Nina Milne - Whisked Away By Her Millionaire Boss

Ben gave a quick grin. ‘OK. That was a bit much. But you have to admit it worked. That was an incredible deal we got signed—profitable and ethical. He even agreed to raise the rates he pays his workers to Fairtrade standards.’

‘It was a fabulous deal, but I won’t always be able to be part of that now.’ Anxiety touched her grey eyes. ‘You’re not angry, are you? I’ll understand if you want a new PA.’

‘I’m not angry. At all. I’m happy for you and I would never do anything to jeopardise that happiness. If I start to expect too much or behave selfishly, make sure you tell me.’

He meant it; he would not be responsible for the destruction of another marriage. After all, he’d been responsible for the breakdown of his mother’s—had been the catalyst and the unwitting cause of the rupture of a family.

His mother had had an affair and he was the result: a universally unwanted result. Unwanted by his unknown actual father, rejected by the man he had believed to be his father for the first five years of his life and loathed by his siblings, who blamed him .

In the bitterness of the divorce his half-brothers had elected to live with their dad and his mother had been stuck with him. She had also stuck by him, shown him care and love, and he would be grateful for ever for that. Even if in the deepest, darkest times of his childhood he’d wondered whether, if she could turn back the hands of time, she’d wish him away. And how could he blame her if she did?

Enough. He’d come to terms with all that. He had decided to live his life to the fullest and show them all—his birth father, his fake father, his siblings, the whole goddamn world. And he had. He had achieved a success attained by very few, and his mother would never want for anything—he’d made damn sure of that.

But right now he said, ‘So what are we going to do about a replacement for you next month?’

‘I’ll advertise internally and see if there’s anyone who wants to step in.’

It didn’t take a genius to hear the doubt in her voice.

‘I take it you don’t think there will be many volunteers.’

‘Nope.’

‘Why not?’ For Pete’s sake... He was an excellent boss.

‘It’s difficult. I did talk to a couple of people I thought would suit, but... Well, one of them is recently married and doesn’t want to go away. I asked Tom Oliver as well, but his wife has just had a baby and he doesn’t want to travel to Milan.’

‘There must be someone else.’

Maree shrugged. ‘You’re quite a hard taskmaster.’ Before he could protest, she raised a hand. ‘OK. A more diplomatic response might be to say you have high expectations.’

Ben sighed. ‘I get the picture. You don’t have a queue of qualified people who want to go to Milan with me. Fine. If need be I’ll survive without a PA.’

He’d find someone else to go to Milan with him. Just in a different capacity.

Sarah Fletcher stood in the ladies’ restroom of Sahara Fashions’ London headquarters, her trusty trolley of cleaning materials next to her, and ran through her mental checklist.

Floor mopped and polished: tick.

Toilets cleaned: try not to think about it, but tick.

Mirrors polished: tick.

Her gaze caught a glimpse of her reflection and she flinched. She still wasn’t used to her natural hair colour—she’d dyed her hair for so long that the red now looked all wrong—and it jolted her memory neurons with grief.

Imogen . Her identical twin. If Imo was alive this was what she would look like too. But Imo wasn’t alive. She’d lost her twin sister twelve years before. Diagnosed with leukaemia aged thirteen, she’d died after a two-year struggle against the illness. Snuffed out before she could experience very much of life. The unfairness of it all still burned.

Focus on something else . Before the still razor-sharp edge of grief and guilt cuts too deep.

A large notice hung up by the mirrors caught her eye.

Urgent Internal Vacancy

Wanted: Temporary PA to Ben Gardiner

Duration: Two weeks

Pay Grade: Excellent

For details contact Maree Whitaker

Sarah frowned, sure she’d seen other notices like it littered round the offices over the past three weeks—clearly there wasn’t a queue of applicants. Which meant Ben Gardiner must be a difficult boss, despite being gorgeous, loaded and successful, as well as London’s most wanted bachelor—at least according to the last article her mother had showed her.

For a moment Sarah allowed herself a daydream. She was a high-flying executive PA, rather than a mop-to-the-ground part-time cleaner-cum-sales-assistant in a clothing store... Though actually she wasn’t even that. Worry twisted her tummy. The shop she worked for had closed down, so right now she was fully reliant on this job.

Keep calm . Somehow she would find another job. She had to—for Jodie’s sake.

An image of her six-year-old daughter filled her mind—Jodie, with her vivid red hair and her gap-toothed smile.

The most important thing in the world was Jodie and she would give her daughter the best possible start in life. Guilt tugged at her again. She certainly hadn’t given Jodie a good father. And her own stupidity in her teen years meant she was in no place to get herself a good job. Not with a criminal conviction, however unjustified, and no qualifications.

Steely determination filled her. She’d turn it around. She would . For Jodie.

But right now she’d better get on. She was on probation and she could not afford to lose this job as well. So it was time to go and empty Ben Gardiner’s bins; it might not be high-flying but it would pay the bills.

Two minutes later Sarah raised her hand to push the office door open and halted as she heard voices from inside.

Ah...

In the past four weeks Ben Gardiner had never been in his office in the evening—most days Sarah was pretty sure he hadn’t even been there. But someone was definitely in there now. A female, by the sound of it, and an angry one at that. Her higher-pitched tones were interspersed with the low, deeper rumble of a male voice.

Clearly not a good moment to empty the bins, then.

As Sarah stepped back the door burst open and a woman exited. Though ‘exited’ was an understatement. This woman swept out and anger radiated from each long-legged stride. Her dramatic swirl round to face the interior of the office was followed by, ‘You will never know what you missed, Ben!’

Sarah blinked and realised the identity of the woman: short dark hair, endless legs, a classically beautiful face seen on billboards and fashion magazines. This was Leila Durante —supermodel and diva, who had the reputation of only dating the hottest, most famous bachelors in town.

Sarah stepped back into the shadows.

‘When you change your mind let me know. But know this: I will not wait long.’

Ben Gardiner appeared in the doorway. ‘I won’t change my mind. So don’t wait at all.’

The supermodel practically hissed and then marched off.

What now? In an ideal world Sarah would don a cloak of invisibility, but that wasn’t going to happen. Perhaps she’d get lucky and Ben Gardiner would retreat into his office without spotting her. Ha! Since when did luck single her out?

Instead he turned to her. ‘As first dates go, that wasn’t great,’ he observed. ‘We didn’t even make it to the restaurant.’

Sarah gulped. The man looked even better in the flesh than he did in his publicity photos and in magazines... He was tall and lithely muscular, clad in a dark grey suit that added to his aura of lazy power. His dark hair was rumpled, with a hint of curl, and he was tall and lithely muscular, with an aquiline nose, a six o’ clock shadow—or perhaps better to say seven o’clock shadow—and dark blue eyes that added to his air of sheer sexiness.