Читать книгу Bedroom Bargains of Revenge: Bought for Revenge, Bedded for Pleasure / Bedded and Wedded for Revenge / The Italian Boss's Mistress of Revenge - Trish Morey, Emma Darcy - Страница 11

LUNCH over, contract signed, Jack accompanied Sally down to street level and offered her a limousine ride home.

She quickly declined, preferring to make her own way rather than arrive in grand style, looking as though she was revelling in her defection to the man who was taking over everything. Including her. More or less.

“Thank you for the lunch and the contract,” she said, offering her hand in a businesslike fashion.

His eyes simmered with sexy amusement as he wrapped his fingers around hers. “Call me if you have any problems you can’t resolve yourself,” he said with a quirky little smile.

Up until that moment he hadn’t touched her. The warmth and strength of his hand, the confidence in his eyes, the whole aura of a master of manipulation at work, made Sally acutely aware of how vulnerable she was to this man’s power.

“You put me in charge. I’ll be in charge,” she asserted, not wanting to appear weak in any way whatsoever. “When can I expect you to visit?”

The smile broadened into a grin that reawakened the butterflies in her stomach. “I’ll let you know.”

“I’ll need fair warning if you want me to put out the welcome mat.”

“Of course,” he agreed. “I shall enjoy the thrill of anticipation.”

Her heart started leaping all over the place. Don’t think about it. Just get on with it, her mind frantically dictated. “Well, I’ll see you when I see you,” she almost gabbled. “Goodbye for now, Jack.”

She quickly withdrew her hand and spun away from him, walking blindly down Martin Place to Wynyard Station, guiltily conscious of the thrill of anticipation playing merry hell with her female hormones.

A train to Wyong.

Call home to get someone to pick me up.

Work out how to face my mother and Jane with all this.

Her mind kept reiterating what it had to concentrate on, trying to overcome the wild dance of nervous excitement Jack Maguire had set in motion. She had to deal with him in the future. Somehow. But right now she had very immediate concerns that needed her full attention.

It took her most of the two-hour train journey to sober up completely and get her head around how best to present the deal to her mother. On a purely common-sense basis, it meant one daughter would not be a financial drain on her. Neither would the other if Jane agreed to Sally’s plan. The big problem was … would her mother be in the mood to listen? And was she going to accept eviction?

Sally suspected a major tantrum was going on at home. When she’d called to request a pick-up from the station, Jeanette Deering, the housekeeper, had sounded badly distracted, hemming and hawing anxiously before deciding her husband, Graham, could meet the train—Graham, who was supposed to maintain security at the property, keeping out trespassers. Like Jack Maguire. Did they already know Jack couldn’t be kept out anymore?

When she walked out of the station at Wyong, Graham had his Land Rover handily parked and his big frame was propped against the driver’s door, beefy arms folded, a grim look on his darkly weathered face. He and Jeanette had been in her father’s employ at the Yarramalong property all Sally’s life and she was fond of both of them. Never before had Graham greeted her without a smile.

“A bad day. A bad, bad day,” he muttered as he rounded the vehicle to open the passenger door for her. “Don’t know what we’re all going to do now, Sally.”

“Mum told you about the takeover?”

“Didn’t have to. There’s a security van parked at the gate. Some legal bloke served an eviction notice.” He shook his head. “Seems like there’s no fighting it. And Lady Ellen sure isn’t taking kindly to having her home taken from her.”

Which was probably a huge understatement, Sally thought, her chest tightening at the prospect of delivering her news. At least it would be good for the staff on the property, she assured herself, giving them another year to sort out their lives. She waited until they were on the road to Yarramalong before saying, “You can stay on at the property if you want to, Graham. You and Jeanette and the rest of the staff.”

“No.” He sighed dolefully. “Have to look for another position, Sally. Lady Ellen told us she can’t afford to pay our salaries anymore.”

Sally took a deep breath and baldly announced, “Jack Maguire will pay them. He’s already set up the money for that to be done. Pay me, too, for staying on and managing the property. He wants to keep everything as it is, so you don’t have to go.”

He threw her a startled look. “But Lady Ellen said …”

“I’ve signed a contract with him,” Sally stated firmly. “I assure you what I’m saying is true. He’ll keep you on. Only my mother has to go.”

