Defiant Mistress, Ruthless Millionaire

by Yvonne Lindsay

  He reached for her and eased the peignoir from her shoulders, stopping to kiss each exposed inch of flesh until she quivered with desire. He eased her back onto the bed and trailed his fingers from her ankles upward to the hem of the gown, then, with his hands clenched in the satin, he pushed the fabric up, exposing her to him.

  His eyes darkened even more as he gazed upon her. If it were possible, she felt even wetter, more primed for him than she was already. And when he bent his head to her, taking her in his mouth, swirling her flesh with his tongue, grazing her nerve endings ever so softly with his teeth, she let her eyes close, her head drop back, and gave herself over to sensation.

  It was dark by the time they finally made their way back downstairs to eat dinner. Even though the meal had dried out somewhat in the oven, that did nothing to deter their appetite. Eventually, they took their glasses and the opened bottle of wine upstairs to attend to other, undiminished hungers.

  Afterwards, Josh fell into a deep slumber. Despite the lateness and her own weariness, Callie couldn’t sleep. Instead, she watched the man at her side, bathed in silver strands of moonlight, and never more beautiful to her than he’d ever been before. Her heart swelled with the solid truth that she finally allowed herself to admit. She loved him. Totally, and wholly.

  She wished she could do something, anything, to release him from the demons that drove him. To allow him the surcease of acceptance. But that was something only he could attain. He had to want it, embrace it.

  His plans for revenge against Bruce Palmer and his family were what propelled him, what gave his work purpose. But what of the man? Could he ever let go of the bitterness inside, even if he saw his plan through? And what of the damage to the Palmers?

  Callie knew what Bruce had done all those years ago was unforgivable, but time had a way of blurring the edges. Even though his behaviour with Josh’s mother had been reprehensible, his life afterwards had been anything but. Callie was certain he hadn’t so much as put a foot wrong in all the years since. He’d built his family and his business and he’d given to the community and the country unstintingly; hence the accolade of the upcoming consular position.

  Maybe his behaviour had been his own way of compensating for the way he’d treated Josh and his mother. Who knew? But Callie understood better than most that his appointment as the honorary consul to Guildara was based on Bruce Palmer, the man. The man he was now.

  Was it fair to destroy that? She didn’t think so. Bruce still had so much good to give to the world. If Josh had his way, the older man would be destroyed. Pilloried in the public eye. Despite what he’d done to Josh, Callie still owed it to Bruce not to let that happen.

  She slid from the bed and reached for her peignoir, not even fully understanding what she was about to do, just knowing in her heart of hearts that she had to do it. She had to destroy the contents of that box before Josh could use them against Bruce. Hopefully, then Josh could begin to heal the scar on his own heart.

  Moonlight shone bright into the sitting room, but even if it had been pitch dark Callie knew she’d unerringly be able to find her target. She took the box from its place on the bookshelf. Her heart beat a staccato rhythm as she lifted the lid and removed the stack of envelopes inside.

  She knew she had no right to do this. No right at all. But someone had to stop the cycle of hurt. Someone had to put an end to the anger and the accusations.

  She moved over to the deep fireplace set into the wall and knelt on the hearth. She knew she’d seen a firelighter somewhere in the inglenook. Her fingers closed over the very item she was looking for and she breathed a silent prayer of thanks.

  Callie set the firelighter on the hearth next to the bundle of letters and undid the ribbon that bound them together. A twinge of sorrow cut through her at the thought that the love contained within the words on those pages would be destroyed forever. But, she rationalised, that very love had wrought the complete opposite effect. And that effect had to be stopped now.

  She lifted one envelope from the top of the stack and held it over the grate, her fingers shaking as she clicked the small ignition switch on the firelighter over and over again. A faint blue spark appeared at the end of the firelighter. A blue spark that with a small hiss turned into a golden flame.

  She could feel the tears now, feel them burn within her eyes and scald her cheeks as she put the flame to the paper. The edge of the envelope lit up, glowing briefly before darkness consumed it, blackening the paper even as its contents had blackened Josh’s heart.

  Callie was sobbing now, lifting the next envelope and the next, adding them to the tiny blaze.

  Light unexpectedly flooded the room and Callie heard a male shout. Josh peremptorily pushed her aside, a small fire extinguisher in his hands. He dealt with the flames, snatching the lesser-damaged letters from the fireplace and spreading them on the hearth where they smouldered like the fury etched on his face.

  Looking up into his eyes, Callie knew this was the end of all she’d hoped for. The end of all her dreams. He’d never forgive her for this. Never understand that she’d done it for him.

  Eleven

  “W hat the hell do you think you’re doing?” Josh ground out through a jaw clenched so tight he thought his teeth would shatter.

  Callie just looked at him in horror.

  Rage soared through him like a live creature, consuming reason and making his vision blur angry and red. He wanted to grab her, shake the truth from her, but he knew if he caved in to that urge he’d be unaccountable for his actions.

  As if she could read his mind, she scooted out of his reach and drew upright, fear painting her already pale features even more pallid.

  “I had to do it, Josh.”

