The Millionaire's Mistress
Justine watched now as she struggled to accept reality. Unfortunately, her mother’s ingrained habit of ignoring unpalatable facts was simply too strong.
Instead of facing their situation, she became stroppy. ‘Part with your grandmother’s legacy? Absolutely not! I won’t hear of it! I...I’ll go down to the bank manager myself tomorrow and explain. I’m sure he can wait till we both get jobs and can repay your father’s debts.’
Justine could not believe her mother’s naïvety! Who on earth was going to employ a fifty-seven-year-old woman who’d never worked in her life? Her own prospects weren’t much better!
‘Mum, neither of us have skills to offer an employer,’ she explained patiently. ‘I’d have some chance because I’m younger. But nothing fancy. Even if I was lucky enough to get a job in a boutique or a supermarket, my salary would not even touch the sides of the loan repayments. Our only chance is to run a business. We have five spare bedrooms in this house if we share this one. Daddy’s study could be made into a bedroom as well, since it has a very comfy convertible sofa. The university is just down the road. We could bring in good money by renting all six rooms to students who want full board.’
‘But who would do all the cooking and cleaning? You let Gladys and June go last week.’
‘We’ll have to do it together, Mum. We can’t afford a cook. Or a cleaner. Or a gardener, for that matter.’
‘Oh, no, not Tom too,’ Adelaide protested.
‘Yes, Tom too. We just don’t have enough money to pay him. Fact is, Mum, we don’t have any money left at all. The electricity bill came in this week, and the phone bill is still unpaid since before Christmas. They’re threatening to cut us off by the end of the week. We’re going to have to sell a few things today to pay those bills and buy some food. Some personal things we don’t really need.’
Adelaide’s head jerked up, her eyes pained. ‘Not my mother’s jewellery!’
Justine sighed and stood up. ‘It might come to that eventually, but, no, we’ll hang on to Grandma’s jewellery for a while. We wouldn’t get a fraction of what it’s worth, anyway. I was thinking of taking a car-load of clothes down to that second-hand clothing store which specialises in designer labels. Just our evening dresses to begin with,’ she added when her mother looked appalled. ‘I doubt we’ll be getting invited to too many dinner parties or fancy dos in future.’
‘What about Felix’s birthday party?’ her mother challenged with a burst of petulance. ‘I’ll have you know that that invitation said “black tie”. What are we going to wear if we sell all our evening clothes?’
‘Very well, we’ll keep a couple of evening dresses each,’ Justine compromised. ‘But we’ll have to sell some day wear instead. Shoes and bags included. Do you want me to go through your wardrobe and sort something out, or will you?’
Adelaide began shaking her head from side to side. ‘This is terrible. Whatever is to become of us?’
‘Nothing too terrible, if I can sell my boarding house plan to the man I’m going to see this Friday morning.’
Adelaide glanced up with that blankly childlike expression which made you want to protect her. ‘Man? What man?’
‘A man in a bank. Not the bank who’s threatening to sell us up. One of those merchant banks which specialises in low-interest business loans. Trudy’s given me the name of a loans officer there whom she knows personally. It seems he’s simpatico to damsels in distress.’
Actually, Trudy hadn’t put it quite like that.
‘Wade has an insatiable appetite for women,’ she’d said. ‘He’ll do anything to get his leg over. I was at a New Year’s Eve party the other week and he boasted to me of the loans he’d granted last year in exchange for some slap and tickle. I think he was trying to impress me with his boldness. Didn’t do a bad job, either. Given his penchant for female flesh, you’d be sure to qualify for one of his loans.’
‘I’m not that desperate, Trudy,’ Justine had said, shuddering at the thought of giving sex for a loan. That was no better than prostitution!
‘No one’s suggesting you have to actually come across, Jussie. Of course I might, just for the hell of it,’ Trudy had added with an impish grin. ‘Wade is a handsome devil. But I can understand that a girl like you, who’s waiting for true love to strike, would not even consider such an outrageous idea!
‘So just smile and flirt and flatter the sexy scoundrel. And give him the impression that he’ll be amply rewarded if he sanctions your loan. With that face and figure of yours he’ll be drooling at the mouth, his brains firmly in his pants as he puts pen to paper.’
