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

“So now it’s just you and me.” Miranda sighed as she sat down. “Okay, explain to me why I should pay another cent to sort out your friend’s problems. Hasn’t he got family of his own?”

Adrian turned a dull red that clashed with his freckles. “It’s not for a friend. It’s for me.”

“A new pair of shoes?” she asked snippily. “You know I’m saving. Can’t this wait?”

“No.” He looked down at his plate for long seconds. When he looked up, Miranda was shocked at the desperation in his expression. “I’m in trouble.”

All her worst fears crowded in. “Tell me.”

“Last Monday night—”

“When you went out with your friends?”

He nodded. “I borrowed a car from work, but I crashed it—hit a concrete pillar in a basement parking lot as we were leaving a club.”

Horror filled her. “Everyone was okay?” The pounding of her heart slowed at his nod, and relief seeped through her, turning her limbs weak. No one had been hurt…or worse. “Were you drunk?”

“No.” He looked shaken. “I never drink and drive.”

She relaxed enough to fork a mouthful of food into her mouth. “So get the car fixed.”

“I’ve already had it repaired—and borrowed money from my friends to pay for it. But the amount was more than the original quote—that’s why I need more money. And they’re pressing me to repay them.”

I don’t have any more money. Not for this. Miranda bit back her wail of despair, as the extent of his deceit struck her. “You lied to me.”

“I didn’t want you to know.” Even his neck was red now. “I’m sorry.”

She restrained herself from asking what else he’d held back from her, and pondered on the fix he was in. “Wait, you shouldn’t be paying—the car belongs to Ironstone. It will be insured. Just fill out an incident report and let Ironstone handle the claim.”

“I can’t.” He looked utterly wretched. “I wasn’t supposed to have the car out after work hours. There might be criminal charges for theft if anyone at Ironstone finds out.”

“Theft?” She stared at him in alarm.

“Yes, for taking the car without the owner’s consent.” He suddenly looked very young, reminding her that he’d only recently finished school and was little more than a schoolboy. “I’m really sorry, sis.”

Miranda knew exactly how Callum would react if he found out—and being sorry wouldn’t help. He’d have Adrian arrested, and prosecute him to the full extent of the law. Look what he’d done to their father.

She couldn’t let that happen again.

“I’ll get you the money today.” She thought with regret about the fantasy of her own catering business, then dismissed it. Adrian was more important.

But maybe if she explained it all to Callum he might understand. There was a chance. Today was her day off, and Callum had said he was flying out this afternoon.

If she hurried she could see him before he left.

“It won’t happen again.” Adrian’s promise got her attention.

“Better not,” she growled. “Now eat your breakfast.”

“I’m not hungry.” He pushed back his chair and picked up the plate, crossing to the sink. “I’m going to work.”

This time Miranda arrived at the Ironstone Insurance building without the benefit of being expected, and the receptionist wasn’t nearly as friendly.

“Mr. Ironstone is busy,” she said.

“I only need five minutes.” Miranda had to speak to Callum before he left for New York. Had to make him see that Adrian was a good boy, that he’d made a mistake in taking the car—and that all the damage would be paid for.

Because the alternative was unthinkable. Prison. She couldn’t let this ruin her brother’s life. Miranda shuddered as memories plagued her. Her father had been arrested…and then he’d been dead. So final. It wasn’t going to happen to Adrian.

“Mr. Ironstone is not available.”

“I know, Callum’s going to New York—he told me. I presume he’s in that meeting,” she tacked on, trying to sound as though she was privy to his every plan.

The receptionist shot an indecisive look in the direction of a closed door leading off the reception area before turning her attention back and giving Miranda a curious look.

Just then the door cracked open. “Biddy, can you make four copies of this report, please?”

The receptionist came round the counter, and Miranda saw her chance. “Callum,” she called out.

He looked up, and his eyes crinkled into a smile. “Miranda, what are you doing here?”

“I have to talk to you. In private,” she added urgently as she glanced past him into the occupied boardroom.

“I’ll be with you in a minute.” He rapidly made excuses to his board members and ushered her along the corridor into his office.

“You’ve changed your mind?” he asked, closing the door. His eyes were warmer than she’d ever imagined the color blue could be.

Changed her mind? She blinked at him as she settled into the soft sofa beneath the bookshelves. Oh, the date! He thought she was here because she’d decided to accept?

“No—”

Help. He was moving closer, seating himself beside her. The heat that she’d sworn she would not allow herself to feel swamped her anew. His fingers closed on her upper arms. For a moment she was so incredibly tempted just to give in, to let him kiss her. But she couldn’t.

“Uh…I wanted to talk about…”

He bent his head. That smiling mouth held her entranced. In a second it would land on hers.

“No!” She ducked away to the far end of the sofa. “You can’t kiss me. You’re going to marry Petra.” She gabbled the first thing that came into her head.

He blinked. “I am?”

“You bought her a ring.” He must’ve spent a fortune on it. That meant he had to be serious.

The powerful surge of adrenaline ebbed, and her brains unscrambled. Petra’s father was an important figure in his life now that Gordon Harris held so much stock in Ironstone. That’s why men like Callum married.

Not for love. Or even desire.

But for cold, sound financial reasons.

And Petra would accept with alacrity. Callum was a catch. An Ironstone. Not everyone held the view of him Miranda did.

In her mind she replayed that disaster on Saturday night when she’d ended up sprawled over his kitchen counter, and later in his bed. All evening she’d been conscious of his gaze following her, setting her body aflame. Even while he’d listened to Petra, talked to her father, been ribbed by his brothers…the whole time he’d been watching her.

All his brothers had been there. To meet Gordon, he’d told her here in this very office. A celebration.

Celebration…

Of what? She’d thought he’d been referring to the merger. Had it been something else entirely?

“Those two guests you told me couldn’t make it because of the snowstorm up north. They were your parents, weren’t they?”

“Well…yes.”

Her suspicions crystallized into certainty. “You were going to announce your engagement.”

The utter silence told Miranda she was right.

“But you didn’t announce it…because you didn’t get around to proposing to her,” she said, following her line of thought through to the natural conclusion. “And you slept with me instead.” Miranda tilted her head. “Have you broken up with her?”

He stretched. “Miranda—”

Callum hadn’t broken off whatever relationship he had going with Petra. For some reason he’d simply decided he wanted her.

“Miranda, wait—”

He was despicable. She shifted farther into the corner of the couch. “Yes or no?”

He shook his head.