The Multi-Millionaire's Virgin Mistress

by Cathy Williams

  Frankly, Alessandro couldn’t think of anything worse, but he was very much aware that the loser was drawing Megan against him, and that both of them were laughing and saying something about the Chelsea football team. He wasn’t sure what.

  ‘See you before then, anyway!’

  ‘How’s that?’ Alessandro looked at Robbie with a cool frown.

  ‘Christmas? Christmas Day?’

  ‘What are you talking about, Robbie?’ Megan asked. She was thrilled to see her little tyrannical pupil hanging on to every word Robbie was saying. She suspected that a humble football might well be finding its way to his Christmas list, as a last-minute request.

  ‘Hope you don’t mind…’ Robbie gave her waist an affectionate little squeeze, and Megan just knew that she wasn’t going to like what was coming next. ‘I’ve asked this disreputable rabble to come along on Christmas morning for a drink, if they’re not doing anything special!’

  ‘Come along for a drink?’

  ‘You know our dispossessed little crowd…!’ He winked at Dominic’s mother. ‘Nanny, I gather, is missing in action on Christmas Day…tut, tut, tut…and so Vicky here has pretty much promised that she would like nothing better than to fling a turkey in the oven and head to where it’s all happening! Your house!’

  ‘But…’ Megan smiled apologetically, and swore to herself that she would do untold damage to Robbie just as soon as they were in private somewhere.

  ‘Of course.’ Alessandro looked at her, one hand in his trouser pocket, the other slung round his fiancée’s shoulder. ‘Why not?’ He kissed Victoria on her temple. ‘What do you say? My chef is on duty twenty-four-seven. He can get our lunch prepared and we can head to…where it’s all happening…’

  ‘It’s a very small house…!’ Megan glanced at Dominic, because the one thing kids hated was to be confronted by their teachers out of school hours. Unfortunately he didn’t appear to be conforming to the stereotype. ‘It’ll be very crowded…’ she stammered. ‘You wouldn’t believe the amount of people who seem to have nothing going on on Christmas Day…I’m sure you’ll be all wrapped up with…opening presents…and stuff…’

  ‘Of course we wouldn’t dream of intruding,’ Dominic’s mother said, her exquisite good manners coming to the fore.

  Megan smiled weakly. ‘No—you wouldn’t be, Mrs Park. It’s open house…as Robbie said…just drop in, if and when you get the chance!’

  ‘And please do stop calling me Mrs Park…’ This time the smile was real, and it didn’t look as though it had required lots of effort. ‘I realise that it’s not exactly protocol, but do call me Victoria.’

  ‘Victoria…right…’

  What a tableau they must make. She, Robbie, a kid who seemed to be undergoing a severe case of sudden hero-worship syndrome, and a man and a woman who might have stepped straight out of the pages of a magazine—although she was slightly gratified to notice that Alessandro’s pristine suit was no longer in quite the same condition as it had been an hour before.

  ‘And of course I’m Megan.’ She winked at Dominic, and tried a friendly, teacher-like chuckle, but he was still staring at Robbie. There was ketchup smeared round his mouth and he was clutching a chip as though it was a once-a-year treat that might just vanish at any moment. ‘And, yes…please…feel free to join us on Christmas Day!’ Her laugh sounded a tad hysterical. ‘The more the merrier!’

  CHAPTER THREE

  THINGS were under control. In support of the three vegetarian guests coming, and in frank and open acknowledgement of the fact that neither she nor Charlotte were any good in the kitchen—particularly when the meal involved handling raw meat—turkey was off the menu. Instead they had gone for loads of salads and a poached salmon, which their local fishmonger had kindly supplied, cut-rate, for his two pretty customers. In return they had given him a Christmas present of a ceramic vase—made by Charlotte, materials provided by Megan—which he solemnly promised would take pride of place on his mantelpiece.

  Drinks were in liberal supply. Homemade punch, which was lethally strong, several bottles of wine, and some beer for the guys.

