At the Boss's Command

by Darcy Maguire

Perhaps he had meant that more literally than she had understood at the time. If he married Lavinia, he really would be marrying his work.

  As they drove down from the peak, Amy’s heart was as heavy as lead. ‘I didn’t think you were serious until the last minute. Are you really planning that house for—?’

  ‘For us,’ he finished. ‘Yes.’

  ‘What kind of “us”?’

  ‘You and me. Living together. Don’t you like the house?’

  ‘It’s your money, Anton,’ she said, ‘there’s nothing for me to like or dislike!’

  ‘Amy, I want us to have a life together from now on. Can’t you see that? Don’t you understand the way I feel about you? Don’t you see how vital you are to me—emotionally, at work, in every way?’

  Her heart was beating like a trapped bird against a window pane. Since Vietnam, everything had moved so fast. The pace of work had been hectic—this time, not the practical slog of travelling and touring plants, but the endless paperwork involved in preparing for the corporation’s annual general meeting, at which Anton was due to deliver his annual report to a potentially stormy quorum of stockholders.

  The report itself, of course, had already been printed— much of the work having fallen to Amy—and mailed to the stockholders. Anton had entrusted Amy with supervising the ‘corporate identity’ of the report. She had decided that a new look was necessary to communicate the dynamic new direction the corporation was taking. She had worked closely with a cutting-edge team of three graphic designers to produce a seventy-five-page, glossy illustrated report that outlined the global expansion envisaged by Anton while emphasising the solid base of past success from which they were working.

  She herself had worked up the tagline ‘New Technology, New World’, and had redesigned the Zell logo as a blue globe with the green letter Z moulding itself to the sphere. It spoke plainly of Zell Corporation’s commitment to ecology and the dominant role it intended to play in recycling technology from now on.

  However, taking her cue from Lavinia Carron, she had avoided using recycling, ‘the least stylish word in the English language’, overmuch, and had substituted phrases like resource renewal, instead. But the message was clear— Anton intended to take the company ever further into the field of reprocessing that he had opened up with his new technology.

  Anton—and everybody else—had been very impressed by the result. The new corporate emblem was going to be adopted and would soon be mounted on the blue tower block. The report was going to be convincing to everyone except the hard-core dissenters.

  Anton had already been interviewed by regulars from both the Economist and the Financial Times, and the forthcoming articles looked set to bring favourable publicity to the new direction.

  In the spaces left by this concentrated work, their private life had been even more intense. Like lava flowing at white heat through the veins in rock, it had followed its own course where it could. When the pressure of work gave them a little space alone together, there had been no words; just a fierce desire that incandesced in a moment. Tearing off each other’s clothes, making love with frantic passion, falling into an exhausted sleep in one another’s arms, waking just in time to wash, dress and rush back to work—that had been the tenor of their days.

  Those golden hours on the island, those long evenings in Saigon, were like a distant dream. Though in Vietnam Anton had spoken of getting his priorities right, back in Hong Kong they had been thrown into a maelstrom of activity that left no time to say what needed to be said, or reflect on what needed to be contemplated.

  She had never known passion as intense as this, had never known that her body could blaze like a star at a man’s slightest touch; but there had also been something terrifying about the speed at which everything was happening. She was beginning to feel like someone driving a very fast car— and the faster the car went, the more the acceleration pushed her against the seat, the less in control she felt.

  And now, a few hours before they were due to fly to London, he had rushed her up the peak to look at that palatial house and was talking about buying it for them to live in together.

  But not about marriage.

  ‘Anton,’ she said in a quiet voice, ‘shouldn’t we wait until we get back from London before we start taking all these decisions?’

  ‘You know what the property market is like in Hong Kong, darling,’ he said. ‘If we wait more than a few hours, that house will be sold. Quilin House is one of the most famous properties in the city.’

  ‘There will be other houses. And it’s so much money. I know that money isn’t much of an object with a zillionaire like you, but you’re making an offer of many millions on a house before we’ve even worked out what we both want.’

