Читать книгу The Millionaire's Mistress - Miranda Lee - Страница 8

CHAPTER THREE

MARCUS sat at his desk, angrily tapping his gold pen on the leather-inlaid surface, his eyes not properly focused on the paper in his right hand.

He still could not believe the gall of that young man! Not a hint of remorse, or conscience. He hadn’t even cared about being dismissed on the spot, without a reference.

Of course he came from a moneyed family, with plenty of the right connections and contacts. He didn’t need his salary. He hadn’t had to work his finger to the bone to make something of himself, to drag himself out of the gutter of abject poverty and succeed against all the odds. Wade Hampton’s job as loans officer was really just a fill-in, a way of passing the time till he inherited the Hampton family fortune.

The Wade Hamptons of this world had no idea how the other half lived. They were born with silver spoons in their mouths and grew up without having to toe the line in any way, shape or form.

Even Marcus’s diatribe this morning over his lack of moral fibre had not made a single dent in the young man’s insolence and arrogance.

When Marcus had been told of Hampton’s tendency to approve loans not on the merit of the business venture but on the sexual co-operativeness of the client, he’d seen red. The thought that the reputation of the bank was being besmirched behind his back was like salt rubbed into a raw wound. If there was one thing Marcus valued above all else it was his good name, and the good name of his bank. Yet here was an employee, using his position of power to virtually blackmail women into his bed.

Not that Hampton had seen it that way.

‘Blackmail?’ he’d scorned when this accusation had been thrown at him. ‘I don’t have to blackmail women to go to bed with me. Not the second time, anyway,’ he’d smirked. ‘There’s nothing wrong with what I did. Everyone was happy. Me. The ladies. And your stupid old bank. Not one of my loans has ever been foreclosed. It’s only stuffed shirts like you who think combining business with pleasure is a crime. God, just look at you. You dress like an undertaker. And you act like my grandfather. I’ll bet you haven’t been to bed with a bird in donkey’s years.

‘But that’s your problem. As are my appointments for today,’ he’d declared as he whirled and strode for the door. ‘I’m outta here!’

A good fifteen minutes had passed since Hampton’s departure, during which time Marcus had instructed his secretary to inform Personnel of the situation, then get him a computer printout of the loans officer’s appointments for that Friday, all of which had been done with her usual efficiency.

It was Marcus who was not operating with his usual efficiency. The appointment list had been in his hands for a full five minutes, yet he hadn’t been able to concentrate on the names. Hampton’s comment about his sex life—or lack of it—still rankled.

How long had it been since he’d been to bed with a woman?

Too damned long, came the testy realisation.

Clenching his teeth, Marcus dragged his attention back to the paper in his hands, his eyes widening, then narrowing when he spied the first name on the list.

Hampton’s ten o’clock appointment—his first for the day—was none other than Miss Justine Montgomery!

Marcus’s surprise was only exceeded by his curiosity. What on earth was the wealthy Miss Montgomery doing coming to his bank for a loan? She must know they specialised in business loans. What use would she have for such a loan?

Did she fancy herself going into some small business to pass her idle hours away till she landed herself a rich husband? An art gallery perhaps? Or a fashion boutique? A trendy coffee shop?

Marcus could only guess. There was one way of finding out for certain, he supposed. Take the appointment himself and ask.

The thought of seeing Miss Montgomery again—and in a position where he had the upper hand—held an insidious attraction. Marcus began to appreciate what Hampton had found so appealing about his job. To have a woman—especially an incredibly beautiful young woman—beholden to you. To have it in your power to give her something she wanted in exchange for something you wanted...

Marcus’s pulse rate quickened as he contemplated such a corrupting scenario. Justine Montgomery had lived on in his memory since that warm November night two months before, when he’d surreptitiously watched her almost naked body emerge from that pool. He still recalled every inch of her physical perfection, from her impossibly long legs to her tight little bottom to her lushly nubile breasts.

How would you like to go to bed with her? the devil whispered in his ear.

He stood up abruptly, took a fob watch from a pocket in his waistcoat and checked the time. Five to ten. He had two options. He could have Miss Montgomery’s appointment rescheduled to a later date with another loans officer. Or he could go downstairs to Loans and see her himself.

His experience-honed instinct for avoiding trouble warned him to have her rescheduled, but when he glanced up and glimpsed his reflection in the wide semicircular window which wrapped around behind his desk, Hampton’s insults once again jumped into his mind.

He glared hard at the man glaring back, the pompously dressed stuffed shirt who believed combining business with pleasure was a crime...

His reflection faded from his conscious mind as another vision took over, that of Justine Montgomery’s lovely yet startled face as he laid out the terms for her getting a loan. His mouth dried as he imagined the moment when he first drew her into his arms. He could actually feel her initial reluctance, feel the fluttering of her heart against his chest.

