Mistress To A Millionaire. Helen Brooks

come to London to bury herself in the uncaring pace of the big city, where no one cared very much about anyone else. She could lick her wounds in comfort here, without well-meaning friends dropping by to ‘cheer her up’.

      If she had got the job she was going for on the morning of the accident it would have been perfect. A straightforward nine-to-five existence, then home to her tiny bedsit where she could please herself. If she hadn’t wanted to see another soul out of work hours she wouldn’t have had to. But this… This was impossible. She didn’t want to be a mother figure to anyone—in fact she didn’t want to get close to anyone ever again.

      ‘Look, I really don’t want this kind of job.’ She tried again.

      ‘Think about it.’ It was an order but spoken in a silky tone that made it difficult to fire back as she would have liked to. ‘This way all your debt is wiped out, you get the chance to see new horizons whilst earning an excellent salary and it won’t look bad on your CV either.’

      ‘But I don’t understand. Why me?’ she asked helplessly, her huge honey-brown eyes with their thick brown lashes open wide and her silver-blonde hair falling about her shoulders in gleaming waves.

      Slade Eastwood looked at the slender young woman in the bed. If he answered that truthfully he had about as much chance of persuading her to take the job as making snowballs in hell, he thought ruefully, and how could he explain what he didn’t understand himself anyway? He just knew he couldn’t let her walk out of his life, not yet. That was all.

      ‘Why you?’ He smiled coolly, his thoughts hidden. ‘Why not? You were in the right place at the right time, perhaps?’

      ‘Hardly.’ Daisy thought of her sore arms and legs and her ribs throbbed their protest at his statement.

      ‘Like I said, think about it.’ He rose, and she felt the movement in every fibre of her being. She didn’t like the effect this man had on her; he was hypnotising.

      ‘My son is very important to me, Daisy.’ He was halfway to the door when he turned to face her again, and now the brilliant eyes were very black and very steady. ‘I want the best for him, as does every father for his son, and I won’t let anything or anyone stand in the way of that.’

      Daisy just looked at him—she couldn’t think of a thing to say and she wasn’t at all sure exactly what he was getting at.

      ‘I want Francesco to grow up with certain standards, principles, and he needs to imbibe those at an early age. At the moment he is vulnerable, he is getting a great deal of sentimental, indulgent love which is without solid foundation and this will not do. I cannot be with him every minute of every day and due to the influences I have mentioned when I am with him there is inevitable confrontation. This must stop.’

      Daisy nodded but still didn’t speak. If he thought this was persuading her to take the position as nanny he couldn’t be more wrong, she thought weakly. He was positively terrifying, and all her sympathy was with his son and his mother-in-law!

      ‘I will return tomorrow evening when you have had time to give the proposal further thought, and in the meantime I will arrange to have a contract delivered for your perusal, stating the terms of employment and your salary and so on should you decide to accept the post.’

      This was ridiculous. She had to tell him right now that there was no way she would consider working for him. ‘Mr Eastwood, I really don’t think there is any likelihood of my leaving England and working in Italy,’ Daisy said as firmly as she could considering the dark gaze was burning her face.

      ‘No? I disagree.’ His tone had altered and it brought her chin up in unconscious preparation for battle. ‘By your own decision, when you leave this establishment you will be some thousands of pounds in my debt,’ he said coolly. ‘It will clearly take you months, maybe much longer, to pay that back, even supposing you are fortunate enough to step into employment immediately you are well. Unless you are prepared to reconsider and allow me to cancel the debt?’ he added softly.

      ‘There is no question of that,’ she bit back quickly.

      He shrugged slowly. ‘Then my offer seems a very sensible solution,’ he suggested sardonically. ‘Added to that, you are free from all ties now, and Italy is even better than London for forgetting the past and forging a new life.’

      ‘What?’ She stared at him, too shocked to say any more.

      ‘I told you, I love my son, Daisy.’ It was cold and clipped. ‘You do not think I would make you the sort of offer I have suggested without making sure you are a suitable companion for him?’

      ‘You’ve had me checked out?’ If she had ever been this mad before she couldn’t remember it.

      ‘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