by Kathryn Ross
“You mean it would be like a business arrangement?”
He could tell by the tone of her voice that the idea appealed to her. Steven shrugged. “We don’t need to write the terms down in stone, do we? You need a partner at this wedding. I’ve got a few engagements when I need a woman by my side.”
“And it would be just a straightforward arrangement that would suit us both,” she reiterated.
“Why do you keep emphasizing that?” Steven asked tersely. “Because I’m not your type?”
“Maybe I’m not your type either, Steven,” she said quietly. “That can work two ways.”
But the truth of the matter was that Chloe was starting to think that he was very much her type. Maybe that was why she was so keen to emphasize the fact that anything between them would be strictly business—she was desperately trying to keep her feet on the ground where he was concerned. Desperately trying not to think about how much she wanted to kiss him again, because she knew he spelled danger.
KATHRYN ROSS was born in Zambia, where her parents happened to live at that time. Educated in Ireland and England, she now lives in a village near Blackpool, Lancashire. Kathryn is a professional beauty therapist, but writing is her first love. As a child she wrote adventure stories, and at thirteen was editor of her school magazine. Happily, ten writing years later, Harlequin® accepted Designed with Love. A romantic Sagittarian, she loves traveling to exotic locations.
Kathryn Ross
THE MILLIONAIRE’S AGENDA
CONTENTS
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER ONE
CHLOE glanced up from her typing and her eyes fell on the calendar on her desk. It was three weeks until her half-sister’s wedding! She could feel a wave of panic creeping over her as she thought about attending on her own. Then she was angry with herself. It was no big deal; lots of women attended social gatherings alone these days, she told herself firmly. She wasn’t going to feel pressurised about it.
She turned her attention to the last of the letters on her desk and flicked a glance at her wrist-watch; it was four-thirty, almost time to go home. Usually at this time on a Friday evening she would have felt happy, the weekend would have stretched before her, filled with glorious freedom. Nile might have taken her to dinner or to a new wine bar or…
She switched her mind away from Nile. The engagement was off; Nile was a thing of the past. At the age of twenty-nine, she was once again single. Two years wasted on a man who had turned from Prince Charming into Quasimodo in one afternoon. How could she have been so stupid? she asked herself for what had to be the hundredth time.
The printer next to her spewed out the letters and she snapped them up, running an eye over them to check for any errors, trying very hard not to think about Nile Flynn for one moment longer. Trouble was, it was very difficult, especially as she was in a complete financial mess because of him.
The connecting door through to the inner sanctum of the office opened and Steven Cavendish’s voice boomed out. ‘Chloe, did you ring Manchester to inform them I’d be up there tomorrow?’
‘Yes, Steven, I did.’
‘What about Mr Steel—did you deal with that problem in the Waterside Restaurant?’
‘Yes, it’s all sorted out.’ Chloe stood up and ran a smoothing hand down over her smart black suit, mentally preparing herself to face Steven Cavendish. She needed to ask him for a pay rise, had been waiting all week for the right moment to bring the subject up, but unfortunately there didn’t seem to be a right time to catch her boss these days.
He had been involved in months of lengthy negotiations to secure a takeover bid of a chain of restaurants and the strain of long hours plus a series of setbacks had made him unusually grouchy. But she really couldn’t wait any longer, she told herself firmly. Whether it was the right moment or not she was going to have to ask him tonight before leaving.
Chloe reached for the desk diary, picked up the letters that she needed him to sign and with a determined stride headed into the heart of the Cavendish kingdom.
She was momentarily taken aback to find that her boss wasn’t seated behind his enormous desk, but was standing with his back to the office, looking out at the wintry silver cast of the London skyline.
‘Weather forecast says it’s going to snow,’ she said briskly. ‘You’d better allow extra travelling time for your journey up north tomorrow.’
‘Yes…thanks, Chloe, but I don’t think a bit of snow will affect the company jet.’
‘Actually they are predicting blizzard conditions.’
‘Are they? Well, as they rarely get their predictions right, I’ll worry about that tomorrow.’
‘Please yourself.’ Chloe put the letters down on the desk. ‘You need to sign these…oh, and John Hunt asked if you would ring him back before six.’
Steven didn’t turn from his contemplation of the outside world.
She noticed he had taken the jacket of his suit off; it was hung over the back of his chair.
Chloe’s eyes flicked over his tall, broad-shouldered frame. For a man who spent long hours stuck behind a desk he had a very attractive body, powerfully honed and very masculine.
The first time she had met him when she had come here for an interview two years ago she had been quite bowled over by just how attractive Steven Cavendish was. Raven-dark hair and dark eyes that seemed to slice straight into her very soul had unnerved her slightly. He had the cool confidence of a person very much at ease with himself, very aware of his own powerful sensuality. He was also a complete stickler to work for and that, oddly enough, had been a wonderful salvation for their working relationship.
Chloe liked his straightforward businesslike approach. She enjoyed the challenges that working for him presented, maybe because she was a bit of a perfectionist herself. After the first week she had forgotten to be overwhelmed by his good looks, and anyway she’d had Nile in her life. Besides which there really hadn’t been time for such matters in the fast pace of their office. She’d had to focus solidly on her job as his PA. And, though she said it herself, they made a formidable team.
