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Royal Seductions: Secrets
The Duke’s Boardroom Affair
Royal Seducer
Christmas with the Prince
Michelle Celmer
www.millsandboon.co.uk
Table of Contents
Cover Page
Title Page
The Duke’s Boardroom Affair
Excerpt
About The Author
Dedication
One
Two
Three
Four
Five
Six
Seven
Eight
Nine
Ten
Eleven
Twelve
Thirteen
Fourteen
Fifteen
Royal Seducer
Excerpt
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Christmas with the Prince
Excerpt
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Copyright
The Duke’s Boardroom Affair
“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 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
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.
And they had been right.
In his fragile state, more bad news might be all it took to do him in. Since the day her mother and older brother were killed in an automobile accident, when Victoria was only five, he had been her entire life. He had sacrificed so much for her. She couldn’t let him down.
With renewed resolve, she squared her shoulders and asked, “When do you expect the second phase of the hotel to open?”
“The additions and renovations are scheduled for completion by the beginning of the next tourist season.”
The next tourist season? But that was nearly six months away! Six days would be too long to work for this man, as far as she was concerned. But what choice did she have?
Something that looked like amusement sparked in his deep, chocolate-brown eyes. Did he think this was funny?
“Is that a problem?” he asked.
She realized the duke was baiting her. He wanted her to violate the terms of her contract so he could get rid of her. He didn’t want her services any more than she wanted his charity.
Well, she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing her buckle. He may have broken her father, but there was no way he was going to break her.
She raised her chin a notch and looked him directly in the eye, so he would see that she wasn’t intimidated. “No problem.”
“Excellent.” A satisfied and, though she hated to admit it, sexy grin curled the corners of his mouth. Which she didn’t doubt was exactly what he wanted her to think.
He opened the top drawer of his desk, extracted a form of some sort, and slid it toward her. “You’ll need to sign this.”
She narrowed her eyes at him. “What is it?”
“Our standard nondisclosure agreement. Every employee of the royal family is obligated to sign one.”
Another trick? But after a quick scan of the document, she realized it was a very simple, basic agreement. And though she wouldn’t be working directly for the royal family but instead for the hotel chain they now owned, she didn’t feel it was worth arguing. Their secrets would be safe with her.
Yet, as she took the gold-plated pen he offered and signed her name, she couldn’t escape the feeling that she had just sold her soul to the devil.
She handed it back to him and he tucked it inside his desk, then he rose from his chair. Short as she was, she was used to looking up to meet people in the eye, but he towered over her. At least a foot and a half taller than her measly five foot one. And he looked so…perfect. His suit an exact fit, his nails neatly trimmed and buffed, not a strand of his closely cropped, jet-black hair out of place.
But men like him were never as perfect as they appeared. God knows she’d met her share of imperfect men. Despite his looks and money and power, he was just as flawed as the next guy. Probably more so. And being that he was an attorney, she wouldn’t trust him as far as she could throw him—which, considering their size difference, wouldn’t be very far.
“Welcome to the company, Victoria.” He extended a hand for her to shake and, determined to be professional, she accepted it.
His hand enfolded her own, gobbling it up, big and warm and firm. And she felt a strange stirring in the pit of her belly. A kind of fluttering tickle.
His hand still gripping hers, he said, “Why don’t we discuss your duties over lunch?” But his eyes said he had more than just lunch in mind. Was he hitting on her?
You have got to be kidding me.
She came this close to rolling her eyes. The tabloids were forever painting him as a shameless, ruthless womanizer, but she had always assumed that was just gossip. No man could possibly be that shallow. Perhaps, though, they weren’t so far off the mark.
If he believed for an instant that he would be adding her to his list of female conquests, he was delusional.
As graciously as possible she pried her hand loose. “No. Thank you.”
He regarded her curiously. Maybe he wasn’t used to women telling him no. “My treat,” he said, dangling the word in front of her like bait.
Did he really think she was that hard up?
“We’re going to be working somewhat closely,” he added, and she could swear she heard a hint of emphasis on closely. “We should take the time to get to know one another.”
They wouldn’t be working that closely. “I prefer not to mix business with pleasure.”
She wondered if he would insist, citing it as part of their contract, but he only shrugged and stepped around his desk. “Well, then, I’ll show you to your office.”
Instead of taking her back through the outer office, past the grim-faced, aged secretary she’d met on the way in, he led her through a different door to a smaller, sparsely decorated, windowless office with little more than an empty bookcase, a comfortable-looking leather office chair, and an adequately sized desk. On it’s surface sat a phone, a laptop computer and a large manila envelope.
“Everything you need is on your computer,” he explained. “You’ll find a list of all your duties, along with any phone numbers you may need as well as a copy of my personal schedule. If you’re unsure of how to use the program you can ask Penelope, my secretary, for help.”
“I’m sure I can figure it out.”
He picked up the envelope and handed it to her. “Inside is a badge for this building, and another that will give you access to the business offices at the palace—”
“The palace?” She never imagined that going to the palace would be a part of the job description.
“I keep an office there and often attend meetings with King Phillip. Have you ever been there?”
She shook her head. She’d only seen photographs. Not that she hadn’t imagined what it would be like.
“Well, then, I’ll have to give you a tour.”
Okay, maybe there would be some perks to this job. The idea of being in the palace, and possibly meeting members of the royal family, filled her with nervous excitement. Then she reined in her wayward emotions by reminding herself that this was not going to be a fun job. And given the choice, she would rather be anywhere but here.
