by Joanne Hill
“Thank you. But I’m sure I won’t be the last girl to get jilted.”
His eyebrows shot up. “Jilted? Not at the altar I trust?”
“Fortunately not,” she told him hastily. Behind those piercing eyes, he was probably wondering what kind of loser he’d just hired and whether he could get rid of her without repercussions. “There was time to call the wedding off. A month in fact.”
“I’m glad to hear it. So you are single then?”
“Good heavens, yes.” She said it with far too much enthusiasm, but seriously, had he expected her to grab the first man who showed an interest in another jaunt along the matrimonial path?
He didn’t respond. He glanced at his wrist watch, and rose to his feet. “I’ll get Nora to show you what needs to be done.” He beckoned to the door leading to the outer office. “Come with me.”
Nora’s office was the gateway to Daniel’s, and while Daniel stood over them, Nora ran through the job details – answering the phone, correspondence to deal with, emails. All pretty straightforward and nothing, Mel thought with satisfaction, she couldn’t handle. In fact, it all seemed remarkably easy.
Daniel, too, seemed satisfied. Nora went to close the connecting office door but he stopped her. “We’ll leave this door open. In case Melinda needs to ask me anything.”
Nora frowned. “Are you sure, Mr Christie? I know how much you prefer your privacy.”
“I’m sure. I’ll see you at midday. Thank you.”
When Nora had taken her bag and left the office, Daniel leant against the door jamb, shoved his hands in his trouser pockets. “Is everything clear Mel?”
“I think so.” She was basically minding the phone, and acting as gatekeeper to Daniel. Yep, it was going to be dead easy. “Oh, and shall I just put all calls through to you?”
He nodded. “Though I’m rarely disturbed. The women in reception screen them efficiently. And having said that…” He pushed himself away from the door. “I have work to do. Any inquiries please come and see me.”
He went back through to his office, leaving the door ajar and the elusive scent of intoxicating aftershave in his wake.
Mel couldn’t repress a shiver as she sat down at the neat desk.
She was acting PA to the head of the company and not just any company. Her mind went into overdrive. If he gave her a good reference, this was bound to look good on her resume. The fact was she might not get a counseling job for a while – it was a specialised field, and office work might be the solution. She glanced at the stack of handwritten emails waiting to be transcribed. In fact, a reference from a company like this could just about seal any job, surely.
Maybe meeting Daniel at the beach was meant to be. Maybe the next few days working for him were meant to be. Optimism surged down her spine, and she quickly pressed Compose on her email, and began to type.
Within forty-eight hours, Daniel had learned everything he needed to know about Melinda Green. On paper she stacked up yet he was still filled with enough doubt he was a whisker off phoning Hugh and calling it all off. The whole scheme was insane, it was dangerous, she probably wouldn’t agree anyway. He didn’t want a woman living in his house. Sitting at his table. Doing whatever it was that woman did that was going to make him feel like a fish out of water in the multi-million dollar apartment he had bought for himself. Not for a woman to live in but just himself.
And he had no choice.
It was hard to describe the depth of his feeling for his grandfather. Arthur had raised him when his mother had left Australia with the pay-out she’d demanded, or else she was taking her boys with her. Sir Arthur had seen enough to know she was better off out of his grandsons’ lives and had given her enough money that she left. Of course, he’d left it open, had said she was welcome to visit her sons, but she never had. She had chosen not to. As for his father, weakness has plagued him. Mental and physical. He had never been a decent father.
Daniel exhaled long and slow. And that was the kicker. Arthur had been more than a father. He’d been a teacher, a mentor. He’d been the best. It was ironic that his own father had never learned a thing from Arthur but Daniel had. Arthur had taken him on tramping expeditions and fishing trips, had taught him to swim and to appreciate good wine and much of it he'd done alone when his beloved wife, Daniel's grandmother, had died. He had also taught him the business from the ground up. How could he disappoint him, tear apart his dreams for this marriage, for this new line of Christie descendants, of new heirs to the empire? How could he tell him he’d been a little loose with the truth?
He tapped his fingers impatiently on the polished desk, and wondered where on earth Mel had gotten to. She’d headed down to accounts and was due back – twenty minutes ago.
He stretched his shoulder to ease the tension. How had it reached a stage where a counselor – a counselor for girls lacking the sense to use contraception, for heaven’s sake – was the answer to the problem with his grandfather?
He had to give credit where it was due and Hugh had been remarkably astute in his assessment of Mel. The worst thing on her record was a couple of speeding tickets. The failed engagement gave the impression of being just a stroke of bad luck, and she appeared to be a dutiful daughter to her mother who had lived in a retirement village for two years now.
Even better, she had no money to her name, a car on its last legs, no job, and in a week she was due to hand the keys of the flat back to the landlord.
Mel Green on paper looked as dull as dishwater and he was confident she could be bought. She was perfect.
There was a sharp rap on the door and Mel walked quickly through.
“Sorry I’m late.” Her face was red, her chest heaving.
His eyes were drawn to the v neck of her pale pink shirt, the rise of the fabric as she breathed. A lone piece of jewellery, a small gold pendant, nestled there.