  It had left a satisfying amount of time for Megan to take her time getting ready, and she was going all out. They had decided on a colour theme for the guests. Green and red. Christmas colours. Accordingly, Megan had found the perfect red dress. It clung like a second skin to mid-thigh, and was offset by some lacy tights in an interesting shade of bright green. Megan was pretty sure she looked like a deranged elf, but nevertheless she was pretty pleased with the result.

  Being a teacher was in danger of turning her into a conformist. She felt that she should be allowed to be ridiculous for one day in the year.

  Some might say that the red hair was taking things a bit too far, but it was a wash-in, wash-out colour, so that was all right.

  She looked critically at her reflection in the mirror, not sure whether red hair really suited her, but it made a change from being blonde. Made her look wild. Especially with the cling-film dress, the fluorescent tights and the fabulous red shoes. She was sure she would never be able to walk properly in them.

  It had turned out in the end that Alessandro and entourage weren’t coming. Robbie, who seemed to have developed a cordial relationship with Victoria over the very short space of a week, had reliably informed Megan that she would be too busy in the morning, doing ‘Christmas stuff’.

  ‘Fiancé’s chef will need some supervision,’ he had said, shaking his head. ‘No nanny and a chef unfamiliar with the territory. Never let it be said that life in the fast lane can’t be tough.’

  ‘I know,’ Megan had replied, relieved that she wouldn’t have to face the ordeal of feeling persecuted in her own house on the one day when she was owed relaxation. ‘Much easier to just scrap the Christmas meal altogether and head for the salad counter. Somewhere in the country there’ll be a turkey thanking us.’

  She was feeling very relaxed as she put the finishing touches to her outfit. Some bright red lipstick and matching nail polish. On her bed was an assortment of Christmas presents. From her parents, much-needed cash and a necklace. From her sisters, clothes and make-up, and a very jolly Christmas card that cracked a supercorny joke when opened. From her friends, presents largely of the ridiculous nature. Right now she was wearing some earrings in the shape of Christmas trees. Fabulous.

  And she wasn’t going to think about Alessandro at all today. She had spent way too much time thinking about him, ever since he had resurfaced in her life like a bad dream she’d thought she had finally put to rest. Today she was going to relax and have fun.

  An hour later and the punch was helping with her mission. She and Charlotte had put it together, making up the recipe as they went along. They hadn’t been entirely sure of the ingredients, but had figured that, if in doubt, better too much alcohol than too little. It was consequently very potent and now almost finished, thanks to a houseful of nearly twenty people, all of whom had come bearing an interesting array of food. The kitchen table and counters were groaning under the weight of a nut loaf, a lentil loaf, several quiches, cold ham, sausages, and salads of every description. There was even a huge pot of curried chicken, courtesy of Amrita, one of Charlotte’s friends from work.

  Somewhere along the line someone had stuck a silver cardboard crown on Megan’s head, which was tilting precariously to one side. The music was blaring and there was Robbie, more sober than might have been expected, taking on the role of host. He was decked out in a pair of red surfer shorts—the only red item of clothing he’d been able to rustle up from his wardrobe, he had told them—and an outrageously green shirt which he had bought from a charity shop especially for the occasion. Megan had to admit that he looked pretty good, with his blonde hair and blue eyes and muscular body. She grinned and waved, and he weaved over towards her.

  ‘Your crown’s slipping,’ he said, righting it and then standing back to inspect his handiwork. ‘You’re in danger of your people revolting if they think you�
�re no longer in charge of the throne, Your Majesty.’

  Megan had to smile. ‘You seem to have been getting along like a house on fire with Dominic’s mum,’ she remarked. She had been meaning to prise a few more details about that from him, and had had no chance thus far.

  ‘She’s a very nice lady,’ he said, before waxing lyrical about the importance of sport for young kids and Dominic’s enthusiasm to join a football club.

  ‘You’re beginning to sound like a spokesperson for the Ministry of Health.’

  Megan was still laughing, one hand on her crown, the other wrapped around her second plastic cup of punch—which must be her last drink, at least until something solid went into her stomach—when Robbie whipped out a piece of mistletoe from his pocket and dangled it over her head.

  It was so sudden and so unexpected that at first Megan wasn’t quite sure what he was doing, waving a leaf above her. But it clicked when his hand went to her waist and he pulled her towards him. With an audience of eighteen people, hooting with laughter, he delivered a kiss worthy of any theatrical performance.

