Millionaire Under the Mistletoe / His High-Stakes Holiday Seduction. Emilie Rose

have possibly known…wouldn’t have hidden this from her.

      Homeward-bound traffic rushed past, and Miranda fumbled in her bag for her cell phone before punching the call button with an icy, shaking finger. “Mum?”

      “Hello, darling.” Flo sounded cheerfully vague. “I’m home from my tea with Sorrel. What are we having for dinner?”

      The mundane thought disoriented Miranda for an instant. Dinner? Who cared? She gathered her scattered thoughts together.

      “I just saw Callum Ironstone. He says Dad’s insurance never paid out and that Callum paid for my studies and Adrian’s schooling himself.” Reaching the deserted bus stop, Miranda halted and held her breath as she waited for her mother’s denial.

      Instead, an ominous silence. Her mother had known.

      “Mum?”

      Nothing.

      “Flo—” Miranda resorted to her mother’s name as she’d been doing more and more recently “—please tell me it’s a lie.” Unable to stand still, she took a few unsettled steps out of the shelter and paced restlessly along the sidewalk. Miranda closed her eyes, willing her mother to deny it.

      “Darling…”

      As her mother’s breathy voice trailed away, Miranda knew Callum had told her the truth. There had never been a life insurance payout. Her gloved hands tightened round the phone and despair set in. The same evil little wind whirled around her ears, and she shivered. Opening her eyes, she glimpsed her bus trundling past the stop.

      “Wait,” she called, running after it.

      “What did you say, darling?” Flo sounded alarmed over the open line.

      “I just missed my bus.” Miranda slowed to a standstill. Her next bus wasn’t due for half an hour and she would be freezing by the time she got home. She wanted to howl to the dark sky. Or burst into tears. But what would that help? The phone pressed against her ear, Miranda backed up and sagged tiredly against the bus shelter, staring bleakly into the shadows.

      “Darling, the Ironstones owed it to us.”

      “I don’t want money from them.” Especially not from him. “I want them to take responsibility for what they did to Dad.” To us.

      “This is their way of taking responsibility, by paying us money.”

      But it was Callum who had paid.

      The chilling thought that had occurred to her in Callum’s office resurfaced. Sucking the cold, damp air into her lungs, she plunged on. “Mum, was it supposed to be a payoff from the company so that we—and Dad’s estate—wouldn’t sue?”

      “Darling, no!”

      The tension that had tightened her stomach into knots eased a little. “So you didn’t sign any settlement agreement?”

      “There was a document,” her mother admitted, “but it wasn’t anything important.”

      “Are you sure?” Miranda prompted urgently.

      “Only that I’d use the money for your and Adrian’s education…and for housekeeping.”

      “That’s all?”

      “And there was a little something for me each month, too,” Flo added reluctantly.

      “Perhaps I should look at that agreement,” said Miranda darkly.

      “Oh, darling, I don’t even know where it is anymore. It’s nothing important. Let it go. The Ironstones took responsibility for what happened.”

      “Not the Ironstones. Callum Ironstone.”

      It had become important to make that distinction. And Miranda wished she had seen that missing agreement. She strongly suspected that Callum had rushed to the grieving widow with a contract that precluded legal action—against him, his family and their company.

      And no doubt the cash had been the price of his guilty conscience. Money had freed him from what he’d done.

      It made her see red.

      But how could she make Flo understand she wanted Callum Ironstone to sweat blood? And his brothers, too. And his father, who’d been chairman at the time Miranda’s father had been framed.

      But more than anything it was Callum she wanted to see suffer—because he’d been her father’s boss. It had been Callum who’d made the decision that had ruined her father’s life. He had summarily dismissed Thomas Owen, an employee with twenty years’ service to Ironstone Insurance, had him arrested, charged with a crime he hadn’t committed, and then had publicly humiliated a humble, gentle man.

      “Darling, Adrian says he needs a word with you.”

      Her mother’s voice brought her back to the dark London street. Miranda shivered again. A second later her brother’s voice came over the line.

      “Mir?”

      He sounded so young. He was the reason she’d set foot in Callum Ironstone’s moneyed world today. It seemed an age since her only worry had been about what Adrian might have done. In less than an hour, Callum had turned her world upside down.

       How was she ever going to find the money to pay back Callum?

      “What is it?” she asked dully. The long day on her feet in The Golden Goose topped by the meeting with Callum had sapped her strength. All she craved was a warm home and a hot meal that she hadn’t had to cook. And someone to hold her, to tell her that everything would be okay.

      None of that would happen. She’d been cutting the heating to a minimum to save money, so the terrace house would be barely warm, and there would be no hot meal unless she cooked it herself.

      Adrian interrupted her musing. “Listen, sis, I need you to lend me some money. Can you draw it out on your way home?”

      “More money?” Only last night she’d given him fifty pounds for a night out with his friends. At least he was due to be paid on Friday. It galled her that she was actually grateful for the job he had with Ironstone Insurance, but she needed that money back. Desperately. “How much do you need this time?”

      “Uh…”

      A sharp edge of unease knifed her at his hesitation. Her voice rising, she asked, “How much?”

      The amount made her breath catch. “Good grief, Adrian, I don’t have that kind of money.” Even the monthly housekeeping fund was almost empty. “What have you done?”

      “Nothing, I promise you. Nothing major. I’m just helping—”

      “You haven’t been gambling again?”

      A couple of months back Adrian had developed an addiction to blackjack, and had started frequenting casinos. His talk of developing a system that couldn’t lose had struck terror into Miranda. Now images of bull-necked debt collectors threatening to break her baby brother’s fingers crowded her mind. “You promised not to go back there.” A promise he’d resented, but she’d insisted on it before she’d agreed to pay off his debts. “Are you in danger?”

      “No!” He gave a half laugh. “I haven’t been gambling. Honestly, you should hear yourself, sis—you’re worse than Mum.”

      Flo was too soft on him. That was part of the reason he’d gotten so close to trouble. Miranda knew it was time he grew up.

      “I can’t just keep giving you handouts, Adrian. You still owe me the money I lent you last ni—”

      “I know, I know. You’re the best sister in the world.”

      Miranda hesitated. “So what’s this money for?”

      “Oh, don’t nag, sis. It’s to help someone in trouble,” he said cagily.

      What