‘But what will happen when I don’t deliver?’ Justine had pointed out.
‘Oh, he’ll be seriously peeved. No doubt about that. But he can hardly go to his boss and complain, can he? Believe me when I say that the head of that particular bank would not take kindly to one of his employees using his position to rubber-stamp loans in exchange for sexual favours. I’ve met Marcus Osborne. Father’s had him over to the house on a couple of occasions. He’s a formidable man at the best of times. Ruthlessly ambitious but straight as a die. If he ever finds out what Wade is up to, poor Wade will be out on his ear.’
And well deservedly, Justine had thought at the time. She still did. But she also saw she had no alternative but to keep her appointment with the lecherous Wade or let the house be sold. All Justine’s other banking options had finally run out. After a myriad of phone calls, only one other loans officer had consented to see her during the past week, and he’d actually laughed at her idea.
The memory of that laughter hardened Justine’s resolve. Come ten o’clock tomorrow morning, she was going to sashay into Wade Hampton’s office, ready to do anything to achieve her goal and save her family home. If she had to humiliate herself a little, then she would. If she had to surrender some of her infernal pride, then too bad. If she had to beg, then...
No-no, she would not beg. That was going too far.
So was actually sleeping with the man. Good Lord! The very idea!
‘What are you going to wear?’ her mother asked.
‘What?’
‘For your appointment with this man in the bank. What are you going to wear?’
‘I’m not sure. I haven’t thought about it yet.’
‘Then perhaps you should, before you sell off all your decent clothes.’
The word ‘decent’ struck a certain irony with Justine. Decent was not the look she would be striving for tomorrow, not if she wanted Wade Hampton’s brains to be addled from the moment she walked into his office. She needed to wear something very bright, very tight and very sexy.
A certain lime-green dress popped into her mind. She’d bought it whilst shopping with Trudy—always a mistake. Trudy was a bad influence at the best of times. Admittedly, the girl did have an infallible taste for the kind of clothes which made men sit up and take notice.
This particular dress was made of a double knit material which clung like Howard Barthgate. It had a modest enough neckline but was appallingly short, the tight, straight skirt curving provocatively around her derrière. Justine had only worn it once, to lectures late last year. When she’d sat down and crossed her long tanned legs to one side of her cramped desk, the poor professor’s eyes had nearly popped out of his head.
Would Wade Hampton’s eyes pop out as well?
Justine cringed at the thought, but beggars couldn’t be choosers, she’d found out. The rules of her life had changed. She was now playing a new game. It was called survival.
Oddly enough, the thought enthused her. She jumped up from the chair, full of new determination.
‘Come on, Mum. Time for us to go downstairs and have a hearty breakfast. We have a lot of work to do today!’
CHAPTER THREE
MARCUS sat at his desk, angrily tapping his gold pen on the leather-inlaid surface, his eyes not properly focused on the paper in his right hand.
He still could not believe the gall of that young man! Not a hint of remorse, or conscience. He hadn’t even cared about being dismissed on the spot, without a reference.
Of course he came from a moneyed family, with plenty of the right connections and contacts. He didn’t need his salary. He hadn’t had to work his finger to the bone to make something of himself, to drag himself out of the gutter of abject poverty and succeed against all the odds. Wade Hampton’s job as loans officer was really just a fill-in, a way of passing the time till he inherited the Hampton family fortune.
The Wade Hamptons of this world had no idea how the other half lived. They were born with silver spoons in their mouths and grew up without having to toe the line in any way, shape or form.
Even Marcus’s diatribe this morning over his lack of moral fibre had not made a single dent in the young man’s insolence and arrogance.
When Marcus had been told of Hampton’s tendency to approve loans not on the merit of the business venture but on the sexual co-operativeness of the client, he’d seen red. The thought that the reputation of the bank was being besmirched behind his back was like salt rubbed into a raw wound. If there was one thing Marcus valued above all else it was his good name, and the good name of his bank. Yet here was an employee, using his position of power to virtually blackmail women into his bed.
Not that Hampton had seen it that way.
