The Disobedient Mistress
‘My sources are private.’
Meeting that steady, fathomless gaze, she could feel her head beginning to swim and the breath catching in her throat. ‘It’s quite untrue.’
‘Don’t lie to me. I have no time for lies,’ Leone told her smoothly. ‘My information is always accurate. I know that the only way your bank will extend your loan is if you bring them the contract for the next year’s catering here signed, sealed and delivered.’
‘If someone at the bank has been making allegations about the viability of my business, I will be sure to make an official complaint.’ Misty threw her head back, silver eyes blazing challenge. ‘I assure you that were you to give me that contract I would deliver the service required for the period specified and I would not have any problems in doing so.’
‘I’m impressed by your optimism,’ Leone countered levelly, ‘but let’s cut to the chase. You have talent and you’re great at organisation but you fell down when it came to the bid for the first contract. Your price was ludicrously low. Yet you’re in a labour-intensive industry, saddled with high staff turnover, crippling insurance costs and public health regulations that are very expensive for a small business to meet. As a result, you have barely recouped your costs.’
‘I wanted the job. I priced that bid to win in the obvious hope of recouping costs over the next year,’ Misty informed him. ‘You said you liked to support new local businesses—’
‘Not when the captain at the helm is a woman who refuses to acknowledge when she’s in over her head. How you can sit there and argue with me when I know for a fact that you’re behind with the rent on your business premises, behind with your bank loan and up to your pretty throat in debt—’
‘Leave my throat…pretty or otherwise…out of this, please.’ Misty rose to her feet, no longer able to tolerate being looked down on by him. How dared he speak to her in such a way? How dared he? It was bad enough learning that the contract on which she had placed all her hopes was to be awarded elsewhere, but that he should add insult to injury by enumerating what he deemed to be her mistakes was more than flesh and blood could bear.
‘And losing your temper with me will impress me even less,’ Leone informed her with a derisive look at her aggressive stance. She might be around five feet ten tall, but she was as slender as a willow wand. What on earth was the matter with her? She was useless at bluffing. Her eyes gave her away every time. Did she really expect him to waste time listening to her trying to convince him that she wasn’t on the edge of a financial abyss?
In the space of a second, rage almost ate Misty alive. The temper that she had long since mastered threatened to overflow like lava. She wanted to take a swing at him. She wanted to wipe that derisive slant off his lean, strong face with a well-placed fist and that simple awareness disconcerted her enough to put a brake on her anger.
‘You’ve brought me in here, given me the bad news, but you didn’t need to personalise the issue,’ Misty stated with curt dignity. ‘So why would you think I want to impress you now?’
An ebony brow elevated. ‘I could be thinking of throwing you a lifeline.’
A shaken and involuntary laugh escaped Misty. She was grateful that he had not given her an opening in which to beg. She was even grateful that he had made her furious. For if she were forced to stop and consider the appalling consequences of losing that contract, she might well come apart at the seams and embarrass herself. He liked playing games with people, she decided. Or maybe it was only women he liked toying with.
‘Is that really a possibility?’ The tip of her tongue came out to moisten her dry lower lip as she wondered if it was remotely likely that, in spite of what he had so far said about her business acumen, he might have some other job to offer her.
The silence hummed like a circular saw on her straining nerves. His attention had dropped to her lips, the too wide, too full mouth she hated. No doubt he was noticing that it was out of proportion to her face. Men were supposed to think about sex, what was it…at least once every five minutes? She reckoned he would be challenged to keep his mind clean for sixty seconds. He had an aura of potent virility that no woman could avoid noticing. She studied him, the lush black lashes screening his gleaming scrutiny, and her lips actually tingled with her awareness of him, her rebellious body stirring with the sensations she had grown to fiercely resent experiencing in his vicinity. The sudden tense, full sensation lifting her breasts inside her cotton bra cups, the utterly demeaning throb of her nipples tightening.
