CATHY WILLIAMS - The Secretary's Scandalous Secret

Realisation was beginning to dawn for Agatha. Naturally, Luc could be off target with his assumptions, but would he really ever make a mistake like that? When it came to business, his acumen was legendary. Everyone in the company reverently believed that everything he touched turned to gold; only someone blessed with an ability to make sound decisions would ever have possessed that Midas touch.

‘Question: has Dexter been asking you all sorts of questions about the company?’

Agatha twisted in her chair so that she could look at him. ‘Of course he’s been interested in what I have to say.’

‘I’ll bet.’

If only there had been a part of her that could really and truly believe that she hadn’t been used, she would have run with it. Instead, all she could volunteer feebly, was, ‘Everyone deserves a second chance. Even people who come out of prison get second chances.’

She belatedly realised how often the subject of her work had cropped up in the conversation. She had been flattered at the interest and had downplayed her role in the company. In fact, she hadn’t mentioned the broom cupboard once.

‘I think Dexter is manipulating you to access information,’ Luc told her bluntly.

‘What sort of information? This is too much. My head’s beginning to spin.’

Feeling disadvantaged on the chair, Agatha stood up and weaved a wobbly path to the kitchen so that she could pour herself a glass of water. She returned to find Luc standing by the window and idly peering out. He turned when he heard her but remained where he was, six foot two of towering alpha male with the subtlety of a sledge hammer.

Suddenly she was really angry that Luc was the one who had taken it upon himself to point her in the right direction by humiliating her and then calling it doing her a favour.

She realised how much she preferred the comfort of lusting from afar. Having her heart flutter whenever she glimpsed him at a distance had been a little inconvenient but it had never threatened her peace of mind. She could remember sitting in the snug at the vicarage, curled up with a book, half-reading it, half-pleasantly day dreaming about Luc suddenly noticing her and sweeping her off her feet. At seventeen, it had been a very nice day-dream.

A living, fire-breathing Luc with a mission to save her from herself was more than she could bear. He was just too much. She felt like a moth helplessly drawn to the blinding brightness of a fire, knowing that the nearer she got the more dangerous her situation became.

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