The Millionaire's Mistress

by Miranda Lee

  Any sympathy had been dashed, however, when she’d said she had no intention of moving to a smaller house. Not for girls like her a simpler life, or a simpler house. Heaven forbid!

  Her boarding house plan was laughable. Did she have any idea how much work would be involved in running such an operation? Did she think she could manage to do it on the side whilst continuing her degree in Leisure Studies?

  Her choice of degree was deliciously ironic as well. Girls like Justine Montgomery made an art form of ‘leisure’. They didn’t have to study the subject. It came naturally to them. As did bartering their bodies for betterment of their circumstances, although mostly it was an advantageous marriage on their minds, not a miserable loan.

  Why, you’re a cynic, Marcus, came the none too surprising self-realisation. Not to mention a selfrighteous holier-than-thou bore. Even with her tarnished soul, Justine Montgomery has more life and fun in her little finger than you have in your whole body.

  ‘Oh, shut up!’ he growled, and got to his feet. ‘I don’t need this.’

  Too right, that merciless inner voice shot back. What you need is some decent sex!

  CHAPTER FOUR

  ‘MUM, you’re not ready!’ Justine exclaimed on going into her mother’s room and finding her sitting on the side of the bed, still in her bathrobe, her hair in rollers. Yet it was right on eight-thirty, the time they’d agreed to leave for Felix’s party.

  Adelaide gave her daughter a wan little smile. ‘I’ve decided not to go, darling. But you go. Goodness, but don’t you look gorgeous? Red is definitely your colour. And I love your hair up like that. You look so sophisticated.’

  Justine ignored the barrage of compliments, seeing them for what they were: her mother’s way of deflecting her attention from the reality of the situation, which was that she was slumped down on her still unmade bed, trying to be bright and brave when in fact her eyes were once again shimmering with tears. She’d cried on and off since Justine had told her yesterday the house would probably have to be sold. Cried and just sat around, looking defeated and depressed.

  Justine had hoped the party tonight might buck her up. She hated seeing her mother like this, so unlike her usual happy if scatty self.

  ‘Oh, no, you don’t, Mum,’ Justine said, knowing firmness was sometimes the best way with her mother. ‘I’m not going by myself.’ She walked over to where a beaded black crepe gown was draped over the gold velvet chair in the corner. ‘Is this the dress you’re going to wear? Come on, let’s get it on you and then I’ll help you with you hair. It won’t matter if we’re late. Parties never get going till well after nine anyway.’

  ‘I can’t wear that dress,’ Adelaide said bleakly.

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘It doesn’t fit me.’

  ‘Doesn’t fit you,’ Justine repeated, clenching her teeth down hard in her jaw. They must have taken thirty evening gowns of her mother’s down to the second-hand shop yesterday, and one of the two dresses her mother had chosen to keep didn’t fit her. Truly, ‘vague’ did not begin to describe her sometimes!

  ‘Then what about the other dress? Where is it?’

  ‘It doesn’t fit me either. Neither of the dresses I kept fit me,’ her mother confessed on a strangled sob. ‘I didn’t realise how much weight I’d put on since your father’s funeral. I...I always eat when I’m unhappy. I was so pretty and slim when Grayson married me. He loved me back then; I’m sure he did. But after my baby boy died, I started to eat and I...I... Oh, God, it’s no wonder your father never wanted to come home. It’s all my fault he went with other women. Everything’s all my fault!’

  Justine’s heart felt as if it was breaking as she watched her mother dissolve into sobs. She rushed over to her, gathering her close, hugging her fiercely. ‘Don’t cry, Mum,’ she choked out. ‘Please don’t cry. Nothing’s your fault. Nothing! Daddy didn’t deserve you. He wasn’t a very nice man. In fact, he was quite wicked. We’re well rid of him. But you’ve still got me. We’re going to make it together, Mum, don’t you worry,’ she went on, fired up with renewed resolve. ‘I haven’t given up yet on getting that loan.’

  Her mother glanced up at her through soggy lashes. ‘You haven’t?’

  ‘Not by a long shot! There are other banks, aren’t there? Other establishments which lend money? Felix’s party will be full of influential people tonight, moneyed men with plenty of contacts. I’ll keep my eyes and ears open and who knows? I bet I have some good news for you by the time I come home.’