Till he kissed her.

After that there was no more resistance, only the most delicious surrender as she melted against him...

Marcus gritted his teeth as the painful hardening in his trousers brought him back to reality. He knew he would never do such a disgusting thing as blackmail her into his bed. But he couldn’t stop thinking about it. There was something darkly compelling about the idea of having Justine Montgomery in his sexual power.

Common sense and professionalism demanded he steer well clear of the girl, now that his carnal desires were engaged.

But both were poor arguments against the excitement which beckoned just one floor down.

Not that he was going to try to coerce or corrupt the girl, Marcus reassured himself as he stuffed the fob watch back into its pocket and strode from the room. Nothing—not even the most desirable female in the world—would induce him to stoop to such low behaviour.

The possibility that the incredibly desirable Justine Montgomery might try to coerce or corrupt him had yet to occur to Marcus Osborne.

Justine glanced at her watch as she stepped from the lift. Five to ten.

Scooping in a steadying breath, she straightened her shoulders and walked with her head held high to the large reception desk straight ahead. Not normally a nervous girl, she had to admit to wild flutterings in her stomach that morning. It would have been so easy to turn and flee. But fleeing was out of the question. Anyone with a brain in their heads could see her mother might have another breakdown if she lost her home on top of everything else. Justine had listened to the poor love cry herself to sleep last night, the awful sounds reaffirming her determination to get this darned loan if it was the last thing she did.

The pretty brunette behind the desk stopped tapping on her PC and glanced up as Justine approached.

‘May I help you?’ she asked politely.

‘I’m Justine Montgomery. I have a ten o’clock appointment with Mr Hampton.’

‘Oh, yes, Miss Montgomery. Wade’s away from his desk at the moment, but I know he’s somewhere in the building. I’m sure he’ll be with you in a moment. I’ll take you along to his office and you can wait for him there.’

Mr Hampton’s office was minute, more of a walled cubicle than a real office. Justine settled herself in the single chair which faced the less than impressive desk to await the loans officer’s arrival. She recrossed her legs several times, none of the positions finding favour. Her long stockingless legs still felt awfully overexposed. She tried sitting with her knees pressed primly together but knew that looked ridiculous.

Steeling her nerves, she dropped the handbag she’d been clutching in her lap down by the legs of the chair and crossed her legs one last time, steadfastly ignoring the way the skirt rode up dangerously high. Another glance at her watch told her it was one minute past ten.

Two minutes later, she heard firm footsteps coming down the tiled corridor. She twisted her head round just as a man strode in and closed the door behind him.

Justine blinked, trying not to look as taken aback as she was. But surely this couldn’t be Wade Hampton!

For starters, Justine had been expecting someone much younger, not a man in his mid-thirties! Trudy’s taste in men usually ran to the toy-boy type, with pretty-boy looks, longish hair and wickedly dancing eyes, trendy dressers who smiled at the drop of a hat and oozed a type of cheeky sex appeal.

Justine could not help but stare as this man stalked into the room, his face seemingly set in concrete. No smile of greeting softened that hard mouth, or those deeply set black eyes.

Admittedly he was a handsome devil, with a strikingly sculptured face, a sensually shaped mouth and deeply set dark eyes which sent shivers down her spine. But that black pin-striped suit, though impressively tailored, was anything but trendy, and his ruthlessly cut black hair was plastered back like Michael Douglas in that movie Wall Street.

He looked about as warm and as approachable as a Kremlin advisor on nuclear waste, hardly the type to be susceptible to flirting or flattery, or a short, tight lime-green dress!

‘Good morning, Miss Montgomery,’ he said brusquely, his handsome face coldly unreadable. ‘Sorry to keep you waiting.’

He moved around behind his desk and sat down, his dark eyes immediately dropping to scan the application form he’d carried in with him. It was a full minute before he glanced up at her.

‘So how may I help you, Miss Montgomery?’ he asked quite curtly.

The dean had spoken to her in a similarly cool fashion when she’d gone to him for permission to repeat the year. Yet he’d warmed to her soon enough once she smiled at him.

Justine found that same smile, flashing it for all its worth at the loans officer. ‘I have a business proposition to put to your bank, Mr Hampton. I think it’s a very good proposition and one which would benefit both of us.’

Marcus just sat there for a long moment, frozen to the chair.

She thought he was Wade Hampton.

Understandable, considering. He hadn’t enlightened her otherwise, although he’d meant to, before the sight of those incredible legs had distracted him.

His eyes washed over her more thoroughly, taking in the provocative little green dress, the highly glossed mouth, the beautiful but overbright eyes. She was either nervous, or excited. Or both.