‘Blackmail?’ he’d scorned when this accusation had been thrown at him. ‘I don’t have to blackmail women to go to bed with me. Not the second time, anyway,’ he’d smirked. ‘There’s nothing wrong with what I did. Everyone was happy. Me. The ladies. And your stupid old bank. Not one of my loans has ever been foreclosed. It’s only stuffed shirts like you who think combining business with pleasure is a crime. God, just look at you. You dress like an undertaker. And you act like my grandfather. I’ll bet you haven’t been to bed with a bird in donkey’s years.
‘But that’s your problem. As are my appointments for today,’ he’d declared as he whirled and strode for the door. ‘I’m outta here!’
A good fifteen minutes had passed since Hampton’s departure, during which time Marcus had instructed his secretary to inform Personnel of the situation, then get him a computer printout of the loans officer’s appointments for that Friday, all of which had been done with her usual efficiency.
It was Marcus who was not operating with his usual efficiency. The appointment list had been in his hands for a full five minutes, yet he hadn’t been able to concentrate on the names. Hampton’s comment about his sex life—or lack of it—still rankled.
How long had it been since he’d been to bed with a woman?
Too damned long, came the testy realisation.
Clenching his teeth, Marcus dragged his attention back to the paper in his hands, his eyes widening, then narrowing when he spied the first name on the list.
Hampton’s ten o’clock appointment—his first for the day—was none other than Miss Justine Montgomery!
Marcus’s surprise was only exceeded by his curiosity. What on earth was the wealthy Miss Montgomery doing coming to his bank for a loan? She must know they specialised in business loans. What use would she have for such a loan?
Did she fancy herself going into some small business to pass her idle hours away till she landed herself a rich husband? An art gallery perhaps? Or a fashion boutique? A trendy coffee shop?
Marcus could only guess. There was one way of finding out for certain, he supposed. Take the appointment himself and ask.
The thought of seeing Miss Montgomery again—and in a position where he had the upper hand—held an insidious attraction. Marcus began to appreciate what Hampton had found so appealing about his job. To have a woman—especially an incredibly beautiful young woman—beholden to you. To have it in your power to give her something she wanted in exchange for something you wanted...
Marcus’s pulse rate quickened as he contemplated such a corrupting scenario. Justine Montgomery had lived on in his memory since that warm November night two months before, when he’d surreptitiously watched her almost naked body emerge from that pool. He still recalled every inch of her physical perfection, from her impossibly long legs to her tight little bottom to her lushly nubile breasts.
How would you like to go to bed with her? the devil whispered in his ear.
He stood up abruptly, took a fob watch from a pocket in his waistcoat and checked the time. Five to ten. He had two options. He could have Miss Montgomery’s appointment rescheduled to a later date with another loans officer. Or he could go downstairs to Loans and see her himself.
His experience-honed instinct for avoiding trouble warned him to have her rescheduled, but when he glanced up and glimpsed his reflection in the wide semicircular window which wrapped around behind his desk, Hampton’s insults once again jumped into his mind.
He glared hard at the man glaring back, the pompously dressed stuffed shirt who believed combining business with pleasure was a crime...
His reflection faded from his conscious mind as another vision took over, that of Justine Montgomery’s lovely yet startled face as he laid out the terms for her getting a loan. His mouth dried as he imagined the moment when he first drew her into his arms. He could actually feel her initial reluctance, feel the fluttering of her heart against his chest.
Till he kissed her.
After that there was no more resistance, only the most delicious surrender as she melted against him...
Marcus gritted his teeth as the painful hardening in his trousers brought him back to reality. He knew he would never do such a disgusting thing as blackmail her into his bed. But he couldn’t stop thinking about it. There was something darkly compelling about the idea of having Justine Montgomery in his sexual power.
Common sense and professionalism demanded he steer well clear of the girl, now that his carnal desires were engaged.
But both were poor arguments against the excitement which beckoned just one floor down.
Not that he was going to try to coerce or corrupt the girl, Marcus reassured himself as he stuffed the fob watch back into its pocket and strode from the room. Nothing—not even the most desirable female in the world—would induce him to stoop to such low behaviour.
