The Disobedient Mistress

‘No. I’m paying for total fidelity and the illusion that you have eyes for no other man,’ Leone imparted without hesitation. ‘Flirting with Redding was out of line.’

‘Flirting…?’ An involuntary laugh empty of humour was wrenched from Misty, the emotions roused by that unfortunate encounter with her ex-fiancé breaking loose of her control. ‘Philip’s the last man alive I’d flirt with!’

‘I saw the way you looked at him,’ Leone said with grim clarity.

‘And how was that?’ Misty queried unevenly, curious in spite of herself.

‘Do I need to draw pictures?’

Her silver-grey eyes darkened as a shard of bitter pain from the past assailed her but she veiled her gaze in self-protection. So for an instant she had recalled happier times when Philip had meant the world to her, but those days were very far behind her. And why was she so sure of that reality? Three years earlier, she had only been engaged to Philip for six weeks when a drunk driver had crashed into Philip’s car. Although Philip had sustained only a concussion, Misty had suffered internal injuries and had required surgery. Afterwards she had learned that she might never be able to conceive a child and Philip had found the threat of a childless future impossible to accept. But never let it be said that Philip was unfeeling: after all, he had had tears in his eyes when he’d ditched her, when he’d told her that he’d still loved her but that she wasn’t really a proper woman any more…

‘Redding was all over you like a rash—’

‘He didn’t even touch me!’

‘He didn’t get the chance.’

As Leone rested a lean hand on Misty’s spine to prompt her out of the lift again, she jerked away and flung her bright head high, sending him a warning look from bright silver eyes. ‘I don’t see an audience, so keep your hands to yourself!’

CHAPTER THREE

MISTY’S eyes leapt in skittish mode round the luxurious hotel suite while she struggled to disguise the fact that her whole body wanted to shake as if she were a leaf in a high wind.

She could not credit that that brief meeting with Philip should have brought so many wounding memories to the surface and destabilised her to such an extent. But then she had worked long and hard to bury all that pain, to rise above the cruel concept that fertility was the sole measure of femininity, and had learned to focus on another future other than that of a husband and a family.

‘Would you like a drink?’ Leone Andracchi enquired.

‘No, thanks.’

‘Possibly it might calm your nerves—’

Misty whirled round in a surge of fury that erupted so suddenly it made her feel dizzy with the strength of it. ‘There’s nothing wrong with my nerves! Stop trying to put me down—’

Brilliant dark golden eyes rested on her. ‘So the wimp upset you—’

‘Don’t talk about Philip like that…you don’t know him.’

‘I don’t need to,’ Leone purred, surveying her with sardonic amusement. ‘He showed himself up.’

Misty threw back her head, copper hair flying back from her flushed cheekbones. ‘No, I think you did. I don’t like aggressive men.’

A slow, winging smile slanted his wide, sensual mouth. She had the maddening suspicion that, far from her drawing blood with her retaliation, he was actually enjoying the exchange. ‘I’m not aggressive…I’m strong and you like that.’

‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’

A winged ebony brow quirked. ‘Don’t you?’

She could feel the tense silence buzzing around her. Her mouth had run dry and her heart was thumping like a trapped bird against her ribs. She looked at him: so very tall and lean with the sleek, honed, muscular build and grace of a natural athlete. His cropped, slightly curly black hair gleamed in the lamp light that picked out every fabulous angle of his bone structure, accentuating the carved cheekbones, the hollows beneath, the firm, sensual line of his mouth. Drop-dead gorgeous, as she had been refusing to acknowledge from the moment he’d appeared in the downstairs foyer and shadowed Philip like Everest looming over a bump in the lawn.

Entrapped by those smouldering dark golden eyes, she could look nowhere else and every breath that quivered through her felt like a huge effort. The taut peaks of her breasts ached and a sliding, curling sensation low in her pelvis made her tighten her thighs. Her knees had developed a slight tremor and all the time she was aware only of the almost terrifying rise of anticipation that took account of nothing but the fierce longing gripping her.

‘You want me…I want you, but it’s not going to happen,’ Leone breathed in a charged undertone that rasped down her sensitive spine like a roughened caress. ‘This is strictly business and we don’t need to make it complicated.’

Stark disconcertion rippled through Misty. She felt stripped naked, exposed. Urgent words of proud denial brimmed on her lips until she saw the way his burning gaze was homed in on her mouth and she trembled, the excitement climbing again, mindless and without conscience.

‘Business…’ Leone repeated thickly.

Someone rapped on the door and, although the knock was light, Misty flinched, dredged from her fever with a sense of guilty embarrassment. As the door opened and a young man appeared with a file in his hand she turned to stare out the window, breathing in slow and deep, fighting to still the nervous tremors currenting through her. Nobody had ever had so powerful an effect on her and it was starting to scare her: it was as if she had no control over herself around him, as if her brain went walkabout. But he was feeling that pull too. That shook her, surprised her, made her feel a little less mortified. Although she knew that the worst thing she could do would be to lower her guard around a male like Leone Andracchi, the knowledge that the attraction was mutual still made her feel better about herself, better than she had felt in a long time.

The door snapped shut and she turned back.

‘This is the agreement I mentioned.’ Leone extended a document. ‘Read it and then sign.’

Misty accepted the document. ‘And if I don’t sign?’

‘We don’t have a deal.’

She sat down and began to read. It was typical employment contract stuff, no mention of her pretending to be his mistress or of clothes or apartments either. However, there was a clause that said she would forfeit all benefits and payments if she tried to walk out before he considered the job complete. She didn’t like, that but her attention was caught by the sum of cash he was offering in return and that amount bereft her of breath. Enough money to keep the mortgage on Fossetts ticking over for the next year and more, as well as allowing sufficient funds to settle her outstanding bills and cover staff salaries during her absence.

Cheeks burning, Misty swallowed hard and looked up. ‘You’re being very generous…but what am I supposed to think about this bit that says I can’t walk out on this without your agreement?’

‘You may think what you like,’ Leone murmured levelly, ‘but I assure you that the position won’t entail anything either immoral, illegal or dangerous.’

None the wiser, but still troubled that he saw the necessity of making that stipulation, Misty lifted the pen from the table in front of her. He wasn’t going to explain himself and she couldn’t afford to throw away the only lifebelt on offer.

‘Wait…’ Striding back to the door, Leone called the young man back in to witness her signature and his own.

Such devotion to legal detail rather unnerved Misty. When the document was duly removed, she smoothed her damp palms down over her skirt. ‘Now what?’

‘Just a few details. I’ll send a car to pick you up at nine on Monday—’

‘This Monday coming?’ Misty questioned. ‘That’s only six days from now—’

‘I want this show up and running for the following weekend.’ Leone settled a notepad down on the coffee-table. ‘Make a note of your measurements. You need a new wardrobe.’