Three Rich Men: House of Midnight Fantasies / Forced to the Altar / The Millionaire's Pregnant Mistress. Michelle Celmer
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Very few things. Most of what Selene had owned she’d left behind, except for the harsh memories of a doomed marriage.
“Today would be wonderful.” Ella started toward the door. “I’ll show you the contract first, and while you’re in town, I’ll see if I can arrange a time for you to meet him.”
Him, as in Mr. Morrell, Selene decided. “I’m looking forward to it.” If for no other reason aside from curiosity.
“One thing you need to know about Adrien,” Ella said once they reentered the hallway. “He’s a hard case. I’ve known him for many years, and the best way to handle him is to stand your ground.”
Considering Ella’s cautions, Selene wondered if she’d already made a colossal error in judgment. “I’ll remember that.”
On the drive back to the inn, Selene entertained more than a few second thoughts even though she’d found the agreement satisfactory and the pay much more than generous. She should have questioned the woman more thoroughly, particularly about the mysterious owner. Yet the opportunity had practically fallen into her lap at a time when she’d been uncertain over her future. Sheer serendipity.
Besides, the man was probably a middle-aged codger, as peculiar as his grandfather, set in his ways and, she suspected, cranky. She could handle cranky. She could handle anything as long as she could be her own person, make her own decisions, at least when it came to her private life.
Yes, she would deal with Adrien Morrell, through whatever means necessary, be it killing him with kindness or hanging tough. Better still, she would ignore him altogether.
“Who the hell is she, Ella?”
Adrien immediately noted the surprise in his longtime companion’s near black eyes, followed by a flicker of guilt before she said, “You’ve seen her?”
Yes, he’d seen her. He’d watched her from the window as she’d left her car. Saw her brief hesitation. Witnessed her wariness. He’d noticed the way her golden blond hair, bound at her neck, spiraled down her back in soft curls. Noticed her slender throat, her flawless pale skin, the length of her legs and the curve of her hips. From the shadows near the stairs, he’d also observed her walking the corridor, and imagined more than only watching her. A reaction he didn’t welcome but hadn’t been able to stop.
Adrien leaned forward and rolled a pen back and forth over the desk’s surface. “What does she want?”
“A job.”
He tossed the pen aside. “I assume you told her she was in the wrong place.”
“No, I did not.” Ella stepped forward from the door and displayed her usual toughness. “Her name is Selene Winston, and I’ve hired her to oversee the restoration.”
A sharp prick of seething anger threatened Adrien’s tenuous self-control. “I didn’t give you permission to hire anyone.”
Ella planted her palms on the desk and leaned into them. “Someone needs to go forward with the plans before this house falls down around our heads.”
Damn her interference. “That’s my decision, not yours.”
“That’s the problem, skâ. You’re making no decisions. That’s why we need someone to get this place into shape so you can put it on the market and leave.”
Right now he didn’t care to leave. The house had become his haven, his own private hell. “How did you find her?”
“I put an ad in the St. Edwards newspaper and she answered it. She’s the only one who answered it. And you’re the one who told me you wanted someone who would give the house personal attention. Otherwise, I could have hired a firm from Baton Rouge months ago.”
Adrien didn’t like the way Ella’s gaze suddenly faltered. “Where is she from?”
“Georgia. She’s a divorcée. From the looks of her car and clothes, I suspect she has money, or did at one time. But for some reason she’s decided to settle in St. Edwards. As long as she’s a hard worker, I don’t really care how she got here.”
Adrien cared. He had no use for a woman who’d probably never had her diamond-bedecked hands dirty in her whole damn life. “How much experience does she have?”
She shrugged. “Why don’t you ask her since you’re the all-knowing, all-seeing entrepreneur?”
If Ella were anyone else, he’d fire her. “I really don’t give a damn because I have no intention of letting her stay.”
“You don’t give a damn about anything, Adrien.” She straightened and sighed. “It’s been well over a year now. You have to go on with your life.”
A life filled with remorse. A life that had become static, by his own hand. And he liked it that way. “Tell her she’s not needed here.” Or wanted.
Ella scowled. “Oh, she’s needed here, all right. And she’s staying, or I’ll go with her.”
More empty threats, Adrien decided. Nothing he hadn’t witnessed before from his surrogate mother. Ella wasn’t going anywhere because she had no desire to leave him alone. In order to keep the peace, at least externally if not internally, he’d humor her for now. “Fine. Do what you will. Just make sure she stays out of my way.”
“Maybe you should tell her yourself. She’s agreed to live here until the house is finished. I put her in the room next to yours.” With that, Ella spun around without giving him a glance and headed out the door.
Adrien streaked both hands down his face and leaned back in his chair. He didn’t need any of this. Didn’t need this Winston woman anywhere near him. Even if she was beautiful. Even if he’d been numb for months now and when he’d seen her, he’d begun to come alive, at least in a carnal sense.
He’d be damned if he’d bed some Georgia debutante, and he had every intention of persuading her to leave. He wasn’t exactly sure how he would manage it, but he would. He definitely would.
Selene had been granted a delay in the official meeting, at least for the time being. According to Ella, the plantation’s owner hadn’t requested an audience, nor had he joined them for dinner. She hadn’t run into him on her way to retire for the night, but earlier she had heard him passing through the corridor outside the bedroom, followed by a closing door. The sound of creaking floorboards, as if he’d been pacing, continued for a time before ceasing a few moments ago. Now if only she could get some sleep.
But sleep seemed as elusive as her employer. The fans only served to stir the warm air, and the open windows provided little relief. She’d tossed and turned so much that her thin white gown was practically wrapped around her neck. And although she’d taken a bath before turning in, at this rate she would probably need another. She couldn’t imagine how people survived before the advent of air-conditioning. But then they couldn’t miss what they’d never had.
What Selene really needed at the moment was some fresh air to provide some temporary comfort. On that thought, she pushed out of the bed, opened the French doors and stepped barefoot onto the veranda, hoping she didn’t encounter any splinters jutting up from the wooden decking as she moved to the edge of the balcony. With her hands braced on the black railing, she turned her gaze to the three-quarter moon hanging overhead and the host of stars scattered across the midnight sky.
The temperature had mercifully dropped to a more tolerable level, the gentle wind she’d been seeking flowing over her damp body and ruffling her unruly hair. The bayou’s summer sounds surrounded her—chirping locusts and bellowing bullfrogs. She inclined her head and listened for the rush of the Mississippi that knit through the terrain not far away. She only heard the rustle of brush from below. No doubt, the swamps were full of nasty creatures. Probably a few bobcats and alligators with large, treacherous teeth waiting to snap up unsuspecting wildlife. Definitely snakes slithering about, coiled and ready to strike. Maybe even a wolf foraging the forest, searching for prey.
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