At His Service: Millionaire's Mistress. Kelly Hunter

mornings to helping out with the kids’ breakfast club on the seamier side of the city, lent her expertise to an arts programme for women and children in shelters, volunteered late shifts at a halfway house for those undergoing drug rehabilitation.

      People were all equals as far as Didi was concerned.

      Mum didn’t see it that way. They’re not like us, dear. Her mother would tell Didi, ‘It’s our duty as Christians to help those less fortunate than ourselves.’ But she didn’t want to soil her silk ensembles doing it.

      Nor could Didi imagine Cameron Black getting his designer suits dirty in a soup kitchen or handing out blankets to the homeless on a frosty night.

      Bulging shopping bags hanging from both arms, she stepped onto the footpath in front of his apartment building, glancing at a young woman at the entrance as she passed. Even in skinny jeans and a casual black velvet jacket, she was stunning. At around six foot, she was a statuesque brunette with clear blue eyes. Yes, she’d fit right in amongst the tenants who resided here, Didi thought.

      Whereas she’d never fitted in. Her older sister, Veronica, took after their parents—tall, dark. Immaculate. At eighteen she’d married a wealthy middle-aged owner of several luxury yachts that ferried rich tourists around the Harbour and now lived a life of luxury in one of Sydney’s most affluent suburbs.

      She nodded to Davis at the security desk and crossed the ornate foyer, stepped into the elevator. If her sister could see Didi now …

      Should she answer that? Didi frowned at her mobile over her glasses while the familiar tune rang out over the soft CD she’d been working to. She didn’t need any distractions, but what if it was Cameron checking up on her with some request or other? She could tell him she’d started, even if she didn’t need to hear his deep velvet voice on the other end of the line. She set down the frame she was in the process of constructing and answered with a crisp, ‘Hello?’

      ‘Surprise!’

      ‘Veronica?’ Thinking of the devil in Prada had somehow conjured her up. Didi leaned back in her chair, removed her glasses, stunned to hear her sister’s voice. Veronica hadn’t spoken to her since she’d left Sydney. She rarely spoke to Didi in any case, unless it was to denigrate her. So why was she ringing now? Didi rubbed the frown pleating her brow. ‘How are you?’

      ‘I’m well. Are you busy?’ When Didi didn’t answer, Veronica said, ‘I didn’t know if you’d be able to take personal calls while you’re working. Some work-places have a strict policy on mobile phones. I was going to leave a message.’

      ‘Ah-h-h … No, it’s cool.’ The little lie tripped off her tongue—as far as her family knew, she worked in a gallery and she wanted to keep it that way. ‘We’re fairly casual here.’

      ‘Great. Listen, I’m in Melbourne for a couple of days—Daniel’s at a residential conference in Brisbane and I told him I needed a break to explore Melbourne’s shopping arcades. And to see you of course,’ she added. It sounded like an afterthought. Definitely an afterthought.

      More like you’re checking up on me. Didi’s stomach dived to her feet as her hand tightened on the phone. ‘You’re in Melbourne? Now?’ Oh, she was so dead.

      ‘I’m at the airport. I should be in the city in, say, thirty minutes. What’s the gallery’s address? I’ll come straight there.’

      ‘No!’ Think.

      ‘What’s wrong?’ A definite edge of suspicion. ‘I’ll only stay a few moments. We can catch up after—’

      ‘I’m not actually working at the gallery today …’ She paused, looked around at her apartment. Cameron wasn’t due home till tomorrow night. He’d never know Veronica had set foot in the place. ‘I’m working from home,’ she continued. ‘I’ve been commissioned to do a piece for the opening of a new gallery.’ That part was true, at least.

      ‘Oh … that’s … great.’

      She heard her sister’s tentative approval and breathed a sigh of almost-relief. Her sister could go home and report everything was fine with Didi and maybe, just maybe, her family would accept her choice and let her back into their lives again without disgrace. She gave her Cameron’s address. ‘Speak to Security, they’ll buzz you through.’

      ‘I can’t wait to see this new apartment and it’ll give us time to catch up. I’ll stay overnight if that’s okay.’

      ‘Oh …’ A jolt of alarm shot through her, and she sprang out of her chair. ‘Fine,’ she finished faintly. What else could she say? ‘See you soon.’

      Two bedrooms. Veronica could sleep in the room she’d been using.

      Which left Didi with Cameron’s room …

      CHAPTER SIX

      SHE stabbed the disconnect button and flew towards the hall. Did she dare …? No choice.

      Swiftly she gathered up her meagre supply of clothes and toiletries and lugged them down to Cameron’s room. But she paused at the closed door. She’d never been in here. She’d barely seen past the crack in the door on her way past.

      She had thirty minutes tops.

      As she flung the door open the cedar-wood scent of his cologne wafted past her. She stood a moment breathing it in while she cast her eyes over the room. A stunning view of nearby high-rise buildings cast a reflected afternoon glow on the cream carpet and deep blue quilt atop the king-sized bed. Matching drapes graced floor-to-ceiling windows, which opened onto a balcony filled with soft ferns.

      A partially open door revealed an en-suite bathroom in cream and gold. Shuffling to the far side with her arms full, she pulled open a cupboard door and discovered it led to a walk-in wardrobe filled with racks of top designer suits and enough pressed shirts to last a year.

      In what seemed another life she’d had a cupboard like this. She’d given her designer labels to charity, walked away from her family’s disapproval to become an artist. It was vital Veronica thought Didi successful.

      She stuffed her clothes next to a rack of shiny leather shoes, then moved to the bathroom, swept Cameron’s toiletries out of sight beneath the vanity and arranged her own. Just in case …

      And tomorrow morning her sister would be gone—Didi would see to it personally, even if it meant accompanying Veronica on her shopping spree and waving her off to the airport in a taxi.

      At the cost of having something for Cameron to look at?

      She shook the disturbing thought away. She’d roughed out a plan, hadn’t she? She’d bought supplies, put together a frame to work on. The sound of the elevator doors alerted her and she hurried from Cameron’s room, closing the door.

      ‘Hi.’ Didi gave Veronica a quick hug and took charge of her suitcase.

      ‘Hmm.’ Veronica’s eyes swept the apartment. ‘I never imagined this. It must cost you a fortune.’ She cast Didi an assessing glance. ‘How do you afford it?’

      Aware of her tatty jeans and dishevelled hair, Didi noted the classic lines of her sister’s designer outfit, the pink suede boots, the perfect make-up and long dark hair salon-streaked with auburn highlights. Was it any wonder Veronica would ask that question? And why hadn’t she anticipated an answer?

      ‘Ah, the gallery owner was leasing it out at low cost since he’s interstate at present.’ Didi, who never lied, who hated deception, was getting in deeper with every passing moment. Spinning on her heel, she set the rolling case in motion. ‘Your room’s this way. I hope you don’t mind sharing it with a cat,’ she said over her shoulder.

      ‘Not at all. You know I love cats, but Daniel’s allergic, you know.’

      She knew. Daniel Davenport was allergic to most things, including anyone remotely connected with poverty. Didi showed Veronica to her room,