Never had Misty been so grateful for the concealment of her jacket. Imagine him seeing that physical evidence, imagine him knowing that he could make her stupid body react like that with one charged glance! Ever since she had met him, she had recognised that cruel Old Mother nature was reminding her that she had hormones, but it meant nothing. She had been hurt too much to risk herself again with any man and she need hardly worry that this particular male was likely to make a pass, for Leone Andracchi was just doing what came naturally to a sexual animal of his appetites: considering every passing woman of a certain age on her merits. And she knew her merits to be few and far between.
‘Anything’s possible. Didn’t anyone ever tell you that?’ Leone murmured, smooth as velvet.
Flash had told her that when he’d been trying to talk her into his bed. Try it, you might find you like it. Not the seduction line of the century, but another week or two of his determined siege and she might have succumbed out of gratitude and love, for she did love him, would always love him, only not the way he had wanted her to love him. But sometimes in low moments she would think that she should have snatched at his offer and made the best of it.
‘It’s my motto.’ Misty was careful to keep Leone Andracchi out of focus, determined to blank him out as a man, get her foolish physical self back under control and let those taunting sensations subside.
‘Sit down,’ Leone Andracchi told her.
Obviously something was in the offing. She dropped back down into the seat, thought that maybe, after all, it had been worth staying up half the night to produce those wretched Sicilian recipes for his benefit. Major egos liked being stroked. Honey went far further than vinegar, she reminded herself doggedly. What had happened to her belief that she could make herself beg? Why did the prospect of speaking even one humble word to Leone Andracchi clog up her throat like a threatened dose of poison?
‘I have a role that I would like you to fulfil for me over the next two months.’ Leone surveyed her steadily. ‘In return I would rescue your business, and at the end of our agreement I would ensure that you had sufficient work to survive. What do you think?’
‘The last time I looked there wasn’t two blue moons hanging out there in that sky,’ Misty quipped with helpless bluntness.
CHAPTER TWO
LEONE ANDRACCHI dealt Misty a look of hauteur, his wide mouth tightening with perceptible exasperation.
Having immediately recognised her mistake in making such a facetious response, Misty had turned hot pink with discomfiture. She could not work out where those inappropriate words of doubt had emerged from. It was the effect of him again, she decided. He spooked her, put her on edge, knocked her out of the cautious business mode which she had no problem maintaining around other clients.
‘I’m sorry,’ Misty said flatly, ‘but what you just said sounded too good to be true.’
‘So you’re now willing to concede that you’re facing bankruptcy?’ Leone probed.
A chill at the very sound of that terrifying word sank into Misty’s bones and she shifted uneasily in her chair. ‘Mr Andracchi—’
‘Until you admit that reality, I will go no further,’ he warned her.
Her earlier argument to the contrary had evidently offended. She would have loved to have known what he would have done in the same position. Announced to his one last hope that his back was up against the wall? No way, he was far too clever for that, so why was he judging her for her attempt to regain his confidence? Just because he refused to credit that she could have fulfilled that contract for a year! But she knew she could have, had done the figures over and over again, had been ready to go on living like a church mouse to have done so.
‘Or leave my office,’ Leone Andracchi added with lethal cool.
‘I’m…facing…bankruptcy,’ Misty framed like a clockwork toy with a battery about to run flat. The admission hurt, made real what she had until then refused to contemplate and she hated him all the more for forcing her to that brink.
‘Thank you. As I said I have a promising proposition to offer you. It’s nothing to do with catering, although if you find yourself overcome with the urge to cook Sicilian cuisine in your spare time, I will have no objection,’ Leone imparted with a sardonic smile.
The offer had nothing to do with catering? Nothing? She hoped that swallowing his sarcasm in silence would prove to be worth her while.
‘First, I want your assurance that nothing I now say will be repeated beyond this office.’
Since the first rule of any business was respecting client confidentiality, Misty bridled at that statement. ‘Of course. I’m no gossip and I’d be a fool if I was.’
‘I need a woman to pretend that she’s my mistress.’
She heard an imaginary crash as her jaw metaphorically hit the floor. She waited on the punchline, certain he was mocking her in some way and determined not to rise prematurely to the bait.
