Harlequin Presents January 2015 - Box Set 2 of 2: The Secret His Mistress CarriedTo Sin with the TycoonInherited by Her EnemyThe Last Heir of Monterrato

by Lynne Graham

  ‘I guess you’re only being honest,’ she reluctantly conceded. From what she could glimpse behind him, the room was spectacular. Huge, big enough for a separate little sitting room, and everything was decorated with decadent opulence.

  ‘One of life’s few true virtues: honesty. You said you had something to talk to me about...’ He walked into the room, paying no attention at all to his surroundings, leading her to assume that he had been there many times before. ‘Come in and spit it out.’

  Alice hovered by the door as he pulled his jumper over his head and flung it on the bed which, like the room, was super-sized. In the process, his shirt was tugged out of the waistband of his trousers and she glimpsed a tantalising sliver of bronzed stomach, as flat and as hard as a washboard.

  ‘Well?’ Gabriel prompted. ‘Don’t just stand there.’ He turned away and began scrolling down his Blackberry, frowning at emails as Alice tentatively walked into the room.

  The presence of the bed was disconcerting. It brought back memories of the last time she had been in a bedroom with him, which was not what she wanted to think about.

  When she was stranded in the middle of the room, he eventually glanced up and indicated one of the chairs which formed a little cluster by the window.

  ‘I’m afraid I hadn’t banked on us doing anything as fancy as dining out with...dignitaries,’ she said without beating around the bush. ‘I was under the impression that this was going to be all about work.’

  ‘So you packed your grey suit, a couple of white blouses, some black tights and your black patent shoes...’

  ‘I know it’s boring, Gabriel, but I don’t see work as a fashion parade!’ Her face stung from the implied insult. ‘If you had told me that—’

  ‘You knew we would be entertaining this client,’ Gabriel pointed out flatly. ‘Surely you wouldn’t have assumed that your work suits would do the trick?’

  ‘Why not? They’re smart and professional—’

  ‘They’re bland and drab.’

  ‘I don’t think that’s fair at all!’

  ‘You get exactly the same clothes allowance as the rest of my employees on your level, yet you don’t appear to have spent a penny on clothes.’

  Because she spent the money paying a professional to help her mother with her problem. Because, however much she was paid, by the time that money left her hands, given all the other bills, plus the little nest egg she was slowly accumulating, there was precious little left and none at all for jackets that cost five hundred pounds and designer shoes that could run to more.

  ‘How do you know I haven’t?’

  ‘Well, unless you’re throwing money at an exotic out of work wardrobe, it shows.’

  ‘I didn’t realise that there was a certain dress code to work for you.’ But it was apparent all around her. She had noticed it on day one. ‘And I don’t think I should be channelled into wearing stuff I don’t like because you say so.’

  ‘Before this conversation starts drifting into territory I know I won’t like,’ Gabriel informed her coolly, ‘I suggest you use what remains of the day to go shopping.’

  Alice thought about the paucity of her funds and blanched. ‘I...I would have to dip into my savings...’

  Gabriel waved aside her faltering objection with an impatient wave of his hand.

  ‘I will transfer money into your account today. Use it. Buy enough designer clothes to last the duration and feel free to make use of the spa centre here. Do whatever it takes.’

  ‘Do whatever it takes...for what?’ Alice said stiffly. If the ground had opened up, she would have dived in head first and emerged somewhere very far away from where this man was sitting, telling her in not so many words that she was an embarrassment.

  ‘Alice,’ Gabriel told her bluntly, ‘you’re a young girl in your twenties and I have yet to see you in something frivolous.’

  ‘I would never come to work in anything frivolous.’

  ‘Do you possess anything that isn’t sober? Serious? Grey?’ He knew he was being harsh but he had seen a hint of someone fiery lurking underneath the proper exterior and he wanted to see that person on the outside.

  ‘Francois and Marie are rich and they’re French. Put the two together and what you have is elegance. They will be startled if you appear at my side wearing off-the-peg cheap, ill-fitting grey suits. What you wear might not be a deal breaker, but it will help if you blend in. Do you really think that you can show up to tonight’s event in a suit?’

  Cheap, off-the-peg, ill-fitting... The words reverberated in her head until she was giddy with anger.

  ‘I did think to bring my black dress.’

  ‘I’m imagining it’s along the same lines as the suit...?’

  ‘By which,’ Alice said tightly, ‘you mean cheap, off-the-peg and ill-fitting?’

  Gabriel raked long fingers through his dark hair and sighed heavily. ‘I could have skirted round this,’ he told her bluntly. ‘I could have wrapped up what needed to be said in lots of pretty packaging, but that’s not my style. If you wear one of those suits of yours, you will feel desperately uncomfortable the minute you step through their front door. I’m sparing you that ordeal by being honest. They will wonder what sort of employer I am if I don’t pay my staff enough for them to afford decent clothing...’

  ‘Do you have any idea just how insulting you’re being right now?’ She was close to tears but there was no way that she would allow them to spill over.

  ‘Do you have any idea just how awkward you will feel if you arrive there and find that you’re not blending in? That you’re sticking out like a sore thumb?’ His dark eyes challenged her to continue an argument which he knew he would win.