  ‘There has been so little time since we got back from Saigon,’ he said, the powerful engine of the car throbbing as it snarled impatiently in the traffic.

  ‘That’s exactly what I mean,’ she replied, looking at him. ‘We have no time to talk. No time to plan, let alone just be together!’

  He met her eyes with that dazzling smile. ‘Do you love me?’

  ‘Yes,’ she sighed, ‘I love you insanely.’

  ‘And I adore you,’ he replied. ‘What else is there to talk about?’

  ‘We need to know that what we’re doing is really what we want. You’re the archetypal bachelor millionaire and I am the latest addition to the company. You know what people will say about us—what they’re already saying!’

  ‘What are they saying?’ he asked, accelerating through a gap in the traffic jam.

  ‘That I’m your latest—concubine.’

  ‘Do you think you’re a concubine?’

  ‘I don’t know what I am,’ she said with painful honesty. ‘We know so little about each other.’

  ‘I know all that matters about you. Unless you’ve kept a dark secret from me?’

  ‘Dear man, I have secrets that I even keep from myself,’ she retorted with a wry smile. ‘I keep telling you, I may look like an angel, but appearances can be deceptive!’

  ‘I don’t think you could deceive me,’ he said. ‘As for the things my staff might be saying about me, I really don’t care. The next person to spread poisonous gossip about me might find him or herself unemployed.’

  It was only with difficulty that she had persuaded him not to fire Glynnis, the medical officer who had put two and two together to make five.

  ‘And what about the things Lavinia Carron might be saying about you?’ she asked. ‘If she gets an inkling that you and I are lovers, she could turn very nasty. And she will be waiting for you in London…darling boy.’

  ‘It has nothing to do with her. Do you really think that I’m so afraid of Lavinia?’

  ‘I don’t think you’re afraid of anything,’ Amy said. ‘That’s the problem. Your company is you, Anton. It comes down to one man, to a much greater extent than with any other company of this size that I know of. It relies on your genius, your ideas, your character. But that also makes you potentially vulnerable. If Lavinia mounts a personal attack on you, you could lose the reins.’

  ‘I can handle Lavinia.’

  ‘You can handle her while she thinks you’re going to marry her.’

  She waited for him to say something, her heart pounding in her throat. Would he deny it? Would he admit that marrying Lavinia was part of his plan? That installing Amy as his mistress in Quilin House was the other half?

  ‘I don’t intend to let Lavinia dictate the company’s future,’ he said at last.

  ‘Then how will you stop her? She only needs to get a few others on her side. She’ll say that you’re losing your touch. Making misjudgements that will cost the stockholders money. She’ll point to the risks you’re taking with the new plants, to your sale of the Marseilles refinery to Henri Barbusse, to your plans in south-east Asia. At the AGM, she’ll say those are all bad miscalculations. And in private, she’ll tell everybody you’ve lost your head over an impertinent little nobody—
me—who supports you in your wild ventures.’

  ‘But you do support me in my wild ventures. And I adore you for it!’

  ‘You have so much to lose, Anton. The last thing you should be doing is advertising me. And I can’t bear the idea of becoming a weapon that unscrupulous people might use to harm you in any way!’

  ‘So I should keep you in the background?’ he smiled.

  ‘That’s what taipans have always done with their girl-friends,’ she said, echoing what Gerda had said. ‘I’m perfectly happy in Causeway Bay, you have the Wanchai apartment. Living together and buying a huge house is premature. Let’s leave it until we’re more certain.’

  The glance he gave her contained a glitter of anger. ‘I’ve never done this before, Amy,’ he said in a quiet voice. ‘I never committed myself to any woman, never made promises, never said those words, I love you.’

  ‘Anton—’

  ‘I waited half my life for the right woman. And now that you’re here, and I am committing myself and all that I am to you, you tell me that you’re not certain.’