“You’ll also find a set of card keys,” he continued, “for both your office and mine. They’re marked accordingly. And in a separate envelope is your personal security code for my house.”
Why on earth would he give her access to his house?
“My driver will be at your disposal twenty-four hours a day. Unless, of course, I’m using him, in which case you will be reimbursed for your petrol use.”
A driver? She couldn’t imagine what she would need that for. This job just kept getting stranger and stranger.
He gestured to a second door, adjacent to the one connecting their offices.
“That door leads to Penelope’s office and will be the entrance that you use. She’ll take you on a tour of the building, show you the break room and facilities. If you need to speak to me specifically, call first. The line to my office is marked on the phone. If I don’t answer that means I’m busy and not to be disturbed.”
“All right.”
“My business calls go through Penelope, but any personal calls will be routed through your office or to the cell phone I’ll supply you.”
Answering phones and taking messages? Not the most challenging job in the world. But the duke was obviously a man who liked things done a certain way, and if nothing else she respected that. More than once her employees at the Houghton had suggested she was a little too rigid when it came to her business practices, but she had never felt an ounce of regret for running a tight ship.
She had been working since the age of twelve, when her father let her help out in the Houghton Hotel office after school. But only after earning her master’s degree in business at university was she promoted to manager. Her father had insisted she earn her education, should she ever need something to fall back on.
And, boy, had she fallen back.
“Take some time to look over your duties, then we can discuss any questions you have,” he said.
“Fine.”
“I have to warn you, I’ve been without an assistant for a week now, and I’m afraid things are in a bit of a mess.”
Honestly, how hard could it be, being a glorified secretary? “I’m sure I can manage.”
“Well,” the Duke said, with one of those dazzling smiles, “I’ll leave you to it, then.”
He turned and was halfway through the door before she realized she had no idea how she was supposed to address him. Did she call him Sir, or Sire? Did she have to bow or curtsy?
“Excuse me,” she said.
He turned back to her. “Yes?”
“What should I call you?” He looked puzzled, so she added, “Mr. or Sir? Your Highness?”
That grin was back, and, like his handshake, she felt it all the way to the pit of her belly.
Stop that, she warned herself. He only smiled that way because he wanted her to feel it in her belly.
“Let’s go with Charles,” he said.
She wasn’t sure if that was proper. Calling him by his first name just felt too…casual. But he was calling the shots, and she wasn’t going to give him any reason to accuse her of violating the contract. “All right.”
He flashed her one last smile before he closed the door behind him, and she had the distinct feeling he knew something she didn’t. Or maybe that was just part of the game. Either way, she refused to let him intimidate her. If they thought they were going to force her out, they had no idea who they were dealing with. She hadn’t earned her reputation as a savvy businesswoman by letting people walk all over her.
She took a seat at her new desk, finding the chair to be as comfortable as it looked. But the office itself was cold and impersonal. Since she would be spending at least six months here, it wouldn’t hurt to bring a few photos and personal items into work.
She opened the laptop and booted it up. On the desktop were the documents he had mentioned. Convinced this job couldn’t get any worse, she opened the one titled Duties. Starting at the top, she read her job description, working her way down the two-page, single-spaced list, her stomach sinking lower with each line, until she could swear it slipped all the way down near the balls of her feet. Personal assistant, my foot.
She had just agreed to be Charles Frederick Mead’s indentured slave.
Two
Charles sat at his desk, watching the time tick by on his Rolex. He gave Victoria five minutes before she stormed into his office in a snit about her employment duties. And he’d bet his ample net worth that she’d forget to call first.
For a woman with her education and experience, the backward step from managing a five-hundred-room hotel to the duties of a personal assistant would be tough to navigate. If it were up to him, he’d have found her a position in the hotel. But it wasn’t his call. His cousins, King Phillip and Prince Ethan, were calling the shots.
The Houghton Hotel hadn’t been acquired under the best of circumstances—at least, not for the Houghton family—and the royal family needed to know if Victoria was trustworthy before they allowed her into the fold. The logical way to do that was to keep her close.
He could see that she was still distraught over the loss of their hotel and property, but, sadly, the buyout had been inevitable. If not the Royal Inn, some other establishment would have swooped in for the kill. At least with the royal family they were given a fair deal. Other prospective buyers, with less interest in the country’s economy, might have been far less accommodating. But it was possible that Victoria and her father, Reginald Houghton, didn’t see it that way. But at the very least, she could show a little bit of gratitude. The royal family had saved them the embarrassment of both professional and personal financial devastation.
He’d barely completed the thought when his phone rang. Three short chirps, indicating the call originated from Victoria’s office. She remembered.
He glanced at his watch. She was early. Only three and a half minutes.
He answered with a patient, “Yes, Victoria.”
“I’m ready to discuss my duties,” she said, and there was a distinct undertone of tension in her voice that made him grin.
“That was quick,” he said. “Come on in.”
The door opened a second later, and she emerged, a look on her face that could only be described as determined. For a woman her size, barely more than a nymph, she had a presence that overwhelmed a room. A firestorm of attitude and spunk packed neatly into a petite and, dare he say, sexy package. He usually preferred women with long, silky hair—and typically blond—but her shorter, warm brown, sassy style seemed to fit her just right.