  Justine leant over and swept a handful of tissues from the box beside the bed. ‘Now, dry your eyes, Mum. And don’t give up hope. Your daughter has just begun to fight!’

  Justine’s newly found optimism wavered during the short drive to the Turrells’ place. It was all very well to spout positive aspirations, quite another to put them into action. Giving her mother false hopes might have done the trick for one night, but what would happen in the morning, when she didn’t have any good news?

  Justine sighed, then sighed again when she turned into the leafy street which housed the Turrell mansion. It was lined with cars, not a spare parking spot in sight.

  Negotiating a U-turn, Justine finally found a place to park in the adjoining street, the lengthy walk back bringing her attention to the tightness of her skirt. Keeping this little red number had been a bad choice, really. It wasn’t at all versatile and could only be worn on really warm evenings.

  She’d spotted it in the window of a very exclusive boutique back at the beginning of spring, the red colour attracting her attention. She always kept an eye out for a red dress in the months leading up to Christmas, because she liked to wear red at the big Christmas party her mother threw every year.

  Naturally, this year there hadn’t been any Christmas party. Justine had found the dress when she’d gone through her wardrobe, and just couldn’t bring herself to sell it for a fraction of its value, unworn. It had cost a small fortune, being an original design made from raw silk.

  Still, she now regretted keeping it. She should have kept her little black crêpe number along with the black velvet. People didn’t remember black, whereas they could see her coming in this red for miles. Dumb choice, Justine. Dumb, dumb, dumb!

  By the time she’d manoeuvred her way up the steep front steps in her high heels and rung the front doorbell, Justine was wishing she’d stayed home with her mother.

  Trudy opened the door, scowling at the sight of the latecomer. ‘So there you are! I was beginning to think you weren’t coming. And after I’d twisted Mother’s arm to get you an invite. Where’s your mum?’

  ‘She didn’t feel up to it. A headache.’

  ‘Oh, well, perhaps it’s for the best.’

  Justine bristled. ‘How do you see that?’

  ‘Oh, you know my mother, Jussie. She’s not the most tactful woman in the world. She’d probably put her big foot in her mouth and say something to offend your mum. She’s not sweet-natured like me, darling. She’s a natural bitch.’

  Justine had to smile. ‘You are sweet-natured, Trudy. I sometimes wonder if Ivy’s your mother.’

  Trudy grinned and drew her friend inside, shutting the door behind her. ‘Do you think I might be adopted?’ she quipped.

  ‘Could be.’

  ‘What a cheery thought! Come on, let’s go upstairs and install your purse in my room, then we’ll go get a drink and toast the success of plan B for you tonight. At least you’re dressed for it,’ she added cryptically, her finely plucked eyebrows waggling at Justine’s red dress.

  Trudy set off up the sweeping staircase at speed, Justine struggling to keep up. ‘Plan B? What on earth’s plan B?’

  ‘Finding you a rich hubbie. After all, plan A at the bank obviously didn’t work.’

  ‘How do you know it didn’t?’

  ‘Aside from my lack of faith in your vamping abilities?’ came Trudy’s dry remark. ‘One look at your face on the doorstep, darling, and I knew the truth. You do wear your heart on your s
leeve sometimes. Not that that dress has sleeves. Actually, it doesn’t have much of anything, does it?’ she added with a wry sidewards glance. ‘So what happened? Did you chicken out yesterday?’

  ‘Not at all. I did everything you told me to do, bar throw myself naked across his desk. I even wore my lime-green dress. He still knocked me back.’

  ‘Wade knocked you back?’ Trudy was incredulous.

  ‘He not only knocked me back, he gave me a lecture on moral values.’

  ‘I don’t believe it!’

  ‘Well, he did.’

  They’d reached Trudy’s bedroom, which was as large and luxurious as the rest of the house. Frankly, the Turrell mansion made the Montgomery residence look like a miner’s cabin by comparison.

  Trudy took Justine’s purse and put it down on her white-glossed dressing-table, then proceeded to primp and preen in the gilt-framed mirror above it. Trudy was not traditionally beautiful, but she was very attractive, with a voluptuous figure and big brown eyes.

  ‘Maybe someone at the bank was finally on to him,’ Trudy mused as she replenished her lipstick and sprayed some perfume down her considerable cleavage. ‘Maybe he had to put on a show.’