Marcus’s suspicions were instantly aroused. Did Miss Montgomery know of Wade Hampton’s reputation for being a loans officer of easy virtue? Had she come here today armed with that knowledge, ready and willing to barter her delectable young body in exchange for a business loan of some kind? Was that what she meant when she said her proposition could benefit both of them?

The possibility gave a serious push to his already teetering conscience. But, dear God, she was breathtakingly beautiful, even more when she smiled.

Beautiful but bad, came the silent reminder.

Well, he didn’t know that for sure, did he? Not yet. And, if he were honest, he wouldn’t mind so much if she was bad. Not now, at this very moment, with his loins aching. Who knew what she might do if she’d come here ready and willing to be really bad? The various scenarios such thinking evoked did little for his already painful arousal.

Marcus stared at the object of his darkest desires for a few more moments before deciding not to tell her who he was. He settled back as best he could in Hampton’s narrow chair and waited for her to put her foot further into her pretty mouth.

‘Is that so?’ he said, steepling his fingers across his chest and trying not to eat her up too much with his eyes. But it was difficult not to wonder just how far she would go if he dangled the right carrot in front of those full sensual lips of hers.

He had to clear his throat before going on, not to mention his mind. Damn, but the girl was a temptation all right. If the devil wanted to send someone to corrupt him, he could not have chosen anyone more perfect.

‘Perhaps if you could outline your proposition to me,’ he said, ‘I would be better able to judge its benefit to both of us.’

Justine heard the sardonic edge in his voice, and hesitated. He knew—knew she was going to flirt with him, knew she was going to subtly offer herself as part of the loan package. He was sitting there, waiting like a big black spider for her to walk into his web.

Pride demanded she jump up straight away and stalk out of there.

But pride was not going to get her a loan. It would be cold comfort when she went home and explained to her mother that the house would have to be sold. Pride would not be of much value to Justine when they carted her mother off to some sanitarium or other.

Practicality won over pride. As did pragmatism. Who cared what he thought of her? The man was a creep. A user and abuser of women.

Well, it’s you who’s going to be used this time, buster, Justine thought. She flashed another winning smile at him, then launched into an explanation of her present financial situation.

Hampton frowned when she told him of her father’s death and subsequent debts, the frown deepening when she revealed the other bank’s intention to sell up the house and recoup their losses.

‘Can they do that?’ she asked abruptly.

‘They’re within their legal rights. Will the value of the house cover the entire debt?’

‘Oh, easily. It’s worth a million at least.’

‘Mmm.’

‘My mother doesn’t want to sell, Mr Hampton. And neither do I. If you could see your way clear to taking over the loan at business rates and giving me a little time, I have a plan whereby I’m sure I can repay the entire loan.’

His dark eyebrows arched. ‘Really. Perhaps you’d better tell me about this plan.’

‘I’d be glad to. Firstly, I could substantially reduce the loan within a few short weeks by auctioning off some the house’s contents.’

‘I see. And how much do you think you could raise this way?’

‘I’m sure I could cut the loan down to two hundred thousand dollars.’

‘How did you plan on repaying the final two hundred thousand?’

‘In the normal way, with monthly repayments.’

‘You’d still be looking at repayments of two thousand dollars a month. Where will the money come from to make those repayments, Miss Montgomery?’

The logical question led Justine into an outline of her boarding house project. To give Hampton credit, he listened politely, asking her relevant questions about how much she thought she would get for each room, and what her weekly profit might be. Clearly he didn’t just rubber-stamp any old loan, regardless of the fringe benefits.

‘I’m sorry, Miss Montgomery,’ he said at last.

‘I’m afraid we can’t help you. Your plan just isn’t financially feasible. It has too many variables. I really think it would be in your best interests for you and your mother to sell the house and buy something smaller with what money is left over.’

‘But I don’t want to live in anything smaller,’ Justine suddenly snapped, shock and nerves getting the better of her.

One of those straight black brows arched.

Justine gritted her teeth. She should be simpering at him, not snapping. Flirting, not flaring up. God, but it was hard to grovel.

‘My mother hasn’t been well,’ she tried explaining. ‘She’s still grieving for my father and it would break her heart to lose her home. Please,’ she pleaded, looking straight into his eyes and breaking her vow not to beg. ‘I know I can make a success of this.’

For a moment she was sure she had him—and without having to humiliate herself too much. But then he wrenched his eyes away, snapping forward on his chair.

‘I am not unsympathetic to your position, Miss Montgomery,’ he said, looking back at her. ‘If you had a steady job to back up your boarding house plan, I would have no hesitation in sanctioning this loan. But you’ve listed your occupation as a university student. What exactly are you studying?’

‘I’ve been doing a degree in Leisure Studies.’

‘Leisure Studies,’ he repeated drily.

