Miranda Lee - The Millionaire's Mistress

Up till today, Justine’s mother had simply refused to face what her husband had done, both in life and in death. She’d gone along blithely pretending that everything would come out right in the end if she buried her head in the sand long enough.

Justine watched now as she struggled to accept reality. Unfortunately, her mother’s ingrained habit of ignoring unpalatable facts was simply too strong.

Instead of facing their situation, she became stroppy. ‘Part with your grandmother’s legacy? Absolutely not! I won’t hear of it! I...I’ll go down to the bank manager myself tomorrow and explain. I’m sure he can wait till we both get jobs and can repay your father’s debts.’

Justine could not believe her mother’s naïvety! Who on earth was going to employ a fifty-seven-year-old woman who’d never worked in her life? Her own prospects weren’t much better!

‘Mum, neither of us have skills to offer an employer,’ she explained patiently. ‘I’d have some chance because I’m younger. But nothing fancy. Even if I was lucky enough to get a job in a boutique or a supermarket, my salary would not even touch the sides of the loan repayments. Our only chance is to run a business. We have five spare bedrooms in this house if we share this one. Daddy’s study could be made into a bedroom as well, since it has a very comfy convertible sofa. The university is just down the road. We could bring in good money by renting all six rooms to students who want full board.’

‘But who would do all the cooking and cleaning? You let Gladys and June go last week.’

‘We’ll have to do it together, Mum. We can’t afford a cook. Or a cleaner. Or a gardener, for that matter.’

‘Oh, no, not Tom too,’ Adelaide protested.

‘Yes, Tom too. We just don’t have enough money to pay him. Fact is, Mum, we don’t have any money left at all. The electricity bill came in this week, and the phone bill is still unpaid since before Christmas. They’re threatening to cut us off by the end of the week. We’re going to have to sell a few things today to pay those bills and buy some food. Some personal things we don’t really need.’

Adelaide’s head jerked up, her eyes pained. ‘Not my mother’s jewellery!’

Justine sighed and stood up. ‘It might come to that eventually, but, no, we’ll hang on to Grandma’s jewellery for a while. We wouldn’t get a fraction of what it’s worth, anyway. I was thinking of taking a car-load of clothes down to that second-hand clothing store which specialises in designer labels. Just our evening dresses to begin with,’ she added when her mother looked appalled. ‘I doubt we’ll be getting invited to too many dinner parties or fancy dos in future.’

‘What about Felix’s birthday party?’ her mother challenged with a burst of petulance. ‘I’ll have you know that that invitation said “black tie”. What are we going to wear if we sell all our evening clothes?’

‘Very well, we’ll keep a couple of evening dresses each,’ Justine compromised. ‘But we’ll have to sell some day wear instead. Shoes and bags included. Do you want me to go through your wardrobe and sort something out, or will you?’

Adelaide began shaking her head from side to side. ‘This is terrible. Whatever is to become of us?’

‘Nothing too terrible, if I can sell my boarding house plan to the man I’m going to see this Friday morning.’

Adelaide glanced up with that blankly childlike expression which made you want to protect her. ‘Man? What man?’

‘A man in a bank. Not the bank who’s threatening to sell us up. One of those merchant banks which specialises in low-interest business loans. Trudy’s given me the name of a loans officer there whom she knows personally. It seems he’s simpatico to damsels in distress.’

Actually, Trudy hadn’t put it quite like that.

‘Wade has an insatiable appetite for women,’ she’d said. ‘He’ll do anything to get his leg over. I was at a New Year’s Eve party the other week and he boasted to me of the loans he’d granted last year in exchange for some slap and tickle. I think he was trying to impress me with his boldness. Didn’t do a bad job, either. Given his penchant for female flesh, you’d be sure to qualify for one of his loans.’

‘I’m not that desperate, Trudy,’ Justine had said, shuddering at the thought of giving sex for a loan. That was no better than prostitution!

‘No one’s suggesting you have to actually come across, Jussie. Of course I might, just for the hell of it,’ Trudy had added with an impish grin. ‘Wade is a handsome devil. But I can understand that a girl like you, who’s waiting for true love to strike, would not even consider such an outrageous idea!

‘So just smile and flirt and flatter the sexy scoundrel. And give him the impression that he’ll be amply rewarded if he sanctions your loan. With that face and figure of yours he’ll be drooling at the mouth, his brains firmly in his pants as he puts pen to paper.’

‘But what will happen when I don’t deliver?’ Justine had pointed out.

‘Oh, he’ll be seriously peeved. No doubt about that. But he can hardly go to his boss and complain, can he? Believe me when I say that the head of that particular bank would not take kindly to one of his employees using his position to rubber-stamp loans in exchange for sexual favours. I’ve met Marcus Osborne. Father’s had him over to the house on a couple of occasions. He’s a formidable man at the best of times. Ruthlessly ambitious but straight as a die. If he ever finds out what Wade is up to, poor Wade will be out on his ear.’

And well deservedly, Justine had thought at the time. She still did. But she also saw she had no alternative but to keep her appointment with the lecherous Wade or let the house be sold. All Justine’s other banking options had finally run out. After a myriad of phone calls, only one other loans officer had consented to see her during the past week, and he’d actually laughed at her idea.

The memory of that laughter hardened Justine’s resolve. Come ten o’clock tomorrow morning, she was going to sashay into Wade Hampton’s office, ready to do anything to achieve her goal and save her family home. If she had to humiliate herself a little, then she would. If she had to surrender some of her infernal pride, then too bad. If she had to beg, then...

No-no, she would not beg. That was going too far.

So was actually sleeping with the man. Good Lord! The very idea!

‘What are you going to wear?’ her mother asked.

‘What?’

‘For your appointment with this man in the bank. What are you going to wear?’

‘I’m not sure. I haven’t thought about it yet.’

‘Then perhaps you should, before you sell off all your decent clothes.’

The word ‘decent’ struck a certain irony with Justine. Decent was not the look she would be striving for tomorrow, not if she wanted Wade Hampton’s brains to be addled from the moment she walked into his office. She needed to wear something very bright, very tight and very sexy.

A certain lime-green dress popped into her mind. She’d bought it whilst shopping with Trudy—always a mistake. Trudy was a bad influence at the best of times. Admittedly, the girl did have an infallible taste for the kind of clothes which made men sit up and take notice.

This particular dress was made of a double knit material which clung like Howard Barthgate. It had a modest enough neckline but was appallingly short, the tight, straight skirt curving provocatively around her derrière. Justine had only worn it once, to lectures late last year. When she’d sat down and crossed her long tanned legs to one side of her cramped desk, the poor professor’s eyes had nearly popped out of his head.