Susan Napier - In Bed With The Boss

www.millsandboon.co.uk

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

‘WHAT in the hell is this?’

In spite of the fact that she had been conducting a mental countdown, Kalera Martin still jumped as the door to the adjoining office crashed back against the wall, sending a concussive shock vibrating around the room.

She sat straight in her swivel chair, her hands involuntarily pressing down on the stack of folders which she was in the process of sorting into neat piles on her orderly desk.

The man standing in the doorway waving a sheet of paper in his clenched fist looked anything but orderly. The expensive, custom-made clothes could not subdue the sheer physicality of his adrenaline-charged personality. Even in an uncharacteristically conservative pinpoint oxford shirt, navy trousers, dark blue silk tie and navy braces, Duncan Royal managed to look more like a menacing street thug than the owner of a multi-million-dollar high-tech company. He was intimidatingly tall and broad and, when the brilliance of his argument failed to get him his own way, was not above shamelessly using his impressive size as an added negotiating tool, browbeating stubborn opponents into changing their minds in order to stay on his good side.

Right now his good side was nowhere in evidence. The killer good looks were marred by a fierce scowl, the jet-black hair which was usually raked sleekly back behind his ears tumbled across his thunderous brow, outrage pouring off him in aggressive waves as he glared across the room at the slender, dainty woman behind the desk.

On the off chance that he hadn’t yet reached the bottom of his morning mail Kalera raised her finely arched eyebrows in cautious enquiry.

‘I don’t know—what is it?’ she asked in the deep, husky voice that always surprised people, coming as it did from such a small frame.

‘You tell me!’ he snarled, storming over to throw the offending paper down in front of her with a furious flick of his powerful wrist.

Kalera caught the page before it wafted to the floor and smoothed it out with fingers that she was relieved to note didn’t tremble at all.

‘Well?’ He loomed over her accusingly.

She cleared her throat and looked up, her cool grey eyes clashing with his incendiary gaze.

‘It’s my letter of resignation—’

He made a harsh, growling sound in the back of his throat. ‘I know what it is—’

‘Well, then, why did you ask?’ she dared to ask mildly. ‘I would have thought it was self-explanatory.’

She held the letter out to him but he ignored it, bending abruptly to plant his lean, manicured hands flat on the edge of her desk, thrusting his face towards her, giving her a close-up view of the shock, rage and disbelief seething in the midnight-blue eyes.

‘Then you thought wrong!’

Kalera watched, fascinated, as the small nerve which fluttered at the corner of his narrow mouth was compressed by the clenching of muscles along his rigid jaw. She felt pummelled by the force of his concentrated psychic energy.

This was a first.

In the three years that she had worked at Labyrinth Technology as his secretary Kalera had frequently witnessed Duncan Royal explode, but she had never been the direct target of one of his infamous fiery tantrums.

Perhaps it was because her delicate build made him overtly aware of his own vastly superior size and strength, or perhaps it was the dampening effect of her cool serenity in the face of emotional scenes, but on the rare occasions that Kalera had slipped up and given him just cause to display his volatile temperament he had chosen to vent his spleen on the inanimate objects around him rather than on her remorseful blonde head.

To her certain knowledge this transference of his hostility had so far cost the company a pot plant, a cell-phone, two coffee cups, a pen-holder and a terse lecture from a fire safety officer after Duncan had dramatically set fire to one of Kalera’s memos, causing a minor conflagration in his waste-paper basket which set off the smoke alarms and led to the evacuation of the entire building.

‘Well?’

He lunged closer, his eyes snapping with impatience, and Kalera leaned back in her chair in a vain attempt to distance herself from his angry aura. ‘Uh…which part don’t you understand?’ she murmured, wincing inwardly at the lame response. It bore no resemblance to the crisp, assertive statements which she had rehearsed in front of her mirror that morning. She hated scenes and had been hoping that her carefully worded letter would soothe rather than inflame, diplomatically preparing the way for her more daunting confession.

Alas, her temperamental boss thrived on confrontations. Full and forceful frankness was his preferred operating style and a civilised conversation was clearly not on this morning’s agenda.

‘Every damned part! The whole thing is incomprehensible!’ Duncan Royal was used to understanding instantly complex equations, concepts and problems, both real and abstract. The brilliance of his intellect usually put him in control of his environment. He didn’t like being reduced to common human bewilderment.

Kalera screwed up her courage. ‘Well, I—’

‘Two paragraphs!’ he interrupted, his deep, rasping voice fierce with indignation as his big shoulders shifted and he stabbed at the offending letter with a vicious forefinger. ‘Damn you, Kalera, after all this time is that all you consider I deserve? Two measly paragraphs to tell me that one of my most trusted employees is walking out on me!’

Kalera nervously tucked a stray strand of sun-streaked blonde hair back into the smooth sweep of the elegant French roll she wore to work. Her narrow oval face, which Harry had been fond of telling her reminded him of that of a Madonna in a medieval painting—smooth, serene, mysterious—revealed nothing of her clammy apprehension.

She knew how much personal loyalty meant to Duncan Royal; it was the rock on which he had founded his enormous success. The computer industry was a cut-throat business in which paranoia ran rife. Duncan had made a fortune out of developing software products that caught larger competitors napping and an essential part of his strategy was to personally hand-pick his employees—right down to the office cleaners! Nothing was contracted out, except to other branches of his business. As a result he had gathered around him a group of extremely dedicated and ambitious men and women who were richly rewarded for their total commitment to their brilliant but eccentric leader.

Prepared as she had been for an objection to her decision to resign, Kalera was taken aback by the violence of Duncan’s reaction. She knew that she was good at her job because he was as quick to praise as he was to anger, but she was hardly irreplaceable. It wasn’t as if she was one of his resident computer geniuses, or in any way unique in her organisational skills; she was simply a useful cog in his administrative machine.

Surely he couldn’t already know…?

‘You make it sound as if I’m quitting without notice,’ she protested. ‘But I’m not leaving you in the lurch—I did say I’m quite happy to work out the four weeks stated in my contract—’

‘Damn your contract; you know that’s not what I’m talking about!’ he thundered.