  ‘Maybe. I can only tell you it was ghastly. I wanted the floor to open and swallow me up, I can tell you.’

  ‘Gosh, how awful for you. Poor Jussie.’ Trudy still looked more amused than sympathetic. ‘As soon as I’ve finished here, we’ll go and get some champers. Then we’ll put plan B into action. I presume Howard Barthgate is out?’

  ‘Yuk!’

  ‘Pity. He fancies you like mad.’

  ‘Not since I lost all my money, he doesn’t! I haven’t heard from him once. Look, I have no intention of adopting your plan B, Trudy Turrell. Even if I did, I wouldn’t let you pick me any candidates. From your description of Wade, I at least expected him to ooze sex appeal and charm, but he was as cold as a cucumber sandwich.’

  ‘He must have been putting on an act.’

  ‘I don’t know about that. If he was, then he’s a damned good actor.’

  ‘You have to admit he’s a good-looking devil, though.’

  ‘Yes, I suppose so. Those dark eyes of his certainly sent shivers up and down my spine.’

  ‘Really? Well, that’s a first with you, isn’t it? From what you’ve told me, men usually leave you pretty cold. Maybe you’ve met your match at long last.’

  ‘Don’t be silly!’ Justine refuted. ‘I despise men like Wade Hampton.’ Which she did. Yet, in truth, she hadn’t been able to get the man out of her mind, though her skin still crawled with embarrassment whenever her thoughts turned to him.

  ‘Right, I’m ready,’ Trudy said, spinning round and linking arms with Justine. ‘Let’s go downstairs and knock ’em dead!’

  Trudy led Justine down the sweeping staircase and along the wide, tiled hallway to the huge living room, where the bulk of the party-goers had gathered. Justine glanced around, noting that most of the people inside were middle-aged, the younger ones having gravitated out to the pool area on the terrace.

  Her gaze landed on Trudy’s mother, who looked like mutton dressed up as lamb in a blue satin strapless dress. She had that plastic smile on her overpainted face and was gazing in rapt attention up at a man who had his back turned towards Justine. Not Felix. This man was taller, with black hair and broad shoulders.

  Suddenly he turned side-on, and Justine nearly died.

  ‘Oh, my God!’ she gasped. ‘Why didn’t you tell me he was here?’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘Wade Hampton, that’s who!’

  ‘Wade? Here? I don’t think so. He wasn’t invited.’

  ‘Well, he must have come with someone else, because I can see him right over there as clear as a bell.’

  ‘Where?’

  ‘Over there, talking to your mother.’

  ‘Are you crazy? That’s not Wade! That’s Marcus Osborne!’

  ‘What?’

  The two girls stared at each other for a long moment before the penny dropped for both of them. Justine was horrified while Trudy laughed.

  ‘Dear God, Jussie,’ she giggled. ‘How did you manage to mistake Marcus Osborne for Wade? Oh, heavens, that’s funny. No wonder he gave you a lecture when you came on to him. Oh, I wish I’d been a fly on the wall yesterday! What a riot!’

  ‘I don’t think it’s funny at all!’ Justine fumed, glaring over at the man who’d deceived her not accidentally but quite deliberately. He’d known darned well she’d thought he was Wade Hampton when he’d come into Wade’s office and sat down at Wade’s desk.

  But had he informed her of her mistake? Not on your nelly! He’d waited for her to make a none too subtle pass, then cut her down to size. Clearly he’d heard of Wade’s little pecadillos and decided to sit in on the action for himself for once.

  ‘I guess we can cross Marcus Osborne off the list for plan B as well,’ Trudy mocked by her side. ‘I think you might have blotted your copybook with him a tad, which is a pity. He’s filthy rich, and conveniently divorced. You sort of fancied him too, didn’t you?’

  Trudy nudged a momentarily speechless Justine in the ribs. ‘Maybe you’re into older men, Jussie. Maybe that’s why none of the boys you’ve gone out with ever got past first base. You probably need a more mature male to turn you on—some cold-blooded brooding banker with loads of unleashed passion. Recognise the description? By golly, our cold-blooded brooding banker does look smashing in that tux. I didn’t realise how handsome Marcus was till this moment.’