‘You will note that word, “pretend,”’ Leone Andracchi stressed with unblemished cool. ‘I’m not into sexual harassment of my employees and you would be, in effect, my employee for I would insist that you signed a legal agreement to maintain the fiction until I say that your role is at an end.’
Misty sucked in a ragged breath and continued to stare at him, utterly silenced by that second speech. He was actually serious, yet she could not credit that he was addressing her with such an offer. What reason could he have for asking any woman to pretend to be his mistress? He had to have a little black book the size of an entire library. For goodness’ sake, wasn’t he dating an actress from a television show at present? Jassy something or other? A pneumatic blonde with the kind of curves that even other women stole a shaken second glance at?
‘I’m afraid I don’t understand,’ Misty framed very slowly and succinctly while she wondered if he were a brick short of the full load in the mental department or drunk as a skunk and just not showing physical signs of his condition.
‘You’re not required to understand. I have my own reasons and I don’t intend to share them. I know women don’t like mysteries but, in this case, discretion is necessary.’
‘If you do have some…er…need to hire a woman for such a novel role, I can’t think why you should approach me,’ Misty reasoned with enormous care.
‘Can’t you?’ A faint smile momentarily softened the tough line of his mouth.
She had no intention of lowering herself to the level of spelling out the obvious. But she wasn’t beautiful or glamorous, nor did she have the high public profile of the kind of women he was usually associated with.
‘Is this some kind of a joke?’
‘It’s on the level.’
‘But you must know hundreds of women,’ Misty protested, intimidated by his persistence. ‘Why me?’
‘I prefer to hire and fire rather than coax and trust,’ Leone countered without hesitation. ‘Why are you trying to dissuade me from rescuing you from your financial problems?’
Put like that, keeping quiet seemed more sensible, but she could not accept that he was serious without some idea of his motivation for such a weird offer. ‘This is very strange.’
Leone shrugged a broad shoulder in unconcerned acknowledgement.
‘I mean…seriously,’ Misty emphasised.
‘I am serious and the position wouldn’t be that easy to fill. You’d have to act the part, dress the part and convince people that we’re lovers.’
Warm colour inched up beneath her fine complexion and she glanced away from her studious scrutiny of his exquisitely tailored suit jacket. ‘I don’t think I’d be a great hit in that department.’
‘You just need the right props and the ability to do exactly as I tell you at all times. It would definitely be a case of when I say jump…you say how high?’
Misty could see herself being a major disappointment in that field too. But it was dawning on her that, peculiar as his proposition was, he was not pulling her leg. He wanted a fake mistress. What did being a fake mistress entail?
‘We are talking…. fake mistress here?’ Misty prompted in a strained undertone.
‘Do you really think that I need to pay for sex?’
Her even white teeth gritted. If she said jump to him and he said how high, she would direct him to the nearest lift shaft, but with that ego of his he would bounce back out of the fall. ‘There’s no need to get that personal, Mr Andracchi. Your private life is your business but my safety is mine.’
‘Are you trying to suggest that I might be some sort of pervert?’ Leone shot back at her in an incredulous growl.
‘How would I know? This is not a common or garden offer. Like, I don’t have rich Sicilian tycoons offering me the moon just to pretend to be their mistresses every day, do I?’ Misty snapped out in bewilderment and embarrassment.
‘And if you take that tone and attitude, you are unlikely to have even one Sicilian tycoon still interested.’
Legs cramped by the rigidity of her posture in the chair, Misty got up again and walked across the office before spinning round to face him, wide grey eyes frowning. ‘Just tell me why you’re asking me to do this…why me?’
‘You couldn’t afford to welch on any deal we would make or change the terms to suit yourself.’ He stood straight and tall, eyes hard gold and direct.
Misty flinched. Mr Mean and Tough, who, it seemed, knew exactly how she was placed and that was between a rock and a hard place. He had no shame about reminding her of that unpalatable fact. Perhaps it was a timely reminder too. Any alternative to bankruptcy and Birdie losing her home ought to be considered. But how could she possibly consider taking on a role in which she would be less than convincing? Didn’t he see that? People wouldn’t believe that she was his mistress for one minute! He specialised in beautiful women. Yes, he liked women, but why did she judge him for that?