“The girls in accounts gave me chocolates, seeing as it’s my last day here, and the elevators are playing up so I took the stairs.” She drew a breath which expanded her chest even more. He focused instead on her eyes. Blue, he’d thought this morning, but now they seemed more a misty gray. The sea in a wild storm. They were actually attractive eyes. He’d never noticed that before. “The good news is the repair men are working on the lifts now.”
He frowned, and backtracked to the first part of her statement. He hadn’t considered she’d get friendly with the staff on the other floors. He was aware Nora was referred to as The Gatekeeper and never indulged in what she would term ‘frivolous conversation’ with his employees. The same, he’d assumed, would apply to Melinda. Clearly she hadn’t been aware of the hierarchy.
“In the short time you’ve been here you’ve made friends?” He gestured to a chair and she took it. Her manner wasn’t exactly graceful, but that was hardly worth worrying about. “That didn’t take long.”
“I wouldn’t say they were friends exactly.” She crossed her legs. Her skirt had ridden up above her knees. She’d exchanged the dull black shoes of yesterday for some white, strappy sandals with a decent heel. Bright red nail polish tipped her toes, and he was unexpectedly drawn to them. He stared, and then looked away. Toes, for Pete's sake. They were only toes.
She was explaining, “One of the women in accounts has problems with her teenage daughters and we were discussing how she might best deal with it. Do you know Sally? Sally Armstrong?”
“Is she the daughter or the mother?”
Her eyes narrowed. “Sally is the mother. The daughter is Amber.”
He nodded. He had no idea who Sally Armstrong was and had no desire to know. As long as she did her job, he was happy to keep it that way. He went to sit on the edge of the desk, folded his arms, and forced his mind back to why exactly they were here.
In the days she’d been working here, he’d observed her relentlessly. She was plain but not unattractive. She was smart. If they were stuck in an elevator, they’d be able to have a conversation that wouldn’t have him banging his he
ad on the door. A word to describe her would be nice.
“Melinda,” he began. His gaze once again slipped to her toes.
She tipped her head expectantly at him.
He said, “We need to talk.”
A frown crossed her forehead. “Sure.”
He couldn’t do it here, couldn’t discuss this absurd proposition in the very boardroom that had witnessed generations of Christie men conduct their business. Maybe they hadn’t conducted it altogether honorably, he thought with a wry smile. The bottom line when it came down to business was that if a job needed doing, it got done. But they had certainly administered it professionally.
He surged to his feet. “We’re going out for lunch.”
The waiter had taken their orders, and was now filling their glasses with pinot noir. Mel momentarily doubted the sanity of drinking wine when she was heading back to work, but she took it with thanks and asked, “Is Hugh joining us?” She half expected him to be. The amount of time he’d been spending with Daniel had made her wonder if there was some upcoming legal dilemma they’d been discussing.
“No.” He held his wine glass up to her, she did the same and their glasses chinked.
“Cheers, Mel,” he said as he took a sip, and still didn’t let on just why it was they were here. His eyes had darkened to the colour of steel with flashes of blue, and they gave nothing away. No indication of what it was he wanted to discuss with her. Although… She put down her glass. There was one possibility she’d entertained on the short cab ride over here. “Hugh has other plans for lunch,” Daniel added.
She wasn’t surprised. He’d been like a bat out of hell all day yesterday, charging into Daniel’s office every hour, each time the door shutting behind him. At one point she’d been asked to hold all calls. Her mind had switched to overdrive wondering what they were talking so urgently about, but she’d been none the wiser when Hugh had left the office on a whirlwind of energy that had been admirable for a man in his seventies.
“Mel,” Daniel broke the silence. “We need to talk.”
Mel’s heart slowed down and beneath the table she crossed her fingers tight. Maybe she’d been right. It had occurred to her, he might be keen to offer her a permanent position. She’d done well at the job, she knew she had.
True, some of the tasks she’d been given seemed more suited to a school leaver, but she’d enjoyed the work and had enjoyed working in this building, and the glamor of working right in Sydney’s CBD. The staff were friendly and they had even taken to quizzing her about him. They rarely saw him, it seemed, but possessed a strong loyalty to Daniel, and to the firm. Even if, as several had confessed, they were terrified of him.
“Sure. What about?” The waiter set their meals in front of them but her appetite had vanished.
Daniel gestured for her to eat, and he picked up his fork. “In the days you’ve been working here, I’ve come to learn quite a bit about you.”
Yes! Excitement fizzed around her. He had been noticing her. She’d had the feeling he’d been watching, observing her, even observing something as mundane as her banter with the Fedex guy.
“I’m listening.” Her stomach flip flopped madly and she breathed in deep to quell the nerves.
“You have also learned quite a bit about my family by now.”
“Quite a bit,” she agreed. Hugh had taken her for lunch yesterday and had related the entire history of the company between appetizers and desert. She frowned. The history lesson had seemed equally as odd as the act of taking a mere temp out for a lavish lunch at one of Sydney’s top restaurants.
“You know that my younger brothers have been overseas for some time. However, you probably aren’t aware they’ve been causing – this firm – this family – some problems.”
Her ears pricked. “No, I hadn’t heard that at all. Sean and Everett, right?”
