Cathy Williams - Out of Hours...Cinderella Secretary

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Cover

Title Page Out of Hours Cinderella Secretary The Italian Billionaire’s Secretary Mistress Sharon Kendrick The Secretary’s Scandalous Secret Cathy Williams The Boss’s Inexperienced Secretary Helen Brooks www.millsandboon.co.uk

The Italian Billionaire’s Secretary Mistress

About the Author SHARON KENDRICK started storytelling at the age of eleven and has never really stopped. She likes to write fast-paced, feel-good romances, with heroes who are so sexy they’ll make your toes curl! Born in west London, she now lives in the beautiful city of Winchester—where she can see the cathedral from her window (but only if she stands on tiptoe). She has two children, Celia and Patrick, and her passions include music, books, cooking and eating—and drifting off into wonderful daydreams while she works out new plots! Visit Sharon at www.sharonkendrick.com .

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

EPILOGUE

The Secretary’s Scandalous Secret

About the Author

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

The Boss’s Inexperienced Secretary

About the Author

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Copyright

SHARON KENDRICKstarted storytelling at the age of eleven and has never really stopped. She likes to write fast-paced, feel-good romances, with heroes who are so sexy they’ll make your toes curl! Born in west London, she now lives in the beautiful city of Winchester—where she can see the cathedral from her window (but only if she stands on tiptoe). She has two children, Celia and Patrick, and her passions include music, books, cooking and eating—and drifting off into wonderful daydreams while she works out new plots!

Visit Sharon at www.sharonkendrick.com.

MAYBE because it was nearly Christmas and the sharp, cold weather had jolted her senses. Or maybe because she’d just had enough. But something had to change. It had to.

Angie’s fingers trembled and she looked at them curiously, as if they belonged to someone else. But no, those neat, unvarnished nails belonged to her—a foolish woman with an empty heart which ached for a man who was beyond her reach. Who barely even noticed she was a member of the opposite sex—and treated her as he might treat one of his many powerful cars. And while Riccardo treated his cars with care—she wasn’t an inanimate, functional object , was she? She was a living, breathing woman with desires of her own which were never going to be met. She had to leave him—she had to. Because if she wasn’t careful she was going to waste her whole life loving a man who could never love her back. And sooner or later even her dreams would be smashed when he picked a suitable bride from all the actresses and models he’d dated over his action-packed life.

Riccardo Castellari, her boss—and the man who pretty much haunted her every waking thought. Well, not for much longer. Come the New Year and she was going to start looking for a new job—far away from the dizzy distraction of the black-eyed Italian who could make a woman swoon at a hundred paces with just a flick of that lazy smile. Except that he hadn’t been smiling much lately. His mood had been dark—his short temper more frayed than usual and, unusually, Angie wasn’t sure why.

‘Cheer up, Angie—it’s nearly Christmas!’

As the words of the junior secretary cut into her thoughts Angie summoned up a smile. ‘It certainly is,’ she agreed softly as she looked around the staffroom.

Nearly Christmas and the normally tasteful offices of Castellari International were decked out with seasonal holly and the occasional hopeful sprig of mistletoe. When he’d first set up the London headquarters of his highly lucrative global business, Riccardo had banned tinsel on the grounds of bad taste. But gradually he’d given in to popular demand as garish strand after garish strand was introduced with every year which passed. This year the staffroom seemed to resemble Santa’s Grotto, thought Angie wryly—and some of the offices weren’t much better.

Glittering silver, gold, scarlet and greens were looped around every available picture and door jamb and fairy lights festooned the fax machines. The coffee shop down the road was playing corny Christmas songs all day and yesterday the Salvation Army band had stood in the square and played carols so soaringly beautiful that Angie had had to swallow back tears as she’d fished around in her purse for a crumpled five-pound note.

Yes, it was nearly Christmas, and wasn’t that part of the whole problem—and the reason why she was feeling so emotionally wobbly? Because Christmas did something to the world at large and to individuals in particular. It crystallised all your hopes and fears. It made you yearn and wish and dream. And no matter how hard you tried—it made you realise all the things you were missing in life.

‘Are you looking forward to tonight’s office party?’ asked the junior, a sweet young secretary named Alicia who’d only joined a few months ago.

Angie pulled a face of mock-horror. ‘Are you kidding?’

Alicia looked at her eagerly. ‘What’s it like? Everyone says it’s absolutely fantastic—one of London’s classiest restaurants and with no expense spared! And is it true that Mr Castellari stays for the whole time?’

Angie had had enough experience of juniors being slightly overawed by her boss. Hadn’t she once been like Angie herself? Sneaking glances at his dark, beautiful face from afar and wondering how a man ever got to be that gorgeous. The only difference was that she had been plucked out of the typing pool by Riccardo himself and elevated to the dizzy status of his secretary overnight. She wasn’t quite sure why he’d chosen her—she had just been overjoyed that he had. And now? Well, now she wasn’t so sure. Sometimes she thought her life would be less complicated if she had stayed put in the typing pool. That way she would have moved on by now, gone to pastures new—and far away from the intoxicating presence of the sexy Italian.