She tore her eyes away from Steven and opened her diary. ‘Renaldo rang to say he’s running late, but he’ll be here for your appointment around five-thirty.’
‘Great—another late evening.’ Steven’s voice was dry.
‘Oh, and I ordered the bouquet of flowers to be delivered to your house on Wednesday afternoon. A dozen red roses, as you requested.’
‘Thanks.’
He must be going to deliver the roses in person, she thought. Chloe wondered fleetingly about this latest development between him and his glamorous girlfriend Helen. She had organised many a bouquet for his women over the last two years but never red roses. Then again, according to the grapevine in the office, none of the women he had dated since the death of his wife three years ago seemed to have lasted as long as Helen Smyth-Jones.
Chloe tapped her pencil against the diary as she waited for him to spring into action. After two years she knew her boss fairly well, had learnt to judge all his moods so that she could evaluate pretty accurately what was coming next.
She knew now, for instance, not to be misled by this quiet, reflective stance. When Steven Cavendish fell silent he was usually at his most dangerous, the quicksilver of his mind regrouping, planning ahead and about to burst forward with some earth-shattering remark
or whirlwind of activity.
She flicked over the pages of the diary as she waited for him. It was best to adopt a laid-back attitude when Steven was like this. To try and hurry him into signing the letters, or indeed to try and swing the conversation towards her pay rise, would be a big mistake at the moment.
‘It’s Beth’s sixth birthday next week, isn’t it?’ she reflected softly. It was an observation, not a reminder. Chloe spent her time reminding Steven about appointments and schedules but she didn’t have to remind him about his daughter. Beth was the one person who took priority in his mind over business.
‘Yes, it is. You remember everything, don’t you?’ Steven turned around then and looked at her, his dark eyes skimming sketchily over the glasses she always wore and the way her honey-blonde hair was severely drawn back from her face. Chloe was used to him looking at her like that, as if he was seeing her but focusing on something else.
‘Well…I write everything down. And it’s my job to remember everything,’ she said quietly.
He nodded. ‘Well, we can’t stand about talking all day,’ he muttered. ‘Better get these letters signed.’
Chloe smiled to herself. She had been right; Steven was focused on something else, and as usual it was work.
‘Did you ask John Hunt what he wanted to talk to me about?’
‘Yes, it’s the normal problems at the Cavendish Cuisine Restaurant,’ Chloe answered. ‘He said to tell you that the chef there may be a creative genius, but he’s as mad as the proverbial March hare.’
Steven grunted and pulled out his chair to sit back behind his desk. ‘John is the damn manager there; I pay him to take care of those problems. Send him an e-mail and tell him I said to just deal with it.’ There was a steely note in the firm voice. Steven Cavendish wouldn’t tolerate anyone who couldn’t pull his or her weight. Chloe didn’t rate John’s chances of lasting long within the company if he didn’t start showing some initiative. The boss was not renowned for being sentimental when it came to weeding out any dead wood from the company. In fact, there were times that Chloe thought Steven could be quite ruthless, but then, she supposed you didn’t get to be a self-made millionaire by the age of thirty-eight unless you could play hard-ball.
Steven finished signing the last letter and then pushed them across the desk towards her. ‘Is everything set for the board meeting next week?’
‘Yes, and I ordered some refreshments from the Galley Restaurant. Just sandwiches and a few assorted cakes from the continental selection in their bakery.’
‘What, not baking them yourself?’ Steven looked up, a glimmer of teasing humour lighting his dark gaze for just a moment.
‘Give me Monday morning off and I’ll see what I can do,’ she retorted swiftly.
He laughed. ‘Touché. Sorry, Chloe, didn’t mean to sound patronising. It’s just that you never cease to amaze me; you are always so clued up, so in front with everything.’
This was it, her opportunity to ask for her increase in salary, and she jumped in quickly before the moment was lost. ‘I’m glad that you’re pleased with my work, Steven. But if you have a few moments there is something I’d like to discuss.’
‘Fire away.’ Steven put down his pen and waved her towards the chair opposite. ‘What’s the problem?’
‘No problem as such,’ she said brightly, and tried not to think about the massive demands for immediate payment that lay on her desk at home.
‘Good. Things have been pretty hectic around here, haven’t they? It’s unfortunate timing with you planning a wedding soon.’ As he spoke Steven was riffling through some papers on his desk, looking for something. ‘How’s that going, anyway?’ he asked absently. ‘Are you any nearer finalising the purchase of your new house?’
‘Well, we’ve paid the deposit…’ Chloe felt herself tensing up. She wasn’t surprised that Steven hadn’t noticed she was no longer wearing her engagement ring. She supposed she should say something…tell him the relationship was finished, that the purchase of her new house would not be going through…but they only ever discussed their personal life in passing, and even then in the most offhand way.
She couldn’t just tell Steven that her fiancé had run off and left her with a load of bills for a wedding that would now never take place, plus he had emptied their joint bank account. All Steven was concerned about in relation to her was her work, and that was fine by her.
