Mistress By Contract. HELEN BIANCHIN

he’d want her to perform every trick in the book.

      She pushed the partly eaten salad to one side, and discarded the carrot juice.

      ‘Not hungry?’

      She looked from Maisie back to the salad, and felt ill. ‘No.’

      She could still walk out. All she had to do was make a phone call.

      ‘Darling, listen to me. Eat; you can’t afford to lose weight.’

      ‘So I’ll have something later.’ She pulled a note from her purse and placed it beneath the half-empty glass. ‘I have to go.’

      She drove straight to the hospital, moved through corridors, took the lift, and walked into the ward her father shared with three other patients.

      And faltered as she saw Joshua Petersen had a visitor. Not a friend. None other than Rafael Velez-Aguilera.

      Mikayla’s expression became fierce, protective, then changed in an instant as her father turned and caught sight of her.

      Rafael watched beneath slightly hooded lids as she crossed quickly to her father’s side, caught each of his hands in hers and leaned forward to brush her lips against one cheek, then the other.

      ‘You’ve been helping Maisie,’ Joshua Petersen said in a slightly slurred voice. His smile was faintly crooked, and her heart tore at what illness had done to this once proud man. ‘Look who came to visit,’ he continued huskily.

      She threw Rafael a glance that was intensely territorial. ‘Yes, so I see.’ If you’ve said anything to upset him… The warning was there, a palpable silent entity.

      She was like a lioness defending a helpless cub, Rafael mused. Claws barely sheathed, and ready to spring.

      ‘I’m sure you’d prefer to be alone,’ he suggested smoothly. He inclined his head toward Joshua Petersen, then repeated the action to Mikayla as he moved to the end of the bed. ‘Goodnight.’

      Then he was gone, and Mikayla was left to wonder at his motive.

      She stayed for an hour, grateful that her father seemed quite bright, and visiting hours were almost at an end when she slipped from the ward.

      She almost expected to see Rafael’s tall frame in the corridor or near the lift-well. But there was no sign of him, and she drove home, mixed two eggs together, added cheese and tomato, made toast, and ate while she checked the next day’s lessons.

      CHAPTER THREE

      MONDAY proved to be an anticlimax. Mikayla almost expected to see Rafael waiting beside her Mini when she finished school. She drove straight to the hospital, and he wasn’t a surprise visitor. That evening there was no phone call, and she spent another restless night, slept in, and was five minutes late for class.

      At ten the office delivered a message for her to call Rafael Velez-Aguilera, and listed a number.

      The students scrambled out the door the instant the bell rang for recess, and she collected textbooks, shoved papers into her satchel, then made her way to the pay-phone.

      It was a mobile phone number, which ate coins at an alarming rate, and she must have caught him in a meeting for his tone was brief and to the point.

      ‘Can you make it to my lawyer’s office at four?’

      ‘This afternoon?’

      ‘Yes.’

      ‘I can try.’ Her coins ran out, and she replaced the receiver.

      She took the bus into the city. It was cheaper than paying astronomical parking fees. It also made her almost fifteen minutes late.

      Rafael was already there, and she entered the office, sank into a chair, and accepted a glass of chilled soda.

      The lawyer regarded her thoughtfully. ‘You were happy with the independent legal advice?’

      Happy wasn’t the right word. ‘His explanation clarified all the relevant clauses.’ A definition which hadn’t differed from his own.

      ‘The medical results are now available,’ the lawyer continued. ‘And clear.’

      They couldn’t be anything else, and she was tempted to offer a flip response. It wasn’t the moment for facetiousness, so she merely inclined her head.

      ‘Are you agreeable to sign the documentation?’

      The trap was closing. She felt like one of King Henry the Eighth’s wives about to face the guillotine.

      Mikayla closed her mind to everything else except her father. ‘Yes.’

      It was done within minutes. Her signature first, then Rafael, and witnessed by the lawyer.

      She had to get out of there. To remain and exchange meaningless pleasantries was beyond her.

      ‘If you’ll excuse me?’ She rose to her feet. ‘I’m due at the hospital.’

      ‘I’ll leave with you.’ Rafael unfolded his length, extended his hand to the lawyer, then followed her out past reception.

      ‘Where is your car?’ Rafael queried as the lift doors closed behind them.

      ‘At school. I caught a bus in.’

      The lift slid to a halt at ground level and she emerged into the foyer.

      ‘In that case, I’ll drive you to the hospital and we can collect your car afterwards,’ Rafael declared smoothly.

      ‘There’s no need for you to visit.’ She needed time alone to absorb the enormity of what she’d just done.

      ‘I’m parked across the street.’

      He was so damned imperturbable, she wanted to hit him. ‘No.’

      They passed through the circular revolving door onto the pavement. ‘The ink is barely dry, and you want to argue with me?’

      There was steel beneath the silk, and she heeded the silent warning. ‘I’d prefer to visit my father alone. I’d also prefer to spend tonight at my flat.’ Dear heaven, tomorrow would come soon enough. ‘I need to pack, clean, notify the landlady.’ Who wouldn’t be pleased at receiving twenty-four hours’ notice, and who would undoubtedly demand rent in lieu.

      Rafael regarded her thoughtfully for several long seconds.

      She stood her ground. ‘I have no intention of reneging.’

      ‘I would hope not,’ he inclined with dangerous softness. ‘Be aware I make a ruthless enemy.’

      The lights changed, the ‘walk’ sign showed green, and together they crossed the street.

      In the car she sat still, and didn’t so much as offer a word during the time it took to reach the school grounds.

      Mikayla barely glanced at him as she slipped out of the car. It took brief minutes to unlock the Mini and slide behind the wheel. She made to close the door, only to discover Rafael had followed her and his hand supported the door-frame.

      She turned towards him with raised eyebrows. ‘What now?’

      ‘It might help if you have my residential address.’

      She dived a hand into her satchel, retrieved pad and pen, then wrote down the street number and name.

      ‘I’ll expect you there tomorrow afternoon,’ he drawled, and she discarded pen and pad onto the adjoining seat.

      ‘After school finishes,’ Mikayla inclined. ‘When I’ve visited my father.’

      ‘Six,’ Rafael insisted. ‘No later.’

      She twisted the key and he closed the door as the engine fired, then she reversed, gained the road and joined the stream of traffic.

      It was almost dark when she reached the hospital,