He wasn’t typically drawn to strong-willed women, but Victoria fascinated him. And he wouldn’t mind at all getting to know her better. Which he would, despite what she seemed to believe. It was a simple fact: women found him irresistible. It was exhausting at times, really, the way women threw themselves at him. He didn’t help matters by encouraging them. But he just couldn’t help himself. He loved everything about women: Their soft curves and the silky warmth of their skin. The way they smelled and tasted. In fact, when it came to the female form, there wasn’t a single thing he didn’t adore.
This time, he had his sights set on Victoria. And he had yet to meet a woman he couldn’t seduce.
“You have questions?” he asked her.
“A few.”
He leaned back in his chair and folded his arms. “Let’s hear it.”
She seemed to choose her words very carefully. “I assumed my duties would be limited to more of a…secretarial nature.”
“I have a secretary. What you’ll be doing is handling every aspect of my private affairs. From fetching my dry cleaning to screening my e-mail and calls. Making dinner reservations and booking events. If I need a gift for a friend or flowers for a date, it will be your responsibility to make it happen. You’ll also accompany me to any business meetings where I might require you to take notes.”
She nodded slowly, and he could see that she was struggling to keep her cool. “I understand that you need to fill the position, but don’t you think I’m a little over-qualified?”
He flashed her a patient and sympathetic smile. “I realize this is quite a step down from what you’re used to. But as I said before, until the second phase opens…” He shrugged, lifting his hands in a gesture of helplessness. “If it’s any consolation, since my last assistant left, my life has been in shambles. There will be plenty to keep you busy.”
For a second she looked as though she might press the issue, then thought better of it. It wasn’t often anyone outside of the family contradicted him. It was just a part of the title.
She spared him a stiff, strained smile. “Well, then, I guess I should get started.”
He was sure that once she got going, she would find managing his life something of a challenge. He wished he could say the same for seducing her, but he had the sneaking suspicion it would be all too easy.
Charles hadn’t been kidding when he said his life was in shambles.
After a quick tour of the building with Penelope, who had the personality and warmth of an iceberg, Victoria started at the top of his to do list. Sorting his e-mail. She had to go through his personal account and first weed out the spam that had slipped through the filter, then compare the sender addresses on legitimate mail to a list of people whose e-mails were to be sorted into several separate categories. Which didn’t sound like much of an undertaking, until she opened the account and discovered over four hundred e-mails awaiting her attention.
There were dozens from charities requesting his donation or endorsement, and notes from family and friends, including at least three or four a day from his mother. A lot of e-mails from women. And others from random people who admired him or in some cases didn’t speak too fondly of him. Cross-referencing them all with the list of addresses he’d supplied her would be a tedious, time-consuming task. And it seemed as though for every e-mail she erased or filed, a new one would appear in his inbox.
When eyestrain and fatigue had her vision blurring, she took a break and moved down to number two on the list. His voice mail. Following his instructions, she dialed the number and punched in the PIN, and was nearly knocked out of her chair when the voice announced that he had two hundred and twenty-six new messages! She didn’t get that many personal calls in a month, much less a week. And she couldn’t help wondering how many of those calls were from women.
It didn’t take long to find out.
There was Amber from the hotel bar, Jennifer from the club, Alexis from the ski lodge, and half a dozen more. Most rang more than once, sounding a bit more desperate and needy with each message. The lead offender for repeated calls, however, was Charles’s mother. She seemed to follow up every e-mail she sent with a phone call, or maybe it was the other way around. No less than three times a day. Sometimes more. And she began every call the exact same way. It’s your mum. I know you’re busy, but I wanted to tell you…
Nothing pressing as far as Victoria could tell. Just random tidbits about family or friends, or reminders of events he had promised to attend. A very attractive woman from a good family she would like him to meet. And she seemed to have an endless variety of pet names for him. Pumpkin and Sweetie. Love and Precious. Although Victoria’s favorite by far was Lamb Chop.
His mother never requested, or seemed to expect, a return call, and her messages dripped with a syrupy sweetness that made Victoria’s skin crawl. How could Charles stand it?
Easily. By having someone else check his messages.
She spent the next couple of hours listening to the first hundred or so calls, transcribing the messages for Charles, including a return phone number should he need to answer the call. Any incoming calls she let go directly to voice until she had time to catch up. Between the e-mail and voice mail, it could take days.
“Working late?”
Startled by the unexpected intrusion, she nearly dropped the phone. She looked up to find Charles standing in the doorway between their two offices. She couldn’t help but wonder how long he’d been standing there watching her.
“I’m sorry, what?” she said, setting the phone back in the cradle.
Her reaction seemed to amuse him. “I asked if you’re working late.”
She looked at her watch and realized that it was nearly eight p.m. She’d worked clear through lunch and dinner. “I guess I lost track of the hour.”
“You’re not required to work overtime.”
“I have a lot of work to catch up on.” Besides, she would much rather have been busy working than sitting home alone in the flat she had been forced to rent when her father could no longer afford to keep the family estate. Since she was born, that house had been the only place she had ever called home. But there was a new family living there now. Strangers occupying the rooms that were meant to belong to her own children some day.
Every time she set foot in her new residence, it was a grim, stark reminder of everything they had lost. And Charles, she reminded herself, was the catalyst.
He held up what she assumed was to be her new phone. The most expensive, state-of-the-art gadget on the market. “Before Penelope left she brought this in.”
She felt a sudden wave of alarm. His secretary was gone? Meaning they were alone?
She wondered who else was in the building, and if working alone with him was wise. She barely knew him.
“Is everyone gone?” she asked in a voice that she hoped sounded nonchalant.