“Yes.” Daniel took a long sip of wine. "You will also have learned that my grandfather is extremely ill. And although he has the best care possible…” He hesitated, cleared his throat. “This time he may not pull through.”
She had heard this. His illness was widely known, and her heart sank in sympathy. “I’m so sorry about your grandfather. He sounds like a lovely man. Your staff certainly respect him.”
Daniel inclined his head in acknowledgement. “He believes strongly in family, believes that behind every great man is a woman, and that no man can successfully run a company unless he is, shall we say, satisfied.” A flicker of unease crossed briefly over his face.
“Oh.” Her face flushed but if he noticed, he had the grace not to comment.
“Grandfather has been, to put it mildly, disappointed with his own son, my father. And my brothers. There are countless reasons for Sean and Everett’s failings. Personality, losing our mother so young. Alcohol.” He stared at his glass of wine but he was a master of self-control and she’d never heard anything to indicate he had problems in that area. “Whether their love for the drink is genetic, who knows? Our father had issues there.”
Aha. Now he was beginning to make sense. The brothers had addiction problems and he wanted her professional opinion. She straightened her shoulders. She hadn’t had much to do with addiction, but she’d certainly encountered plenty of kids at her old job who were heading that way, and had made referrals for some of them.
For a second, disappointment hit her hard, so hard she had to squeeze her eyes shut. She’d been pinning her hopes on the idea of a job offer more than she’d realized, which had been, frankly, stupid. Bosses did not take temporary employees to lunch to offer them a job. They made a phone call to HR. Hadn’t she learned anything from the break-up with Max?
She eyed him with her professional, non-judgemental, I’m-here-for-you expression. “Have your brothers been formally assessed? It’s important you realise that addictions can happen in even the best families, but equally, that there are excellent facilities and programs that can help.”
As soon as his nostrils flared, she realized she’d got it wrong.
“Mel, I am not,” he said, “interested in your professional opinion. That is not why you’re here so you can leave your counselor’s hat behind.”
“Fine,” she said. “Just as long as you understand about the addictive personality.”
“I understand it.”
“Good.” She’d heard that degree of terseness in his voice but never at her. Until now. “So what’s this got to do with me?” She couldn’t help adding, his words still smarting, “Since you don’t appear to want my help.”
“Oh, I want your help.”
“Exactly what kind of help?” She couldn’t think of a single thing he could possibly want her for.
His jaw tightened as, it seemed, did his whole demeanour.
She sat back in her chair, and waited.
“Mel,” he said finally, as he threw back the last of his wine.
There was a hesitation and she prompted, as her heart pounded erratically in her chest, "Yes?"
His eyes narrowed. “Mel. I want you to be my wife.”
CHAPTER FOUR
Mel went still as the conversation ran round and round in her head. It made no sense. Surely he hadn’t just said he wanted to – to – marry her?
“I don’t understand what you mean. Did you just say you wanted…” She couldn’t bring herself to say the words. “What did you just ask?”
“I said I wanted to marry you. Though that isn’t exactly correct. I want us to come to an arrangement, for a limited time, with financial compensation at the end.”
“You and me? Married?” Her voice came out a throaty squeak and in spite of the fact she was sitting, her legs had developed an alarming weakness. If the fire alarm sounded, she didn’t think she had a hope in hell of getting out.
“Married,” she repeated. “Husband and wife.”
His eyebrows drew together as though she were an idiot. “Yes.” He spoke slowly. “I need a wife. And I think you could be that woman for the duration of
the arrangement.”
“But why?” Her head had cleared now, and she was thinking straight, thinking logically. “Why do you need to marry someone? And what does this have to do with your brothers?”
And don’t you know there are any number of women working for you who would sell their souls to be Mrs Daniel Christie?
“Actually.” She held up her hand. “Don’t answer. Because I have an answer and it’s 'no'. This is nuts. This is –” She stammered over the words but couldn’t think of any other adjective because that’s what it was. Unashamedly, certifiably nuts.
He sat back, in his chair, folded his arms across his chest. “Yeah, Mel, you’re right. This is nuts. Sane people do not do this kind of thing.” His eyes suddenly glittered with what might have been humor but she couldn’t be sure. “Unless they’re royal princes from the British royal family.”
His remembrance of the words she’d said that day in the tent made the shock in her chest ease a little.
He went on, “Let me lay it out for you because I’ve clearly gone about this the wrong way.” He cleared his throat. “My grandfather is dying.” He blinked, and went on. “In the past few months he has suffered disappointments he doesn’t deserve and nothing would make him happier than to see one of his grandsons married, knowing there will be heirs to the empire to carry on the Christie name. He is a very conservative man, very traditional.”
She stared at him. He stared back, his dark eyes watching her closely.
“That’s it?” she said finally.
His mouth curled in acknowledgement.
She processed it some more. “You’re getting married to make him happy?”
“It’s not uncommon for people to be happy when there is a wedding, Mel. Marriage is quite a joyful occasion, so I hear. Usually it’s the bride and groom that are the happiest, granted, but this time it will be my grandfather.”
“This is a marriage of convenience,” she said, to clarify.