Now, for instance, he had asked her questions, but he wasn’t waiting for her reply—he was more interested in looking for something on his desk.
‘What are you searching for?’ she asked him as he flicked through the papers again.
‘The notes from that last meeting with Renaldo,’ he muttered. ‘You haven’t seen them, have you?’
‘Blue folder underneath,’ she told him and watched as he went straight to the relevant papers.
‘Thanks, Chloe.’ He smiled at her. ‘Now, where were we?’
‘Well, I—’
The phone rang on his desk and with a brief apology he snatched it up. ‘Steven Cavendish,’ he said briskly.
Chloe sat back in her seat and tried to relax. It was always like this in here; there was rarely a space to breathe, let alone talk.
She wondered why she felt so incredibly tense.
The worst that could happen was that Steven would say no to the pay rise, and if he did she had an alternative option. The company she had worked for previously two years ago had recently contacted her and asked her to come back, had offered a ten per cent increase on whatever Cavendish were paying.
Trouble was, she didn’t really want to go back there. She liked working for Cavendish. She felt her career was going places here; it was much more go-ahead. The money was pretty good here as well; if it weren’t for this damn situation with her finances she would be quite content to leave the status quo.
Her eyes rested on Steven’s face. ‘I need a little more information before I answer that,’ he said. ‘OK, well, just get the figures and I’ll look up the report; phone me back.’
‘Who was that?’ Chloe asked automatically as he put the receiver down.
‘Nothing—just the accounts department; they want some clarification on one of the Renaldo restaurants in Paris.’
‘They will want the list I printed out yesterday; it’s in my desk.’
‘Well, it will do later.’ Steven leaned back in his chair and glanced at his watch. ‘Renaldo doesn’t want to come in until five-thirty anyway.’
‘Yes. So, as I was saying, Steven—’ Chloe pressed on swiftly, but once again the phone rang.
Maybe she should send him a letter, Chloe thought wryly. Or go back out into her office and phone through on the extension. It seemed the only way she was going to get an undivided minute of his time.
She sat watching him, thinking it was probably the accounts department again, and started to feel impatient. Maybe she should just hand in her notice and take the offer from her old company? At least back at Brittas there had been time to speak to her boss occasionally.
Then she saw Steven’s face blanch. ‘Gina, calm down.’ His voice was crisp and authoritarian. ‘I can’t work out what you are saying. Is Beth all right?’
Chloe leaned forward in concern, her exasperation forgotten as she realised something was very wrong.
‘OK.’ Steven glanced at his watch. ‘I’ll be home directly.’
The phone slammed down, Steven got to his feet and reached for his jacket. ‘I’m sorry, Chloe, but whatever you wanted to say will have to wait until later. I’ve got to go home. That was my childminder, Gina.’
‘Is Beth all right?’ she asked anxiously.
‘Yes…it’s Gina’s father. He’s been taken to hospital and she has to leave.’
‘But you’ve got another appointment with the director of Renaldo,’ Chloe said, aghast. ‘He said it was urgent.’
‘You’ll just have to apologise for me,’ Steven muttered. ‘I’ve no one to watch Beth. My mother is on hol
iday and—’
‘I’ll go,’ Chloe said impulsively.
Steven stopped in the process of opening one of the drawers to get his car keys. ‘You?’
‘I’m quite capable of watching a five-year-old,’ she murmured crossly. ‘And this meeting with Renaldo is important. It might just be the turning point you’ve been waiting for with this takeover bid.’
Steven’s eyes narrowed on her thoughtfully. As always her clear, confident tones dispelled any theory that lurking behind those scholarly glasses was a shy librarian-type.
‘It makes sense for me to go, don’t you think?’ she persisted when he didn’t answer her immediately.
‘Yes, I suppose it does. Did you drive to work today?’
She nodded. ‘My car is downstairs.’
He put his keys back in the drawer and closed it. ‘Thanks, Chloe, I really appreciate this. I’ll try not to be too long here, so I don’t take up the whole of your Friday evening.’
‘I wasn’t doing anything tonight anyway,’ Chloe said as she got up.
Steven watched her from the doorway as she quickly organised herself and then left. Then he sat back down behind his desk.
That phone call had rattled him. In the few garbled seconds as he’d tried to make out what Gina was saying he had instantly feared that something was wrong with Beth. And the memories of another call, the moment when he had known he’d lost his wife, had immediately flooded back. Maybe the recollection had been so vivid because it was coming up to the anniversary of Stephanie’s death and he had been thinking about her earlier this afternoon. It was almost three years ago to the day. Where had that time gone? What had he done with it? He felt as if he had been wandering around in a blinkered haze through most of it.
From nowhere he remembered his mother telling him in that sensible, no-nonsense tone of hers that he needed to find a wife and a mother for Beth. He had answered in an equally firm tone, telling her that he didn’t need a wife. But it was at times like this when he wondered if his mother was right. It was difficult being a single parent and running a big business. And he desperately wanted Beth to be secure and happy.