“This is a law firm. There’s always someone working late on a case or an intern pulling an overnighter. If it’s safety you’re concerned about, the parking structure is monitored by cameras around the clock, and we employ a security detail in the lobby twenty-four seven.”
“Oh, that’s good to know.” Still, as he walked toward her desk to hand her the mobile phone, she tensed the tiniest bit. He was just so tall and assuming. So…there.
“It’s a PDA as well as a phone. And you can check e-mail and browse the Internet. If you take it to Nigel in tech support on the fourth floor tomorrow morning, he’ll set everything up for you.”
“Okay.” As she took it from him their fingers touched and she had to force herself not to jerk away. It was barely a brush; still, she felt warmth and electricity shoot across the surface of her skin. Which made no sense considering how much she disliked him.
“I’ve been going through your phone messages,” she told him. “Your mother called. Many times.”
“Well, there’s a surprise,” he said, a definite note of exasperation in his voice. “I should probably warn you that when it comes to dealing with my mother, you have to be firm or she’ll walk all over you.”
“I can do that.” Being firm had never been a problem for her. In fact, there had been instances when she’d been accused of being too firm. A necessity for any woman in a position of power. She had learned very early in her career how not to let people walk all over her.
“Good.” He glanced at his watch. “I’m on my way out, and since it would seem that neither of us has eaten yet, why don’t you let me take you out to dinner?”
First a lunch invitation, now dinner? Couldn’t he take no for an answer? “No, thank you.”
Her rejection seemed to amuse him. He shrugged and said, “Have it your way.”
What was that supposed to mean? Whose way did he expect her to have it? His?
“I’m going to the dry cleaners tomorrow to pick up your laundry,” she said. “Do you have anything dirty at home that I should take with me?”
“I do, actually. My housekeeper is off tomorrow morning but I’ll try to remember to set it by the door before I leave for work. Would you like my car to pick you up?”
“I can drive myself.” Her father had always had a driver—until recently, anyway—but she never had felt comfortable having someone chauffer her around. She was too independent. She liked to be in control of her environment and her destiny. Which had been much easier when her father owned the company. When she was in charge. Answering to the whims of someone else was going to be…a challenge.
He shrugged again. “If that’s what you prefer. I guess I’ll see you in the morning.”
Unfortunately, yes, he would. And nearly every morning for the following six months. “Good night.”
For several very long seconds he just looked at her, then he flashed her one of those devastating, sexy smiles before he walked out of her office, shutting the door behind him.
And despite her less-than-sparkling opinion of him, she couldn’t help feeling just a tiny bit breathless.
Victoria checked her caller ID when she got home and saw that her father had called several times. No doubt wondering how her first day had gone. All she wanted to do was fall into bed and sleep, but if she didn’t call him back he would worry. She dialed his number, knowing she would have to tread lightly, choose her words carefully, so as not to upset him.
He answered sounding wounded and upset. “I thought you wouldn’t call.”
It struck her how old he sounded. Too frail for a man of sixty-five. He used to be so strong and gregarious. Lately he seemed to be fading away. “Why wouldn’t I call?”
“I thought you might be cross with me for making you take that job. I know it couldn’t have been easy, working for those people.”
That was the way he’d referred to the royal family lately. Those people. “I’ve told you a million times, Daddy, that I am not upset. It’s a good job. Where else would I make such a generous salary? If it does well, the profit sharing will make me a very wealthy woman.” She found it only slightly ironic that she was regurgitating the same words he had used to convince her to take the position in the first place.
“I know,” he conceded. “But no salary, no matter how great, could make up for what was stolen from us.”
And she knew that he would live with that regret for the rest of his life. All she could do was continually assure him that it wasn’t his fault. Yet, regardless of whose mistake it was, she couldn’t help feeling that she would spend the rest of her life paying for it.
“Is it a nice hotel?” he asked grudgingly.
“Well, I didn’t actually see the hotel yet.”
“Why not?”
Oh, boy, this was going to be tough to explain. “There isn’t a manager’s position open in the hotel right now,” she said, and told him about the job with the duke, stressing that her contract wouldn’t change.
“That is completely unacceptable,” he said, and she could practically feel his blood pressure rising, could just imagine the veins at his temples pulsing. He’d already had two heart attacks. One more could be fatal.
“It’s fine, Daddy. Honestly.”
“Would you like me to contact my attorney?”
For all the good that would do her. “No.”
“Are you sure? There must be something he can do.”
Was he forgetting that it was his attorney who was partially to blame for getting them into this mess?
“There’s no need, Daddy. It’s not so bad, really. In fact, I think it might be something of a challenge. A nice change of pace.”
He accepted her lie, and some of the tension seemed to slip from his voice. He changed the subject and they went on to talk about an upcoming party for a family friend, and she tried to remain upbeat and cheerful. By the time she hung up she felt exhausted from the effort.
Performing her duties would be taxing enough, but she could see that creating a ruse to keep her father placated would be a long and arduous task. But what choice did she have? She was all her father had left in the world. He had sacrificed so much for her. Made her the center of his universe.
No matter what, she couldn’t let him down.
Three
Charles lived in an exclusive, heavily gated and guarded community fifteen miles up the coast in the city of Pine Bluff. His house, a towering structure of glass and stone, sat in the arc of a cul-de-sac on the bluff overlooking the ocean. It was a lot of house for a single man, but that hardly surprised her. She was sure he had money to burn.