The possibility that the incredibly desirable Justine Montgomery might try to coerce or corrupt him had yet to occur to Marcus Osborne.
Justine glanced at her watch as she stepped from the lift. Five to ten.
Scooping in a steadying breath, she straightened her shoulders and walked with her head held high to the large reception desk straight ahead. Not normally a nervous girl, she had to admit to wild flutterings in her stomach that morning. It would have been so easy to turn and flee. But fleeing was out of the question. Anyone with a brain in their heads could see her mother might have another breakdown if she lost her home on top of everything else. Justine had listened to the poor love cry herself to sleep last night, the awful sounds reaffirming her determination to get this darned loan if it was the last thing she did.
The pretty brunette behind the desk stopped tapping on her PC and glanced up as Justine approached.
‘May I help you?’ she asked politely.
‘I’m Justine Montgomery. I have a ten o’clock appointment with Mr Hampton.’
‘Oh, yes, Miss Montgomery. Wade’s away from his desk at the moment, but I know he’s somewhere in the building. I’m sure he’ll be with you in a moment. I’ll take you along to his office and you can wait for him there.’
Mr Hampton’s office was minute, more of a walled cubicle than a real office. Justine settled herself in the single chair which faced the less than impressive desk to await the loans officer’s arrival. She recrossed her legs several times, none of the positions finding favour. Her long stockingless legs still felt awfully overexposed. She tried sitting with her knees pressed primly together but knew that looked ridiculous.
Steeling her nerves, she dropped the handbag she’d been clutching in her lap down by the legs of the chair and crossed her legs one last time, steadfastly ignoring the way the skirt rode up dangerously high. Another glance at her watch told her it was one minute past ten.
Two minutes later, she heard firm footsteps coming down the tiled corridor. She twisted her head round just as a man strode in and closed the door behind him.
Justine blinked, trying not to look as taken aback as she was. But surely this couldn’t be Wade Hampton!
For starters, Justine had been expecting someone much younger, not a man in his mid-thirties! Trudy’s taste in men usually ran to the toy-boy type, with pretty-boy looks, longish hair and wickedly dancing eyes, trendy dressers who smiled at the drop of a hat and oozed a type of cheeky sex appeal.
Justine could not help but stare as this man stalked into the room, his face seemingly set in concrete. No smile of greeting softened that hard mouth, or those deeply set black eyes.
Admittedly he was a handsome devil, with a strikingly sculptured face, a sensually shaped mouth and deeply set dark eyes which sent shivers down her spine. But that black pin-striped suit, though impressively tailored, was anything but trendy, and his ruthlessly cut black hair was plastered back like Michael Douglas in that movie Wall Street.
He looked about as warm and as approachable as a Kremlin advisor on nuclear waste, hardly the type to be susceptible to flirting or flattery, or a short, tight lime-green dress!
‘Good morning, Miss Montgomery,’ he said brusquely, his handsome face coldly unreadable. ‘Sorry to keep you waiting.’
He moved around behind his desk and sat down, his dark eyes immediately dropping to scan the application form he’d carried in with him. It was a full minute before he glanced up at her.
‘So how may I help you, Miss Montgomery?’ he asked quite curtly.
The dean had spoken to her in a similarly cool fashion when she’d gone to him for permission to repeat the year. Yet he’d warmed to her soon enough once she smiled at him.
Justine found that same smile, flashing it for all its worth at the loans officer. ‘I have a business proposition to put to your bank, Mr Hampton. I think it’s a very good proposition and one which would benefit both of us.’
Marcus just sat there for a long moment, frozen to the chair.
She thought he was Wade Hampton.
Understandable, considering. He hadn’t enlightened her otherwise, although he’d meant to, before the sight of those incredible legs had distracted him.
His eyes washed over her more thoroughly, taking in the provocative little green dress, the highly glossed mouth, the beautiful but overbright eyes. She was either nervous, or excited. Or both.
Marcus’s suspicions were instantly aroused. Did Miss Montgomery know of Wade Hampton’s reputation for being a loans officer of easy virtue? Had she come here today armed with that knowledge, ready and willing to barter her delectable young body in exchange for a business loan of some kind? Was that what she meant when she said her proposition could benefit both of them?
