Miranda Lee - The Millionaire's Mistress

‘I’m sorry, Miss Montgomery,’ he said at last.

‘I’m afraid we can’t help you. Your plan just isn’t financially feasible. It has too many variables. I really think it would be in your best interests for you and your mother to sell the house and buy something smaller with what money is left over.’

‘But I don’t want to live in anything smaller,’ Justine suddenly snapped, shock and nerves getting the better of her.

One of those straight black brows arched.

Justine gritted her teeth. She should be simpering at him, not snapping. Flirting, not flaring up. God, but it was hard to grovel.

‘My mother hasn’t been well,’ she tried explaining. ‘She’s still grieving for my father and it would break her heart to lose her home. Please,’ she pleaded, looking straight into his eyes and breaking her vow not to beg. ‘I know I can make a success of this.’

For a moment she was sure she had him—and without having to humiliate herself too much. But then he wrenched his eyes away, snapping forward on his chair.

‘I am not unsympathetic to your position, Miss Montgomery,’ he said, looking back at her. ‘If you had a steady job to back up your boarding house plan, I would have no hesitation in sanctioning this loan. But you’ve listed your occupation as a university student. What exactly are you studying?’

‘I’ve been doing a degree in Leisure Studies.’

‘Leisure Studies,’ he repeated drily.

Justine supposed it did sound a bit empty.

‘I’m specialising in Tourism Management,’ she elaborated. ‘It’s much more complicated than it sounds. And should lead to a well-paid job. Eventually.’

‘And how long have you to go?’

‘I’ve...um...just finished my first year.’

‘Only your first year? Yet your application form says you’re twenty-one—twenty-two next month. What did you do when you left school? Travel?’

‘No. I...er...failed my first year a couple of times.’

‘I see,’ was his dry remark.

‘No, you don’t,’ she defended sharply. ‘I’m not dumb, Mr Hampton. I just didn’t apply myself properly. I was too busy having fun. But I can do anything, once I apply myself.’

‘Anything, Miss Montgomery?’ he mocked.

Justine bristled. ‘Well, almost anything,’ she snapped. ‘I doubt I could be a brain surgeon. But running a boarding house shouldn’t be beyond me. My mother would help.’

‘I thought you said your mother hadn’t been well.’

‘She’s not physically sick. It’s more of an emotional problem, one which would be solved if she could stay in her home.’

Justine waited for him to say something but he didn’t. My God, for a supposedly inveterate womaniser, he wasn’t making this easy for her. Maybe he enjoyed watching women grovel. Maybe he got a kick out of reducing them to pathetic pawns in his sick little power game.

She swallowed, pushed the remnants of her pride to the back of her mind, then took the plunge. ‘I’ll try to get a job, Mr Hampton. I will do anything you want. Anything,’ she repeated, making strong eye contact and promising him all sort of things with her eyes and her softly parted lips.

Once again he said nothing, although he did stare at those lips. Justine’s stomach tightened, her mouth drying in the face of his unnerving silence.

‘If you give me this loan, Mr Hampton.’ she added shakily, ‘you will have my undying gratitude.’

‘But I don’t want your gratitude, Miss Montgomery,’ he said quite coldly.

Justine felt her face flame into embarrassed heat as those hard black eyes looked her over. Never before had she felt so small, or so irritatingly lacking in confidence. Confusion reigned supreme. Her heart was racing, her stomach turning over and over.

‘Then what is it you want?’ she threw at him in her fluster.

Let him be the one to belittle himself now, Justine thought raggedly. Let him say it out loud, show the world what sort of man he really was, not this coolly controlled customer who looked as if he’d never put a foot wrong in his life!

Then she was going to get up and walk out. She might even report him to his boss. What was his name? Osborne. Marcus Osborne. Yes, she’d go and tell Mr Marcus Osborne the kind of man he had in his employ!

‘I want you to go home and convince your mother to sell the house,’ he shocked her by saying in a harsh tone. ‘Then I want you to go and get yourself a proper job. But, most of all, I want you to stop playing provocative and potentially dangerous games. You think I don’t know what you were getting at just now, Miss Montgomery? You’re not the first beautiful young woman to tempt me. And I dare say you won’t be the last!

‘There is no quick and easy way in life, Justine,’ he lectured on while her mouth dropped open. ‘Not if you’re a decent human being with values and standards. Don’t go down your father’s path. You’re far too young and far too beautiful to sell yourself so cheaply.’

Justine went bright, bright red. Embarrassed beyond belief, she grabbed her bag and jumped to her feet. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about. If you don’t want to give me the loan, then just say so. There’s no need to insult me.’

‘Very well. I’m not going to give you the loan.’

‘Fine. Then I’ll get the money some other way!’

Marcus watched her whirl round and flounce out. He almost called her back, almost told her that he’d changed his mind and the loan was hers.

But of course that was impossible now. He’d done his dash in more ways than one. But by God, there’d been a moment there, a deliciously dark moment, when he’d almost taken her up on her none too subtle offer.

Just think, Marcus, he mocked himself. You could have been taking her out tonight if you’d played your cards right. Taking her out, then taking her back home, to bed, maybe for the whole weekend.

And what did you do?

You wimped out.

He muttered an expletive under his breath.

Now all he had to look forward to this weekend was Felix’s fiftieth birthday party.

He hated parties these days, but sometimes he just had to get out of the house—that bloody awful house which he’d bought for Stephany and which she’d graced for less than twelve months. He’d sell the darned thing if it wasn’t such a good investment.

Marcus scowled at himself anew. Is that all you think about, Marcus? Good investments? Returns on your money? There’s more to life than money, you know.

Or so his beloved wife had thrown at him the day he’d thrown her out.

Which was ironic, because she’d certainly needed plenty of cold hard cash to support the lifestyle she’d grown accustomed to. Women like her always did.

His mind turned to Justine Montgomery once more. He’d felt sorry for her there for a while. Her father might have been a rotter but he’d still been her father. It must have been pretty terrible to have him not only die, but to die in debt and disgrace.

Any sympathy had been dashed, however, when she’d said she had no intention of moving to a smaller house. Not for girls like her a simpler life, or a simpler house. Heaven forbid!

Her boarding house plan was laughable. Did she have any idea how much work would be involved in running such an operation? Did she think she could manage to do it on the side whilst continuing her degree in Leisure Studies?

Her choice of degree was deliciously ironic as well. Girls like Justine Montgomery made an art form of ‘leisure’. They didn’t have to study the subject. It came naturally to them. As did bartering their bodies for betterment of their circumstances, although mostly it was an advantageous marriage on their minds, not a miserable loan.

Why, you’re a cynic, Marcus, came the none too surprising self-realisation. Not to mention a selfrighteous holier-than-thou bore. Even with her tarnished soul, Justine Montgomery has more life and fun in her little finger than you have in your whole body.