Victoria pulled her car up the circular drive and parked by the front door. She climbed out and took in the picturesque scenery, filled her lungs with clean, salty autumn air. If nothing else, the duke had impeccable taste in real estate. As well as interior design, she admitted to herself, after she used her code to open the door and stepped inside the foyer. Warm beiges and deep hues of green and blue welcomed her inside. The foyer opened up into a spacious living room with a rustic stone fireplace that climbed to the peak of a steep cathedral ceiling. It should have looked out of place with the modern design, but instead it gave the room warmth and character.
She had planned to grab the laundry and be on her way, but the bag he had said he would leave by the door was conspicuously not there. Either he hadn’t left yet or he’d forgotten. She was guessing the latter.
“Hello!” she called, straining to hear for any signs of life, but the house was silent. She would have to find the clothes herself, and the logical place to look would be his bedroom.
She followed the plushly carpeted staircase up to the second floor and down an open hallway that overlooked the family room below. The home she had grown up in was more traditional in design, but she liked the open floor plan of Charles’s house.
“Hello!” she called again, and got no answer. With the option of going either left or right, she chose right and peered into each of the half-dozen open doors. Spare rooms, mostly. But at the end of the hall she hit the jackpot. The master suite.
It was decorated just as warmly as the living room, but definitely more masculine. An enormous sleigh bed—unmade, she noted—carved from deep, rich cherry dominated the center of the room. And the air teemed with the undeniable scent of the woodsy cologne he had been wearing the day before.
She tried one more firm “Hello! Anyone here?” and was met with silence.
Looked like the coast was clear.
Feeling like an interloper, she stepped inside, wondering where the closet might be hiding. She found it off the bathroom, an enormous space in which row upon row of suits in the finest and most beautiful fabrics she had ever seen hung neatly in order by color. Beside them hung his work shirts, and beside them stood a rack that must have had three hundred different ties hanging from its bars. She wondered if he had worn them all. The opposite side of the closet seemed casual in nature, and in the back she discovered a mountain of dirty clothes overflowing from a hamper conveniently marked Dry Cleaning.
It was shirts mostly. White, beige, and a few pale blue. She also noted that his scent was much stronger here. And strangely familiar. Not the scent of a man she had known only a day. Perhaps she knew someone who wore the same brand.
Purely out of curiosity she picked up one of the shirts and held it to her face, inhaling deeply.
“I see you found my laundry.”
She was so startled by the unexpected voice that she squealed with surprise and spun around, but the heel of her pump caught in the carpet and she toppled over into a row of neatly hung trousers, taking several pairs with her as she landed with a thump on the floor.
Cheeks flaming with embarrassment, she looked up to find Charles standing over her, wearing nothing but a damp towel around his slim hips and an amused smile.
She quickly averted her gaze, but not before she registered a set of ridiculously defined abs, perfectly formed pecs, wide, sturdy shoulders, and biceps to die for. Damn her pesky photographic memory.
“I didn’t mean to startle you,” he said. He reached out a hand to help her up and she was so tangled she had no choice but to accept it.
“What are you doing here?” she snapped when she was back on her feet.
He shrugged. “I live here.”
She averted her eyes, pretending to smooth the creases from her skirt, so she wouldn’t have to look at all that sculpted perfection. “I’d assumed you’d left for work.”
“It’s only seven-forty-five.”
“I called out but no one answered.”
“The granite in the master bath was sealed yesterday, so I was using the spare room down the hall.”
“Sorry,” she mumbled, running out of places to look, without him realizing she was deliberately not looking at him.
“Something wrong with that shirt?” he asked.
She was still clutching the shirt she had picked up from the hamper, and she realized he must have seen her sniffing it. What could possibly be more embarrassing?
“I was checking to see if it was dirty,” she said, cringing inwardly at that ridiculously flimsy excuse.
Charles grinned. “Well then, for future reference, I don’t make a habit of keeping clean clothes in the hamper.”
“I’ll remember that.” And she would make a mental note to never come into his house until she was entirely sure he wasn’t there, or at the very least fully clothed. “Well, I’ll get out of your way.”
She turned and grabbed the rest of the clothes from the hamper, stacking them in her arms. He stepped out of her way and she rushed past him and through the doorway.
“Might as well stick around,” he said.
She stopped and turned to him, saw that he was leaning casually in the closet doorway. She struggled to keep her eyes from wandering below his neck. “Why?”
“I was going to call my driver, but since you’re here, I’ll just catch a ride into work with you.”
He wanted to ride with her? “I would, but, um, I have to stop at the dry cleaners first. I don’t want to get you to work late.”
“I don’t mind.” He ran his fingers through the damp, shiny waves of his hair, his biceps flexing under sunbronzed skin. She stood there transfixed by the fluidity of his movements. His pecs looked hard and defined, and were sprinkled with fine, dark hair.
He may have been an arrogant ass, but God, he was a beautiful one.
“Give me five minutes,” he said, and she nodded numbly, hoping her mouth wasn’t hanging open, drool dripping from the corner.
“There’s coffee in the kitchen,” he added, then he turned back into the closet, already loosening the knot at his waist.
The last thing she saw, as he disappeared inside, was the towel drop to the floor, and the tantalizing curve of one perfectly formed butt cheek.
Charles sat in the passenger side of Victoria’s convertible two-seater, watching her through the window of the dry cleaner’s. He would have expected her to drive a more practical car. A sedan, or even a mini SUV. Not a sporty, candy-apple-red little number that she zipped around in at speeds matched only on the autobahn. And it had a manual transmission, which he found to be a rarity among females. Sizewise, however, it was a perfect fit. Petite and compact, just like her. So petite that his head might brush the top had he not bent down.