‘I couldn’t do it…’ she muttered. ‘We mix like oil and water. I wouldn’t be at home in the sort of social life you must have. And I couldn’t possibly convince anyone that we were…lovers.’
‘Oh, I think you underestimate yourself on that score,’ Leone breathed in a different timbre, rich, dark drawl snaking round her like a husky, mesmeric spell.
Nibbling at the soft underside of her full lower lip, Misty was entrapped by the intensity of his narrowed golden stare. Gorgeous eyes, undeniably gorgeous eyes. Her mouth ran dry, her muscles tightening in response. Even his voice, liquid dark enticement of the most dangerous kind, yet another enhancement to his magnetic masculine presence. The gene pool had not been stingy when he’d been born.
Entirely against her own will, she wanted to smile, soften, be a woman in all the ways she had once allowed herself to be even if it put her at risk of getting hurt again. The atmosphere was buzzing with the sensual vibes he could put out. He could whip up the tension without effort. And no matter how hard she tried to remain impervious, excitement nibbled at her every nerve ending and she quivered as a taunting flame lit low in her pelvis and forced her to press her thighs together in shamed disconcertion.
‘Just say the word and sign on the dotted line and all your troubles are at an end.’
‘What would playing your pretend mistress involve?’ Misty heard herself ask and surprised herself.
‘Living in the apartment I would supply, wearing the clothes I buy, going where I ask when I ask without question.’
Mistress as in mindless slave, she translated with a secret little shard of amusment. He was a real domineering louse. But it was interesting to note that he wasn’t suggesting any type of shared accommodation. The masquerade would only be of the public variety and would require no greater intimacy. He wanted a dressed-up doll to play a stupid role for some reason he refused to reveal. Maybe it was another Andracchi whim like the executive lunches. Or maybe it had some business purpose…which would make it an unusual job but still a job like any other.
It wasn’t as though he would be expecting her to hop into bed with him. Of course, he wouldn’t. Her face burned that she had even suspected he might. After all, he had much more attractive possibilities than her available: women who had probably forgotten more than she had even learned about bedroom pursuits. She would be as safe as houses with him but she would be selling herself, handing over her pride and her independence in return for cold hard cash support. That was cheap and nasty and the thought of it left an unpleasant taste in her mouth, but she had Birdie and her employees to think about and pride didn’t pay the bills.
‘What would you do for me?’ she whispered chokily, the humiliating request for greater clarity on that point hurting her.
‘Settle your debts, put your business back on an even keel, cover the wages of your staff while you’re working for me. Anything else, name it. I’m prepared to negotiate.’ Leone Andracchi gazed back at her, cool as ice.
Her tummy churned. She loathed him for issuing that unvarnished bribe of greater remuneration. He had it all worked out. He believed that he could buy her and it shamed her to acknowledge that she had put herself in a position where he could think that and act on it.
‘I’ll think it over this evening.’ That admission cut through Misty’s pride like the first wounding slash of a knife.
‘What do you have to think over?’
‘I think you’re underestimating my side of what you call the deal.’
His strong jawline hardened. ‘I don’t see a problem or a conflict of interests. You get to wear fabulous clothes, live in a superb apartment and enjoy the high life for a couple of months.’
‘I can see that you believe that that should be a big draw, but it’s not.’ Lifting her head with determined composure, Misty walked to the door.
‘What more did you expect?’
‘Respect…for a start.’ Misty pushed out that admission between gritted teeth.
‘That has to be earned…and I doubt your ability to earn mine.’
Did having bad luck in business make her so much a lesser person? Did he only respect successful people with big bank balances and social pedigrees? He really was obnoxious. He had had no need to make that last comment. It suggested a prejudice against her that both shook and mortified her, for he might have enquired into the state of her catering business but surely he could know very little else about her?
‘I shouldn’t have said that. I’m sorry,’ Leone Andracchi drawled flatly.
