Billionaire Bosses Collection. Кэрол Мортимер
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breathing out hard and long.
‘Phew! What an evening! Get him! More informative than he could have imagined. I’ll bet it was! Hello, Gran! Don’t mind me. I’m good ‘n mad.’
She was addressing the photograph that she kept on the sideboard, showing the wedding of Grandmother Dee and Grandfather Mark. Dee had once confided to her that there had been complications about that wedding.
‘I was pregnant,’ she’d said, ‘and that was scandalous in nineteen forty-three. You had to get married to stay respectable, and I wondered if he was only marrying me because he had to.’
‘And was he?’ Pippa had wanted to know.
Dee had smiled mysteriously. ‘Let’s say he had his own reasons, but it was a while before I discovered what they were. On our wedding day I still couldn’t quite believe in his love.’
Yet the young Dee in the picture was beaming happily, and in Pippa’s present mood it all looked delightfully uncomplicated.
‘Fancy having to be married before you could make love,’ she mused.
In her mind she saw Roscoe dancing with Teresa, holding her in an embrace that spoke of passion deferred, but not for long. Right this minute they were on their way to her home, or perhaps to his, where he would sweep her into the bedroom and remove her clothes without wasting a moment.
She knew the kind of lover he would be: no-nonsense, not lingering over preliminaries, but proceeding straight to the purpose, as he did with everything. As well as pleasuring his woman efficiently, he would instruct her as to his own needs, with everything done to the highest standards. Afterwards, Teresa would know she’d received attention from an expert.
For a while Pippa’s annoyance enabled her to indulge these cynical thoughts, but another memory insisted on intruding—his care for his mother, his patience, his kindness to her. All these spoke of a different man, with a gentle heart that he showed rarely. Was that gentleness also present in the lover?
‘And why am I bothering? ‘ she asked aloud. ‘Honestly, Gran, I think you had it better in your day.’
Dee’s smiling face as she nestled against her new husband seemed to say that she was right.
Pippa sighed and went to bed.
The night that followed was the strangest she’d ever known. Worn out, she had expected to sleep like a log, but the world was fractured. Two men wandered through her dreams—one gentle, protective and kind, the other a harsh authoritarian who gave his orders and assumed instant obedience. Both men were Roscoe Havering.
In this other world he danced with her, holding her close, not briefly but possessively, as though claiming her for ever. Unable to resist, she yielded, resting against him with a joy that felt like coming home. But then she awoke to find her flesh singing but herself alone.
In a fury, she threw something across the room. It was time to face facts. Roscoe had appeared at The Diamond the night before in order to study her and see if she was doing her job as a hired fancy woman. Whatever gloss he tried to put on it, that was the truth. Curse him!
Unable to lie still, she rose and began to pace the room, muttering desperately. ‘All right, so I felt something. Not here—’ she laid a hand quickly over her heart ‘—no, not there, but—’ she looked down at her marvellous body ‘—just about everywhere else. Only for a moment. And he needn’t think I’m giving in to it. I’ve done with that stuff for ever. So that’s settled. Now I need to get some more sleep.’
WHEN Pippa finally awoke it was to the memory of the appointment at Roscoe’s office that morning.
‘Oh, no,’ she groaned. ‘I’m not going!’
But she knew she was. The professional Miss Jenson didn’t tamely back off. She got out of bed, showered in cold water for maximum alertness and ate a hearty breakfast, calculated to enhance energy and efficiency. The fact that she was inwardly fuming was of no interest to anyone else. Certainly not Roscoe Havering.
Now that the first hint of winter snow was in the air, she chose her attire for warmth: severe suit, long coat, flat shoes. With a face free of make-up and her hair scraped firmly back, she decided that she looked just right: a lawyer, not a fancy piece, whatever a man with no manners might think.
She put in a hard morning’s work at her office, then David looked in for a quick word.
‘Off to see Roscoe? Good. You’ve probably learned all about him by now.’
‘The odd detail,’ she said, assiduously hunting for something inside her desk.
‘Then you’ll have heard that there’s nobody in the business with a higher reputation. His speciality is discretionary dealing.’
Pippa knew that some brokers simply followed their clients’ instructions, but did not give advice. Others would give advice, but not make final decisions. Most demanding of all was discretionary dealing, where the broker ascertained the clients’ long-term objectives, and then had authority to make decisions without further consultation. Only the best and most trusted brokers could do this, and it came as no surprise to know that Roscoe Havering was one of them.
‘A lot of brokers came out of the recession looking bad,’ David told her. ‘Not him. If anything, his trade has doubled because clients have flocked to him, disillusioned with the others. Plus there are rumours of a link-up with the Vanlen Corporation that would make Havering one of the richest and most powerful men in the financial world.’
Pippa mulled this over on the journey to Threadneedle Street, in the financial heart of London. Now the snow had properly started and, as she stepped out of the taxi, she pulled her coat tight, relieved that she would get her car back tomorrow.
Roscoe’s office was located in a historic building, converted to modern day requirements. Dark deeds had occurred there centuries ago. Dead bodies had once been discovered in the cellar, one of which was a man known personally to the reigning monarch of the time. But only the building’s outside reflected the dramatic past. Inside, all was corporate efficiency, bland colours and straight lines.
But I’ll bet there are still plenty of dark deeds, Pippa reflected as she hurried into the elevator. Just a different kind.
She was curious to see how well Roscoe’s establishment reflected the man, and it was no surprise to discover that he was on the top floor, with a view down on the world. As expected, she found the atmosphere subdued, even slightly haughty.
The receptionist showed her to a seat. ‘I’m afraid there’ll be a slight delay,’ she said. ‘Mr Vanlen just walked in without warning. He’s going to Los Angeles for some big international gathering, and he’s annoyed because Mr Havering won’t go too. But Mr Havering says those meetings are all talk and no substance, and he won’t budge. Vanlen did a quick detour on his way to the airport, so at least he can’t stay long.’ She made a wry face. ‘He never seems to think that other people might be busy.’
‘I know the type,’ Pippa said with feeling.
From behind a door she could hear a voice raised in argument. ‘We can’t waste time. This is a big deal for both of us. When everything’s signed we’re going to be the kings, and you want that as much as I do. What’s that? The hell with keeping my voice down! Let them know that they’ve got to be afraid of you, that’s what I say. It’s where half the pleasure lies.’
The secretary groaned. ‘You hear him. That’s how Vanlen thinks. Heaven help us all when that tie-up goes through. Mr Havering’s a tyrant now but when he—’
She stopped as Vanlen’s voice was raised again. ‘I can’t believe you’re really not coming to Los Angeles. Surely that’s—?’
‘I’d