She was full of surprises today—the least of which was her reaction when he greeted her wearing nothing but a towel. To put it mildly, she’d been flustered. After her chilly reception last night in the office, he was beginning to wonder if she might be a bit tougher to seduce than he had first anticipated. Now he was sure that she was as good as his. Even if that meant playing dirty. Like deliberately dropping his towel before he cleared the closet door.
Victoria emerged from the building with an armload of clean clothes, wrapped in plastic and folded over one arm. She tucked them into the trunk, then slipped into the driver’s seat. Her skirt rode several inches up her thighs, giving him a delicious view of her stocking-clad legs.
If she noticed him looking, she didn’t let on.
“They got the stain out of your jacket sleeve,” she told him, as she turned the key and the engine roared to life. She checked the rearview mirror for oncoming traffic, then jammed her foot down on the accelerator and whipped out onto the road, shifting so smoothly he barely felt the switch of the gears.
She swung around a corner and he gripped the armrest to keep from falling over. “You in a hurry?”
She shot him a bland look. “No.”
She downshifted and whipped around another corner so fast he could swear the tires on one side actually lifted off the pavement.
“You know, the building isn’t going anywhere,” he said.
“This is the way I drive. If you don’t like it, don’t ask to ride with me.” She took another corner at high speed, and he was pretty sure she was doing it just to annoy him.
If she drove this way all the time, it was a wonder she was still alive. “Out of curiosity, how many accidents have you been in?”
“I’ve never been in an accident.” She whipped into the next lane, cutting off the car directly behind them, whose driver blared its horn in retaliation.
“Have you caused many?”
She shot him another one of those looks. “No.”
“Next you’ll try to tell me you haven’t gotten a speeding ticket.”
This time she stayed silent. That’s what he figured.
She took a sharp left into the underground parking at his building, used her card key to open the gate, zipped into her assigned spot, and cut the engine.
“Well, that was an adventure,” he said, unbuckling his seat belt.
She dropped her keys in her purse and opened her door. “I got you here alive, didn’t I?”
Only by the grace of God, he was sure.
They got out and walked to the elevator, taking it up to the tenth floor. She stood silently beside him the entire time. She could never be accused of being too chatty. Since they left his house she hadn’t said a word that wasn’t initiated by a question. Maybe she was in a snit about the towel. She had enjoyed the free show, but didn’t want to admit it.
The elevator doors opened at their floor, and as they stepped off he rested a hand on the small of her back. A natural reaction, but she didn’t seem to appreciate his attempt to be a gentleman.
She jerked away and shot lasers at him with her eyes. “What are you doing?”
He held his hands up in a defensive gesture. “Sorry. Just being polite.”
“Do you touch all of your female employees inappropriately?”
What was her problem? Here he thought she’d begun to warm to him, but he couldn’t seem to get an accurate read on her.
“I didn’t mean to offend you.”
“Well, you did.”
A pair standing in the hallway outside his office cut their conversation short to look at him and Victoria.
“Why don’t we step into my office and talk about this,” he said quietly. She nodded, then he almost made the monumental error of touching her again, drawing his hand away a second before it grazed her shoulder.
He couldn’t help it; he was a physical person. And until today, no one had ever seemed to have a problem with that.
Penelope was already sitting at her desk, tapping away at her keyboard. The only hint of a reaction as he ushered Victoria to his office door was a slight lift of her left brow. He liked that about his secretary. She was always discreet. He also knew exactly what she was thinking. He’d lost another assistant already. Not all that unusual, until he factored in that he hadn’t even slept with this one yet.
“Penelope, hold my calls, please.” He opened the door and gestured Victoria inside, then closed it behind them. “Have a seat.”
Her chin jutted out stubbornly. “I’d rather stand, thank you.”
“Fine.” He could see that she wasn’t going to make this easy. He rounded his desk and sat down. “Now, would you like to tell me what the problem is?”
“The problem is that your behavior today has been completely inappropriate.”
“All I did was touch your back.”
“Employers are not supposed to walk around naked in front of their employees.”
He leaned forward and propped his elbows on the desk. “I wasn’t naked.”
“Not the entire time.”
So, she had been looking. “Need I point out that you were in my house? When I walked into my closet I had no reason to expect you would be there. Sniffing my shirts.”
Her cheeks blushed pink, but she didn’t back down. “And I suppose the towel accidentally fell off.”
“Again, if you hadn’t been ogling me, you wouldn’t have seen anything.”
Her eyes went wide with indignation. “I was not ogling you!”
“Face it, sweetheart, you couldn’t keep your eyes off me.” He leaned back in his chair. “In fact, I felt a little violated.”
“You felt violated?” She clamped her jaw so tight he worried she might crack her teeth. She wasn’t easy to rile, but once he got her going…damn.
“But I’m willing to forgive and forget,” he said.
“I’ve read your e-mails and listened to your phone messages. I know the kind of man that you are, and I’m telling you to back off. I don’t want to be here any more than you want me to, but you have done such a thorough job of ruining my family that I need this position. The way I see it, we’re stuck with each other. If you’re trying to get me to quit, it isn’t going to work. And if you continue to prance around naked in front of me and touch me inappropriately I’ll slap a sexual harassment suit on you so fast you won’t know what hit you.”
He couldn’t repress the smile that was itching to curl the corner of his mouth. “I was prancing?”
Her mouth fell open, as though she couldn’t believe he was making a joke out of this. “You really are a piece of work.”