‘Don’t let it worry you,’ Misty advised, registering that he was merely concerned that he might have overplayed his hand and not truly regretful. ‘You’re self-satisfied, arrogant, manipulative and ruthless. You could have given me that contract, for I believe you’re well aware that I would’ve worked my socks off to fulfil it. However, you prefer to use my problems as a weapon against me. You have very little conscience and even less compassion. Do you really think I’m surprised that you should also be very rude?’
And with that concluding accolade Misty skimmed him a flashing glance from her silver grey eyes. He was very still. Pretty much gobsmacked by that retaliation. Hard dark eyes assailed hers in a seering look that was pure naked intimidation.
‘I shouldn’t have said that. I’m so sorry,’ Misty told him with an insincerity that more than equalled his own a minute earlier, and with that she left his office at speed.
Hit and run? Was that all she was good for? She had been scared that he might have a temper the size of his powerful personality. But biting the hand that she might end up having to feed from was real insanity. Right this very minute, he would be comforting himself with that superior awareness and thinking how stupid she had been to risk alienating him to that extent. And it was surely paranoiac of her to believe that he might have deliberately withheld that contract to put her under more pressure to agree?
In fact it was most likely that he had turned to her because some other woman had refused. A fake mistress? Why? What was Leone Andracchi up to? Such an extraordinary proposition and an expensive one if he was planning to put her in some fancy apartment and furnish her with an appropriate wardrobe. So somehow it would have to profit him. But as she went down in the lift, still shell-shocked by their interview, she could not work out how setting up a pretend mistress could possibly benefit him.
She pictured that lean dark face, breathtakingly good-looking, devastatingly cool and unrevealing. Nobody would ever accuse of Leone Andracchi of wearing his thoughts on his sleeve. A shiver of foreboding ran down her spine. As she crossed the spacious foyer on the ground floor her steps slowed. What was she doing walking away from his rescue bid?
In return for her playing some ridiculous role as his mistress, he would save her business and enable her to continue paying the mortgage on Birdie’s home as well as ensure the ongoing employment of her staff. When the rewards were so great and so many other people would suffer if her business failed, what was a couple of months out of her life? What had been the point of walking out on Leone Andracchi when in reality she had no choice but to accept his terms? She had no other options, had she?
Misty had to make herself walk back into the lift; the prospect of eating humble pie had no appeal. In the short corridor which led to Leone’s office on the top floor, she was disconcerted to see him standing outside the door in conversation with two men. She came to an awkward halt a good ten feet away, two high spots of pink forming over her cheekbones. It took her just two seconds to decide that he was deliberately ignoring her, a lowering impression only increased by the sight of him looking so infuriatingly at ease. Arrogant dark head held at an angle, his jacket pushed back by the lean hand he had thrust in the pocket of his tailored trousers, he emanated relaxation. Angry resentment stiffened her to stone.
Finally, Leone turned his head and lifted an enquiring ebony brow, lean strong face urbane.
‘The answer’s…yes,’ Misty framed with flat emphasis.
His brilliant dark eyes gleamed and he stretched out a hand. In the very act of turning away to make good her escape while he was occupied, for she really had had enough of him for one afternoon, Misty stilled. With frozen reluctance, she moved forward, horribly conscious of his companions’ curiosity as they stepped back out of her path.
His wide sensual mouth curved into a slow, charismatic smile that made her mouth run dry. He caught her fingers in his and closed an arm round her.
‘Excuse me…’ he murmured huskily to their audience, pressing open the door of his office to back her over the threshold.
‘What on—?’earth are you playing at, Misty began to say.
Warning dark golden eyes assailed hers and before she could utter one more syllable he had whirled her round and brought his mouth crashing down on hers with devouring sexual hunger. An inarticulate moan of shock was dragged from her but, in the split second in which she was incredulously aware that the wretched door wasn’t even closed to conceal them, his passionate intensity scorched her into sensual awakening. As he banded his hands round the curve of her hips and pressed her into intimate connection with every muscular line of his big, powerful body, raw excitement flamed through her quivering length like a forest fire licking out of control.