It Started With... Collection

RACHEL insisted Justin drop her off home after the luncheon at his mother’s. Without his coming in.

‘I have washing to do,’ she told him. ‘And a host of other little jobs to organise myself for the coming week. I’m sure you do, too,’ she added firmly when he looked as though he was going to argue.

He sighed, then went.

The following morning Rachel was so glad she’d taken that stand. Glad she was alone and travelling on the train to work. Very glad she’d got a seat and she could read the front-page story in the daily newspaper privately.

TOOMBS FLEES AUSTRALIA, the headlines screamed.

TYCOON IN INVESTMENT SCANDAL.

The details were a bit sketchy, but it seemed Carl Toombs had finally done what many people had forecast for him. He’d gone bust, and taken a lot of creditors and investors with him. The journalist writing the article implied it was only his company that had gone belly-up. On a personal basis, Toombs himself was probably still as rich as Croesus. Being a conscienceless but clever crook, he would have siphoned money off into Swiss bank accounts, or other anonymous offshore establishments, before doing a flit at the weekend, minus his family.

There were photos of his wife and children at the gate of his harbourside mansion, plus the classic comment from the wife saying she knew nothing about her husband’s business dealings, and had no idea where he was. She claimed to be as devastated as his employees and business colleagues, who’d all been left high and dry without their entitlements etc etc etc.

Did that include his PA-cum-mistress? Rachel wondered. Or had she vanished with the disgraced tycoon?

Only time would tell, she supposed. But how would Justin react to this news? Rachel couldn’t even guess. This was one area where she still didn’t have all the answers, despite what Alice had told her the previous day. The subject of Mandy was verboten with Justin.

Rachel arrived at work in a state of nervous anticipation over Justin’s mood. No use hoping he wouldn’t have seen the headlines and read the story. He worked out every morning with people who lived and breathed such news. It would be the main topic of conversation in AWI’s gym this morning. It would be the main topic for discussion in just about every office and household in Sydney that day. But not hers. She didn’t dare bring the matter up.

Or did she? It wouldn’t be normal not to mention it. Oh, she didn’t know what to do for the best!

Justin was already in his office when she arrived, with his door firmly shut. She dumped the paper on top of her desk in full view, then set about making his usual mug of coffee, determined to act naturally. When it was ready she tapped briefly on the door then breezed right in, as was her habit these days.

Justin was sitting at his desk with his nose buried in the morning paper.

‘So what do you think of Carl Toombs going broke like that?’ she remarked casually as she put his coffee down. ‘I was reading about it on the train on the way in. The papers are full of little else.’

When he glanced up at her, he didn’t look too distressed. Just a bit distracted.

Rachel’s agitation lessened slightly.

‘Couldn’t have happened to a nicer bloke,’ came his caustic comment.

‘I guess he’s not really broke, though,’ Rachel remarked. ‘People like that never are.’

‘Maybe not, but the media will hound him, wherever he goes. He won’t have a happy life.’

‘I pity the people who worked for him,’ Rachel went on, and watched his eyes.

They definitely grew harder. And colder.

‘People who work for men like Toombs are tarred with the same brush. If you lie down with dogs, don’t complain when you get up with fleas.’

Rachel was shocked by the icy bitterness in his voice. Shocked and dismayed. He wasn’t over Mandy at all. Not one little bit.

Her phone ringing gave her a good excuse to flee his office before she said something she would later regret. She was quite glad to close the door that separated them.

It was Alice, who’d seen the news about Toombs on a morning television programme.

‘There was no mention of Mandy,’ she said.

‘No,’ Rachel agreed.

‘She always did keep a very low profile. How’s Justin?’

‘Hard to say.’ Rachel didn’t want to get into the habit of gossiping about Justin to his mother. ‘Would you like me to put you through to him?’

‘Lord, no. No, I was just wondering. I also wanted to say again how lovely you looked yesterday, Rachel.’

‘Thank you, Alice. And let me say that was one fantastic spread you put on. You’re sure you weren’t trying to fatten me up?’ she joked just as the door from the corridor opened and the most striking woman Rachel had ever seen walked in. She looked like something you saw in the pages of the glossies. Long blonde hair. Even longer legs. Enormous blue eyes. Pouting mouth. A body straight out of an X-rated magazine.

‘Er—Alice,’ Rachel went on, trying not to sound as sick as she was suddenly feeling. ‘I…I have to go. Someone’s just come in…’

Not just someone, of course. The one. The cruel bitch. The cruel but incredibly beautiful bitch.

‘Can I help you?’ Rachel asked frostily as hatred warred with fear. It was no wonder Justin hadn’t got over her. Who could ever compare with this golden goddess? She was the stuff men’s dreams were made of.

Admittedly, she was wearing a tad too much make-up for day wear, especially around her eyes, and she was dressed rather provocatively, if expensively. Her camel suit had to be made of the finest leather—since it didn’t wrinkle—but it was skin-tight, with a short, short skirt and a vest top with cut-in arm-holes and a deep V-neckline. Her gold jewellery looked real, though, again, there was a bit too much of it for Rachel’s taste. Several chain necklaces, one of which was lost in her impressive cleavage. Dangling earrings. A couple of bracelets on each wrist. Even an anklet, which drew Rachel’s gaze down to the matching camel-coloured shoes, along with their five-inch heels.

She looked like a very expensive mistress. Or an equally expensive call-girl.

‘I was told this was Justin McCarthy’s office,’ she said in a voice which would be an instant drawcard on one of those sex phone lines. Low and husky and chock-full of erotic promise. ‘Is that right?’

‘Yes. And you are…?’

‘I’m Mandy McCarthy, Justin’s ex-wife,’ she informed Rachel without a hint of hesitation. ‘And you must be Justin’s new PA,’ she added with a strange little smile.

Rachel stiffened. ‘That’s right.’

‘I see,’ she said. ‘Yes, I see. Is Justin in here?’ she added, going straight over to Justin’s door and winding her long bronze-tipped fingers around the knob.

Rachel was on her feet in a flash. ‘You can’t just walk in there.’

‘You’re wrong, sweetie,’ the blonde countered, her smile turning wry. ‘I can. And I’m going to. Please don’t make a scene. I need to speak to Justin alone and I don’t have much time.’

‘If you say anything to hurt him,’ Rachel ground out through clenched teeth, ‘anything at all…I’ll kill you.’

She laughed. ‘You know, I do believe you would. Lucky Justin.’ And then she turned the knob and went right in.

Rachel sank back down into her chair, ashen-faced and shaking.

Justin couldn’t have been more shocked when the door opened and Mandy came in.

‘What the—?’ he muttered, automatically rising to his feet.

‘Sorry to drop in like this, Justin,’ she purred, shutting the door behind her. ‘I don’t think your girlfriend outside is too happy about it, but that can’t be helped. You can tell her after I’ve gone that I’m no threat to your relationship.’