Dedication (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter One (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Two (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Three (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Four (#litres_trial_promo)
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)
Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
The Duke’s Boardroom Affair (#ulink_87c93c45-52ca-56bc-b8b8-ba0ab6d15d0d)
“About last night,” Charles said. “I’ve had a change of heart.”
Uh oh.
“Now that I know what I’ll be missing,” he added, “maybe I won’t be co-operating with the royal family after all.”
Oh yes, kissing him had been a really bad idea.
He was coming closer with that look in his eyes, like any second he planned to ravish her. And she wanted him to. Desperately.
He’d managed to turn the tables on her.
“I mean, what’s the worst that can happen?” he said.
Hopefully something really bad. “Renouncement? Hanging?” she offered.
He only smiled. He was standing so close now that he could reach out and touch her.
Bestselling author MICHELLE CELMER lives in southeastern Michigan with her husband, their three children, two dogs and two cats. When she’s not writing or busy being a mum, you can find her in the garden or curled up with a romance novel. And if you twist her arm really hard you can usually persuade her into a day of power shopping.
Michelle loves to hear from readers. Visit her website at www.michellecelmer.com (http://www.michellecelmer.com) or write to her at PO Box 300, Clawson, MI 48017, USA.
To my Aunt Janet, who, besides being totally cool and tons of fun, told me my first dirty joke when I was a kid. Why does a honeymoon only last six days? I think you remember the rest …
One (#ulink_4a38cb29-37fd-5b76-8f06-592e698f28ca)
Victoria Houghton had never been so humiliated.
Watching her father lose in a hostile takeover the hotel that had been in their family for generations had been almost more than she could bear—and now she was expected to be a personal assistant to the man who was instrumental in sealing the deal?
The Duke of Morgan Isle, Charles Frederick Mead, lounged casually behind his desk, smug and arrogant beneath the facade of a charming smile, the crisp blue of the Irish Sea a backdrop through a wall of floor-to-ceiling office windows behind him. Dressed in a suit that was no doubt custom-made, his casual stance was at odds with the undeniable air of authority he oozed from every pore.
“I was told I would be taking on a managerial position,” she told him. And along with it a generous salary and profit sharing. Or had they changed their minds about that part, too?
He leaned back and folded one leg casually atop the other. “Until the second phase of the hotel opens, there’s nothing for you to manage. And since my personal assistant recently left, you will temporarily replace her.”
He must have thought her daft if he believed she would buy that flimsy excuse. She would work in housekeeping, changing linens and scrubbing commodes, if it meant not seeing this man every day. He may have looked pleasant and easygoing, but underneath he was cold and heartless.
“So put me in the part of the hotel that’s already completed,” she said. “I’ll do anything.”
“There aren’t any openings.”
“None?”
He shook his head.
Of course there weren’t. Or so he said. To men like him, lying was as natural as breathing. And what of their financial agreement? Surely he didn’t expect to pay an assistant the exorbitant salary they had quoted in her contract? “What about my salary and profit sharing?”
He shrugged. “Nothing in the terms of your contract will change.”
Her brow perked up in surprise. What was he trying to pull?
“If you consult your attorney, he’ll confirm that we’re honoring our end of the deal,” he assured her.
According to her father, their own attorney had sold them out to get in good with the royal family, so unfortunately he wouldn’t be much help. She doubted there was a single attorney on the island who would take on the monarchy, so basically, she was screwed.
“And if I refuse?” she asked, though she already knew the answer.
“You violate the terms of your contract.”
He had no idea how tempted she was to do just that. She’d never wanted this job. But refusing it would devastate her father. The sale of his hotel—her legacy—to the royal family for their expansion project had been contingent on her being hired as a permanent manager, and at nearly twice the salary she had been making before. Not to mention incredible benefits. He wanted assurances that she would be well taken care of. And she was helpless to object.
Losing the hotel had put unneeded strain on his already weakening heart. Despite sitting on the prime resort land of the island, since the opening of the newly renovated Royal Inn hotel, occupancy in their much smaller facility had begun to drop. The way the lawyers for the royal family had begun buying up ocean-side property, both she and her father feared it would only be a matter of time before their number was up.