Behind The Boardroom Door: Savas' Defiant Mistress / Much More Than a Mistress / Innocent 'til Proven Otherwise. Michelle Celmer

personal assistant. She’d be the fourth who’d had her eye on his wealth. At least his old man knew how to do a decent pre-nup at this point.

      “I hope so,” Vangie said fervently. “Or maybe he’s been in touch with one of the girls.”

      “What girls?” Philip was taking them on in pairs now? Would it be harems next? Seb wondered, as he shut his portfolio and stood up.

      “The girls,” Vangie repeated impatiently, as if he should know which ones. “Our sisters,” she clarified when he still didn’t respond. “Our family. They’ll be here this afternoon,” she added, and all at once her voice sounded bright.

      “Here? Why? The wedding’s not till next month, isn’t it?” God knew he was busy, but Seb didn’t think he’d lost the whole month of May.

      “They’re coming to help.” Seb could hear the smile of satisfaction in Vangie’s voice. “It’s what families do.”

      “For a month? All of them?” He could even remember how the hell many there were. But it didn’t sound like anything to rejoice about.

      “Just the triplets. And Jenna.”

      All the ones over eighteen, then. Dear God. How was Vangie going to put up with them all for a month? That ought to make her think twice about how much she wanted all of them to be a “normal” family.

      “Well, good luck to you. So you want me to arrange for them to be picked up at the airport?”

      “No. Don’t worry. They’re coming from all over and at different times, so I told them they should just take taxis.”

      “Did you? Good for you.” Seb smiled and flexed his shoulders, glad Vangie was showing a bit of spunk, and grateful that she hadn’t stuck him with all the logistics of shifting their sisters around as well as having to listen to the jelly bean monologues. He picked up his portfolio. “Where are they staying?”

      He supposed he ought to know that. He might even drop by and take them to dinner on Sunday—in the interests of “normal” family relations.

      “With you, of course.”

      The portfolio slammed down on his desk. “What!”

      “Well, where else would they stay?” Vangie said reasonably. “All those rooms just sitting there! You must have four bedrooms at least in that penthouse of yours! I have a studio. No bedroom at all. Three hundred square feet. Besides, where else would they stay but with their big brother? We’re a family, aren’t we?”

      Seb was sputtering.

      “It won’t be a problem,” Vangie went on blithely. “Don’t worry about it, Seb. You’ll hardly know they’re there.”

      The hell he wouldn’t! Visions of panty hose drying, fingernail polish spilling, clutter everywhere hit him between the eyes. “Vangie! They can’t—”

      “Of course they can take care of themselves,” she said, completely misunderstanding. “Don’t fret. Go to your meeting. I’ll talk to you later. And be sure to let me know if you hear from Dad.”

      And, bang, she was gone before he could say a word.

      Seb glared at the phone, then slammed it down furiously. Blast Evangeline and her “normal” family fantasy anyway!

      There was no way on earth he was going to share his penthouse with four of his sisters for an entire month! They’d drive him insane. Three twenty-year-olds and an eighteen-year-old—giggly, silly girl who, he knew from experience, would take over every square inch. He’d never get any work done. He’d never have a moment’s peace.

      He didn’t mind footing the bills, but he was not having his space invaded! It didn’t bear thinking about.

      He gave a quick shuddering shake of his head, then snatched up his portfolio and stalked off to Max’s office, where he would at least find an oasis of calm, of focus, of sanity, of engaging discussion with Max.

      Gladys, Max’s secretary, looked up from her computer and gave him a bright smile. “He’s not here.”

      “Not here?” Seb frowned. “Why not? We’ve got a meeting.”

      Besides, it didn’t make sense. Max was always here, except when he was on a site. And he never double scheduled. He was far too organized.

      “I’m sure he’ll be along. He’s probably stuck in traffic.” Gladys gave Seb a bright smile. “I’ll ring you when he gets here if you’d like.”

      “Is he…on-site?”

      “No. He’s on his way back from the harbor.”

      “The harbor?” Seb frowned. He didn’t remember Max having a project down there, and he knew Max’s projects.

      Max was—had been ever since Seb had come to work for him—his role model. Max Grosvenor was utterly reliable. A paragon, in fact. Hardworking, focused, brilliant. Max was the man he wanted to become, the father figure he’d never had.

      Philip couldn’t be bothered to turn up when he said he would, but if Max wasn’t here at—Seb glanced at his watch again—five past three in the afternoon when he was the one who’d scheduled the meeting, something was wrong.

      “Is he all right?”

      “Couldn’t be better, I’d say.” Gladys said cheerfully. Though only ten or so years older than her boss, she doted on him like a mother hen—not that Max ever noticed. “He’s just been on a bit of an outing.”

      Seb’s brows drew down. Outing? Max? Max didn’t do “outings.” But maybe Gladys had said “meeting” and he had misheard.

      “I’m sure he’ll be along shortly.” Even as she spoke, the phone on her desk rang. Raising a finger as if to say, wait, Gladys answered it. “Mr. Grosvenor’s office.” The smile that creased her face told Seb who it was.

      He tapped his portfolio against his palm, watching as Gladys listened, then nodded. “Indeed he is,” she said into the phone. “Right here waiting. Oh—” she glanced Seb’s way, then smiled “—I’m sure he’ll live. Yes, Max. Yes, I’ll tell him.”

      She hung up and, still smiling, looked up at Seb. “He’s just come into the parking garage. He says to go right in and wait if you want.”

      “Right. I’ll do that.” He must have misunderstood. She must have said “meeting.” Max must have had a new project come up. “Thanks, Gladys.” With a smile, Seb stepped past her and opened the door to Max’s office.

      It was always a jolt to walk into Max’s office on a clear sunny day. Even when you were expecting it, the view was breathtaking.

      Seb’s own office, nearly as big and airy as Max’s own, looked out to the north. He could sit at his desk and see up the coast. And if he shifted in his chair, he could watch the ferry crossing the water.

      But Max could see paradise. Across the water, the Cascades spiked their way along the peninsula. A bevy of sailboats skimmed over the sound. And to the south the majesty of Mount Rainier loomed, looking almost close enough to touch.

      The first time Seb had seen the view from Max’s windows, he’d stopped dead, his eyes widening. “I don’t see how you get any work done.”

      Max had shrugged. “You get used to it.”

      But now he stood and stared at the grandeur of Rainier for a long moment, Seb wasn’t sure he ever would. And the memory of his first glimpse reminded him that when he’d first come out to the Pacific Northwest, he’d vowed to climb Rainier.

      He never had. There hadn’t been time.

      Work had always been a bigger, more tempting mountain to climb. And there had always been more peaks, bigger peaks, tougher ones. And he’d relished the challenge, determined