Seduced By The Boss

She walked over to the curtains and did a little curtsey. ‘I promise I didn’t make my dress from these,’ she said, gesturing to the curtains. ‘Because my name isn’t Maria and I’m fairly sure you’re the Moncrieffs and not the von Trapp family—right?’

There was still an uneasy silence.

Had she gone too far? Or did she need to go further still? ‘Well, then,’ Bella said, and began to sing ‘Do Re Mi’ very softly.

Hugh looked at Bella, totally stunned. He’d had no idea that she could sing—especially this beautifully. It made him think of Jessie, and how his ex had bewitched him with her voice.

But Jessie wasn’t half the woman that Bella Faraday was. Jessie was an ambitious, lying cheat, whereas he knew that Bella was completely open and honest. Even though at the moment she was playing a part: that was solely because he’d asked her to do it.

And right now all the heat was on her—Hugh’s unsuitable new girlfriend in her even more unsuitable dress. He could hear Bella’s voice faltering and he knew he ought to rescue her. Especially because this whole fiasco was his fault. He needed to step in and take the heat off her. Now.

She’d even given him the perfect cue.

Yet that would mean performing in public. Something he hadn’t done since Jessie had walked out on him. And singing a duet... The whole idea of it made him feel sick to his stomach, bringing back the misery and disappointment he’d felt when he’d learned the truth about how much of a fool he’d been, and the dismay when he’d realised the ramifications for Insurgo. He really didn’t want to do this.

Yet how could he be a snake and leave Bella to face everyone’s disapproval alone? This whole thing had been his idea, and she was doing him a favour. It wasn’t fair that she should bear the brunt of it.

It left him no real choice.

Taking a deep breath, he walked over to Bella and took her hand. ‘Von Trapp, you said? I believe that’s my cue.’ And then he began to sing ‘Edelweiss’.

Bella smiled, and to his surprise she joined him in the song.

It had been a long, long time since Hugh had sung a duet with someone. Jessie. Who’d sung like an angel, promised him paradise, and left him in hell. This should’ve made him want to run for the hills as fast as possible. Instead, it felt as if something in the region of his heart had just cracked a tiny bit, enough to let in some unexpected warmth. His hand tightened just that tiny bit more round hers; and when she squeezed his fingers back the crack around his heart grew just that little bit wider.

When the song finished, everyone clapped and the tension in the ballroom had dissolved.

Then Nigel came over to him. ‘Hugh, I need a favour.’

Considering that he’d just almost wrecked his brother’s engagement party, Hugh felt guilty enough to agree to whatever it was. ‘Sure. What do you need?’

‘Excuse us, Bella,’ Nigel said, and led Hugh off to a quiet corner. ‘The band I hired for tonight just called to say that their van’s broken down and they’re running an hour late. Would you play for us until they get here?’ He inclined his head towards the baby grand piano in the corner of the ballroom.

‘You could’ve had the pick of my artists. And they would’ve been here on time,’ Hugh said mildly.

‘I know, but the singer of the band happens to be Vicky’s friend. Vicky asked her to do it before I had a chance to suggest asking you to recommend someone.’

Hugh laughed. ‘Nice save.’

‘I know I’m asking a lot of you,’ Nigel said softly. ‘I know why you don’t play in public any more.’

Because of Jessie’s betrayal. It had sucked all the joy out of music for him. He didn’t write songs any more. Today was the first time he’d sung in public since she’d left. Right now though, he was punch-drunk, not quite sure how he felt—happy and sad were all mixed up together, with him smack in the centre of the whirlpool. ‘Yeah.’ Hugh took a deep breath. This was a big ask. But, in the circumstances, there wasn’t a nice way to say no. And Hugh did love his brother. This was his chance to help, to do something nice for his family. How could he turn that down? ‘All right. I’ll play until the band gets here. But I’m not singing any more, and neither is Bella, OK?’

‘OK.’ Nigel patted his shoulder. ‘Thanks. I appreciate it.’

Hugh walked back over to Bella. ‘Will you be OK if I play the piano for Nigel and Victoria until the band turns up?’ he asked.

‘Sure,’ she said, giving him what looked like a brave smile. Clearly she didn’t think she’d be OK at all.

‘Of course she will. I’ll look after her,’ his mother said, coming over and catching the end of the conversation.