  ‘And what exactly do you suggest I waste your money buying?’

  ‘You’re treading on thin ice here, Alice. I could suggest that you buy something dressy...colourful. Or else I could just tell you to—’

  ‘I apologise if you think I’m being ungrateful or rude, Gabriel, but I resent being told what I can and can’t wear!’ But when she thought about entering a room full of elegant French people who were dressed to kill, in one of her suits or her very simple black dress, she knew that he had a point.

  She just hated the way he felt free to tell her with no regard for her feelings at all. She resented the way he felt that he didn’t even have to make a pretence of trying to be diplomatic.

  ‘It is what it is.’ But for once he was annoyed with himself for doing what he always did, for speaking his mind without window dressing what he had to say.

  ‘Fine!’

  She glowered at him and Gabriel was sorely tempted to tell her that there wasn’t a woman on the face of the earth who wouldn’t have jumped at the chance to go out and have a shopping spree at his expense. Yet she had that ‘just swallowed a lemon’ look on her face as though he had somehow humiliated her in public. Hell, he was trying to spare her from being humiliated in public! People were shallow and one of the first things he had learnt in his climb up that swaying ladder was that they judged according to what they saw; forget all that claptrap about what was underneath. Dress and act like a king, and they would treat you like one.

  Yet he was further annoyed when he felt another wave of guilt wash over him. She had been insulted, even though what he had said had been perfectly true.

  He wasn’t about to apologise even if she stood there glowering until kingdom come. He pointedly looked at his watch and told her that she should get her skates on if she intended to get through some shopping, then he recommended a couple of districts where designer shops lined the streets. He even told her she could take the limo

  ‘And what time shall I meet you?’ Alice could barely get the words out. She hadn’t sat down, but had remained standing, and her legs were unsteady with sheer anger.

  ‘The do
kicks off at eight. Meet me in the bar here at seven-thirty. We can have a drink first and then get there around eight-thirty.’

  Because, she sniped to herself, the great man could arrive late if he wanted. Forget about currying favour with the person whose company you wanted to buy! Currying favour was something only lesser mortals did! Gabriel Cabrera didn’t feel he had to do that, so he didn’t.

  ‘And will we be doing any work before we leave?’ she asked with wooden politeness.

  ‘It’s Saturday. I think I can spare you.’

  ‘Fine.’ She galvanised her legs into action and walked towards the door. She would have a shower, unpack some of her drab grey clothes to wear out and then she would hit the shops and spend that money he had made no bones about telling her she should spend—so that she could get herself up to scratch and blend in! ‘I’ll see you in the bar at seven-thirty. Perhaps you could let me know if there’s a change of plan.’

  She let herself out of the room without a backward glance. She had over-reacted, she knew that, but she had just lost her cool at the sheer arrogance and superiority of the man.

  She showered quickly, barely paying any attention to the stunning bedroom she had been allocated, which was a mirror reflection of his, then out she went.

  He wanted his drab secretary to do something about her appearance so that he didn’t flinch when he looked at her?

  Well, she would make sure she did her very best to do as he had asked!

  CHAPTER FIVE

  ALICE HAD NEVER, ever had anything that could possibly be called an unlimited budget when it came to buying clothes. Or buying anything, for that matter.

  Growing up, her father’s job had been good enough. He’d been a middle-management man who had paid the bills, given his wife just enough to get by and spent the remainder on pleasing himself. Holidays had just not happened. Or maybe they had, in the early days before she had come along, and perhaps when she had been a baby, too young to remember them. Maybe they had happened when her parents had been a happily married statistic instead of two opponents fighting their private cold war.

  Pocket money for clothes had been thin on the ground. Her mother had passed her some, whatever was left from the housekeeping money at the end of the month, but Alice had never known what it was like to spend cash on things that weren’t strictly necessary.

  So it took her a little while to get her head round the fact that that was exactly what she had now been ordered to do.

  She had brought a little pocket guide-book with her and, instead of rushing instantly to the shops, she took the limo to the Champs-Elysées, which was hardly necessary, considering how close their hotel was to it.

  She wandered. She mingled in the glorious weather with the rich fashionistas. She walked past the expensive restaurants and cafés. There was no time to visit any of the museums but she could admire the architecture of some of the grand buildings and submerge herself in the airy affluence. She stopped to have a coffee and a croissant in one of the cafés and sat outside so that she could people watch.

  In her head, she replayed every word Gabriel had said to her and relived the hurt she had felt at being dismissed as someone inferior. It didn’t matter whether he praised her work skills to the skies. It didn’t matter if he complimented her on her initiative in digging out bits of useful information on companies he was interested in acquiring. It didn’t matter if he now trusted her to flesh out reports which he gave to her in skeleton format.

  She was the drab, grey little person who didn’t know how to dress.

  She had a flashback of Georgia in the office, in her tight red dress and her high, high shoes, with her dark hair everywhere and her long nails painted scarlet.

  There was no way that Alice would want to replicate that look. As far as she was concerned, the other woman had embodied everything that was obvious and way too out there.