He sucked in a long breath, returned his attention to the road, then muttered, “Lady Ellen won’t like it.”

“I can’t help that. It isn’t negotiable. Eviction for eviction,” Sally explained, repeating Jack’s words.

“I was the one who turned him away all those years ago,” Graham said worriedly.

“On my mother’s orders. I’m sure he doesn’t blame you for it.”

Silence while he chewed over the situation. “Jack Maguire … he’s not going to live here?”

“No. He’ll visit from time to time. That’s all.”

“And you stay on.”

“Yes. The contract is for a year.”

“A year …” More cogitating, then, “I reckon Jeanette and I will stay on for a while. See how it goes.”

Sally sighed in relief. “That would be a big help to me. Will you inform the rest of the staff what the new arrangement is, Graham? I think I’m going to have my hands full, telling my mother and dealing with the fallout.”

“I don’t envy you that job,” he said with feeling. “Lady Ellen sure doesn’t like things not going her way.” He shot her a concerned look. “Want me to stand by?”

She shook her head. This was something she had to do herself. It was too personal to involve anyone else. “Thank you, but I think I can weather the storm.”

“It’s bad,” he warned. “I’ll be in the kitchen with Jeanette if you need some support. And don’t worry about the staff. I’ll let everyone know what’s going on.”

“Thanks, Graham. I’d appreciate all the support I can get in the weeks ahead while I find my feet as the resident manager.”

“Don’t see any problem there. I reckon the staff will feel so grateful to be kept on, they’ll work their butts off for you. You’ll see. Jack Maguire won’t find anything to criticise when he comes to visit. Place will be picture-perfect. As always.”

Picture-perfect …

It was … the most beautiful property in the valley … evoking a poignant swell of emotion in Sally as it came into view. The lush green fields, the white fences, the artfully placed clusters of shade trees for the horses, the architect designed stables and barn, the beautiful avenue of maples leading up to the big white house on the hill … this had been the only home she’d known, and the sense of loss that seized her heart also brought a blur of tears to her eyes.

Her father gone.

The home he’d given them gone.

She hadn’t saved anything. The contract with Jack simply put the loss of this property and all that went with it on hold for a year. Still, it did give everyone time to come to terms with change and that was good, wasn’t it?

Everyone except her mother. Whose loss was much greater since she had expected a billion-dollar inheritance. Sally told herself there was nothing she could do about that. She’d try to be as sympathetic as her mother allowed her to be, but a bad storm probably meant abuse flying everywhere.

A security van was parked at the gate. A man got out of it, identified Graham and waved him on. It was a sober reminder that Jack Maguire did not trust her mother and was ensuring that nothing went into or out of the property without being checked. He was clearly determined on having all he’d paid for.

Did that mean her, too?

Sex wasn’t in the deal, she forcefully reminded herself. Though barely fifteen minutes later, to Sally’s churning horror, her mother was not only making that assumption but throwing out a string of shocking advice on how to make capital out of it.

Jeanette had met her at the front door and directed her into the main lounge room where several valuable vases had been smashed on the parquet floor. Her mother had been pacing back and forth in front of the great sandstone fireplace, downing a scotch on the rocks while haranguing Jane, who was cowered in the corner of one of the three matching leather chesterfields. The tirade had been instantly re-aimed at Sally, a disloyal bitch for kowtowing to her father’s killer. Then had come the derisive demand to know what she’d got out of it.

Sally had moved in to stand beside where her sister sat, laying a comforting hand on Jane’s stiffly hunched shoulder, then, in as calm a voice as she could muster, laid out the terms of the contract she had signed, expecting another burst of outrage at her perfidy in taking on what should remain in her mother’s hands. Yet her announcement had not provoked more fury. Her mother had gone completely still, her eyes narrowing to thoughtful slits, her mouth slowly thinning into a smug little smile.

“You’ve got him!” she’d said maliciously, then broke into a peal of laughter that was somehow more chilling than any vicious words she might have spoken.

“Men!” she’d crowed. “No matter how clever they are, the brain below their belts is their weak point. Jack Maguire gave himself away at the funeral service yesterday, saying you were beautiful. He’s using this contract to set you up as his mistress, his grateful little mistress who’ll do anything he wants to keep her horses. The trick is to do precisely that—give him whatever sex he likes, make it so good he’ll keep coming back, ensuring you have enough time with him to get yourself pregnant. Have his child and you can take him for a damned good slice of his billions! Tit for tat!”