  She was tilted backwards at the waist, and it flashed through her mind that it wasn’t a very dignified position when wearing the short scarlet dress. One shoe went flying, and as she regained a vertical position, still laughing, with her arm slung around Robbie’s neck for balance, she froze at the sight of Alessandro and Victoria standing at the doorway—late arrivals.

  What the heck were they doing here?

  ‘We have unexpected company,’ she groaned in a mortified undertone.

  Robbie followed the direction of her glance and she might have had a little too much to drink, but why did she get the impression that the appearance of Alessandro and his fiancée was not entirely shocking for him?

  ‘Didn’t think they would make it,’ he murmured, settling his hand around her waist. He was smiling, leading her towards the door, while the rest of their assembled audience got on with the business of having fun.

  Megan wanted the ground to open and swallow her up. This had all the hallmarks of the birthday-cake fiasco, which had been forever branded in her mind as the day romance died. Of course it was a silly notion, because as she now knew, for Alessandro, she had always been an interlude, but it had often seemed easier to pin her misery on that one isolated incident.

  And now here she was, in a ridiculous situation all over again, as though she still made a habit of being wild.

  She could feel Alessandro’s eyes pinned coldly on her face as she paused to stagger into the mislaid red shoe.

  And Victoria?

  Megan groaned mentally. Great image of the responsible teacher! She was certainly looking a little gimlet-eyed and upset. Probably considering her son’s options for changing schools even as she walked towards her.

  ‘You’re here!’ Megan trilled, plastering a delighted smile on her face. ‘Robbie said…’ she slapped his hand away from her waist ‘…you probably wouldn’t be able to make it…No nanny…chef having to work in someone else’s kitchen…Is Dominic…here…?’

  ‘My mother’s joining us for lunch,’ Victoria said stiffly, sidesteping Robbie to present Megan with an exquisite box of chocolates. ‘I thought it best to leave Dominic at home with her, playing with his toys, and of course, she can supervise Alessandro’s chef in the kitchen. We won’t stay long.’

  ‘But long enough for a drink, I hope!’ Robbie reinserted himself into the picture.

  Victoria shook her head and looked at him coolly. ‘I don’t think so. We really are just popping in, and I wouldn’t want to…’

  ‘Don’t…’ Robbie told her, linking his arm through hers ‘…be such a crashing bore. There’s some punch lurking somewhere in the kitchen. You’re going to have a glass—or should I say a plastic cup…?’ He winked at Megan. ‘And why don’t you take care of our other guest, Megan? He looks as though he could do with a bit of loosening up….’

  ‘Quite an outfit.’ Alessandro skimmed his eyes lazily over her scantily clad body.

  Not only was the dress ludicrously short and ludicrously red, it was also ludicrously revealing. Why was she bothering to wear it at all? he wondered. Unless it was to invite the male eye to follow the generous cleft of her cleavage down to the point where only someone with a stupendous lack of imagination wouldn’t be fantasising about what wasn’t on show.

  ‘And nice hair.’ He reached up and briefly twirled a few red strands between his fingers, so that she jerked back, out of reach. ‘Are you supposed to be a scarlet woman?’

  ‘Fancy dress. Of sorts. It’s just some cheap hair colour. Tomorrow I shall go back to being blonde. I didn’t expect to see you here.’

  ‘I think I’m going to need a drink to handle this…party….’

  ‘Sure. What would you like? There’s the usual stuff in the kitchen…’ She looked around desperately, to see if she could catch Robbie’s eye, but having played perfect host for the past two hours, he had now inconveniently disappeared. ‘I’ll fetch you something and introduce you round.’ She tugged the hem of her dress, as though by doing so she might lengthen it a couple of crucial inches.

  ‘This is just like your university parties, Megan,’ Alessandro said, following her towards the kitchen, his hands shoved into the pockets of his casually elegant and totally incongruous dark trousers. ‘Cheap booze, loud music…’

  ‘Are you telling me that I haven’t grown up?’ She spun round and glowered at him.

