Mistress To A Millionaire. Helen Brooks

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      ‘Of course,’ he said smoothly. ‘You are twenty-four years of age, born and raised in England, and you have two younger sisters. When your family moved to the States four years ago you stayed behind and married a Ronald McTavish a year or so later. Your divorce became final two weeks ago, at which point you moved to London. Correct?’ The dark eyes narrowed questioningly.

      ‘Correct.’ He could just say ‘correct’ like that, when her life had been wrecked and devastated and she still didn’t know how she was ever going to make anything concrete out of the debris. Her chin rose higher. She would not, she would not betray anything of what she was feeling to this cruel, unfeeling monster.

      She nodded tightly. ‘You have been busy.’

      ‘I am a businessman in a cut-throat world,’ he said calmly. ‘It is often necessary to make sure I am fully acquainted with all relevant data and to know from whom I can obtain it.’

      ‘You mean you have contacts you pay for information,’ Daisy stated icily. ‘People who poke and pry to get you what you want.’

      ‘And you disapprove of this?’

      ‘When it affects me, yes.’ She was glaring at him now. ‘What else did your spies unearth?’ she bit out testily.

      ‘What else should they have discovered, Daisy?’ he asked easily, his cool, implacable expression giving nothing away.

      She was aware he had purposely thrown the ball back in her court and that she was dealing with a master of manipulation and it checked the angry retort she was about to make. She wouldn’t gain anything by losing her temper, she warned herself silently. Not with this man. She forced herself to shrug casually and not wince when the movement twanged sore muscles and aching ribs. ‘I think you’ve covered the basics,’ she said in as bored a tone as she could manage.

      He’d give her ten out of ten for sheer guts. Slade stared across at the ethereal girl in the bed as his mind raced behind its cold façade. Whatever had put that haunted look in her eyes had been bad, very bad, he thought grimly, and the marriage had clearly been anything but a bed of roses. As she’d said, his data was pretty basic—too basic, he decided suddenly. He had ascertained she was damn good with children and that there was no mud clinging to her name, although his informant had indicated that the husband had played around a bit, and that had seemed enough initially.

      But he wanted to know more now. In fact he wanted to know everything there was to know about Daisy Summers. He smiled once, nodded, and left the room.

      CHAPTER TWO

      HOW dared he, how dared he poke and pry into her private life like that? Slade Eastwood was a stranger; he was nothing to her; he had no right to hire other strangers to find out her personal circumstances. It was nothing short of outrageous.

      For a long time after Slade had left Daisy sat—her eyes burningly dry and her mouth a tight white line in the paleness of her face—and brooded on their conversation.

      She just couldn’t believe anyone would have the nerve to do something like that and then brag about it, she told herself bitterly, although she shouldn’t be surprised at anything the male sex was capable of if she thought about it.

      The thought brought her mind focusing on Ronald and immediately she pushed him away. Not yet; she couldn’t think of him yet, not without wanting to die or kill him or both, and the bitterness and rage were weakening and she needed all the strength she had right at the moment if she was going to get out of this hospital.

      She had to leave this place in the morning whatever the doctor said. She had asked the nurse earlier that afternoon just how much it was costing Slade Eastwood for her to stay here, and if she hadn’t been lying down she would have fallen down when the woman had told her. And each day was upping the bill by as much money as she could earn in a month. Hot panic caused her to take too deep a breath and pain from her ribs sliced through her.

      ‘Steady, girl, steady.’ She spoke out loud into the tranquil surroundings, the beautiful furnishings and hushed luxury mocking her. Why, oh, why had he insisted she be brought here, instead of allowing her to be taken to a National Health hospital? she asked herself desperately. She would give the world to be in a noisy, utilitarian ward with no frills and fancies right now! But she would leave in the morning—she would—no matter what the medical staff advised.

      The decision brought a measure of comfort and she lay back in the bed with a tired sigh. She could phone Stephanie, she thought suddenly. Her friend had been brilliant over the last sixteen or so months, unswervingly loyal and totally committed to her even though Stephanie’s husband had been Ronald’s best friend, and she had promised the other girl she would let her know how the interview had gone when she had spoken to her three nights ago. Stephanie must be wondering why she hadn’t phoned the following night.

      Stephanie answered on the second ring and on hearing the familiar voice Daisy suddenly had the ridiculous urge to cry. She breathed in slowly and then exhaled, gripping the receiver tightly as she said, her voice bright, ‘It’s me, Steph.’

      ‘Daisy? Oh, Daisy, where’ve you been? I’ve phoned the house several times over the last two days and each time someone different has answered and said there’s no reply from your room. I’ve been so worried,’ Stephanie said plaintively.

      ‘It’s all right.’ Daisy felt immensely cheered by the naked concern in her friend’s voice. ‘I haven’t thrown myself off London Bridge yet.’

      ‘Don’t joke; I’ve had all sorts of crazy thoughts,’ Stephanie said weakly. ‘You’ve gone through so much and been so brave, but everyone has a breaking point. Did you get the job?’ she added as an afterthought. ‘The one you mentioned when we last spoke?’

      ‘Not exactly.’ This bit was going to be difficult; Daisy wouldn’t put it past Stephanie to come hurtling down to London in an effort to persuade her to go back home with her. ‘Now, don’t panic, but I’ve got something to tell you…’

      Stephanie listened in absolute silence while Daisy filled her in on all that had happened, finishing with, ‘But don’t worry because I really am fine. You ought to see this room, Steph. It’s beautiful. I’ve never been so cosseted in my life.’ Daisy glanced about her as she spoke, her eyes rueful.

      ‘Oh, Daisy.’ There was a snuffle and sniff before Stephanie continued, ‘You’re the nicest person I know and for this to happen after everything else that’s gone wrong—it just doesn’t seem fair. And he jolly well should be taking care of things in my opinion!’

      ‘It was my own stupid fault, Steph.’

      There was a long pause and then Steph said, ‘Look, there’s something you should know, Daisy, but I don’t know how to tell you. It’s… Ronald’s back. And…and he’s looking for you. He’s already tried to persuade Malcolm to give him your address.’

      ‘Malcolm didn’t, did he?’ Daisy asked urgently, her heart hammering as she sat up straighter.

      ‘No, course not,’ Stephanie said drily. ‘He values his conjugal rights too much to make a mistake like that! But apparently Ronald’s walked out on Susan; he said to Malcolm that the shock of receiving the decree absolute made him realise what he’s thrown away and he wants to ask you for another chance.’

      Another chance? Daisy felt sick. He thought СКАЧАТЬ