“Thank you.”
“That wasn’t a compliment! You have got to be the most arrogant, self-centered—” she struggled for the right word, but all she could come up with was “—jerk I have ever met!”
He shrugged. “Arrogant, yes. Self-centered, occasionally. But anyone will tell you I’m a nice guy.”
“Nice?”
“And fair.”
“Fair? You orchestrated the deal that ruined my father. That stole from us the land that has been in our family for five generations, and you call that fair? We lost our business and our home. We lost everything because of you.”
He wasn’t sure where she was getting her information, but she was way off. “We didn’t steal anything. The deal we offered your father was a gift.”
Her face twisted with outrage. “A gift?”
“He wouldn’t have gotten a better deal from anyone else.”
“Ruining good men in the name of the royal family doesn’t make it any less sleazy or wrong.”
This was all beginning to make sense now. Her lack of gratitude toward the royal family and her very generous employment contract. And there was only one explanation. “You have no idea the financial shape that the Houghton was in, do you?”
She instantly went on the defensive. “What is that supposed to mean? Yes, my father handled the financial end of the business, but he kept me informed. Business was slow, no thanks to the Royal Inn, but we were by no means sinking.”
Suddenly he felt very sorry for her. And he didn’t like what he was going to have to do next, but it was necessary. She deserved to know the truth, before she did something ill-advised and made a fool of both herself and her father.
He pressed the intercom on his desk. “Penelope, would you please bring in the file for the buyout on the Houghton Hotel.”
“What are you doing?” Victoria demanded.
Probably making a huge mistake. “Something against my better judgment.”
Victoria stood there, stiff and tight-lipped until Penelope appeared a moment later with a brown accordion file stuffed to capacity. She handed it to Charles, but not before she flashed him a swift, stern glance. Penelope knew what he was doing and the risk he was taking. And it was clear that she didn’t approve. But she didn’t say a word. She just walked out and shut the door behind her.
“The contents in this file are confidential,” he told Victoria. “I could be putting my career in jeopardy by showing it to you. But I think it’s something you need to see. In fact, I know it is.”
At first he thought she might refuse to read it. For several long moments she just stared at him. But curiosity must have gotten the best of her, because finally she reached out and took the file.
“Take that into your office and look it over,” he said.
Without a word she turned and walked through the door separating their offices.
“Come see me if you have questions,” he called after her, just before she shut the door firmly behind her. And he was sure she would have questions. Because as far as he could tell, everything her father had told her was a lie.
Four
Victoria felt sick.
Sick in her mind and in her heart. Sick all the way down to the center of her soul. And the more she read, the worse she felt.
She was barely a quarter of the way through the file and it was already undeniably clear that not only had the royal family not stolen anything from her and her father, they had rescued them from inevitable and total ruin.
Had they not stepped in, the bank would have foreclosed on mortgages she hadn’t even been aware that her father had levied against the hotel. And he was so far behind in their property taxes, the property had been just days from being seized.
The worst part was that the trouble began when Victoria was a baby, after her grandfather passed away and her father inherited control of the hotel. All that time he’d been riding a precarious, financial roller coaster, living far above their means. Until it had finally caught up to him. And he had managed to keep it a secret by blatantly lying to her.
She had trusted him. Sacrificed so much because she thought she owed him.
Because of the royal family’s generous offer, she and her father had a roof over their heads. And she had the opportunity for a career that would launch her further than she might have ever dreamed possible. Yet she still felt as though the rug had been yanked violently from under her. Everything she knew about her father and their business, about her life, was a lie.
And she had seen enough.
She gathered the papers and tucked them neatly back into the file. Though she dreaded facing Charles, admitting her father’s deception, what choice did she have? Besides, he probably had a pretty good idea already that something in her family dynamic was amiss. If nothing else, she owed him an apology for her unfounded accusations. And a heartfelt thank-you for…well…everything. His family’s generosity and especially their discretion.
And there was only one thing left to do. Only one thing she could do.
She picked up the phone and dialed Charles’s extension. He answered on the first ring. “Is now a good time to speak with you?”
“Of course,” he said. “Come right in.”
She hung up the phone, but for several long seconds just sat there, working up the courage to face him. And she thought yesterday had been humiliating. Getting her butt out of the chair and walking to his office, tail between her legs, was one of the hardest things she’d ever done.
Charles sat at his desk. He had every right to look smug, but he wore a sympathetic smile instead. And honestly she couldn’t decide which was worse. She didn’t deserve his sympathy.
She handed him the file. “Thank you for showing me this. For being honest with me.”
“I thought you deserved the truth.”
She took a deep breath. “First, I want to thank you and the royal family for your generosity. Please let them know how much we appreciate their intervention.”
“’We’?” he asked, knowing full well that her father didn’t appreciate anything the royal family had done for them.
Although for the life of her, she couldn’t imagine why. Pride, she supposed. Or stubbornness. Whatever the reason, she was in no position to make excuses for him. Nor would she want to. He had gotten them into this mess, and any consequences he suffered were his own doing.
“And while I appreciate the opportunity to work for the Royal Inn,” she said, removing her ID badge and setting it on his desk, “I’m afraid I won’t be accepting the position.”
His brow furrowed. “I don’t understand.”
She had taken this job only to appease her father, and now everything was different. She didn’t owe him anything. For the first tine in her life she was going to make a decision based entirely on what she wanted.
“I’m not a charity case,” she told Charles. “I owe you too much already. And unlike my father, I don’t care to be indebted to anyone.”
