the box and its contents banished from her mind as he entered the room.
“Something smells good,” he commented. “I was worried you might be late. I got a call about the tower.”
“Nothing was going to stop me being here with you tonight,” Callie said as she eased into his embrace and lifted her face for his kiss.
Her heart beat double-time in her chest by the time he released her.
“Dinner’s ready,” she said, slipping from his arms. “I was just getting some candles for the table.”
“It can wait,” Josh growled, reaching for her again. “Right now I want you.”
“Right now?”
Excitement thrilled through her.
“Oh, yes.”
Josh swept her up into his arms and headed straight up the stairs, his breath barely showing signs of any strain. In his bedroom he kicked the door closed behind them and gently lowered her to her feet.
“I like this,” he said, pushing aside her peignoir and sweeping his hand over the slinky fabric of her nightgown.
“It feels beautiful, but—” his hand slid under the hem of the gown and pushed upward until he cupped her bottom “—I like the feel of you more.”
“It’s your early Christmas gift,” Callie gasped.
Rational thought fled her mind as his fingers slid over her buttocks and then traced down until they reached the cleft between her thighs. Heat and moisture gathered there as his fingers teased her sensitive flesh.
“So that means I get to unwrap it,” he said with a smile.
Josh withdrew his hand, quickly slipped out of his jacket and yanked his tie out from under the collar of his shirt. Several buttons popped as he undid his shirt and pulled it free from his trousers. Callie could only stand and watch as he stripped down to his black briefs, and tremble as he walked toward her—his eyes darkest blue, his face a mask of determined perfection.
Defiant Mistress, Ruthless Millionaire Page 10