  ‘I don’t know how you can be certain, either!’ she exclaimed. ‘We love each other madly, and when we make love the world stops turning. But you know as well as I do that relationships are built on more than that!’

  ‘Well, what are relationships built on?’ he demanded. ‘What was your last relationship built on, Amy?’

  She fell silent. It had been built on lies and exploitation, but she could not tell him that.

  ‘You haven’t even told me his name,’ he went on harshly. ‘You won’t talk about what happened. But I get the feeling that I am being penalised now for whatever it was he did to you!’

  Again, she had no answer. Perhaps because much of what he said was true. She was penalising Anton for what Martin had done to her. But her very inability to tell Anton what had happened to her made her afraid that everything was moving too fast. She wasn’t ready. Like a wounded doe, she needed time and patience before she could come out of the thorny thicket where she had buried herself so deeply. If only Anton could see that!

  And if only he could understand that her needing time did not mean she didn’t love him! On the contrary, she adored him with every fibre of her being. Nor did she doubt that he loved her just as passionately. But did she love him so madly that she was prepared to become his mistress— and perhaps have his children—and have to watch him marry Lavinia… and know she would never be his wife?

  Their jet took off at five in the afternoon. As it rose swiftly over the city, Amy saw the Zell Corporation tower flit under their wings. But in the sunset, the blue windows were now blood-red.

  She thought about her arrival in this city, the first time she had seen that glass tower. It had only been a few short months earlier, yet a whole lifetime had been compressed into that time. So much had happened to her; she was hardly the same woman who had been on that other flight.

  It was typical of their lives at this moment that the only quiet time they had together was on an airplane. And even here, Anton was brooding over his laptop, assimilating the latest information as it came in, so that he could give his stockholders the latest news.

  She curled up on the seat next to him—once again, there were only two of them in the spacious cabin—and passed him the whisky and cola that had become their sundown ritual, the crystal tumbler to be shared by both of them.

  ‘Are you ready to face the stockholders?’ she asked.

  ‘Dividends are higher this quarter than ever before,’ he commented. ‘They ought to roll out the red carpet for me.’

  ‘Or the guillotine.’ As in commercial airliners, soothing jazz was drifting out of the speakers, designed to allay the terrors of take-off. She snuggled up to him and rested her golden head on his shoulder.

  ‘Tired?’ he asked.

  ‘It’s been a long day.’

  Anton pushed the table aside, shutting his laptop. He pulled a blanket over them both, put his arm around her and drew her close.

  ‘I contacted the real-estate agent and told her we wouldn’t be putting in an offer until next week,’ he told her.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ she murmured. ‘I know how you wanted to buy that house for us.’

  ‘It may still be there when we get back. But as you said, there will always be other houses.’

  ‘I love you so much,’ she said, stroking his face. ‘I hate you to be disappointed in me. But we have nothing to lose by taking things slow.’

  ‘And what do we have to lose by taking things fast?’ he asked with a smile that she could feel with her fingertips.

  ‘You might regret having committed so much to me,’ she replied. ‘You might want your heart back.’

  ‘And will you give it to me?’

  ‘I will give you anything you want.’

  The Lear jet was soaring up into a clear sky that darkened from violet into ultramarine. Below them, in a glittering, twilit sea, islands were scattered like jewels. The smoky music of the saxophones was peaceful.

  Under the warmth of the blanket, his hand caressed her stomach. ‘I only want you. The rest of it can go hang.’

  ‘You’ve got me. But I’m afraid of the trouble I may cause you.’

  Anton kissed her lips tenderly. His kisses were always so erotic; no man had ever kissed her in this way, not taking, but giving, a velvety caress that was so sweet. She felt his hand slide under the waistband of her pants and move downwards.

  ‘You’ve lost weight,’ he accused.

  ‘I’m just sucking in my tummy,’ she whispered.