  “Had to? You have no right. Those are my private property. You know what they are to me.”

  Josh fought to control his temper when all he really wanted to do was throw her bodily from the house.

  “I know Bruce Palmer is your father. I can’t let you use those letters against him.”

  “You can’t?” he repeated incredulously. “It has nothing to do with you. Absolutely nothing.”

  “But it does, don’t you see? I have to protect them. They saved me from the most awful life, Josh. I had hit my lowest ebb. They saved me! You have no idea. I owe it to them to do everything in my power to stop you from destroying them and yourself in the process.”

  “You set out to ensnare me from the beginning, didn’t you?” he accused, taking a step toward her, his hands clenched into fists at his side. “This, everything, it’s all been one lie after another.”

  “No! I didn’t even want to take your damn job. I loved my work with Irene,” she protested.

  “Then why? Why did you come to work with me?”

  “You only wanted me to hurt them. What does it matter?”

  “Why did you come to work with me?” He enunciated each word so carefully he thought his mind would burst with the concentration it took.

  Callie dropped her head. When she spoke he was hard-pressed to hear her.

  “Irene wanted me to spy on you.”

  “Spy? On me?” Josh let loose a laugh that echoed hollowly through the room. “So you were behind the Flinders information leak. Well, isn’t that just kismet. All along I thought you were mine and there you were, betraying me to the very scum that made my mother’s life a living hell.”

  Callie flinched at the harshness of his words but he couldn’t feel any sympathy for the emotional blow he’d struck her.

  “Josh, this anger you bear toward him—it’s eating you up inside. It’s taking away everything decent, everything your mother raised you to be, and replacing it with something cruel and vindictive. Have you ever actually read those letters?” She flung a hand at the charred envelopes on the hearth.

  “I read them once. That was enough.”

  “Then you really don’t understand and you never will. I had to get rid of them before they consumed everything that I love in you.�
�

  “Love?” He felt as if something vile had crawled into his mouth as he said the word. “You’re trying to tell me that you love me?”

  “I do!” she cried, her hands now clenched together in front of her. “I tried not to. Lord knows, it was the last thing I expected or wanted. I couldn’t have been with you the way we have if I didn’t love you. Josh, you’re the first man I’ve made love with.”

  “Don’t lie to me. You were no shrinking virgin when I took you.”

  “No, I wasn’t, but I’m telling you the truth. I made some choices about sex when I was young—choices that had nothing to do with emotion. On the streets a girl can get to the stage where she’ll do almost anything for a meal and shelter in the middle of a freezing winter night, especially when she hasn’t eaten in a week. I’m not proud of what I did, but the fact remains I did what I had to do to survive. But after that last time I swore to myself that I’d rather die than let anyone touch me like that again—unless I loved him and trusted him, like I love and trust you. Josh, I never knew sex could be anything more. I never knew lovemaking could be like it is with you.”

  There was a painful thread of truth in her voice that made Josh step back and take stock. She obviously believed she loved him, which left only one more thing.

  “If that’s true, then you now have to make a choice, don’t you?”

  “Choice?” Confusion rippled over her features.

  “Stand by me or stick with the Palmers.”

  “I…”

  Her hesitation told him all he needed to know. Josh snorted in disgust. “I thought so. You still choose them, don’t you?”

  Callie didn’t speak.

  “Get out,” he said, his voice near feral with resentment. “Get out of my house, get out of my life. I don’t want you. Get out now!”

  He tried to find some satisfaction in how swiftly she left the room and flew up the stairs. In minutes she was back down, fully dressed and carrying her overnight bag and handbag.

  “Josh,” she implored from the doorway, “please rethink this. Promise me you’ll read the letters again. Really read them this time. Talk to me when you’ve calmed down, when you can see reason.”

  “Oh, I see reason just fine. You know, you might not be a Palmer by birth, but you’re no different from them at all. You’re still cut from the same rotten cloth.”

  The resounding echo of the front door slamming behind her told him he’d made his mark, and yet, in the lingering stench of burned promises all he could feel was an emptiness that cut to his spirit and left him bleeding inside.

  Love. What did she know about love? If she loved him, she’d stand by him, not try to undermine what he’d planned since he was eighteen years old.

  He knelt and picked up the remains of her destruction and thanked his lucky stars that he’d missed her presence in the bed and awakened. If he hadn’t, she’d have destroyed everything.

  A couple of the letters were charred beyond redemption but others had escaped the damage of the flames and the extinguisher. He returned those to the box and carefully replaced it on the bookcase. There was still enough damning evidence to do what he wanted, and he would do it. He’d see this thing through to its bitter end.

  Callie entered her office in the Palmer Enterprises tower and fought back the emptiness that threatened to swamp her. She should be relieved that she still had a job to come back to. A job she’d secured by spying on Josh and subsequently ensuring Palmers’ financial viability in the marketplace.

  Reluctance now dogged her every step. In the past, she couldn’t wait to start each day at Irene’s side. Everything had brought her a measure of satisfaction and a sense of knowing she’d completed a job well done. But it was as if she operated in shades of grey. There was no colour in her life, no joy.

