Millionaire Under the Mistletoe / His High-Stakes Holiday Seduction. Emilie Rose

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СКАЧАТЬ Miranda’s father had been framed.

      But more than anything it was Callum she wanted to see suffer—because he’d been her father’s boss. It had been Callum who’d made the decision that had ruined her father’s life. He had summarily dismissed Thomas Owen, an employee with twenty years’ service to Ironstone Insurance, had him arrested, charged with a crime he hadn’t committed, and then had publicly humiliated a humble, gentle man.

      “Darling, Adrian says he needs a word with you.”

      Her mother’s voice brought her back to the dark London street. Miranda shivered again. A second later her brother’s voice came over the line.

      “Mir?”

      He sounded so young. He was the reason she’d set foot in Callum Ironstone’s moneyed world today. It seemed an age since her only worry had been about what Adrian might have done. In less than an hour, Callum had turned her world upside down.

       How was she ever going to find the money to pay back Callum?

      “What is it?” she asked dully. The long day on her feet in The Golden Goose topped by the meeting with Callum had sapped her strength. All she craved was a warm home and a hot meal that she hadn’t had to cook. And someone to hold her, to tell her that everything would be okay.

      None of that would happen. She’d been cutting the heating to a minimum to save money, so the terrace house would be barely warm, and there would be no hot meal unless she cooked it herself.

      Adrian interrupted her musing. “Listen, sis, I need you to lend me some money. Can you draw it out on your way home?”

      “More money?” Only last night she’d given him fifty pounds for a night out with his friends. At least he was due to be paid on Friday. It galled her that she was actually grateful for the job he had with Ironstone Insurance, but she needed that money back. Desperately. “How much do you need this time?”

      “Uh…”

      A sharp edge of unease knifed her at his hesitation. Her voice rising, she asked, “How much?”

      The amount made her breath catch. “Good grief, Adrian, I don’t have that kind of money.” Even the monthly housekeeping fund was almost empty. “What have you done?”

      “Nothing, I promise you. Nothing major. I’m just helping—”

      “You haven’t been gambling again?”

      A couple of months back Adrian had developed an addiction to blackjack, and had started frequenting casinos. His talk of developing a system that couldn’t lose had struck terror into Miranda. Now images of bull-necked debt collectors threatening to break her baby brother’s fingers crowded her mind. “You promised not to go back there.” A promise he’d resented, but she’d insisted on it before she’d agreed to pay off his debts. “Are you in danger?”

      “No!” He gave a half laugh. “I haven’t been gambling. Honestly, you should hear yourself, sis—you’re worse than Mum.”

      Flo was too soft on him. That was part of the reason he’d gotten so close to trouble. Miranda knew it was time he grew up.

      “I can’t just keep giving you handouts, Adrian. You still owe me the money I lent you last ni—”

      “I know, I know. You’re the best sister in the world.”

      Miranda hesitated. “So what’s this money for?”

      “Oh, don’t nag, sis. It’s to help someone in trouble,” he said cagily.

      What had happened to being the best sister in the world? “Hardly nagging, given the amount you want. Can’t this person find someone else to help them?”

      “I’ve promised.” Adrian sounded impatient. “It’s going to be hard to back out now.”

      “You should’ve thought of that before you pledged my money.”

      Then wished she’d bitten her tongue when he said, “Just forget it, okay. I’ll find someone else to help me—maybe I can get an advance against my pay.”

      And place her further in Callum’s debt? Over her dead body! Miranda contemplated the amount in her savings account. Every cent she’d squirreled away for the past fourteen months. The extra jobs. The overtime. All painfully accumulated to allow her a few months of breathing space when she finally handed in her notice at The Golden Goose and started her own catering business.

      It was a pittance compared to the overwhelming amount she needed to repay Callum. Her dream was already history.

      She suppressed a sigh.

      But at least Adrian wasn’t gambling. He wasn’t in trouble. Despite her fears, she hadn’t been called in to Ironstone’s because he’d done anything stupid. And now he’d promised to help a friend. Weren’t those precisely the kind of values she’d tried to instill in him?

      The time had come to start trusting his judgment; otherwise he’d never grow up.

      But, oh, boy, it was hard.

      “Let me see what I can do.”

      A pause. Then, “Thanks, sis.”

      “But it will be a loan, Adrian,” she cautioned. This wasn’t going the way of all the other sums she’d “lent” her brother. “Your friend needs to understand that. When will I get it back?”

      “Soon,” he replied, with a worrying vagueness that reminded her uncomfortably of Flo. “He’ll get paid—probably at the end of the next fortnight.”

      “I’ll hold you to that.” Hitting the end-call button with unaccustomed ferocity, Miranda noticed that it had started to drizzle. She shivered in the gloom. Her dream had just received a death knell, so why bother about a bit of rain?

      Headlights cut through the drizzle, tires hissing as a sleek car veered toward the curb. Miranda turned away, not in the mood for unwelcome harassment.

      A window lowered. “Jump in.”

      Callum!

      Miranda hunched her shoulders and ignored him.

      A door slammed, and a moment later an arm landed across her shoulders, surrounding her with warmth and comfort. Miranda was tempted to lean into his broad chest and draw the strength she could. She squared her shoulders. This was Callum Ironstone. Her enemy.

      “I’m parked illegally. Let’s go before I get ticketed.”

      She shrugged him off. “I’ll wait for my bus, thanks.”

      He glanced up at the electronic information board above the bus shelter. “Looks like a long wait. Or would you rather freeze on principle?”

      She hated that he managed to make her sound like a petulant child. Reluctantly Miranda allowed him to take her elbow—ignoring the sudden prickles of sensation—and steer her to his car, a ghost-gray Daimler. Opening the door for her, he stood back while she clambered in.

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