Million Dollar Christmas Proposal. Lucy Monroe

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      Regardless, he couldn’t let this blatant disregard of company policy go unanswered. “There are procedures for applying for a promotion. None of them include importuning your extremely busy CEO.”

      She flinched at the ice in his voice, but did not let her shoulders slump, or step backward with an apology. “I’m aware. But this particular job isn’t on the internal promotion and transfer database.”

      Disappointment coursed through him. It was like that, was it? She was hoping to apply for the job of his lover. It wasn’t the first time this had happened, but it hadn’t happened here at work in a very long time.

      “I do not keep a mistress on my payroll.” He used the insulting word to remind them both exactly what kind of calculation had brought Miss Miller here.

      Because he found her tempting, and that was shocking enough to make his usually facile brain sluggish.

      Besides his love of chocolate, Enzu had a secret passion for old movies. This woman, breaking every company protocol, not to mention good manners, to accost him in his own office, could be the spitting image of his favorite classic movies film star, Audrey Hepburn.

      Elegant and refined. Beautiful in an understated way, Audrey Miller had been aptly named.

      “I do not want to be your mistress.” The quiet vehemence in her voice was hard to mistrust.

      He simply raised one brow in question. He could not believe he was prolonging this conversation. He should have sent her packing with a promise to report her actions to her division supervisor already.

      “You told Gloria to find you a mother for your children. I’m here to apply for the position.”

      Shock kept him from speaking for long seconds. “Gloria told you? She thinks you would be an acceptable candidate?” he demanded.

      This was not his efficient PAA’s style at all. He’d expected a couple of weeks to pass and then a dozen or so dossiers on appropriate candidates to show up on his desk.

      This blunt approach to the situation was entirely out of character for Gloria.

      “Not precisely, no.”

      “Then what, precisely?”

      “I would prefer not to tell you how I know about the job you hope to fill.”

      That was the second time she’d put an odd, almost disapproving emphasis on the word job. Now he knew what she referred to he could almost understand it, but wasn’t she here to apply for the position? If so, she couldn’t find his methods as unacceptable as her tone seemed to imply.

      “Does Gloria know you are here?”

      Miss Miller bit her bottom lip and admitted, “No.”

      “I see.”

      “I doubt it.”

      “You do?”

      “If you were that insightful you would realize the very real risk to your children in attempting to buy them a loving mother.”

      “And yet you are here to apply for the job?” he asked with unmasked cynicism.

      “Yes.”

      “Isn’t that hypocritical?”

      “No.”

      Disbelief filled him. “No?”

      “I know I am prepared to give them what another woman might only promise for a luxurious lifestyle and multimillion-dollar payoff.”

      “I assure you I did not build an empire without an ability to read people.”

      “But you are going about this emotionlessly.”

      “Which should make me even more capable of making the best decision for Franca and Angilu.” And why was he having this discussion with a stranger standing uninvited in his office?

      “Not when that decision is about the emotion you are hoping to provide for them.”

      “A woman does not have to love them to be loving toward them.”

      “That you believe that only shows how little you know.”

      “Excuse me?” Ice laced his tone.

      She closed her eyes, as if gathering her thoughts. When she opened them he read frustration, even disappointment, but that determination he’d seen there at first hadn’t dimmed. “May I sit down?”

      What the hell? “You have fifteen minutes.”

      Something like anger washed over her features, but she crossed the room and sat in one of the sleek leather armchairs facing his modern, oversized executive desk.

      When she didn’t speak immediately, he found himself demanding impatiently, “Well?”

      “You are looking for someone who will make your children the priority in her life, is that right?”

      “You keep calling them my children, but you do realize I have custody of them only because their parents are dead?”

      “I know, but your desire to give them a loving mother has made me believe you want to fulfill the role of dedicated father. I guess I shouldn’t have assumed.” She said the last as if she was talking to herself.

      “You are not wrong.” He would be a better father than Pinu, who had been borderline indifferent to his two offspring.

      “Then they are your children?”

      “Sì.”

      She nodded, as if in approval of his admission. He should not care, but he found himself pleased by that.

      “So back to my question: you want a woman who will put Franca and Angilu first?”

      “Yes.”

      “And you do not think she has to love them to do that?”

      “Financial compensation will ensure it.”

      “Will it?”

      “Of course.” He understood money and how to wield it.

      “And if something comes into her life that is more important than the money you are paying her to pretend the children are a priority?”

      He did not like her description of the job. “She will not be pretending.”

      “If it is for the sake of the money, how can it be anything but pretense?”

      “Regardless, I doubt very much that something will come up that would make someone lose sight of ten million dollars.”

      “Really? What about a husband who is worth thirty million?”

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