Bedroom Bargains of Revenge: Bought for Revenge, Bedded for Pleasure / Bedded and Wedded for Revenge / The Italian Boss's Mistress of Revenge. Trish Morey
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“I don’t envy you that job,” he said with feeling. “Lady Ellen sure doesn’t like things not going her way.” He shot her a concerned look. “Want me to stand by?”
She shook her head. This was something she had to do herself. It was too personal to involve anyone else. “Thank you, but I think I can weather the storm.”
“It’s bad,” he warned. “I’ll be in the kitchen with Jeanette if you need some support. And don’t worry about the staff. I’ll let everyone know what’s going on.”
“Thanks, Graham. I’d appreciate all the support I can get in the weeks ahead while I find my feet as the resident manager.”
“Don’t see any problem there. I reckon the staff will feel so grateful to be kept on, they’ll work their butts off for you. You’ll see. Jack Maguire won’t find anything to criticise when he comes to visit. Place will be picture-perfect. As always.”
Picture-perfect …
It was … the most beautiful property in the valley … evoking a poignant swell of emotion in Sally as it came into view. The lush green fields, the white fences, the artfully placed clusters of shade trees for the horses, the architect designed stables and barn, the beautiful avenue of maples leading up to the big white house on the hill … this had been the only home she’d known, and the sense of loss that seized her heart also brought a blur of tears to her eyes.
Her father gone.
The home he’d given them gone.
She hadn’t saved anything. The contract with Jack simply put the loss of this property and all that went with it on hold for a year. Still, it did give everyone time to come to terms with change and that was good, wasn’t it?
Everyone except her mother. Whose loss was much greater since she had expected a billion-dollar inheritance. Sally told herself there was nothing she could do about that. She’d try to be as sympathetic as her mother allowed her to be, but a bad storm probably meant abuse flying everywhere.
A security van was parked at the gate. A man got out of it, identified Graham and waved him on. It was a sober reminder that Jack Maguire did not trust her mother and was ensuring that nothing went into or out of the property without being checked. He was clearly determined on having all he’d paid for.
Did that mean her, too?
Sex wasn’t in the deal, she forcefully reminded herself. Though barely fifteen minutes later, to Sally’s churning horror, her mother was not only making that assumption but throwing out a string of shocking advice on how to make capital out of it.
Jeanette had met her at the front door and directed her into the main lounge room where several valuable vases had been smashed on the parquet floor. Her mother had been pacing back and forth in front of the great sandstone fireplace, downing a scotch on the rocks while haranguing Jane, who was cowered in the corner of one of the three matching leather chesterfields. The tirade had been instantly re-aimed at Sally, a disloyal bitch for kowtowing to her father’s killer. Then had come the derisive demand to know what she’d got out of it.
Sally had moved in to stand beside where her sister sat, laying a comforting hand on Jane’s stiffly hunched shoulder, then, in as calm a voice as she could muster, laid out the terms of the contract she had signed, expecting another burst of outrage at her perfidy in taking on what should remain in her mother’s hands. Yet her announcement had not provoked more fury. Her mother had gone completely still, her eyes narrowing to thoughtful slits, her mouth slowly thinning into a smug little smile.
“You’ve got him!” she’d said maliciously, then broke into a peal of laughter that was somehow more chilling than any vicious words she might have spoken.
“Men!” she’d crowed. “No matter how clever they are, the brain below their belts is their weak point. Jack Maguire gave himself away at the funeral service yesterday, saying you were beautiful. He’s using this contract to set you up as his mistress, his grateful little mistress who’ll do anything he wants to keep her horses. The trick is to do precisely that—give him whatever sex he likes, make it so good he’ll keep coming back, ensuring you have enough time with him to get yourself pregnant. Have his child and you can take him for a damned good slice of his billions! Tit for tat!”
Sally could only stare at her mother, totally rocked by this view of what she should do. Having sex for money was heart-shrivelling enough. Everything within her recoiled at the idea of deliberately setting out to have a baby for money. A baby should be wanted by both parents, loved by both parents. She was here in this moment because she hadn’t been wanted or loved enough, handed over to an adoption agency, abandoned by her natural parents. Never would she have a child for financial profit! Never!
It was Jane who voiced shocked protest. “You can’t mean for Sally to have a child without … without the security of marriage!”
“Having Jack Maguire’s child will give her all the security she’s ever going to need,” was whipped back at her. “Use your head, Jane. You’ll never be poor if your sister’s rich.”
“But having a baby just to …”
“Oh, for pity’s sake! Why do you think I worked at getting you two adopted?” came the scathing demand.
“Because …because you couldn’t have children of your own?” Jane answered weakly, sounding unsure and confused.
“That was what I told Leonard.” The words were laced with utter contempt for his belief in her act of deceit. “The truth was I didn’t want to spoil my figure with a pregnancy. Having a great body and giving him great sex was how I’d got Leonard to shed his first wife and marry me. I wasn’t about to let some other cow take him from me the same way, but you never know with men. So I needed to tie him up with children, ensure that if he ever thought of dumping me it would cost him bigtime. And to find now, it’s all been for nothing …” She gnashed her teeth in disgust.
“Hardly nothing. You do get four million dollars,” Sally reminded her, feeling a huge tide of disgust herself. All these years … she and Jane had been nothing but an insurance policy to the woman who had adopted them. Not daughters. Just assets to be cashed in if her marriage didn’t last the distance. No doubt they were now liabilities to be shed.
“Peanuts!” Her eyes glowered a warning at both of them. “And I’ll need every cent of it to set me up and look attractive to another man of means.”
No grown-up daughters in that scene! And no financial support would be forthcoming for either of them. “I imagine a fashionable apartment in Sydney would be a first step,” Sally put forward, testing for a fuller picture.
“Yes,” her mother snapped, chin lifting in scornful pride. “I wouldn’t have stayed on this country property anyway, now that Leonard’s gone. But I can pretend it’s still mine with you here, Sally. Jack Maguire has played right into our hands. And when you have him by the balls, you can remunerate me for all I’ve given you over the years.”
My father gave it, not you, Sally thought. You only ever put on a show of mothering us in front of him. And that’s gone. An overwhelming sense of emptiness made her voice completely flat as she said, “I’m not like you. I’ll never be like you. I have no intention of getting Jack Maguire by the balls. I’m just going to fulfil my contract with him.”
“Don’t be such a naïve fool! You’ve got an open door opportunity to secure everything you’ve had up until now. More!”
Sally shook her head. “I won’t do it that way. I won’t deceive him and I won’t play your game of deception, either. This place is his, fair and square, and I’m glad to have a job because I know I can’t expect any support from you, Mother. Jane and I have served your purpose. We’ve been your mannequins in a show to keep our father tied to you, but that’s over. We are now expendable, aren’t we?”
“Sally, what are you saying?” Jane cried, frightened of where this was leading.