That was almost what Hugh was most afraid of.

But before he could say anything his mother had swept Bella away and Nigel was looking anxiously towards the piano. What could he do but give in and sit down at the baby grand? ‘Let’s get your party started, O brother mine,’ he said and began to play.

‘I think you need some champagne after that, Bella,’ Libby said, and snaffled a glass from the nearest waiter.

‘I’m so sorry, Mrs Moncrieff,’ Bella said, accepting the glass. ‘About the dress. And... And...’ She shook her head, not knowing where to start. Just that she needed to apologise. She’d thought she was being so clever, making a dress out of a curtain. And she’d ended up being horrifically rude. This wasn’t who she was. At all. And it made her squirm inside. She’d come here under false pretences and she’d behaved appallingly.

‘It’s Libby,’ Hugh’s mother reminded her gently. ‘My dear, I can see exactly why Hugh fell for you.’ Libby patted her arm. ‘What you did just now—that was very brave.’

‘Or very foolish in the first place,’ Bella said softly. There was a huge lump in her throat. She really hadn’t expected Hugh to come to her rescue like that. The last time a man had left her in a sticky situation, he’d left her to deal with it alone. Yet Hugh had been right there by her side, supporting her and sorting it out with her. ‘I didn’t know Hugh could sing like that—or that he could play the piano.’ Considering that Hugh owned a record label and he’d told her how much he loved producing the songs and turning them from raw material to the finished product, she should’ve guessed that music was more than just a money-making venture to him. But Hugh wasn’t listed on Insurgo’s website as one of the label’s artists, and nobody in the office had even hinted that he’d ever been any kind of performer. He hadn’t even sung along with the music in the car on the way to Oxfordshire.

But she’d overheard Nigel saying something about knowing why Hugh didn’t play in public any more. Something really awful must’ve happened. And there was no way she could possibly ask Hugh about it, not without opening up what might be some very painful scars. She’d have to tread very carefully.

‘Hugh was very cagey when I asked him about how you’d met,’ Libby said. ‘Are you one of his artists?’

Bella winced. ‘Not quite in the way you think. I’m not a singer and I don’t play an instrument.’

Was it her imagination, or did Libby Moncrieff suddenly look relieved? And why? Did that have something to do with the reason why Hugh didn’t play in public?

‘So how did you meet?’ Libby asked.

Bella could hardly be completely honest about that, either. Not unless she wanted to tell a story that made her sister look bad, and that wasn’t fair. The best she could do was give the bare bones of the truth. Which would probably be the safest thing in any case, because then she wouldn’t have to remember which fibs she’d told and end up in a muddle. ‘I’m an artist—and by that I mean a graphic designer, not a recording artist—and Tarquin interviewed me for the job at Insurgo.’

‘Ah.’

That earlier look of relief hadn’t been her imagination, then, because Libby suddenly looked wary again.

Was Insurgo the problem? Hugh had said that his family worried about him because the music business was so risky. Maybe this was her chance to bat his corner for him and get his mother to see just how good he was at his job and how much the recording label meant to him.

‘As I said, I’m not a singer,’ Bella said, ‘but I do like music, and Insurgo produces some of the very best music around. I used to be a freelance designer, but my best client went bust a few months ago, owing me rather a lot of money. My parents would’ve bailed me out if I’d told them, but I wanted to stand on my own two feet rather than rely on them—so that’s why I applied to Insurgo when I saw the job advertised. Hugh had nothing to do with me getting the job. Tarquin interviewed me.’ She spread her hands. ‘I didn’t even meet Hugh until after I’d accepted the job.’

To her relief, Libby looked a bit less wary again.

She took a sip of champagne. ‘It’s a good place to work. I’ve never been anywhere with a sense of team spirit like there is at Insurgo. Everyone looks out for each other. And the musicians all love coming in to the office because they feel we listen to them. Hugh doesn’t treat them just as cash cows or as if they’re stupid. He listens to what they want, and he gives them advice—and they listen to him because they know he wants to help them be the best they can be. They know he’ll take their raw material and polish it—but he’ll still keep their vision.’

Libby nodded, but said nothing.

‘Insurgo wouldn’t be the success it is without Hugh. He’s its heart,’ Bella said. ‘And he really loves what he does. There aren’t many people who can say that nowadays.’

