Master of her Virtue. Miranda Lee

there, like a fish in a glass bowl.

      Not a bad setting for a New Year’s Eve party, however.

      Violet frowned again as she stared up at the still-empty driveway. Where was everyone? It did seem strange that no one had driven in since her own arrival. Maybe they were already inside. Maybe she wasn’t early; maybe she was late.

      There was only one way to find out, she supposed. Squaring her shoulders, she turned and made her way over to the glass-walled foyer of the building. Inside, a security guard sat behind a large curved reception desk. The design of the building was big on curves; all the glass walls facing the harbour were gently curved, as well as the balconies which fronted the entire length of each apartment.

      A buzzer rang when she pushed open the door, bringing the guard’s head up from whatever he was doing. Probably reading. He looked around sixty, a jovial-faced fellow with a ready smile.

      ‘You’ll be here for Mr Wolfe’s party, by the look of you,’ he said cheerily.

      ‘Yes,’ she said, trying not to feel foolish in her Snow White costume.

      ‘Name, please, miss?’ the guard enquired.

      ‘What? Oh … er … Violet Green.’

      His head dropped, presumably to check Henry’s guest list.

      When he looked up again, he was still smiling. ‘You can go on up, Miss Green.’

      ‘Thank you. Has … um … anyone else arrived yet?’

      ‘Only the caterers, miss. You’re the first guest.’

      She sighed a deep sigh. ‘Oh dear.’

      ‘I’m sure it won’t be long before the others get here. Mr Wolfe’s parties are always very popular. Ah, look, there, didn’t I tell you? There’s someone else arriving now.’

      Violet glanced over her shoulder just in time to see a white stretch-limousine slide down the steep driveway before being expertly manoeuvred to stop reasonably close to the foyer door. A smartly uniformed chauffeur alighted and strode round to open the back door, standing to attention as Henry the Eighth climbed out followed by one of his wives; impossible to guess which wife. One with her head still on. Whatever, the costumes were extremely elaborate and expensive, making Violet feel instantly ill at ease in her home-made outfit.

      Not that it wasn’t well made; it was. And very close to the picture most people had in their head of what Snow White had worn. It had an ankle-length gathered skirt made in a pale-blue silk, the same pale-blue silk used in the puffed sleeves. The fitted bodice was made in red velvet which matched the red velvet band in Violet’s hair, hair which she’d had dyed black for the night and styled in a shoulder-length bob.

      Her shoes were black patent pumps with small heels and diamante-encrusted bows on the front, the closest she’d been able to get to the shoes in the picture of Snow White she’d printed off the Internet. The stiff stand-up collar which wrapped around her neck and framed her face was white. The only major difference in her own costume was the laced-up front, a necessity to make the costume fit.

      She’d actually felt very happy with her costume … till now.

      ‘Is there a ladies room down here?’ she quickly asked the security guard before the swish new arrivees swept into the foyer. ‘I’d like to freshen up a bit before going upstairs.’ Despite Henry’s apartment being number one, it was located on the first floor of the building, the ground floor taken up with the owners’ car park.

      ‘Just down that corridor, miss,’ he indicated. ‘Right next to the lift.’

      ‘Oh, yes, I can see it. Thank you.’

      Her hand was actually on the powder-room door when Joy’s voice popped into her head.

      You’re not going to be a wishy-washy, lily-livered little nincompoop, are you?

      Shame and anger revived her determination to have done with her silly shy self once and for all. With her bag clutched tightly in one hand, she moved on to firmly press the lift button instead. The doors opened immediately and she stepped inside.

      This is New Year’s Eve, Violet lectured herself as she rode the lift up to the first floor. A night for facing things head-on; a night where the past was finally put aside in favour of the future. It’s up to you, Violet, to make that future a better place. A bolder place. A place where you finally look in the mirror and see the truth. Your Snow White might not be the fairest in the land but you are an attractive, intelligent woman. There’s no need for you to go through life alone. No need to shrink away from social situations just because they’re out of your comfort zone.

      Lady Gwendaline never shrank away from anything, she reminded herself. And, boy, she’d been really out of her comfort zone when she’d been kidnapped by that ruffian. Whenever you feel your courage or your confidence waning, think of her and what she would do. Don’t be shy. And, above all, don’t be a wishy-washy, lily-livered little nincompoop!

      CHAPTER FOUR

      ‘THERE’S THE DOORBELL,’ Henry said to Leo. Both men were standing at the built-in bar opening a few bottles of nicely chilled champagne. ‘Answer it for me, will you, Leo? I’ll pop out to the kitchen and let the caterer know people are arriving.’

      ‘Fine,’ Leo agreed, depositing the champagne bottle he was holding into one of the ice buckets before heading for the front door.

      His eyebrows rose when he opened it to find the most delicious looking Snow White standing there. All alone, he noted happily; no Prince Charming by her side. He also noted that her lovely big brown eyes were staring at him like he was a little green man from Mars. It occurred to Leo that perhaps she was thinking he hadn’t bothered to dress up. He supposed his black dinner suit, white dress shirt and black bow-tie didn’t look like a fancy dress costume.

      ‘Good evening, Snow White,’ he said with what he hoped was a suitably suave smile. ‘Do come in. By the way, my name is Bond. James Bond,’ he added, looking deep into her eyes.

      ‘Oh,’ she said, her prettily pale cheeks colouring with the most enchanting blush. It was then that Leo twigged who she was.

      ‘You’re Violet, aren’t you? Dad’s assistant.’

      ‘Yes. Yes, I am. But how did you …?’

      ‘Call it intuition,’ he interrupted smoothly. ‘I presume you know who I am. When I’m not being James Bond, that is.’

      He was rewarded with a small, sweet smile. ‘Yes. You’re Henry’s son, Leo, the famous movie producer.’

      ‘Maybe not so famous after my last effort,’ he replied drily. ‘But let’s not talk shop tonight. Or stand in the doorway.’

      Her full skirt swished as she stepped inside the foyer. Leo closed the door before taking her elbow and steering her into the middle of the huge but empty living room.

      ‘I came too early,’ she said, sounding embarrassed.

      ‘Not at all,’ Leo assured her. ‘Everyone else is late.’

      Another small smile, but it didn’t hide her tension. Henry hadn’t exaggerated when he’d said she had no confidence in herself. She didn’t, though Leo could not understand why. She was very attractive, and obviously highly intelligent. Henry would not have employed her as his assistant if she wasn’t. Violet was a puzzle, all right.

      ‘Henry’s out in the kitchen,’ he explained. ‘With the caterers. Look, let’s pop that bag of yours in Henry’s bedroom. Unless you want to carry it with you all night.’

      ‘No, not really,’ she said, and followed him meekly into the master bedroom where he told her to put the bag on the nearest bedside table.

      ‘Henry won’t mind. You can use his bathroom too, when needs be. Save you sharing the main bathroom with