  ‘Handsome is as handsome does,’ Justine muttered darkly. ‘As for his turning me on, the Arctic will melt before he turns me on.’

  Trudy was right, though. That dinner jacket and dazzling white dress shirt did suit him, much more so than the funereal pin-striped number he’d worn the previous day. Suddenly he looked younger, and sleeker, and, yes, sexier, if you went for the coolly sophisticated type. Which she didn’t!

  Hatred fizzed and bubbled along her veins as she glared at him.

  ‘You’re blushing, Jussie,’ Trudy teased.

  ‘No, I’m not. It’s my blood pressure boiling. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have something to say to our banking friend. Something which won’t wait!’

  Justine’s blue eyes narrowed as she set off across the room. If Marcus Osborne thought he could get away with treating her in such a shabby fashion, then he could think again!

  CHAPTER FIVE

  MARCUS felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. Ivy was prattling on about how lovely it was to see him, and how he really should get out more, but his mind was no longer on his hostess. He could see something out of the corner of his eye, someone in red.

  He turned his head ever so slightly, then froze. Dear God, it was Justine Montgomery, marching towards him, her furious face telling it all. Clearly someone had told her his true identity, and she was intent on having it out with him.

  Anger did become her, he thought ruefully. As did movement. Her obviously braless breasts undulated beneath the provocative little red dress she was wearing, their unfettered curves held precariously in place by the halter-necked style. His flesh stirred uncomfortably, and he was thankful to be wearing a jacket.

  ‘I’d like to talk to you,’ she snapped as she ground to a halt beside him.

  ‘Justine, really!’ Ivy protested haughtily. ‘It’s very rude to interrupt.’

  ‘And it’s very rude to pretend to be someone you’re not!’ she declared, glowering up at the object of her fury.

  Whilst Marcus could admire her courage, he had no intention of letting the girl defame him in public.

  ‘Good evening, Miss Montgomery,’ he said with cool politeness. ‘It’s very nice to see you again. Yes, I agree with you. Such pretence is reprehensible, but the fact is I didn’t realise till after you left the bank yesterday that you thought I was Mr Hampton during our meeting. A most regrettable occurrence and one I must apologise for.

  ‘Ivy, my dear,’ he said, add
ressing himself to his hostess, ‘I have some banking business to discuss with Miss Montgomery. Do you have somewhere we could talk privately for a few minutes?’

  He congratulated himself on successfully disarming his adversary, at least long enough to shepherd her away from prying eyes and flapping ears. But no sooner had a curious Ivy left them in Felix’s study than those big and very beautiful blue eyes narrowed again.

  ‘That was a lie!’ she accused. ‘You knew darned well I thought you were Wade Hampton yesterday, didn’t you?’

  ‘Not to begin with,’ he hedged.

  ‘Soon enough!’

  ‘Not till it was too awkward to tell you the truth.’

  ‘Oh, codswallop! You knew what I was going to do and you deliberately set out to trap me. What I’d like to know is why, Mr Osborne? Did you enjoy watching me make a fool of myself? Did you get a thrill out of my belittling myself in front of you?’

  What could he say?

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous. Of course not.’

  ‘I don’t believe you,’ she raged on. ‘But no matter. I just wanted you to know that I had no intention of delivering anything I might have appeared to promise. Not for Wade Hampton or for you. Especially not for you, Mr Osborne. Wild horses wouldn’t get me into bed with you!’

  ‘Is that so?’

  ‘Yes, that’s so. I don’t go to bed with men for money. And I especially don’t go to bed with men who have ice in their veins instead of blood!’

  ‘I’ll keep that in mind, Miss Montgomery,’ he said coldly. ‘But let’s not get into a slanging match. Believe me when I say I didn’t deliberately set out to trap you yesterday. Mr Hampton’s misuse of his position had just reached my ears and I was... upset.’

  ‘Upset?’ she sneered at him. ‘Men like you don’t get upset! They have their egos put out, that’s all. You humiliated me! And you enjoyed humiliating me!’

  Marcus stiffened, indignation obliterating any guilt he was feeling. Who was she to judge him? He only had her word for it that she hadn’t been going to deliver. Frankly, he didn’t believe that for a moment. She was like the thief who wasn’t sorry for what he’d done but was darned sorry he’d been caught.