Mistress By Arrangement

Mistress By Arrangement
HELEN BIANCHIN

A convenient affair? Nikos Alessandros needed a social hostess, and he'd decided that beautiful, sophisticated Michelle would be the perfect companion - temporarily. For Michelle, their pretend affair would certainly help her escape the suitable marriage she was being pressured into… .But Nikos was formidably sexy and Michelle found it hard to control her powerful attraction to this arrogant stranger. If she agreed to be his mistress by arrangement, could she stop pretense turning into reality?

“I guess we should set down some ground rules.” (#u094eef94-07bc-5eb4-82ae-d1643ad97026)Passion (#u524532de-7f75-55d0-8c76-3eda9b6ca2c9)Title Page (#u785922f0-daf8-56d2-9081-aa03dc363166)Dedication (#uc1eeb3ad-bbf9-55da-91a3-7a3128516264)CHAPTER ONE (#u52f087ff-076c-5d9f-8f31-46318413cd56)CHAPTER TWO (#ub15550f6-07db-5737-a34b-1455fdfcd293)CHAPTER THREE (#u9c7543a6-70d4-5741-a112-e27c7fe6796c)CHAPTER FOUR (#u91f5aad1-66ec-51c3-b05a-66b71cbc6756)CHAPTER FIVE (#litres_trial_promo)CHAPTER SIX (#litres_trial_promo)CHAPTER SEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)CHAPTER EIGHT (#litres_trial_promo)CHAPTER NINE (#litres_trial_promo)CHAPTER TEN (#litres_trial_promo)CHAPTER ELEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)CHAPTER TWELVE (#litres_trial_promo)CHAPTER THIRTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)

“I guess we should set down some ground rules.”

“What did you have in mind?”

Michelle looked at Nikos carefully, and was unable to see beyond the sophisticated mask he presented. “No unnecessary—” She was going to say intimacy, but that sounded too personal. “Touching,” she amended, and missed the faint gleam in those dark eyes.

“I’ll try to restrain myself, if you will.”

He was amused, damn him! “Do you want to put a time limit on our supposed relationship?”

One eyebrow slanted. “How about...as long as it takes?”

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Mistress By Arrangement

Helen Bianchin

www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)

For Alex and Angie Kidas

with gratitude and affection

CHAPTER ONE

MICHELLE sipped superb Chardonnay from a crystal wineglass and cast an idle glance at the room’s occupants.

The men were resplendent in black dinner suits, white dress shirts and black bow ties, while the women vied with each other in designer gowns.

This evening’s occasion was a simple dinner party for ten guests held in the beautiful home of their hosts, Antonia and Emerson Bateson-Burrows, whose reputation for providing fine wine, excellent food, and scintillating company was almost unequalled in Queensland’s Gold Coast society.

‘Another drink, darling?’

She felt the proprietorial clasp of Jeremy’s arm along the back of her waist.

Mine, the action seemed to shriek. The fond glance of his parents, hers, merely served to endorse their approval.

Did they think she was unaware of the subtle manipulative matchmaking attempts of late? It was too much of a coincidence that Jeremy had been a fellow guest at several social events she’d attended in the past four weeks.

Marriage wasn’t on her agenda, nor was she willing to drift into a meaningless relationship. Thanks to an annuity from her maternal grandmother, her life was good. At twenty-five, she owned her own apartment, ran a successful art gallery in partnership with a friend, and she had no inclination to change the status quo.

She felt the faint pressure of Jeremy’s hand at her waist and she summoned a polite smile. ‘Thanks, but I’ll wait until dinner.’

Which would be when? Were all the guests not accounted for? Speculation rose as she glimpsed Jeremy’s mother spare her wristwatch a surreptitious glance.

Who would dare to be late for a Bateson-Burrows soiree?

‘Mother is becoming a tad anxious,’ Jeremy revealed, sotto voce. ‘Nikos warned he might be unavoidably late.’

Curiosity sparked Michelle’s interest. ‘Nikos?’

Jeremy cast her an amused look. ‘Alessandros. Greek origin, relatively new money, respectably earned,’ he added. ‘Electronics. Bases in Athens, Rome, Paris, London, Vancouver, Sydney.’

‘If his Australian base is in Sydney, what’s he doing on the Gold Coast?’

‘He has a penthouse in Main Beach,’ Jeremy enlightened. ‘The man is a consummate strategist. Word has it he’s about to close an enviable deal.’ His mouth formed a cynical twist. ‘Instead of flying directly to Sydney, he’s chosen to negotiate from the Gold Coast.’

‘Impressive,’ she acknowledged, summoning a mental image of a short, paunchy, balding middle-aged Greek with a stylish much younger wife.

‘Very,’ Jeremy declared succinctly. ‘Father covets his patronage and his business account.’

‘And his friendship?’

‘It’s at an adequate level.’

Adequate presumably wasn’t good enough, and Emerson Bateson-Burrows’ extended invitation to dine was merely part of a larger plan.

Politics, business and social, involved an intricate strategy of a kind that occasionally sickened her altruistic mind.

‘Two hours to dine and socialise over coffee,’ Jeremy inclined. ‘Then we can escape and go on to a nightclub.’

It irked her that he took her acquiescence for granted. She was on the point of telling him so, when some sixth sense alerted her attention.

Curious, she lifted her head and felt the breath catch in her throat.

‘Nikos,’ Jeremy informed her, although she barely registered the verbal identification as her interest was captured by the tall male figure who had just entered the room.

He possessed broad-boned features, a strong jaw, and his mouth was chiselled perfection.