  But she wasn’t going to be a mouse.

  It took her a little while, but by the time she hit the fourth shop she was in her stride. She cruised through all the designer shops, growing in confidence as the afternoon wore on, and by five o’clock she returned to the hotel clutching several bags. She could have summoned the limo again but the walk had been tempting, if tiring.

  And what better place to soothe a weary body? She dumped the bags in her bedroom, inhaled the gorgeous opulence of a hotel room the likes of which she would never stay in again for a few heady minutes and then phoned through to make an appointment at the hotel pa.

  By six-thirty, Alice was fully rested and relaxed. Back in her room, she looked at her nails, her feet, her hair.

  Vanity had never been a problem for her. As a teenager, when all the other girls had been preening in front of mirrors and whispering about boys she had been busy keeping her head down, studying and wondering what the following day would bring; wondering what sort of mood her mother might be in or whether her father might be on one of his many ‘time out’ trips.

  The years had passed her by without her taking time out to pay much attention to her appearance.

  Besides, her learning curve had been subtle but powerful. Beauty came with a price. She wasn’t beautiful and she had no interest in making herself try to be.

  But now...

  She had a long, lingering bath in a bathroom that was ridiculously luxuriant and emerged twenty minutes later feeling refreshed and...weirdly excited.

  She wasn’t Cinderella going to the ball—not exactly—but she would leave behind serious, composed, take-no-risks Alice Morgan for the evening.

  She had bought four dresses, one for each evening they would be in Paris, but the dress she had bought for tonight’s affair was the dressiest.

  It was a long dress, in the palest of pink, with a scooped neck and was figure-hugging. Her long body, which she had always considered far too thin and far too flat-chested, filled it out perfectly and her height was accentuated by four-inch stilettos. She had bought a matching cashmere throw, iridescent with little pearls, to sling over her shoulders. Her nails matched the outfit and her hair...

  Her brown hair, always au naturel, had been highlighted while she had had her hands and feet done. Shades of warm chestnut and caramel streaked through it, giving it dazzling life, turning her into a person she barely recognised as herself.

  On the spur of the moment, she took a picture of herself and messaged it to her mother, and grinned when her mother returned a message which was just several exclamation marks.

  She was a different person, at least on the surface, and she left her bedroom at precisely seven-thirty to make her way downstairs to the bar.

  People turned to stare.

  That had never happened to her in her life before. She wasn’t sure whether she liked it or not but it was certainly an experience.

  Was this what it was like for Gabriel? she wondered. Was that why he had become so lazy? Why he picked what he wanted from life and discarded the rest without a backward glance? Was he so accustomed to walking into a room and finding himself the focus of attention that he no longer saw the point of trying any more? Why seek people out when they sought you out? Why make an effort with a woman if the woman was happy to do all the chasing? Why commit to a relationship when you could treat life like a great big candy shop where you could pick and choose the candy you wanted before moving on to sample something else?

  She wondered whether he got pleasure from making money. He had made so much already and at such a young age, more than enough to last several lifetimes. He threw himself into his work, there was no denying that, and the man was a genius with a knack of knowing the markets—but did it still give him a kick? When you could have whatever you wanted without trying, was there anything that was still capable of giving you a kick?

  She had to ask directions to the bar and, when she got there, she paused and frankly gape
d.

  It was carpeted, the carpet pale, patterned and very old. On the walls, deep, rich tapestries left you in no doubt that this hotel was old and proud of its age. Rich velvet curtains hung at the long windows and the chairs were regal, blending in with the air of expensive antiquity. There were no modern touches, nothing to indicate that outside the bustling twenty-first century was happening.

  It was fabulous French decadence. It recalled the days of aristocracy and noblemen.

  At which point, she scanned the room and there he was, sitting at one of the tables, frowning in front of the newspaper.

  Temporarily lost in the financial section of the newspaper he was reading, absently drinking a glass of red wine from the bottle that had been placed on the table in front of him, Gabriel was unaware of her entrance.

  And of the heads turning in her direction as she stood by the door looking at him.

  But gradually he picked up that there was a certain silence. His eyes unerringly found her and for a few seconds he found that he was holding his breath.

  He half-stood, which she took as a signal to move forward to join him, and although his breath returned he couldn’t tear his eyes away from her slowly approaching figure. He was aware of men turning to stare.

  ‘So...’ he drawled when she was standing in front of him. ‘You obeyed my instructions to the letter.’ She was exquisite. How had he failed to notice that before? The pale delicacy of her features was a revelation, as was the slender column of her neck, the graceful elegance of her body. Her presence dominated the room even though what she had chosen to wear was simple, unrevealing and refined.

  ‘You told me to get rid of my drab, grey clothes...’ Was that all he could say? she thought with a stab of disappointment.

  ‘Glass of wine?’ He sat back down, inwardly marvelling that she had managed to puncture his composure. ‘Where did you go shopping?’

  Alice sat and gave him a little run-down of how she had spent her afternoon. Had he been staring at her as she had walked towards him? Or had he only been just looking to make sure that she could pass muster? His expression had been unreadable and she had a fierce longing for him to tell her that she looked beautiful.