His Inexperienced Mistress: Girl Behind the Scandalous Reputation / The End of her Innocence / Ruthless Russian, Lost Innocence

CHAPTER ELEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER TWELVE (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER THIRTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)

Ruthless Russian, Lost Innocence (#litres_trial_promo)

About the Author (#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)

EPILOGUE (#litres_trial_promo)

Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)

Girl Behind the Scandalous Reputation (#ulink_a0a893c6-3677-567f-980f-3aad5f61748f)

Michelle Conder

From as far back as she can remember MICHELLE CONDER dreamed of being a writer. She penned the first chapter of a romance novel just out of high school, but it took much study, many (varied) jobs, one ultra-understanding husband and three very patient children before she finally sat down to turn that dream into a reality.

Michelle lives in Australia, and when she isn’t busy plotting she loves to read, ride horses, travel and practise yoga.

For Paul, who always takes the kids—even when it means missing a surf—for my kids, who so graciously accept when Mummy is busy, for Laurel, who tirelessly reads my dodgy first drafts, and for Mum, who is always there when I need her most. And for Flo for her keen insights and endless encouragement. Thank you all.

CHAPTER ONE (#ulink_aae21a9c-f777-50a9-a9f0-ee828a2b406e)

‘IS THIS your idea of a joke, Jordana?’ Tristan Garrett turned away from the view of the Thames outside his tenth-storey office window to stare incredulously at his baby sister. She sat in one of the navy tub chairs on the visitors’ side of his desk, legs crossed, immaculately groomed, and looking not at all like a crazy person sailing three sheets to the wind—as she sounded.

‘As if I would joke about something so serious!’ Jordana exclaimed, gazing at him, her jade-green eyes, the exact shade of his own, wide and etched with worry. ‘I know it sounds unbelievable but it’s true, and we have to help her.’

Actually, her story didn’t sound unbelievable at all, but Tristan knew his sanguine sister had a tendency to see goodness in people when there was none to see at all.

He turned back to stare at the pedestrians lining the Thames and better able to enjoy the September sunshine than he was. He couldn’t stand seeing his sister so upset, and he cursed the so-called friend who was responsible for putting these fresh tears in her eyes.

When she came to stand beside him he slung his arm around her shoulders, drawing her close. What could he say to placate her? That the friend she wanted to help wasn’t worth it? That anyone stupid enough to try and smuggle drugs out of Thailand deserved to get caught?

Normally he would help his sister in a heartbeat, but no way was he getting involved in this fiasco—and nor was she. He gave her an affectionate squeeze, but he didn’t try to contain the edge of steel in his voice when he spoke. ‘Jo, this is not your problem and you are not getting involved.’

‘I—’

Tristan held up his hand to cut off her immediate objection, his solid-gold cufflinks glinting in the downlights. ‘If what you say is true then the girl made her bed and she’ll have to lie in it. And may I remind you that you’re eight days away from the wedding of the year. Not only will Oliver not want you getting involved, but I doubt the Prince of Greece will want to sit beside a known drug-user—no matter how beautiful.’

Jordana’s mouth tightened. ‘Oliver will want me to do what’s right,’ she objected. ‘And I don’t care what my wedding guests think. I’m going to help Lily and that’s that.’

Tristan shook his head. ‘Why would you risk it?’

‘She’s my best friend and I promised I would.’

That surprised him. He’d thought their friendship had died down years ago. But if that was the case then why was Lily to be maid of honour at Jo’s wedding? Maid of honour to his best man! And why hadn’t he thought to ask that question two weeks earlier, when he’d found out Lily was coming to the wedding?

He frowned, but decided to push that issue aside for the more pressing problem at hand. ‘When did you speak to her?’

‘I didn’t. A customs officer called on her behalf. Lily wanted to let me know why she couldn’t meet me, and—Oh, Tristan, if we don’t help her she’ll probably go to jail.’

Tristan pushed back the thick lock of hair that had fallen over his forehead and made a mental note to book a haircut.

Much as he didn’t want to, he could see that he needed to get tough with his sister. ‘Which is probably the best place for her.’ He scowled. ‘She’ll be able to get help there.’

‘You don’t mean that!’

Didn’t he? He didn’t know. But what he did know was that his morning had been a lot better before Jordana had rushed into his office, bringing to mind a girl he’d rather strip from it altogether.

Honey Blossom Lily Wild.

Currently voted one of the sexiest women on the planet, and a talented actress to boot. He didn’t follow films but he’d seen her first one—some art-house twaddle made by a precocious upstart of a director about the end of the world. Tristan couldn’t remember the plot. What man could? It had Lily naked, save for a white oversized singlet and a pair of cotton panties masquerading as shorts, in almost every scene. The movie had signified to him that as a culture they were heading backwards—and people like Lily Wild were half the reason for that.

He and his father had tolerated the girls’ teenage friendship because it had made Jordana happy—and neither man would ever have jeopardised that—but Tristan had disliked Lily on sight when he’d first come across her as a gangly fourteen-year-old, hiding drugs under his sister’s dormitory mattress. She’d been haughty beyond her years that day, and if he had his time again he’d suggest his sister be relocated to another boarding school quick-smart.

Tristan heaved a sigh and returned to the smooth curve of his walnut desk, stroking his computer mouse to get rid of the screen saver. ‘Jo, I’m busy. I have an important meeting in half an hour. I’m sorry, but I can’t help.’

‘Tristan, I know you have a thing about drug-users, but Lily is innocent.’

‘And you know this how, exactly?’ he queried, deciding that humouring his sister might expedite her leaving.

‘Because I know Lily, and I know she doesn’t take drugs. She hates them.’

Tristan raised an eyebrow. Was his sister for real?