Leigh Michaels - Taken by the Boss - His Very Personal Assistant / In the Banker's Bed / The Takeover Bid

‘Would you leave us for a few minutes, Lewis?’ Marcus instructed.

This was awful. Kit’s worst nightmare. But how could she have known—how could she have guessed? Catherine Grainger hadn’t said anything about Marcus being her next appointment, and Kit hadn’t had any idea about whom he was going to meet today.

Which was curious in itself…

Of course, as Marcus’s PA normally she dealt with all his appointments, had never known him to make his own arrangements like this before—with Catherine Grainger, of all people.

‘Of course,’ Lewis agreed, a little flustered, shooting Kit a questioning glance before moving away to stand over by the glass front doors of the building.

Marcus grasped hold of Kit’s arm and pulled her away from the lifts and round the corner of the reception area, away from the curious eyes of both Lewis and the receptionist.

He released her from his grasp. ‘Well?’ he demanded forcefully, blue eyes boring into hers.

She swallowed hard. ‘I—I—’

‘You lied to me, Kit,’ he said quietly, that nerve pulsing angrily in the rigid line of his tightly clenched jaw.

Her eyes widened in dismay as she realised what he must think: having found her here, he’d concluded that she must be passing on information to Catherine Grainger about his business transactions.

And who could blame him for thinking that? She was here. Clearly on her way down from Catherine’s office. What other possible conclusion could Marcus come to but this?

Even so, she had to at least try to defend herself.

‘No, Marcus, I didn’t—’

‘Oh, yes,’ he interrupted, ‘you did. Why, Kit? That’s what I don’t understand.’ His expression was bleak. ‘What did I ever do to you to make you do such a thing to me? Or are you just paying me back for the way Mike Reynolds behaved towards you—’ he looked at her searchingly ‘—on the premise that all bosses are bastards?’

‘But they aren’t! You aren’t!’ Kit told him desperately. ‘Marcus, you can’t really believe I would behave like that? Do something so vicious?’ She looked at him pleadingly, tears swimming in the smoky depths of her eyes.

‘I don’t know what to think any more,’ he admitted, running an agitated hand through the dark thickness of his hair. ‘And I really don’t have the time to discuss this just now, either,’ he said after a glance at his wristwatch. ‘But we will discuss it later, Kit. At length, in fact.’

Kit was sure that they would. But admitting to him now that Catherine Grainger was her grandmother wasn’t likely to convince him that she wasn’t his disloyal employee, now was it?

What a mess. A complete, unmitigated mess!

She looked at the floor. ‘Maybe it would be better if I just went back to the office, packed up my things, and left…?’ She really didn’t want to do that, but in the circumstances she couldn’t see what option she had.

‘Oh, no, Kit,’ Marcus assured her. ‘You don’t get away that easily. I want to know the who, what, when, where and why—most of all why!’

And she didn’t have answers to any of those questions!

‘I have to go,’ Marcus announced after another glance at his watch. ‘But I shouldn’t be too long,’ he warned. ‘In fact, I’m no longer sure this meeting is even necessary.’

Kit gave him a questioning look, a look he totally ignored as he walked away to join Lewis, the expression on his face more than indicative of his mood.

And who could blame him? Kit thought sadly.

Lewis shot her another enquiring glance as she walked past the two men on their way to the lift, but it was one Kit chose to ignore, looking neither left nor right as she walked across the lobby, her head held high. Even though tears threatened to fall at any moment.

Her meeting with Catherine Grainger, in order to tell her of her mother’s illness, had been a complete waste of time. Walking straight into Marcus on her way out had been nothing short of a disaster.

She had never felt so totally miserable in her life before, felt sure that Marcus, when he did return to the office, would demand answers, and when he got none would tell her to leave and never come back.

What other choice did he have? She looked guilty. Her behaviour appeared guilty. The fact that she wasn’t was totally irrelevant.

Except… if she wasn’t the one guilty of betraying Marcus, then who was?

‘I thought I told you to stay at the office!’ Marcus barked as soon as Kit opened her apartment door to him later that afternoon.

She knew exactly what he had said, appreciated why he had said it, but there was no way, having returned to the office, that she had been able to just sit there and wait for him to come back and sack her. So she had packed the few personal things she had about her office, left her set of keys on Marcus’s desk, and made her weary way home.

She had known, after what he’d said earlier, that Marcus wouldn’t let her get away that easily. But she’d decided that she would rather their confrontation took place on her home ground rather than in the formality of Marcus’s office.

At least if he dismissed her here he couldn’t actually have her thrown out of the building!

‘I know what you told me, Marcus.’ Blow ‘Mr Maitland’, she decided heavily. ‘But I could see little point in my remaining there.’

Waiting for him to fire her!

‘What’s in the box?’ she prompted as she noted the flat cardboard box he had beneath one arm.

‘The rest of your things,’ he stated flatly. ‘Nothing of any importance. Aren’t you going to invite me inside, Kit?’

She sighed, her hand clinging tightly to the door. ‘Is there any point in my doing that?’

‘Every point.’ He gave a terse inclination of his head. ‘Unless you want to have this conversation overheard by some of your neighbours?’

She would rather not be having this conversation at all, but, as she had known when she had left the office so precipitously that Marcus wouldn’t just leave things as they were, it was a conversation she had been expecting to happen.

Even though she was no more prepared for it now than she had been earlier!

‘Yes, do come in.’ She stepped back to let him pass, almost able to feel the chill he emanated as he swept past her into the sitting-room beyond.

Kit followed more slowly. In order to put off the dreaded moment? There was little point in doing that. Reluctance to hear all the verbal abuse she was sure Marcus was going to rain down on her head? Possibly, she allowed. But mostly it was because she couldn’t bear that look of contempt in his eyes now when he looked at her.

The cardboard box he had carried in now sat recriminatingly in the middle of the coffee table that stood in front of the sofa. Marcus looked tall and imposing as he stood in front of the unlit fireplace.

Unable to look at the accusation in his face any longer, Kit moved to pick up the box, opening its lid, the tears welling up as she looked at its contents: the fluffy yellow toy chick that had resided on top of her computer screen, her collection of pens—including the pot she kept them in!—that had stood on top of her desk, and lastly the card that had accompanied some flowers Marcus had sent to her a couple of months ago after he had concluded a very successful business deal, claiming her hard work had contributed immensely to that success. ‘With many thanks, Marcus Maitland’, the card read—as if she knew anyone else called Marcus, anyway!

‘Nothing of any importance,’ he had commented about the contents of the box. And perhaps to him that card wasn’t important, just a thank you to an employee for a job well done, but Kit had kept it for secret sentimental reasons: it was something that Marcus had sent to her.