It Started With One Night: The Magnate's Mistress / His Bride for One Night / Master of Her Virtue

Max sat down beside her on the bed and started stroking her head again. ‘Still, I don’t want you to ever think you have to do anything you don’t want to do, Tara. I love you, not just having sex with you. All right?’

She nodded, but tears threatened. Max might say that now, but what if she was pregnant? Would he be so noble when faced with her having his baby? Or would he do and say things which might threaten their relationship for good?

Endless complications flooded into her mind, almost overwhelming her with fear, and feelings of impending doom.

But you don’t know you’re pregnant, she tried telling herself. You could very well be wrong.

Yes, yes, she would cling to that thought. At least till Max left. She couldn’t continue thinking and acting this way or she would surely break down and blurt out what was bothering her. And she really didn’t want to do that. Max had enough things on his mind these days without burdening him with premature news of an unconfirmed pregnancy.

No, she had to pull herself together and stop being such a panic artist. Max had a couple of hours yet before he left for the airport. Surely she could stay calm for that length of time. Why spoil the rest of his stay with negativity and pessimism? What would that achieve? He was being so sweet and understanding this morning. It wasn’t fair to take her secret fears out on him, especially when it was only a guess, and based on nothing but her feeling nauseous two mornings in a row.

Hardly conclusive proof.

‘Max…’

‘Yes?’

‘I’m feeling a bit better now. My stomach is much more settled. Do you think I should try something to eat? Maybe some toast?’

‘I think that would be an excellent idea. Eating is another good cure for a hangover. I’ll have Room Service send some up.’ And he stood up to walk round to the extension that sat on his bedside chest. ‘I’ll order myself a decent breakfast at the same time. Just coffee won’t cut it this morning. Not with airline food beckoning me later today. I need something far more substantial.’

Tara pulled herself up into a sitting position, dragging the sheet up with her over her breasts and tucking it modestly around her. As much as she might have discovered a new abandon when she was turned on, she was still not an exhibitionist.

‘You know, Max,’ she said when he’d finished ordering, ‘you should keep some staple foods in your kitchen. Cereals last for weeks. So does long-life milk and juice. And bread freezes. It’s rather extravagant to order everything you eat from Room Service.’

‘Maybe, but I intend to keep on doing it. I work incredibly long hours and I have no intention of spending my precious leisure time in the kitchen. I have far more enjoyable things to do when I’m on R & R.’ And he gave her a wickedly knowing smile.

Tara was taken aback. Maybe she was extra-sensitive this morning, but she didn’t like Max describing the time he spent with her as R & R—rest and recreation.

She dropped her eyes to her lap to stop his noting her negative reaction and found herself staring at the huge topaz ring which was still on her finger. His gift was the only thing he hadn’t removed from her last night.

Suddenly, she saw it not as an anniversary present, but the beginning of many such gifts, given to her for services rendered; rewards for travelling with him and filling his rest and recreation hours in the way he liked most.

She pictured their sex games being played out in lavish hotel rooms all over the world, Max’s demands becoming more and more outrageous in line with the extravagance of his gifts. Soon, she’d be dripping in diamonds and designer clothes. But underneath, she wouldn’t be wearing any underwear. In the end, she would become his sex slave for real, bought and paid for, fashioned to fulfil his every desire. She would cease to be her own person. She’d just be a possession. A toy, to be taken out and played with during Max’s leisure time, and ignored when he went back to his real life. His work.

Of course, such a sex toy had to be perfect, physically. It could never be allowed to get fat. Or pregnant.

Pregnant sex slaves had two choices. They either got rid of their babies. Or they themselves were dispensed with.

Both scenarios horrified Tara.

‘Max!’ she exclaimed, her eyes flying upwards.

But Max was no longer in the bedroom. Tara had been so consumed with her thoughts—and her imaginary future—that she hadn’t noticed his leaving.

‘Max!’ she called out and the door of his dressing room opened. He emerged, dressed in one of his conservative grey business suits, though not teamed with his usual white shirt today. His shirt was a blue, the same blue as his eyes. And his tie was a sleek, shiny silver, a change from his usual choice. His hair was still damp from a recent shower and slicked straight back from his head.

He looked dashing, she thought. And very sexy.

But then, Max was very sexy.

An image flashed into her mind of his tipping champagne from the bottle over her breasts, then bending to lick it off. Slowly. So very slowly. She’d pleaded with him to stop teasing her.

But he’d ignored her pleas.

That was part of the game, wasn’t it?

The best part. The most exciting part.

‘What?’ he asked, frowning over at her.

‘I…I didn’t know where you were,’ she said lamely, hating herself for her sudden weakness. She’d been going to tell him that she’d changed her mind about travelling with him; that she didn’t really like the way things were heading.

But the words had died in her throat at the sight of him. It was so true what they said. The mind could be willing but the flesh was very weak.

‘Thought I might as well get dressed before Room Service called,’ he explained. ‘I know how you don’t like the butler coming in when you’re in bed. Besides, no point in staying in my bathrobe with you feeling under the weather, is there?’

The front door bell rang right at that moment. Max hurried from the room, returning in no time, wheeling a traymobile. By then, Tara had decided she was being a drama queen. Max loved her and she loved him. It was only natural that he would ask her to travel with him. And it was only natural that she would go.

As for her pregnancy…

That was as far-fetched an idea as her becoming some kind of mindless sex slave. She had always had a strong sense of her own self. Her mother called her wilful and her sister said she was incredibly stubborn. If Max started crossing the line where she was concerned, she would simply tell him so and come home. Nothing could be simpler.

‘Now, that’s what I like to see,’ Max said as he tossed her one of the Sunday papers. ‘Almost a happy face.’

She smiled at him. ‘Nothing like feeling better to make you feel better.’

He scowled. ‘Now she tells me, after I’m dressed.’

‘That was not an invitation for more sex, Max Richmond. I think we’ve indulged enough for one weekend. I would hate to think that all I’d be if and when I travel with you is a means of rest and relaxation.’

He frowned at her. ‘If and when? Did I hear correctly? I thought you’d agreed to come with me. It was just a matter of giving your notice.’

‘Yes, well, I’ve been having some second thoughts.’

Tara knew how to play that game. The hard-to-get game.

For years before she’d met Max, she’d played it to the hilt. Whilst she’d not been so successful with Max, she suspected that it would do him good to be a little less sure of her.

‘Aah,’ he said. ‘I see. Hence, the sex-slave accusation.’

‘Yes…’

Max sighed, then came over to sit on the bed once more.

‘I don’t know how many times I have to tell you this weekend, Tara, but I love you. Deeply. I want you with me for more than just sex. I enjoy just being with you, even when we’re not making love. I enjoy your company and your conversation. I enjoy your wit and your charm with other people. Taking you out is a delight. You are a delight. When you’re not sick, that is,’ he added drily, dampening her pleasure in his compliments.

‘Charming,’ she said. ‘So if I ever get sick, I will be tossed aside, like a toy whose batteries have run low?’