Australia: Wicked Mistresses. Robyn Grady
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the more chance he had of finding out the truth. It was better the news came from her.
“I’ll tell him as soon as I get there.”
They would either kiss, and the fun times would be on again, or he would not be amused and would refuse to contribute to delinquent behaviour as far as resort standards and reputation were concerned. Then again he was the boss. He could make new rules.
Sinking further into the couch, Tori draped her arms over her head and spoke to the rattan fan, circulating air around the vaulted wood beam ceiling. “I bet he kisses like a dream.”
Nina recalled the sensation of Gabriel’s lips covering hers … the way his mouth had coaxed her into sublime submission. “He kisses better than a dream.”
He was drop-dead delectable. That body. That face. That creamy, dreamy voice.
“Maybe he has a brother you could introduce me to?” Tori pushed up and, sashaying over to her vacuum cleaner, gave her watermelon earring a sassy flick. “I could handle putting my duster out to pasture.”
Nina was watching that earring swing. “You could get in trouble, wearing those.” No jewellery was allowed other than studs and a watch. Mr Dorset, the general manager, was a stickler for dress code. Mr Dorset was a stickler for every rule.
Tori struck a pose oozing with attitude. “You’re playing ‘to the manner born’ and I might get in trouble?”
The joke was that Nina was to the manner born. She hadn’t appreciated the privileges she’d enjoyed growing up. She hadn’t missed them when she’d had a well-paid job. Her life had seemed full. She’d been good at what she’d done. Her colleagues had respected her and vice versa.
Tori was deep in thought, fingering that earring. “If you ask me, management need to loosen up. Don’t be overly friendly with the guests,” she sing-songed. “Don’t cough in public or we’ll dock your pay.”
“You wouldn’t be docked for coughing.” Unless it was excessive.
Adjusting the vacuum head, Tori sent her a dry look. “This place needs a darn good shake-up. And you can tell your rich boyfriend that from me.”
“He’s not my boyfriend.”
“Then what are you waiting for?” Tori stepped on the power, the vacuum roared to life, and she swung her hips in a hoola circle. “Work it, baby.”
Promising to give Tori an update, either tomorrow or later that night, depending on how things went, Nina headed off to change. But she was preoccupied with hoping things would go well, buoyed by fond thoughts of her previous job back in Sydney. She’d belonged at Shimmer magazine in a way she would never belong here. One thing was certain. She needed to feel that sense of belonging again.
While dragging her uniform out from the single-door wardrobe, the phone extension caught Nina’s eye. She’d asked the receptionist at Shimmer to keep her ear to the ground; sometimes management cut too many corners and people were needed back to fill the gaps. So why not take the initiative and call?
A moment later a voice Nina didn’t recognise answered the connection in Sydney, and Nina cleared her throat. “Hello. Would Abbey King be there?”
“Abbey left last week. Can anyone else help?”
Nina’s stomach bottomed out. Abbey was gone too? “Uh, I’m not sure who’s there any more.”
“May I ask who’s speaking?”
“Nina Petrelle.”
“And you’re enquiring about …?”
“I used to work there.”
The receptionist’s tone changed, became low and flat. “Shimmer have no vacancies at this time.”
Nina’s hand fisted around the receiver as suffocating heat crept up her neck.
I was in charge of Features, she wanted to say. I used to buy a latte with extra sprinkles every morning before work. I used to sit around the boardroom and discuss upcoming stories and strategies with my colleagues. I was part of that office, dammit!
The receptionist’s voice infiltrated the red haze. “Hello? Were you calling about a job?”
Nina set her teeth. “I already have a job.”
She slammed the receiver down.
Don’t cry. Don’t you dare cry.
If she started she might not be able to stop, because that same draining question was whispering again in her mind …
Who are you? Where will you end up?
She knew she would survive. It was just a matter of staying strong.
But if Gabriel threw her out tonight she didn’t know what she’d do.
With a spring in his step, Gabriel headed down the wide slate path, which was lined by a jungle of lush tropical garden. Unwilling to admit defeat, he’d made a no-holds-barred play to see Nina again and she’d acquiesced. He wasn’t prepared to throw in the towel without at least writing a closing chapter to their beach-side affair.
When he’d told her that he owned this island resort initially he’d thought she was embarrassed. Then he’d thought she was being a princess, and then he’d surmised that he’d merely lost his appeal. But when she’d walked away, resigned yet also somehow brave, he’d known something more lay behind her change in attitude.
He remembered their conversation the previous night … the way she’d opened up.
What had knocked the wind out of her? he wondered. She’d said she wanted to know who she was. He’d blamed her general dislike of the resort on service and facilities, but after seeing how bereft she’d looked before he’d called her back, he knew it went deeper than that. The obstacle, the crisis bringing her down, was waiting for her here.
Something dug into his hip. He reached and pulled a shell from his pocket. Before leaving this morning he’d found it on the bathroom shelf. Knowing Nina must have left it there, on impulse he’d taken it with him. He focused on the shell’s decorative rays and remembered Nina’s incredible smile.
He held the shell tighter.
He wouldn’t rest until A: he found out all of Nina’s story, and B: he fixed whatever was wrong. If she needed an ally, no matter how busy he got here, he’d be it.
“Excuse me, Mr Steele?”
Gabe wheeled around. Horace Dorset, General Manager of Diamond Shores Resort, was striding up the path. Dorset, with a lemon rosebud adorning his lapel, gave him a pleasant, enquiring look. “Everything well with you, sir?”
“I received your message,” said Gabe. Dorset wanted to speak with him about standardising staff prerequisites. Good plan, but not now. “I’ll get back to you tomorrow.”
Dorset nodded, but didn’t bow off. “I see you’ve introduced yourself to some of the staff.”
Gabriel cast his mind back. “No. Only the managers.”
“The young lady …?”
Young lady? He meant Nina?
Gabriel laughed. “You’re mistaken. Nina’s a guest.” Dorset’s brows slanted, then he shook his head. “You’re confusing her with someone else,’ Gabriel pointed out. Although he wasn’t sure how anyone could mistake an air that confirmed an impeccable upbringing … the way she held herself … the way she spoke.
Dorset thought she was staff? Absurd.
And yet Dorset kept looking at him with something like pity pinching his brows.
Gabriel thought more, then waved an impatient arm towards the hotel. “I saw her go into her