“You’ve seen the file, Victoria. We were under no obligation to your father. Do you honestly believe we would have hired you if we didn’t feel you were qualified for the position?”
She didn’t know what to believe anymore. “I’m sorry, but I just can’t.”
“What will you do?”
She shrugged. She was in hotel management, and the Royal Inn was the biggest game on the island. She would never find a position with comparable pay anywhere else. Not on Morgan Isle, anyway. That could mean a move off the island. Maybe it was time for a change, time to stop leaning on her father and be truly independent for the first time in her life. Or maybe it was he who had been leaning on her.
“I’ll find another job,” she said.
“What will you do until then?”
She honestly didn’t know. Since the buyout, what savings she’d had were quickly vanishing. If she went much longer without a paycheck, she would be living on the streets.
“I have an idea,” Charles said. “A mutually beneficial arrangement.”
She wasn’t sure she liked the sound of that, but the least she could do was hear him out. She folded her arms and said, “I’m listening.”
“You’ve seen the shambles my life is in. Stay, just long enough to get things back in order and to hire and train a new assistant, and when you go, you’ll leave with a letter of recommendation so impressive that anyone would be a fool not to hire you.”
It was tempting, but she already owed him too much. This was something she needed to do on her own.
She shook her head. “You’ve done too much already.”
He leaned forward in his seat. “You would be the one doing me the favor. I honestly don’t have the time to train someone else.”
“I’ve been here two days. Technically someone should be training me.”
“You’re a fast learner.” When she didn’t answer he leaned forward and said, “Victoria, I’m desperate.”
He did look a little desperate, but she couldn’t escape the feeling that he was doing it just to be nice. Which shouldn’t have been a bad thing. And she should have been jumping at his offer, but she couldn’t escape the feeling that she didn’t deserve his sympathy.
“Do this one thing for me,” he coaxed, “and we’ll call it even. You won’t owe me and I won’t owe you.”
She would have loved nothing more than to put this entire awful experience behind her and start fresh.
“I would have to insist you pay me only an assistant’s wage,” she said.
He looked surprised. “That’s not much.”
“Maybe, but it’s fair.”
“Fine,” he agreed. “If that’s what you want.”
“How long would I have to stay?” she asked.
“How about two months.”
Yeah, right. “How about one week?”
He narrowed his eyes at her. “Six weeks.”
“Two weeks,” she countered.
“Four.”
“Three.”
“Deal,” he said with a grin.
She took a deep breath and blew it out. Three weeks working with the duke. It was longer than she was comfortable with, but at the very least it would give her time to look for another job. She had interviewed hundreds of people in her years at the Houghton, yet she had never so much as put together a résumé for herself. Much less had to look for employment. She barely knew where to begin.
“I’ll have Penelope post an ad for the assistant’s position. I’ll leave it to you to interview the applicants. Then, of course, they’ll have to meet my approval.”
“Of course.”
“Why don’t we catch an early lunch today and discuss exactly what it is I’m looking for?” His smile said business was the last thing on his mind.
Were they back to that again?
If she was going to survive the next three weeks working for him, she was going to have to set some boundaries. Establish parameters.
“I’m not going to sleep with you,” she said.
If her direct approach surprised him, he didn’t let it show. He just raised one brow slightly higher than the other. “I don’t know how you did things at the Houghton, but here, lunch isn’t code for sex.”
On the contrary, that’s exactly what it was. Practically everything he said was a double entendre. “I’m not a member of your harem.”
One corner of his mouth tipped up. “I have a harem?”
Was he forgetting that she’d listened to his phone messages? “I just thought I should make it clear up front. Because you seem to believe you’re God’s gift to the female race.”
He shot her a very contrived stunned look. “You mean I’m not?”
“I’m sorry to say, I don’t find you the least bit attractive.” It was kind of a lie. Physically she found him incredibly attractive. His personality, on the other hand, needed serious work.
He shrugged. “If you say so.”
He was baiting her, but she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of a response. “Have a list of employment requirements to me by end of day and I’ll see that the ad is placed.” She already had a pretty good idea of the sort of employee he was looking for. More emphasis on looks than intelligence or capability. But she was going to find him an assistant who could actually do the job. And she would hopefully be doing it sooner than three weeks. The faster she got out of here, the better.
“You’ll have it by five,” he said.
“Thank you. I should get back to work.” She still had a backload of e-mail and phone messages to sort through.
She was almost to her office when he called her name, and something in his voice said he was up to no good. She sighed quietly to herself, and with her hand on the doorknob, turned back to him. Ready for a fight. “Yes?”
“Thank you.”
“For what?” she asked, expecting some sort of snappy, sarcastic comeback or a sexually charged innuendo.
Instead, he just said, “For sticking around.”
She was so surprised, all she could do was nod as she opened the door and slipped into her office. The really weird thing was, she was pretty sure he genuinely meant it. And it touched her somewhere deep down.
If she wasn’t careful, she just might forget how much she didn’t like him.
It was almost four-thirty when Charles popped his head into her office and handed Victoria the list of employment requirements. And early, no less.
“Are you busy?” he asked.
What now? Wasn’t it a bit early for a dinner invitation? “Why?”
“You up for a field trip?”
She set the list in her urgent to-do pile. “I guess that all depends on where you want to go.” If it was a field trip to his bedroom, then no, she would pass.
“I have a meeting at the palace in half an hour. I thought you might want to tag along. It would be a chance for you to learn the ropes.”
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