The possibility gave a serious push to his already teetering conscience. But, dear God, she was breathtakingly beautiful, even more when she smiled.
Beautiful but bad, came the silent reminder.
Well, he didn’t know that for sure, did he? Not yet. And, if he were honest, he wouldn’t mind so much if she was bad. Not now, at this very moment, with his loins aching. Who knew what she might do if she’d come here ready and willing to be really bad? The various scenarios such thinking evoked did little for his already painful arousal.
Marcus stared at the object of his darkest desires for a few more moments before deciding not to tell her who he was. He settled back as best he could in Hampton’s narrow chair and waited for her to put her foot further into her pretty mouth.
‘Is that so?’ he said, steepling his fingers across his chest and trying not to eat her up too much with his eyes. But it was difficult not to wonder just how far she would go if he dangled the right carrot in front of those full sensual lips of hers.
He had to clear his throat before going on, not to mention his mind. Damn, but the girl was a temptation all right. If the devil wanted to send someone to corrupt him, he could not have chosen anyone more perfect.
‘Perhaps if you could outline your proposition to me,’ he said, ‘I would be better able to judge its benefit to both of us.’
Justine heard the sardonic edge in his voice, and hesitated. He knew—knew she was going to flirt with him, knew she was going to subtly offer herself as part of the loan package. He was sitting there, waiting like a big black spider for her to walk into his web.
Pride demanded she jump up straight away and stalk out of there.
But pride was not going to get her a loan. It would be cold comfort when she went home and explained to her mother that the house would have to be sold. Pride would not be of much value to Justine when they carted her mother off to some sanitarium or other.
Practicality won over pride. As did pragmatism. Who cared what he thought of her? The man was a creep. A user and abuser of women.
Well, it’s you who’s going to be used this time, buster, Justine thought. She flashed another winning smile at him, then launched into an explanation of her present financial situation.
Hampton frowned when she told him of her father’s death and subsequent debts, the frown deepening when she revealed the other bank’s intention to sell up the house and recoup their losses.
‘Can they do that?’ she asked abruptly.
‘They’re within their legal rights. Will the value of the house cover the entire debt?’
‘Oh, easily. It’s worth a million at least.’
‘Mmm.’
‘My mother doesn’t want to sell, Mr Hampton. And neither do I. If you could see your way clear to taking over the loan at business rates and giving me a little time, I have a plan whereby I’m sure I can repay the entire loan.’
His dark eyebrows arched. ‘Really. Perhaps you’d better tell me about this plan.’
‘I’d be glad to. Firstly, I could substantially reduce the loan within a few short weeks by auctioning off some the house’s contents.’
‘I see. And how much do you think you could raise this way?’
‘I’m sure I could cut the loan down to two hundred thousand dollars.’
‘How did you plan on repaying the final two hundred thousand?’
‘In the normal way, with monthly repayments.’
‘You’d still be looking at repayments of two thousand dollars a month. Where will the money come from to make those repayments, Miss Montgomery?’
The logical question led Justine into an outline of her boarding house project. To give Hampton credit, he listened politely, asking her relevant questions about how much she thought she would get for each room, and what her weekly profit might be. Clearly he didn’t just rubber-stamp any old loan, regardless of the fringe benefits.
‘I’m sorry, Miss Montgomery,’ he said at last.
‘I’m afraid we can’t help you. Your plan just isn’t financially feasible. It has too many variables. I really think it would be in your best interests for you and your mother to sell the house and buy something smaller with what money is left over.’
‘But I don’t want to live in anything smaller,’ Justine suddenly snapped, shock and nerves getting the better of her.
One of those straight black brows arched.
Justine gritted her teeth. She should be simpering at him, not snapping. Flirting, not flaring up. God, but it was hard to grovel.
‘My mother hasn’t been well,’ she tried explaining. ‘She’s still grieving for my father and it would break her heart to lose her home. Please,’ she pleaded, looking straight into his eyes and breaking her vow not to beg. ‘I know I can make a success of this.’