  He kissed her lips again, then her eyelids. ‘Don’t worry about anything. We were meant to be together. And as soon as you let me, I’m going to buy you a beautiful big house where we can lock the doors, draw the curtains, turn out the lights and…’

  His hand had slipped into her panties now. His fingertips caressed her soft curls, sliding between her thighs to where she was already wet and waiting for him. He cupped the warm mound of her sex in his possessive palm.

  ‘And?’ she asked, her breath catching in her throat.

  ‘And do this.’ The touch of his fingers on her sex was, as always, shockingly intense, bursting on her senses the way a honey-sweet grape burst in the mouth.

  One of the things she most loved about Anton was the way he knew how to touch her, any place, any time, in any number of ways, and fill her soul with delight. His caress was rhythmical, expert, making her response grow and swell like a tropical wave.

  She reached her own hand between his legs and found his arousal, thrusting passionately towards her. Panting with desire now, she explored, finding the way in through zips and pleats until she could wrap her fingers around him. He was hot and thick and long, and she wanted him desperately inside her.

  Kissing hungrily, their mouths locked together, they manoeuvred in the wide seats until she got him exactly where she wanted him—pressing on top of her, his manhood thrusting between her yielding thighs.

  It was so delicious, so fulfilling, to feel him slide into her body, stretching her, filling her, taking the love deep into her soul. Their lovemaking was slow and exquisitely prolonged, each searching for every corner of pleasure in the other, each wanting to give every possible ounce of fulfilment; until, with a rush like an ocean wave, their climax swept them both up into heaven.

  She lay satiated, drugged with his love, her head cradled on his chest. Out of the window, she could see a velvety sky spattered with diamond stars. At these moments, there were no doubts for her. She was alive and on this planet only to be with Anton. Nothing else mattered, or ever would.

  That was the power of sex. It was anti-thought, anticaution. No doubt Mother Nature had planned it that way to ensure the continuation of the species, no matter what obliteration threatened!

  Chapter Thirteen

  IT WAS a long flight. Through the dark, star-spangled night they made love again, slept, then made love yet again. It was, Amy thought, by far the best way anyone h
ad yet discovered to pass an intercontinental flight. She wished that they might never have to land back on earth again.

  But the red glow of dawn appeared at last and coming back to earth could no longer be postponed. Britain appeared in the distance as a dark and rumpled mass of cloud that looked like a huge counterpane.

  As they descended through the cloud layer, however, the illusion of softness was soon dispelled. It was December weather in northern Europe. Darkness closed in, lit only by lurid flares of lightning. Turbulence shook the Lear as strong winds battered the jet. Amy watched apprehensively as heavy ice formed swiftly at the windows. It became perceptibly very much colder. When the Lear finally descended from the maelstrom it was to find itself above a city lashed by a snowstorm, bathed in a dim and unearthly grey light.

  ‘Well,’ Anton said, hugging Amy, ‘time to face the music. Buckle up!’

  The landing at Heathrow was made in driving snow and violent cross-winds that made the Lear stagger and seem to stall in the air. Amy clutched Anton’s strong arm for comfort as they bounced down the runway. Why was it that so many of their moments together had been marked by storms and rain?

  The reality of London was dark, bitterly cold and very snowy. In the taxi to the Ritz, where they were going to be staying, Amy switched on the satellite phone and at once the calls began to pour in. With every passing minute, the intimate warmth that had been built up so deliciously between them during the night flight was giving way to the endless clamour of work.

  The great hotel, however, with its atmosphere of a French château somehow magically dropped in the middle of Piccadilly, was a welcoming monolith. With its Christmas lights and cheerily illuminated windows, it resembled an ocean liner looming out of the whirling flakes of snow.

  Their suite was breathtaking, bearing witness to the refurbishment that had restored every tassel, every gleaming piece of furniture and every crystal in the chandeliers to their original Louis XVI style. Watching the snowflakes whirl against the windows from within the glowing luxury of a room like this was delicious.