  From the time she’d called a taxi on her mobile phone, from the top of Josh’s driveway, until the second she’d walked back into Irene’s business suite she’d been encased in ice. It was only as she’d opened her handbag and seen that she still had Josh’s notes inside that some sense of life had permeated the frozen shell around her. That life had brought pain. Unbearable, searing pain.

  She’d fisted the sheets of paper into a knot and cast them in her wastepaper bin. They’d sat there all day, a constant reminder of a man so hell-bent on revenge that he was incapable of listening to reason. The hands on her office clock had edged their way to 6:00 p.m. when she finally gave in. If she could give the Palmers one more strength, one more piece of armour in this battle between Josh and them, she’d darn well do it.

  She smoothed out the sheets and took them straight through to Irene, who was still at her desk.

  “I believe you might find these of some use.”

  “What are they?” Irene took the creased papers and set them in front of her, adjusting her reading glasses on the tip of her nose. She scanned them for a few minutes then looked up over the lenses. “Callie, you realise what these are, don’t you?”

  “Yes, I do. They were the last thing I worked on before…” she faltered.

  She couldn’t say the words without her throat closing up as if it had suddenly swollen on the lies she’d been forced to live in this desperate tussle between two families.

  Irene removed her glasses and pinned Callie under her impenetrable grey stare. “I know this whole situation with Tremont asked a great deal more of you than we anticipated. You can’t let it get to you, you know. If you’re going to succeed in this world, you have to do what’s right—and in this case you definitely did what is right.”

  Callie bit her lip. What was right for the Palmers, perhaps—but deep down she knew she hadn’t succeeded. She hadn’t managed to burn all the evidence Josh had against his father. He could still use it to publicly humiliate Bruce and ruin his appointment to Guildara before it happened, even if Palmers was now going to be in a stronger financial position with the Flinders contract secure, and now this one within its grasp.

  Drawing on the example of the woman in front of her, Callie reassumed the mantle of icy suspension that had seen her survive the night.

  “Thank you, Irene. Now, if that’s all today, I think I’ll head home.”

  Irene nodded her dismissal. On her drive home, Callie honed that icy calm into steel-plated armour. With any luck it would see her through the rest of her life because she knew to the soles of her feet that she would never allow herself to be so vulnerable ever again. It simply hurt too much. It was better to stay on the path she’d chosen. To be the best at her job she could be. To take comfort in casual friendships and leave life at that.

  Maybe she’d get a cat, she thought. Something that could subsist beside her without expecting more than she was prepared to give, and without giving more than she could accept. But even as she dwelled on that thought, she knew she wouldn’t. There was only one thing missing in her life—Josh—and without him she couldn’t bear to accept any other substitute.

  It was two weeks until Christmas and the joyful hymns and carols pumping through the building’s elevators’ sound system were already driving Callie nuts. She ascended to the executive floor and stepped out with relief, the assault in her eardrums and her psyche over. It was hard enough watching the world go by in a fever of excitement over a festival she normally avoided without it impinging on her workspace as well.

  As soon as Callie reached her office, though, she knew something was terribly wrong. Adam Palmer waited for her by her desk. Callie had barely seen him since his marriage, but those times she had he’d been relaxed and happy in a way she’d never seen before. Now, though, tension vibrated through every line in his body, and her smile of welcome quickly faded from her face.

  “Callie, come with me to the boardroom.”

  There was a coolness to his voice that made her stomach clench in fright. That and the realisation his words had not been couched as a request, but as a command.

  “Adam, what’s wrong?”

  “We’ll discuss it ther
e,” was all he’d say and Callie was left to follow his rigid back along the carpeted hallway.

  From every empty office they passed she heard phones shrilling unanswered. Where was everyone? The boardroom door, normally open, was firmly closed and a buzz of angry voices echoed through the wooden barrier.

  Silence ensued as Adam pushed open the door.

  “She’s here.”

  Two words, yet they made her suddenly feel as if she were walking a plank over shark-infested waters.

  “Sit down, please, Callie,” he directed.

  Callie did as she was told, her eyes skimming over the assembly of senior executives ranging opposite her. At either end of the table sat Irene and Bruce Palmer. Twelve sets of accusing eyes bored into her, making her fidget on her chair.

  Adam took charge of the proceedings immediately.

  “Is it true that during the time you were with Josh Tremont you entered into a personal relationship with him?”

  Callie’s eyes flew to Irene. What the heck? Irene had told her to do whatever it took, and she had—at great personal cost. Was she now to be denounced for it?

  “I did, but I—”

  “And is it true that you passed on information to Palmer Enterprises that enabled us to win the Flinders contract over Tremont Corporation.” Adam’s tone was relentless.

  “I did what I was sent in there to do.”

  “The information you gave to my mother two weeks ago, who gave it to you?”

  “Josh did, but—”

  “Did he put you up to this? Did you do it deliberately?” one of the other executives interrupted before she could finish.

  “Do you have any idea what this has cost us?” another shouted from across the polished expanse of mahogany.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about. What the heck is going on?”

  Callie turned to Bruce and his grey features and aged expression shocked her to her core.