Breaking the Boss’s Rules. Nina Milne

Her slim shoulders lifted in a shrug and her eyes sparked. ‘If you must know Graham rang me yesterday, and he was really vindictive. Not only about you but about Peter too—and that’s not fair. It’s not as though Peter sacked him. And even you offered him a reduced salary.’

      ‘You told me yourself about his mortgage and his wife; you can’t blame him for accepting a more lucrative offer and now being loyal to Ivan.’

      ‘I can blame whoever I like for whatever I like.’

      Joe blinked at the sheer vehemence of her tone.

      ‘Anyway,’ she went on, ‘Ivan is an out-and-out toad.’ The description brought a small quirk to his lips until she said, ‘And you aren’t going to let him buy out Langley, are you?’

      Damn. He’d hoped she’d forgotten that, but maybe this was why she was on the warpath.

      ‘That’s not something I can discuss with you.’

      ‘But … you can’t be seriously thinking about it. It would kill Harry off.’

      ‘If a buy-out is offered I have to consider it.’

      She opened her mouth as if to argue but inhaled deeply instead. ‘OK. Fine. Clearly you don’t have a better nature to appeal to, so tell me what I can do to help avert a buy-out.’ Her fingers encircled the plastic table’s edge and her nose wrinkled in distaste. ‘Because I’d rather starve in a ditch than work for Ivan.’

      He could hardly blame her; a sudden wave of aversion washed over him at the very thought. Irritation with himself clenched his jaw. If the buy-out was best for Langley that was the road he’d take. Full stop.

      ‘That will be your choice. My decision will be based on what’s best for Langley as a business.’

      Eyes narrowed, she tapped a foot on the carriage floor. ‘If we win this Paris project will that make Langley safe from Ivan?’

      ‘Depends on the full extent of the project. But, yes, it would help.’

      ‘So you’re fully on board with going all out to win it? You haven’t already decided that the buy-out is the way to go?’

      Joe resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Why didn’t she get that the decision was nothing to do with her?

      ‘Can we drop the subject of the buy-out and concentrate on winning the Richard Harvey project? What else can you tell me about Richard and this meeting that will help our pitch? Is he bringing wife number seven?’

      ‘Yes. I’ve told you her name is Crystal—and obviously don’t make a big deal of her being number seven.’

      Joe snorted. ‘Well, gee, Imogen—thanks for the advice. My plan was to ask for a rundown of each and every wife along with a view of the wedding albums.’ He gusted out a sigh. ‘I’ll happily avoid the entire topic of marriage.’

      Imogen shook her head. ‘Richard likes talking about marriage. Like I said, he’s incurably romantic—which I suppose is why he’s bought a place in Paris. As far as he is concerned he has finally fulfilled his dream—he’s found The One. So probably best not to share your “dreams should be abandoned” theory.’ Her eyes narrowed. ‘Even if I’m beginning to wonder if you’re right.’

      ‘Me? Right? Wonders will never cease.’ Curiosity won out over common sense. ‘What brought that on?’

      Opening her mouth as if to answer, her gaze skittered away as she clearly thought better of it and shook her head. ‘You know, the daft dreams we have when we are young. I once thought I’d become an artist—had some stupid vision of myself in smock and beret, sketching on the streets of Paris or attending the Royal Academy, studying the masters in Italy, exhibiting in Rome—’ She broke off. ‘Absurd.’

      Yet the look in her eyes, the vibrant depth of her tone, showed him that the dream had been real.

      Lord knew he could empathise with giving up a dream. For a second he was transported back to a time when the world had truly been his oyster. He could smell the sea spray, taste the tang of salt in his mouth, feel the thump of exhilaration as he rode a wave. The incredible freedom, the knowledge that he would win the championships, would get sponsored, would …

      Would end up dealing with bereavement, loss and responsibility.

      Whoa. There was no point going there, and guilt pronged his chest because he had. The decisions he had made back then had been the right ones and he had no regrets about making them. His sisters had needed him and nothing else had mattered. Then or now.

      Shaking off the past, Joe focused on Imogen—on the dark tendrils of hair that had escaped her ponytail and now framed her oval face. On the blue-grey of her eyes, the straight, pert nose and lush, full lips.

      ‘So what happened to those dreams?’ he asked quietly. Had they crashed and burned like his?

      Picking up her cup, she rested her gaze on his mouth. ‘Common sense prevailed. Bills need to be paid … security needs to be ensured. Starving in a garret sounds very romantic, but in real life I like my food too much. So I ended up opting for a PA role. I’m more than happy with that.’