‘But the music business is so precarious,’ Libby said.

‘It is,’ Bella agreed. ‘But Hugh doesn’t take stupid risks. He’s really sharp and he makes exactly the right business decisions—though nobody in the office will ever ask him anything on a Monday morning.’

‘Why not?’

‘He’s, um, not really a Monday morning person. Though I guess, as his mum, you already know that.’ She smiled, and told Libby about the name-cards she’d made for everyone in the office.

Libby laughed. ‘You didn’t do that on a Monday morning, I hope.’

Bella laughed back, feeling properly at ease for the first time since she’d arrived. ‘I wouldn’t have dared. No, it was a Thursday. And he was still pretty grumpy.’

‘So you can sketch people really quickly?’

‘Not just people.’ Bella fished in her bag and took out a pen and a small spiral-bound notebook. ‘Give me a few seconds,’ she said with a smile. She sketched swiftly. Then she handed the notebook with the line drawing to Libby. Sitting patiently next to a cake and wearing hopeful expressions as they stared at it were Lennie, Wilf and Sukie.

‘Oh, that’s wonderful,’ Libby said. ‘May I keep it?’

‘Of course.’ Bella detached the page and handed it to her.

‘Thank you. So what exactly did you draw on Hugh’s name-card?’ Libby asked, sounding intrigued.

‘You’re his mother. I can hardly show you.’

Libby laughed. ‘I used to have to get him out of bed on Monday mornings when he was a teen. I think I’ve seen him at his very grumpiest.’

‘Well, if you put it that way,’ Bella said, ‘how can I resist?’ She drew another sketch. And, before she realised it, she had a circle of people around her, all wanting to see her drawings and all asking for a sketch.

Oh, help. She was supposed to be playing Miss Ditzy and Unsuitable, not making friends with everyone the way she always did. Hugh was going to be furious. She’d just have to work out how to extract herself from this before the band turned up and he could leave the piano.

Hugh finally managed to get away from the piano when the band turned up, all flustered and apologetic. He went to rescue Bella from his mother, only to find her right in the middle of a crowd. Everyone around her was laughing and joking, and he noticed that she had a pen and paper in her hand.

She looked as if she belonged.

Oh, no. That wasn’t supposed to happen. His bright idea was going completely pear-shaped. His family had obviously seen way beyond Bella’s surface unsuitability. And Bella herself had clearly forgotten that she was playing the part of Miss Ditzy and Unsuitable.

Then again, hadn’t he also told her just to be herself? Which was exactly what she was doing. Bella, the graphic artist, the woman who’d fitted in to their team at the office as if she’d been there since day one.

Right now, she lit up the room. Which scared him and drew him in equal measures. He wanted her—but he didn’t want to risk his whole life imploding again, the way it had after Jessie. He needed to be sensible about this. And right now the sensible thing to do would be to get her out of there before she said anything that made his family guess at the truth.

And she was meant to be his girlfriend, so everyone would expect him to walk over and drape his arm round her shoulders. ‘Sorry to desert you like that, darling.’

She looked up at him, her beautiful blue eyes wide. ‘Hugh!’

‘But I’m here now. Shall we dance?’

‘I...’ She looked flustered. Which was pretty much how he felt, too, so close to her that he could smell her perfume and feel the warmth of her body against his.

‘May I finish my sketch first?’ she asked.

‘Sure.’ He took a step back. Putting a bit of distance between them was probably a good idea, given that right now he wanted to pull her closer.

Hugh had seen what she could produce at the Insurgo office, but he’d never actually watched her working before. And he was amazed by how deft her hands were. He also noticed how she caught the tip of her tongue between her teeth when she was concentrating, and it made him want to kiss her.

Maybe dancing with her would be a bad idea after all. It would make her way, way too tempting.

But then she finished a sketch of Lennie with his father—lightning fast and seriously good—and handed it over to Oliver with a smile.

‘Thank you, my dear. That’s marvellous.’ Oliver kissed her cheek. ‘And maybe I could ask you to sketch Libby with Sukie for me, later?’

‘Of course,’ Bella said, smiling back. ‘But I’ll require payment in advance, you know. You’ll have to dance with me first.’

He positively beamed at her. ‘With absolute pleasure, my dear.’