Justine supposed it did sound a bit empty.

‘I’m specialising in Tourism Management,’ she elaborated. ‘It’s much more complicated than it sounds. And should lead to a well-paid job. Eventually.’

‘And how long have you to go?’

‘I’ve...um...just finished my first year.’

‘Only your first year? Yet your application form says you’re twenty-one—twenty-two next month. What did you do when you left school? Travel?’

‘No. I...er...failed my first year a couple of times.’

‘I see,’ was his dry remark.

‘No, you don’t,’ she defended sharply. ‘I’m not dumb, Mr Hampton. I just didn’t apply myself properly. I was too busy having fun. But I can do anything, once I apply myself.’

‘Anything, Miss Montgomery?’ he mocked.

Justine bristled. ‘Well, almost anything,’ she snapped. ‘I doubt I could be a brain surgeon. But running a boarding house shouldn’t be beyond me. My mother would help.’

‘I thought you said your mother hadn’t been well.’

‘She’s not physically sick. It’s more of an emotional problem, one which would be solved if she could stay in her home.’

Justine waited for him to say something but he didn’t. My God, for a supposedly inveterate womaniser, he wasn’t making this easy for her. Maybe he enjoyed watching women grovel. Maybe he got a kick out of reducing them to pathetic pawns in his sick little power game.

She swallowed, pushed the remnants of her pride to the back of her mind, then took the plunge. ‘I’ll try to get a job, Mr Hampton. I will do anything you want. Anything,’ she repeated, making strong eye contact and promising him all sort of things with her eyes and her softly parted lips.

Once again he said nothing, although he did stare at those lips. Justine’s stomach tightened, her mouth drying in the face of his unnerving silence.

‘If you give me this loan, Mr Hampton.’ she added shakily, ‘you will have my undying gratitude.’

‘But I don’t want your gratitude, Miss Montgomery,’ he said quite coldly.

Justine felt her face flame into embarrassed heat as those hard black eyes looked her over. Never before had she felt so small, or so irritatingly lacking in confidence. Confusion reigned supreme. Her heart was racing, her stomach turning over and over.

‘Then what is it you want?’ she threw at him in her fluster.

Let him be the one to belittle himself now, Justine thought raggedly. Let him say it out loud, show the world what sort of man he really was, not this coolly controlled customer who looked as if he’d never put a foot wrong in his life!

Then she was going to get up and walk out. She might even report him to his boss. What was his name? Osborne. Marcus Osborne. Yes, she’d go and tell Mr Marcus Osborne the kind of man he had in his employ!

‘I want you to go home and convince your mother to sell the house,’ he shocked her by saying in a harsh tone. ‘Then I want you to go and get yourself a proper job. But, most of all, I want you to stop playing provocative and potentially dangerous games. You think I don’t know what you were getting at just now, Miss Montgomery? You’re not the first beautiful young woman to tempt me. And I dare say you won’t be the last!

‘There is no quick and easy way in life, Justine,’ he lectured on while her mouth dropped open. ‘Not if you’re a decent human being with values and standards. Don’t go down your father’s path. You’re far too young and far too beautiful to sell yourself so cheaply.’

Justine went bright, bright red. Embarrassed beyond belief, she grabbed her bag and jumped to her feet. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about. If you don’t want to give me the loan, then just say so. There’s no need to insult me.’

‘Very well. I’m not going to give you the loan.’

‘Fine. Then I’ll get the money some other way!’

Marcus watched her whirl round and flounce out. He almost called her back, almost told her that he’d changed his mind and the loan was hers.

But of course that was impossible now. He’d done his dash in more ways than one. But by God, there’d been a moment there, a deliciously dark moment, when he’d almost taken her up on her none too subtle offer.

Just think, Marcus, he mocked himself. You could have been taking her out tonight if you’d played your cards right. Taking her out, then taking her back home, to bed, maybe for the whole weekend.

And what did you do?

You wimped out.

He muttered an expletive under his breath.

Now all he had to look forward to this weekend was Felix’s fiftieth birthday party.

He hated parties these days, but sometimes he just had to get out of the house—that bloody awful house which he’d bought for Stephany and which she’d graced for less than twelve months. He’d sell the darned thing if it wasn’t such a good investment.

Marcus scowled at himself anew. Is that all you think about, Marcus? Good investments? Returns on your money? There’s more to life than money, you know.

Or so his beloved wife had thrown at him the day he’d thrown her out.

Which was ironic, because she’d certainly needed plenty of cold hard cash to support the lifestyle she’d grown accustomed to. Women like her always did.

His mind turned to Justine Montgomery once more. He’d felt sorry for her there for a while. Her father might have been a rotter but he’d still been her father. It must have been pretty terrible to have him not only die, but to die in debt and disgrace.

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!