Ruthless Boss, Royal Mistress. Natalie Anderson
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kind of trouble.’ They’d always touched her. Since then she’d heard about her old friend Cassie’s hardship, and it resonated even more deeply. Cassie must have felt so alone in prison with a young baby. And what Liss hadn’t been able to do for her friend all those years ago, she wanted to be able to do in some small way for others now. She stared out at the harbour and tried to explain it more, wanted him to recognise that she wasn’t so self-obsessed.
‘I’m no counselor. I can’t offer them any advice. They’ve got far more major issues going on in their lives than I’ve ever had to deal with. But I’m someone to take an interest in them for half an hour. Someone to listen.’
‘Is that what they need?’
She turned her head to look at him. He stood at the other end of the floor-to-ceiling window, facing her rather than the view. Looking so cynical she wanted to shake him.
‘Of course it’s not all they need. But no one wants to know about them. They’ve been pushed to the side and forgotten about. By the men who used them, by the rest of society, by their own families.’
Written off by almost everyone, a statistic, a drain on the country’s resources, the futures forecast for them were bleak, but why shouldn’t they have some lightness too? ‘Sometimes it’s nice to have someone to listen to you. To make a bit of a fuss. Make you feel special.’
While the phone line had been good in Paris because it had given her complete anonymity, here, in a city where she knew no one, she’d wanted face-to-face contact as well. So she’d enquired about Atlanta House, made contact to find out if they’d be interested in her visiting. She’d gone several times in the week before she’d started work to get to know them. To show them she was serious about being a friend to the organisation and to the girls. She had no intention of flitting in and then out again. Now she’d settled into a once-a-week pattern—although she’d drop in at other times when she could.
Today she’d sat and chatted with the girls, made a few bead bracelets with some, plaited them onto hair with a couple of others—been a complete girl. And, yes, there was something in it for her—she’d felt welcome, just as she was.
She turned away from the coldness of James’s questions. ‘It’s not a nice feeling knowing you are not wanted.’
She gazed out the window, but no longer saw the glorious sky—too busy thinking. That was the one way in which she could truly relate to them. She hadn’t been wanted by her family for years now and she’d never really understood why. So she’d acted up a bit as a kid—who didn’t? And she felt hurt that they hadn’t even given her a chance this time. There was no recognition that maybe she’d grown up a little—they still just didn’t want to know.
Suddenly she became aware that the silence had been ticking for some time. She looked across the space, pasted a polite smile on her face. It disappeared the instant she encountered his gaze. His eyes were dark, intently focused on her, intensely burning. She’d never seen him look more serious, so assessing and, at the same time, so unreadable. The silence ticked on and as she watched the planes of his face became even more angular, his jaw hardening as if he were deliberately holding back—from speech? From movement?
All she knew was that she was suddenly, incredibly, uncomfortable. Her body temperature rose and she feared another of those awful blushes was imminent. She drained her cold coffee. ‘I should get going.’
He looked down, stretched alongside the sheet of glass for her cup, and cleared his throat, visibly relaxing. ‘Yeah.’
She aimed straight for the lift. ‘Thanks for the ride. And the coffee. It’ll help me get through the theatre tonight.’
As she passed him he asked, ‘You’re going out? You still look tired.’
She felt it. And the strain of spending time with him wasn’t helping. ‘It’s supposed to be a great play.’
He beat her to the lift, pressed the buttons. ‘Don’t you ever just want to sit at home and hang?’
‘Not really.’ What would she do, talk to the walls? ‘And I said I’d go tonight. I don’t want to let them down.’ She didn’t want to be rude or for the invitations to stop coming. She didn’t like sitting in the apartment alone and lonely. Better to be out and too busy to brood.
‘Of course.’
She glanced at him, his face had closed over again. That touch of sarcasm was back and as the doors closed, separating them, she heard it even more in the slow drawl. ‘Have a good night.’
He called her into his office the minute she appeared—ahead of time—on Monday morning.
‘Princess, let’s be honest.’
Oh, no, he was looking serious. She realised the whole work life/social life being separate stuff was accurate in James’s case. He’d smile charmingly at drinks and then sack her without a qualm the next working day.
‘The secretary thing.’
Oh, no. He was going to sack her.
‘It’s not working out.’
‘I’d thought…’ She stumbled over her words, felt the flood of fire in her face. ‘I’d hoped I was improving.’ Dignity, where art thou? She didn’t want to be sent back to where she wasn’t wanted. Wasn’t she ever going to be wanted anywhere? And she really had been trying. Really.
‘There’s something else I think you could do for me.’
She paused, for a second her thoughts going totally inappropriate and her internal heat sizzling.
‘I have a new hotel opening on Aristo in a few weeks.’
Aristo?
‘We’re having a party there to herald the opening at the end of next week.’ The corners of his mouth lifted. ‘Do you do parties, princess?’
‘You know I do.’ He wanted her to go to a party? What, once she was home and fully in disgrace? She wouldn’t be home for long—Alex would probably pack her off again to another far-flung destination before she even had the chance to get over the jet lag.
‘I want you to take over the planning. I want exclusive. I want glittering.’
She dragged her attention back from the pool of self-pity. He wanted her to organise it? The mother of all parties?
‘I want a gala ball unlike any other. I need VIPs in attendance and international media to cover it. I want the place dripping in glamour and a spread in every magazine and newspaper on the planet.’
Her heart started thundering and for once it wasn’t because of the way he was looking at her—not entirely anyway. ‘OK. You’ll have it.’ She beamed at him, her mind already whirring with wicked ideas. There was nothing she loved more than a big party—and this one was hers to create.
‘Go.’ He jerked his head towards the door, his matching smile seemingly reluctant—a little indulgent. ‘The file is in the system—you’ll find the budget details there and the preparations that have already been made. Look them over and make any adjustments you see fit. This is your party, princess. You make it work.’
‘Yes, boss!’ She answered smartly, but practically skipped out of the room.
‘Princess.’
She stopped and turned. His smile was gone and there was a serious message in his eyes.
‘Don’t make me regret it.’
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