Amazing. Even wearing a dress made out of a curtain which matched the ones in the ballroom and which clashed badly with her bright red hair—two things that Hugh was sure should’ve annoyed Oliver Moncrieff immensely—Bella had still managed to charm his father. Just, Hugh thought, by being herself. She couldn’t help it. Bella was the kind of woman who brought out the best in people.

He led her off to the other side of the dance floor. ‘I was going to apologise for throwing you to the wolves, but it looks to me as if you’ve managed to turn them all into little fluffy-wuffy lapdogs.’

She laughed. ‘Hugh, don’t be so mean. Your family’s nice.’

He scowled. ‘Maybe. When they’re not nagging me.’

‘Really, Hugh. They’re nice.’ She blew out a breath. ‘And I should be apologising to you. I’m afraid I kind of forgot to be unsuitable. I was telling your mum about the name-cards I did in the office last week, and I ended up drawing the dogs for her, and...’ She bit her lip, and Hugh had to suppress the urge to kiss the sting away. ‘It snowballed a little bit. Sorry. I’ll remember to be dim and scatty and unsuitable for the rest of the weekend, I promise.’

‘Hmm,’ Hugh said. He didn’t think she’d be able to remember it for very long. Because he realised now that Bella wasn’t a natural deceiver. What you saw was what you got. There were no hidden agendas. ‘It’s as much my fault as it is yours. I shouldn’t have left you on your own.’

‘But you couldn’t have refused to help your brother.’ She paused and gave him a curious look. ‘I didn’t know you could play the piano.’

‘Lavinia taught me.’

‘Lavinia, as in your great-aunt I sat next to this afternoon?’

He nodded. ‘Before arthritis wrecked her hands, she was an amazing pianist.’

She frowned. ‘So your family does understand about music, then.’

‘Lavinia does,’ he admitted. ‘The rest don’t. They still think I should give it up and join the family business.’

She looked thoughtful. ‘So you play and you sing—I’ve heard that for myself. I’m guessing that you probably write your own stuff, too.’

He had. Once upon a time. Not any more.

She wasn’t letting it go. She ignored his silence. ‘And you own a record company. Do you ever record anything of your own?’

‘No,’ he said, knowing that he sounded abrupt and rude, but not being able to help himself.

But it didn’t seem to put Bella off. ‘Why not?’ she asked. ‘You’re good. And I’m not just saying that because you’re my boss. You, a piano and a love song—you’d have women swooning all round the globe. You’d make gazillions for the label.’

Hugh had written songs for Jessie, and he’d thought about recording them as duets with her. Then Jessie had dropped her bombshell that she was moving to another record label instead of signing the new contract with Insurgo, and by the way she’d met someone else...who just so happened to be the head of her new label.

And then Hugh had realised that maybe Jessie had never loved him at all. She’d just seen him as a stepping stone in her career, and it looked as if she was doing exactly the same with her new man. He’d been so shocked and hurt that he hadn’t written anything since, and he couldn’t remember the last time he’d touched the piano; the joy he’d once found in playing felt tainted with memories of her betrayal. Tonight was the first time he’d sung with anyone since he’d broken up with Jessie. The first time he’d played in public again.

And he didn’t want to analyse that too closely. Or why it had felt so natural to sing with Bella, after the initial shock.

‘I don’t want to be a performer,’ he said. ‘I prefer being a producer. Seeing the rough diamond of the songs and how I can make them shine. You know, like Lacey’s album—putting the cello in and a double bass made it just that bit more haunting and gave the sound some depth.’

‘Fair enough.’ She shrugged. ‘I think I understand where you’re coming from, because for me it’s the other way round. I absolutely love designing, but I wouldn’t want to own or run a gallery. The idea of having to organise a bunch of creative people...’ She groaned. ‘It’d be like herding cats. No, thanks.’

He smiled. ‘It’s very satisfying when it goes right.’

‘Each to their own,’ she said.

Hugh danced with her all evening, only stepping to one side when his three brothers and his father all demanded a dance with Bella. And then he found himself dancing with his sisters-in-law and his mother, all of whom were singing Bella’s praises loudly.

‘She’s perfect for you,’ Victoria said. ‘Even if her dress sense is a little, um, unusual.’

There was nothing he could say to that. If he protested, everyone would take it as a token protest; if he agreed, they’d have a date set for the wedding within the hour.

