Invitation to the Boss's Ball. Fiona Harper

the room. He’d been having trouble finding a new PA since Aimee had left to have babies and devote herself to full-time mothering. He’d offered to double Aimee’s salary if she’d stay. He needed her organisational skills here at Orion. But she’d turned him down, damn her.

      Aimee wouldn’t have crept into the office as if she was scared of him. But Stephanie, just like her three predecessors, jumped every time he spoke. He didn’t mind the fact that his staff respected him—were in awe of him, even. In fact it had been something he’d cultivated when his business had grown beyond a handful of employees. It didn’t bother him that people thought him remote. He wasn’t the kind of boss who chatted about pets and children, and people didn’t expect that of him. They expected him to be in charge, to keep their wages and bonuses coming. His staff knew he was dedicated to them and the company, that he was hard-working and that he rewarded loyalty richly. That should be enough. His personal life was out of bounds. He respected his staff enough not to pry into their business, and they in turn afforded him the same courtesy.

      Stephanie clasped her hands together in front of her, looking as if she’d really like to bolt but was attempting to anchor herself. Cameron sighed inwardly.

      ‘The Japanese party have rung ahead to say they’ve been delayed at the airport. They’ve asked if we could push the meeting back to three o’clock.’

      He nodded. ‘Fine. Make the arrangements, would you?’

      She gave a hasty nod and sidled round the half-open door.

      He walked back to his desk. Before he sat down, he ran his fingertips over the flat, square and now empty jewellery box sitting next to the phone. Until very recently there’d been at least one woman in his life who hadn’t quivered with fear when he’d walked into the room. Far from it.

      Jessica Fernly-Jones. High society darling and professional butterfly.

      She was the woman every red-blooded male in London was dying to have on his arm. And for a while she’d been his. His triumph, his coup.

      She’d made him dance through hoops before she’d consented to date him regularly. Not that he’d cared. It had all been part of the game—part of the sacrifice to win the prize. And there was always a sacrifice if something was worth having. When she’d finally relented and agreed to go out to dinner with him, he’d relished the looks of envy and awe on other men’s faces as he’d walked through the restaurant with her. It had been even better than when he’d dated a supermodel.

      But after two months the hoop-jumping and game-playing hadn’t relented, as he’d expected. And he’d started to wonder whether one woman really was worth all the aggravation.

      His answer had come the night he’d given her the jewellery box. Lesser women would have squealed and gone all dewy-eyed when they saw the logo of a rather exclusive jewellers on the box. But, give Jessica credit, she’d merely raised an eyebrow and given him a sexy smile. A smile that said she’d knew she’d deserved it, that she was worth every carat the box contained—probably more.

      She’d prised open the lid and her eyes had roved the contents of the box.

      It had been a diamond pendant. Simple. Elegant. Outrageously expensive.

      A small pout had squeezed Jessica’s lips together. ‘It’s lovely, Cameron,’ she’d said. ‘But don’t you remember? It was the pink diamond I wanted—not a boring old white one. You will be a darling about this, won’t you?’

      At that moment Cameron had known suddenly and unequivocally that he wouldn’t be a darling about anything for Jessica any more. Still, there had been no need to make a scene. They’d gone out to dinner, and he’d explained it all quite carefully before Jessica had flounced off.

      Now he had his own little empire he supposed he would need a woman to stand by his side, someone to share all this bounty with. On the climb up he’d always imagined she’d be someone exactly like Jessica. Now, though…

      Instead of sitting down he turned round and walked back to the window.

      The view was starting to bore him. Just as well he’d be changing it soon.

      ‘Alice? Alice Morton?’

      Alice’s hand closed around a pound coin in her money belt. She hadn’t heard that voice in years. She looked up to find a stylishly dressed woman with a wavy blonde bob smiling at her.

      ‘Jennie? I can’t believe it!’

      It looked as if Jennie’s trademark stripy legwarmers of a decade ago had finally been declared a fashion no-no, because the woman in front of her oozed sophistication. However, there was no mistaking Jennie’s bright smile and the aura of excitement she carried with her wherever she went. In a flash Alice had scooted round the velvetdraped stall and the two women launched themselves into a rib-crushing hug.

      A polite cough from Alice’s left reminded her of what she’d been doing just seconds before Jennie had arrived. She handed the customer she’d been serving her change.

      ‘I’m so sorry! Here you go.’

      The woman shrugged and wandered off, with a genuine ‘Choose Life’ T-shirt in her shopping bag.

      Coreen braced her hands on the stall and leaned forward, her eyes practically out on stalks. ‘Who’s this? Long-lost sister?’

      ‘Almost,’ Jennie said, as she and Alice smiled at each other. ‘I was engaged to Alice’s brother for a couple of years. The fact I didn’t get to be Alice’s sister-in-law was the thing that made me the saddest when we broke up,’ she said.

      ‘Anyway, what are you doing selling vintage lace and platform shoes? The last I heard your IT consultancy was just getting off the ground.’

      ‘Oh, I’m still doing that. It helps pay the bills. In fact, that’s how I met Coreen…’ She paused briefly to introduce the two women properly. ‘When Coreen started selling her stock online a few years ago, she decided to upgrade her system. I sorted her out with what she needed.’

      ‘That doesn’t explain how you’ve ended up selling Wham! T-shirts on a chilly Thursday morning rather than hooking up cables to PCs,’ Jennie said to Alice.

      Just at that moment another customer walked up and asked Coreen something in-depth about alligator handbags. As she talked to the woman, Coreen made shooing motions with her hands. Bless Coreen! Alice mouthed her a silent thankyou and guided Jennie away from the stall, so they could walk and talk, browsing the clothing and arts and crafts stalls and catching up on over ten years’ worth of gossip. She filled Jennie in on what the family were doing now, and she seemed genuinely interested in what Alice had been up to since she’d known her as a shy sixth-former. Alice gave her a potted history—there really wasn’t that much to tell—and finished up with how she’d fallen in love with vintage clothes herself after getting friendly with Coreen.

      ‘We’re saving hard so we can open up our own vintage clothes boutique,’ she said as she finished off.

      Jennie smiled at her. ‘That’ll be just fabulous,’ she said, nodding her head, and then she pressed her lips together and looked skywards. ‘Tell you what, when you finally open your shop give me a call—I’ll organise a launch party that will put you firmly on the map.’

      ‘A party?’

      Jennie reached into a soft leather handbag the colour of clotted cream—the stitching on it was fantastic, and screamed quality. She pulled out an elegant business card and handed it to Alice.

      ‘You’re an event planner?’

      Alice couldn’t have thought up a better job for Jennie if she’d tried.

      Jennie nodded. ‘Isn’t it a scream? I get paid to have fun!’ She sighed. ‘Actually, sometimes the “planning” bit of event planning is a bit of a drag. That’s why I’m down here at the market this morning—hunting for inspiration.’ She gazed at a stall filled with home-knitted baby cardigans. ‘Did you ever