  ‘If the cap fits…’

  ‘You used to rather enjoy those university parties!’ She thrust a cup of punch into his hands and looked at him.

  It was a clear, cold morning, and some of the guests had spilled out into the tiny garden, where they had put a rented patio heater in anticipation. Out of the corner of her eye she could see Robbie talking expansively to Victoria, who seemed to have made inroads into the drink she’d claimed she wouldn’t be having.

  ‘There’s a time and a place for everything.’ God, he realised he sounded a bore, but the sight of her literally being swept off her feet by a football coach in a pair of shorts had unsettled him. And he didn’t understand why. ‘Sure, getting drunk in cheap digs was fine seven years ago—but time moves on.’

  ‘These digs are far from cheap, let me tell you, and I am not drunk.’

  ‘You could have fooled me. Unless you just enjoy making a spectacle of yourself?’

  Megan began doing something with paper plates and cutlery. ‘I don’t know why you came here, Alessandro. You think I’m immature and silly, and you think Robbie’s a loser.’ She turned to face him, balancing on both hands as she leant against the kitchen counter. ‘Why didn’t you go for champagne cocktails and canapés at one of your business colleagues’ houses? Where you could have had a civilised drink and talked about the world economy and politics, or the shocking price of houses in London and this year’s City bonuses?’

  ‘Because you wouldn’t have been there.’ Alessandro said it without thinking, and in the tight, ensuing silence he downed his drink, angry with himself for having spoken without thought. In fact, he hadn’t even realised that he had been thinking that until the words were out of his mouth and it had been too late to take them back.

  ‘You came here…because you wanted to see me?’ She could feel the slow, treacherous thud of her heart. ‘Oh, I’m getting it. You came because you weren’t finished preaching to me about how I should live my life. Hence the crack about me being a scarlet woman?’

  Relieved to have been let off the hook, Alessandro crumpled the paper cup in one hand and tossed it into a black bin bag which had been thoughtfully hooked over two handles of one of the kitchen doors and was already getting full.

  ‘Well, as a matter of fact, Robbie was only kissing me because he whipped out a piece of mistletoe from his pocket…’ She smiled. ‘He can’t resist being the centre of attention.’

  ‘So I gathered. And he seems to be fine tuning the talent with my fiancée.’

  So he was sti
ll a jealous sort of guy—maybe just better at hiding it now that he was older. The realisation was a let-down.

  ‘Do you mind?’

  ‘Victoria can take care of herself. You…I’m not too sure.’

  ‘Me? What does this have to do with me, and what gives you the right to gatecrash our party and then start preaching to me about my life choices?’ Here, in the small-cluttered kitchen, she could feel his presence crowding her.

  ‘First of all, I did not gatecrash your party.’ He needed another drink. There was a bottle of white wine on the counter and he helped himself to another cup. ‘Secondly, I recognise that we parted seven years ago on a fairly hostile note—’

  ‘Fairly hostile? You tossed me aside like an old shoe that you’d grown sick of. Did you think I was going to smile and be sunshine and light as I conveniently vanished over the horizon? Did you think that I would meet up with you after seven years and welcome you with open arms?’ Megan took a deep breath, counted to ten and remembered that this was supposed to be a jolly, relaxing, stress-free day. ‘I think we should get back to the party now. There’s no point arguing and going over old ground. What happened, happened. We’ve both moved on with our lives and…’

  Alessandro moved towards her, dark, powerful and intimidating without even trying, and Megan watched him jumpily—the way she might have watched a predator circling her, waiting for an opportune moment to pounce.

  Which, she berated herself, was a stupid thought, because he happened to be in her house, which gave her the right to chuck him out any time she felt like it.

  ‘Have you, though?’ he asked in a silky, lazy drawl. ‘Really?’ He looked at her carefully, aware that this was hardly the right place for a private conversation. At any given moment someone would be sure to barge into the kitchen, on a quest for more drink or food, or just lost because they all seemed to be pretty far gone. ‘Because…and here’s the thing…I always wondered how you were faring after we broke up….’

  ‘That was very thoughtful of you, Alessandro.’ Inside, she was thinking that that was pretty rich, considering she had practically begged to hang on to their relationship at the time.