‘I really should rescue her from Pa,’ he said, and fled in Bella’s direction.

‘Is everything all right?’ Bella asked when Hugh was dancing with her again.

‘I think our plan might have crashed and burned a bit,’ he said ruefully.

She winced. ‘Sorry. That’s my fault.’

‘No. You were right. It was a daft idea in the first place.’

‘I’m glad you can admit when you’re wrong,’ she said with a smile. ‘That’s a good thing.’

‘Mmm.’ He wasn’t convinced.

She stroked his face. ‘Hugh. Let’s just forget it for now and enjoy the party.’

Her touch made every nerve-end sit up and pay attention. He had to stop himself from turning his head and pressing a kiss into her palm. Distance. He needed a tiny bit of distance between them, before he lost his head completely and gave in to his body’s urging. He snagged a couple of glasses from one of the waiters and toasted her. ‘I still can’t believe you stood up there in front of those curtains, in that dress, and sang “Do Re Mi”.’

‘Says Captain von Trapp,’ she retorted with a grin.

‘Oh, please.’ He rolled his eyes. ‘Ma loves The Sound of Music.’

‘So do I. It’s one of the best films ever.’ She hummed a snatch of ‘My Favourite Things’.

‘I hated that film,’ Hugh said.

She blinked at him, clearly taken aback. ‘Why?’

‘The way the guy just ignored his kids made me so angry. And it wasn’t so much a stick the guy had up his backside as a whole tree.’

‘And you don’t?’ she teased.

What? Hugh stared at her in surprise. Was she saying that she thought he was stuffy? ‘No, I don’t,’ he said, faintly put out.

‘Prove it,’ she challenged.

He narrowed his eyes at her. ‘How?’

‘Dance the samba with me.’ She raised her eyebrows at him. ‘After all, this is a party, and the samba is the best party dance I know.’

‘Sorry.’ He spread his hands. ‘I would, but I’m afraid I don’t know the steps.’ It was a feeble excuse, but a valid one. If the samba meant dancing close to her and touching her... That would be way too risky. He needed to be sensible about this, not getting closer to her.

‘It’s easy. I’ll teach you. Gracie and I go to a dance aerobics class where half the moves are based on samba.’ She grinned. ‘Just follow my lead.’ Then she paused, batted her eyelashes at him, and drawled, ‘Unless you can’t take direction from a woman?’

He had the distinct impression that she was flirting with him. Even though he knew he ought to resist, he found himself flirting right back. ‘I can take direction.’ He stared at her mouth. ‘When it’s appropriate.’

Her skin heated, then, clashing spectacularly with her hair. ‘Hugh!’

And her voice was all breathy. He was about to tease her when he realised that he couldn’t speak, either, because right now his head was full of the idea of kissing her. And that breathiness in her voice was incredibly sexy. His mouth was actually tingling. All he had to do was lean forward and touch his lips to hers...

They ought to stop this.

Right now.

As if she was channelling his thoughts, she muttered, ‘Back in a moment.’

But what she did next was to go and speak to the band. He recognised the song from the first couple of bars: ‘Livin’ la Vida Loca’.

So Bella wasn’t going to let him off. To pay him back for making her blush, she taught him how to samba, making him repeat the basic steps and arm actions until his movements were fluid. He was surprised by how much he enjoyed the bouncy, shimmery nature of the steps.

Other people were watching them, but when Bella realised that she was having none of it. As the band continued to play songs with a similar beat, she went round and taught everyone else in the room how to do the basic steps. The women seemed to cotton on much quicker than the men—which didn’t surprise him that much, because hadn’t Bella said something about learning this kind of thing at an aerobics class?—but finally the whole room was dancing. Including relatives Hugh had never actually seen get up on the dance floor before.

How on earth had she managed that?

‘You certainly know how to get a party going,’ he said when she came back over to him.

She laughed and tossed her hair back. ‘I love parties.’

He could tell. She was really lit up from the inside, and it was infectious. Being with her made him smile and forget just about everything else. How long had it been since he’d last felt this happy and carefree?

Then the band slowed it all down again. He held out one hand to her. ‘May I have this dance, Ms Faraday?’

She gave him a shy smile and took his hand. ‘Of course, Mr Moncrieff.’