Sally could only stare at her mother, totally rocked by this view of what she should do. Having sex for money was heart-shrivelling enough. Everything within her recoiled at the idea of deliberately setting out to have a baby for money. A baby should be wanted by both parents, loved by both parents. She was here in this moment because she hadn’t been wanted or loved enough, handed over to an adoption agency, abandoned by her natural parents. Never would she have a child for financial profit! Never!

It was Jane who voiced shocked protest. “You can’t mean for Sally to have a child without … without the security of marriage!”

“Having Jack Maguire’s child will give her all the security she’s ever going to need,” was whipped back at her. “Use your head, Jane. You’ll never be poor if your sister’s rich.”

“But having a baby just to …”

“Oh, for pity’s sake! Why do you think I worked at getting you two adopted?” came the scathing demand.

“Because …because you couldn’t have children of your own?” Jane answered weakly, sounding unsure and confused.

“That was what I told Leonard.” The words were laced with utter contempt for his belief in her act of deceit. “The truth was I didn’t want to spoil my figure with a pregnancy. Having a great body and giving him great sex was how I’d got Leonard to shed his first wife and marry me. I wasn’t about to let some other cow take him from me the same way, but you never know with men. So I needed to tie him up with children, ensure that if he ever thought of dumping me it would cost him bigtime. And to find now, it’s all been for nothing …” She gnashed her teeth in disgust.

“Hardly nothing. You do get four million dollars,” Sally reminded her, feeling a huge tide of disgust herself. All these years … she and Jane had been nothing but an insurance policy to the woman who had adopted them. Not daughters. Just assets to be cashed in if her marriage didn’t last the distance. No doubt they were now liabilities to be shed.

“Peanuts!” Her eyes glowered a warning at both of them. “And I’ll need every cent of it to set me up and look attractive to another man of means.”

No grown-up daughters in that scene! And no financial support would be forthcoming for either of them. “I imagine a fashionable apartment in Sydney would be a first step,” Sally put forward, testing for a fuller picture.

“Yes,” her mother snapped, chin lifting in scornful pride. “I wouldn’t have stayed on this country property anyway, now that Leonard’s gone. But I can pretend it’s still mine with you here, Sally. Jack Maguire has played right into our hands. And when you have him by the balls, you can remunerate me for all I’ve given you over the years.”

My father gave it, not you, Sally thought. You only ever put on a show of mothering us in front of him. And that’s gone. An overwhelming sense of emptiness made her voice completely flat as she said, “I’m not like you. I’ll never be like you. I have no intention of getting Jack Maguire by the balls. I’m just going to fulfil my contract with him.”

“Don’t be such a naïve fool! You’ve got an open door opportunity to secure everything you’ve had up until now. More!”

Sally shook her head. “I won’t do it that way. I won’t deceive him and I won’t play your game of deception, either. This place is his, fair and square, and I’m glad to have a job because I know I can’t expect any support from you, Mother. Jane and I have served your purpose. We’ve been your mannequins in a show to keep our father tied to you, but that’s over. We are now expendable, aren’t we?”

“Sally, what are you saying?” Jane cried, frightened of where this was leading.

Sally squeezed her shoulder in quick reassurance. “Don’t worry. You’ll always have me.”

“You ungrateful little sod!” her mother screeched. “You were nothing before I gave you a home. You’ve had every privilege any girl could want. Both of you! And what do I get in return?”

Sally refused to be shamed into backing down. “We played your game. That’s what you got in return,” she shot back at her mother, hating the sense of having been acquired as a weapon in the war for wealth. She could have been adopted by someone else, someone who would have really loved her—loved Jane.

“If you had any sense you’d be still playing it,” her mother jeered.

Sally answered with steely pride. “I won’t be your pawn anymore.”

“You stupid, stupid girl! Don’t you realise my advice could turn you into a queen?”

“It’s not what I want.”

That was the truth of it. She wanted to love the man she had a baby with, wanted him to love her back, both of them loving parents to their child. All the money in the world couldn’t buy that.

“You want to spend your life mucking out stables?” her mother demanded in towering scorn.

