In Bed with Her Ex: Miss Prim and the Billionaire / Mardie and the City Surgeon / The Boy is Back in Town. Marion Lennox
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      Now, sitting in Marcel’s office, she began to shake with the violence of the emotion possessing her. She’d guessed that he recognised her, but now she was sure. He had brought her here, to the heart of his own world. Couldn’t she dare to hope that they might open their arms to each other and put right the wrongs of the past?

      She’d thought she wanted vengeance, but that was being crowded out by other sensations beyond her control.

      Now was the moment, and she would seize it with eager hands. If only he would return quickly.

      She heard footsteps in the corridor. He was coming. In just a few moments everything would be transformed. The old attraction was beginning to rise up inside her, and surely it was the same with him. There might even be happiness again.

      But the next instant the dream died, smashed to smithereens by something she knew she should have anticipated, but had carelessly overlooked.

      Which meant there was no one to blame but herself.

       CHAPTER SIX

      FROM outside came an urgent tapping on the door and a woman’s voice in a high-pitched scream of excitement.

       ‘Marcel, mon chéri—ouvrez le porte et me prendre dans tes bras. Oh, combien je suis heureux que mon véritable amour est de retour.’

      Her limited French was just up to translating this.

      ‘Marcel, my darling—open the door and take me in your arms. Oh, how happy I am that my true love has returned.’

      So that was that. Another stupid fantasy destroyed.

      Don’t be so naïve again!

      Bringing herself under control, she opened the door and backed away just in time to avoid being lovingly throttled by a girl who was young, sexy, beautiful, vibrant with life.

      And she’d called Marcel ‘my true love’.

      The newcomer began to babble again in French, then switched abruptly to English.

      ‘I’m sorry—you must be Mrs Henshaw—and English, yes?’

      ‘Yes.’

      ‘Marcel has told us all about you.’

      ‘Us?’

      ‘My papa is Raul Lenoir, Marcel’s lawyer. He has spoken much of Mrs Henshaw, his new assistant who will handle important business for him in London. I am so pleased to meet you.’

      Cassie took the hand she held out, murmuring untruthfully, ‘And I am pleased to meet you.’

      ‘My name is Brigitte Lenoir. Where is Marcel? I have missed him so much.’

      ‘He went out a moment ago, but he’ll be back soon.’

      ‘Oh I can’t wait. I have so much to tell him.’

      ‘I think that’s him now.’

      The door opened and Marcel appeared, his face brightening as he saw his visitor. They next moment they were in each other’s arms. Brigitte covered his face with kisses and he laughed, returning the compliment again and again.

      ‘Brigitte, ma chérie, mon amante—’

      Cassie returned to the computer, trying not to hear the sounds coming from behind her.

      ‘Brigitte, I want you to meet Mrs Henshaw,’ Marcel said at last, freeing himself from her clasp.

      ‘But we have already met, and I am so impressed,’ Brigitte declared.

      ‘So you should be,’ Marcel said. ‘She’s a great brain and we’re all afraid of her.’

      ‘Papa will be most interested to meet her. You must both come to dinner with us tonight.’

      Cassie flinched. ‘I’m not sure—’

      ‘Oh, but you must,’ Brigitte assured her.

      Both her mind and heart rebelled at the thought of spending an evening with these two, watching them all over each other.

      ‘I have a lot of work to do—’

      Brigitte began to mutter in French. Without understanding every word, Cassie gathered that she was telling Marcel that he must persuade her. Another woman was vital and Mrs Henshaw would be useful.

      ‘She’s just what we need. She can keep Henri talking without—you know—’

      The meaning of ‘you know’ was all too clear. Whoever Henri was, her duty was to keep him talking without attracting him in a way that might be ‘inconvenient’. In other words, a plain woman. Like Mrs Henshaw.

      ‘I applaud your desire to work,’ Marcel told her, ‘but joining us for dinner tonight will be part of that work. We’ll dine in the hotel’s most splendid restaurant, and you can give me your opinion of it later. Now, I suggest you return to your suite and prepare for tonight.’

      Leaving him free to succumb to Brigitte’s charms, she thought. As she walked away down the corridor she could hear shrieks of laughter which abruptly faded into murmurs. She increased her speed.

      In her rooms she found Tina just finishing, and complimented her on the job.

      ‘It looks so comfortable in here. If only I could just put my feet up, but I’ve got to attend a formal dinner tonight, with the lawyer and somebody called Henri. Why? What’s up?’ Tina had smothered a laugh.

      ‘Forgive me, madame, but if Henri Lenoir is there it will not be formal.’

      ‘You know him?’

      ‘He is the son of the lawyer and Mademoiselle Brigitte’s brother. But apart from that—’ Tina hesitated before going on, ‘Every girl knows him. He is a very naughty man. The rumour says that his wife has thrown him out for the third time.’

      ‘Because of—?’

      ‘Because he’s naughty with many ladies. They say he’s returned to his father’s home, and the family is watching over him to make sure that … well …’

      ‘That he isn’t naughty again. I see.’

      ‘If he behaves she may take him back.’

      And evidently Brigitte saw no danger of her brother misbehaving with Mrs Henshaw. It was practically an insult.

      When Tina had gone she threw herself onto the bed, reliving the scene she had just endured. Something had happened that hurt more than anything else so far.

       A great brain!

      That was what Marcel had called her to Brigitte, but using the words СКАЧАТЬ