The Tycoon's Trophy Mistress. Lee Wilkinson
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piercing eyes set deep beneath well-marked brows, he was undeniably handsome.
Though not in the film star sense.
His was a lean face, tough and attractive, with a cleft chin and a mouth that had affected her strangely, always managing to send little shivers down her spine.
In the more sensational sections of the press he was often referred to as a latter-day Lothario, and frequent stories appeared about him and his latest ‘conquest’, some of which verged on the scurrilous.
Until a matter of months ago, repelled by such blatant sexuality, her instinct had been to avoid him at all costs.
Now things had altered completely. Meeting him, getting close to him, had become her only aim in life. Her mission.
On his last visit, despite all her efforts, she hadn’t even managed to catch a glimpse of him. When she had finally thought of a reason to go up to the top floor executive suite it was to discover he had just that minute left for the airport.
Instead of making her give up her failure only served to stiffen her resolve.
During the following weeks, while trying to work out some practicable strategy to achieve her goal, she had kept an eye on the papers and learnt all she could about him.
A top-flight Anglo-American entrepreneur from a wealthy background, he was known in the business world for his ability and in the outside world for his philanthropy.
A man who was said to work hard and play hard, Daniel Wolfe was today’s hottest news, the centre of media attention on both sides of the Atlantic.
With an English mother and an American father, he had been educated at Columbia and Cambridge and, after graduating, had taken over the running of his godfather’s ailing software company.
When that was firmly on its feet he had diversified, buying up other rocky companies and doing the same for them.
Now, at barely thirty, he was a multi-millionaire. Admired. Envied. Feared. Respected. Occasionally reviled.
In spite of so much coverage, he managed to keep his private life private. So, though Charlotte was soon familiar with his public image, she was able to glean little about the man himself.
In a recent article in Top People he’d been described, more temperately, as an unrepentant bachelor. But a bachelor who liked women. Especially beautiful women.
When, after each London visit, pictures of him appeared in the newspapers, there was always a willowy blonde or a redhead clinging to his arm.
Cursed with the kind of looks that attracted the opposite sex like a magnet, Charlotte had often wished she were plain. It would have saved a great deal of hassle, and made life so much simpler.
Entranced by her face and figure, men had been pursuing her since she was fifteen. Their unwanted, unlooked-for attentions, their sheer persistence, had driven her to hide behind a cool, impenetrable façade that only Peter had ever managed to breach.
And then it had been for all the wrong reasons.
Poor Peter.
But if her despised beauty could seriously attract Daniel Wolfe it would be worth all the problems it had caused in the past.
She had never imagined herself using her looks to try to ensnare a man, but knowing she was the type of woman he went for was an unexpected bonus and helped to bolster her determination.
But if he invariably went in for the kind of casual relationships where no feelings were involved the whole thing might well be impossible.
To succeed in what she was hoping to do, not only had she got to make him want her, somehow she had to make him fall in love with her…
As the office door opened and Mr Telford came in she looked up, a mite flustered, her cheeks growing hot as though he could read her thoughts.
Crossing to his desk, the tall, grey-haired MD said, ‘Charlotte, my dear, do sit down. I’m sorry to have kept you waiting. I got held up at lunch.’
Taking a seat opposite, she strove to look cool and collected, as though the outcome of the interview didn’t matter all that much.
His light blue eyes kind, Telford asked, ‘So you’re still interested in the move to New York?’
‘Yes.’ She hoped she didn’t sound as breathless as she felt.
‘Quite sure? It might mean having more contact with Mr Wolfe.’ It was as far as he could go by way of warning.
‘Absolutely.’ She answered steadily.
It seemed that she had decided to put the past behind her. Relieved, he asked, ‘Perhaps you’d like to tell me why?’
She had expected the question and rehearsed her reply. ‘Apart from the fact that a firsthand knowledge of American market trends could prove to be invaluable, it would be a good chance to compare the way different teams work. I understand the New York team are usually extremely accurate with their predictions. I thought I might learn something.’
‘A text-book answer,’ he remarked with a smile. ‘Though I rather suspected you had a more personal reason for wanting this move?’
She froze. It seemed he knew.
But he couldn’t possibly know.
‘How do you mean, a more personal reason?’
A twinkle in his eye, he said, ‘Didn’t you once tell me you’d like a chance to live in New York?’
‘Yes. Yes, I did… I’m just surprised you remembered.’ Then boldly, ‘Does having a personal reason disqualify me?’
‘Of course not. The mere fact that you want to live there is a big plus.’
Her sigh of relief was audible.
‘In my opinion you’re the candidate best suited to the move and, though I’m sure they’ll miss you on the team, I’ll put your name forward to Mr Wolfe.’
‘That’s marvellous.’ She smiled at him brilliantly.
Blinking, he thanked the Lord that he was a very happily married man. Though she had been working for Wolfe International for almost two years, her beauty never failed to move him.
‘If he’s in agreement, which I’m sure he will be, all your travelling expenses will, of course, be met and you’ll have the use of a company flat. Any idea how long it will take you to get organized for the transfer?’
‘I can be ready as soon as you wish.’
The sooner the better.
‘With Christmas less than two weeks away, I imagine some time around mid-January should be fine. Will leaving your present accommodation give you any problems? I mean from a practical point of view?’
‘No. I share a rented flat with an old school friend. Carla should have no trouble finding someone to take my place while I’m away.’
‘Excellent… Then, as soon as I’ve had a word with Mr Wolfe, I’ll let you know.’
‘Thank you.’ Her legs not quite steady, Charlotte made her way back to her own office—one of a row of small offices, little more than cubicles, that made up Research and Analysis—and sat down at her desk.
Her thoughts were chaotic, tumbling over each other like clowns in a circus ring. She had succeeded in taking the first step.
So long as Daniel Wolfe raised no objections…
But why should he? She and Tim had different surnames and, out of the country when it all happened, she hadn’t been involved in any way, so he would have no idea there was any connection.
Charlotte felt her whole body tense as once again the hatred and anger rose up inside, sharp and biting, bitter as gall on her tongue.
After leaving college, and