“At least it’s honest muck. It doesn’t hurt anybody,” Sally flashed back at her.

She snorted. “Don’t tell me Leonard got hurt by what I did. Nor you and Jane, living in the lap of luxury.”

It has hurt Jane, Sally thought grimly, knowing her sister had never felt emotionally secure in this home. Not me so much because I had the horses to escape to. But most of all. “It hurt Jack,” she said, knowing that was irrefutable—a little boy robbed of his father, replaced by two girls born to other people.

“Dear Jack.” Venom dripped off her mother’s tongue. “He hurt so bad he became a billionaire. You expect me to feel sorry for him?” Her eyes glittered with malice. “You mark my words. You’ve walked into his trap, signing this contract, and he’ll take you down. The only way to beat that is to take him down first.”

“I guess that’s what you did all those years ago, Mother. Do you think taking him down served your best interests in the long run?” Sally challenged. “Seems to me he beat you in the end.”

Her face twisted with rage. “We’ll come out on top if you do what I say.”

“I won’t do it,” Sally threw back at her determinedly.

Her mother charged across the room in a fury, arm swinging out to hit. Sally barely had time to twist aside and raise her own arm to block the blow before it struck.

“Run to the kitchen and get Graham, Jane,” she yelled at her sister. Then to her mother who was completely out of control, attacking with frightening persistence. “You’d better stop this right now because we’re not going to take any more abuse from you.” Her sister was still scrunched up like a mesmerised bunny. “Jane, go!”

She finally snapped into action, scrambling off the chesterfield and pelting out of the room.

“You want to be charged with assault, Mother? I’ll do it. I promise you I’ll do it,” Sally asserted fiercely, frantically fending off more blows. “Graham will come and do what I say because Jack Maguire employs him now. Under my management. I’m the boss, not you. How will it look to your wealthy friends if you get charged with assaulting your daughter?”

That got through to her.

She lowered her arms to her sides, hands clenched into tight fists, her chest heaving with frustration, her eyes wild with killing fervour. “Some daughter you are!” she spat.

The dutiful daughter had died in this room. It was one more grief adding pain to the load in Sally’s heart. “You never really made me feel you were my mother,” she said sadly.

It evoked a vicious reply. “I hope one of your damned horses throws you and tramples you to death.”

The last thread of any sense of loyalty broke. There was no room left for smoothing over this ruction. Sally steeled herself to draw a final line under it. “I suggest you pack up and go to wherever you feel good about yourself, because staying here is not going to work for you.”

Graham charged into the room, Jane hovering nervously behind him. “You need some help, Sally?” he asked, looking belligerently at his former employer.

Sally grimly made the call. “I think we’re finished here, aren’t we, Mother?”

Not without one last sting. “Your father would turn in his grave if he knew how you were treating me.”

Sally stared her down, denying her the satisfaction of seeing any evidence of a guilt trip. Besides which, she felt no guilt. None at all. She and Jane had done their best to please their father while he was alive. That need to please had ended with his death.

Lady Ellen puffed herself up and started to stalk out of the room in high dudgeon. She snapped her fingers at Jane. “You can come and help me pack.”

“No. Jane stays here with me,” Sally countermanded, not about to let her sister suffer the role of whipping boy.

“What? Even the worm turns,” was jeered at Jane who shrank behind Graham as Lady Ellen passed by.

Then she was gone, leaving behind a bleak emptiness that drained away the strength Sally had somehow managed to hang on to during the horrible confrontation. She started to shake.

“Anything I can do for you, Sally?” Graham asked caringly.

Her mind felt too scattered to think straight anymore. She needed comfort. “Would you ask Jeanette to bring us a pot of tea, please, Graham?”

“Sure.”

He left the two sisters together. Sally held out her arms to Jane, who flew into the offered embrace, hugging her tight and bursting into tears. “It’s okay,” she automatically soothed. “We have each other. Whatever the future holds, we’ll always have each other.”

Right now the future felt like a blank slate.

But it wasn’t really.

Jack Maguire was written on it.

This had been his day of reckoning.

Hers and Jane’s, too.

She wondered how the slate would read in a year’s time, but was too worn-out to think about it. Just take one day at a time, she told herself, do what feels right. Even when Jack Maguire comes to visit, I won’t do anything that doesn’t feel right.