Mistress Against Her Will

‘Twenty…’ she paused ‘…six.’ It was her first white lie and the words almost stuck in her throat as she pretended to be older than she was. She had to make sure he hadn’t made the connection.

‘Which school did you go to?’

‘Langton Chase.’ She had gone to the well-known all girls school for just a year after she and her mother had returned to England.

He placed it immediately. ‘So you lived in Sussex?’

‘Yes.’

‘With your parents?’

Though after the separation there had only been her mother, she answered, ‘Yes.’

‘Do your parents still live there?’

She shook her head. ‘They’re both dead now.’

‘Were you very close?’

‘I was to my mother.’

‘Any brothers or sisters?’

Family relationships were a minefield, and she answered briefly, ‘No.’

He ran long, lean fingers over his smooth jaw before moving on to ask, ‘How old were you when you left school?’

With a sigh of relief at the change of subject, she told him, ‘Eighteen.’

‘Then what?’

‘I spent a year at St Helen’s Business College before getting a job at Randalls.’

‘And there you were…’ he picked up her CV ‘…PA to David Randall.’

She nodded, then, all at once foreseeing a problem that Paul hadn’t taken into account, she added hastily, ‘After Mr Randall had a heart attack and retired, the company was closed down.’

Zane Lorenson’s clear, long-lashed eyes pinned her. ‘The financial news indicated that it had been bought by The Manton Group.’

Her heart sank but somehow she managed steadily, ‘Yes, it was. They paid off the workers and closed it down as soon as it was legally theirs.’

‘What do you think of Paul Manton?’

‘W-what?’ she stammered.

‘I asked what you thought of Paul Manton. Presumably he did the negotiating and wielded the axe. Or was it someone else?’

‘A Mr Desmond,’ she said, seizing on the suggestion.

Mark Desmond, Paul’s second in command, a bluff, hearty man she had disliked on sight, had come in with Paul a couple of times.

‘I’m surprised. Manton usually enjoys doing his own dirty work… Tell me, what did you think of the decision to close Randalls down?’

‘I thought it was totally wrong.’ For perhaps the first time her tone held real conviction. ‘It wasn’t what Mr Randall had wanted or expected.’

He raised a brow, questioning her frankness. ‘He couldn’t have known what kind of men he was dealing with, otherwise he would have expected it.’

Then, with another swift change of subject, ‘Where do you live?’

‘In Kensington.’

‘Which part of Kensington?’ he pressed.

‘Just off the West Brackensfield Road,’ she answered reluctantly.

She had hoped he would leave it at that, but he asked, ‘Whereabouts exactly?’

‘Delafield House, Rolchester Square. I share a flat,’ she went on, rambling a bit because she was nervous.

‘Does that mean you have a live-in lover?’

She shook her head. ‘No. It means I share with another girl.’

‘Have you any ties or commitments at home?’

She shook her head.

‘No steady boyfriend?’

She stuck as close to the truth as she could. ‘I’m not seeing anyone just at the moment.’

Studying her heart-shaped face, with its small straight nose, beautiful almond eyes and dark winged brows, its flawless skin and pure bone-structure, he commented, ‘That surprises me.’ Then, drily, ‘Or have you heard that I prefer my PA to be a free agent?’

Determined to avoid direct lies wherever possible, she said, ‘I split up with Jason, my previous boyfriend, some six months ago.’

‘And there’s been no one since then?’

Forced into a direct lie, she surreptitiously crossed her fingers and said, ‘No.’

‘So you’re still broken-hearted?’ her tormentor asked, the old hateful mockery back.

‘Are such personal questions really necessary?’ she demanded, losing her cool.

‘Oh, absolutely,’ he assured her, his voice flippant. Then, smiling a little at her indignation, ‘You see I don’t want to take on a lovelorn PA whose mind isn’t on her work.’

‘I am not lovelorn,’ she informed him raggedly.

‘Does that mean you’ve got over it? Or you didn’t love him in the first place?’