He’d managed to turn the tables on her.
“I mean, what’s the worst that can happen?” he said.
Hopefully something really bad. “Renouncement? Hanging?” she offered.
He only smiled. He was standing so close now that he could reach out and touch her.
Bestselling author MICHELLE CELMER lives in southeastern Michigan with her husband, their three children, two dogs and two cats. When she’s not writing or busy being a mum, you can find her in the garden or curled up with a romance novel. And if you twist her arm really hard you can usually persuade her into a day of power shopping.
Michelle loves to hear from readers. Visit her website at www.michellecelmer.com or write to her at PO Box 300, Clawson, MI 48017, USA.
To my Aunt Janet, who, besides being totally cool and tons of fun, told me my first dirty joke when I was a kid. Why does a honeymoon only last six days? I think you remember the rest …
Victoria Houghton had never been so humiliated.
Watching her father lose in a hostile takeover the hotel that had been in their family for generations had been almost more than she could bear—and now she was expected to be a personal assistant to the man who was instrumental in sealing the deal?
The Duke of Morgan Isle, Charles Frederick Mead, lounged casually behind his desk, smug and arrogant beneath the facade of a charming smile, the crisp blue of the Irish Sea a backdrop through a wall of floor-to-ceiling office windows behind him. Dressed in a suit that was no doubt custom-made, his casual stance was at odds with the undeniable air of authority he oozed from every pore.
“I was told I would be taking on a managerial position,” she told him. And along with it a generous salary and profit sharing. Or had they changed their minds about that part, too?
He leaned back and folded one leg casually atop the other. “Until the second phase of the hotel opens, there’s nothing for you to manage. And since my personal assistant recently left, you will temporarily replace her.”
He must have thought her daft if he believed she would buy that flimsy excuse. She would work in housekeeping, changing linens and scrubbing commodes, if it meant not seeing this man every day. He may have looked pleasant and easygoing, but underneath he was cold and heartless.
“So put me in the part of the hotel that’s already completed,” she said. “I’ll do anything.”
“There aren’t any openings.”
“None?”
He shook his head.
Of course there weren’t. Or so he said. To men like him, lying was as natural as breathing. And what of their financial agreement? Surely he didn’t expect to pay an assistant the exorbitant salary they had quoted in her contract? “What about my salary and profit sharing?”
He shrugged. “Nothing in the terms of your contract will change.”
Her brow perked up in surprise. What was he trying to pull?
“If you consult your attorney, he’ll confirm that we’re honoring our end of the deal,” he assured her.
According to her father, their own attorney had sold them out to get in good with the royal family, so unfortunately he wouldn’t be much help. She doubted there was a single attorney on the island who would take on the monarchy, so basically, she was screwed.
“And if I refuse?” she asked, though she already knew the answer.
“You violate the terms of your contract.”
He had no idea how tempted she was to do just that. She’d never wanted this job. But refusing it would devastate her father. The sale of his hotel—her legacy—to the royal family for their expansion project had been contingent on her being hired as a permanent manager, and at nearly twice the salary she had been making before. Not to mention incredible benefits. He wanted assurances that she would be well taken care of. And she was helpless to object.
Losing the hotel had put unneeded strain on his already weakening heart. Despite sitting on the prime resort land of the island, since the opening of the newly renovated Royal Inn hotel, occupancy in their much smaller facility had begun to drop. The way the lawyers for the royal family had begun buying up ocean-side property, both she and her father feared it would only be a matter of time before their number was up.
And they had been right.
In his fragile state, more bad news might be all it took to do him in. Since the day her mother and older brother were killed in an automobile accident, when Victoria was only five, he had been her entire life. He had sacrificed so much for her. She couldn’t let him down.
With renewed resolve, she squared her shoulders and asked, “When do you expect the second phase of the hotel to open?”
“The additions and renovations are scheduled for completion by the beginning of the next tourist season.”
The next tourist season? But that was nearly six months away! Six days would be too long to work for this man, as far as she was concerned. But what choice did she have?
Something that looked like amusement sparked in his deep, chocolate-brown eyes. Did he think this was funny?
“Is that a problem?” he asked.
She realized the duke was baiting her. He wanted her to violate the terms of her contract so he could get rid of her. He didn’t want her services any more than she wanted his charity.
Well, she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing her buckle. He may have broken her father, but there was no way he was going to break her.
She raised her chin a notch and looked him directly in the eye, so he would see that she wasn’t intimidated. “No problem.”
“Excellent.” A satisfied and, though she hated to admit it, sexy grin curled the corners of his mouth. Which she didn’t doubt was exactly what he wanted her to think.
He opened the top drawer of his desk, extracted a form of some sort, and slid it toward her. “You’ll need to sign this.”
She narrowed her eyes at him. “What is it?”
“Our standard nondisclosure agreement. Every employee of the royal family is obligated to sign one.”
Another trick? But after a quick scan of the document, she realized it was a very simple, basic agreement. And though she wouldn’t be working directly for the royal family but instead for the hotel chain they now owned, she didn’t feel it was worth arguing. Their secrets would be safe with her.
Yet, as she took the gold-plated pen he offered and signed her name, she couldn’t escape the feeling that she had just sold her soul to the devil.
She handed it back to him and he tucked it inside his desk, then he rose from his chair. Short as she was, she was used to looking up to meet people in the eye, but he towered over her. At least a foot and a half taller than her measly five foot one. And he looked so…perfect. His suit an exact fit, his nails neatly trimmed and buffed, not a strand of his closely cropped, jet-black hair out of place.
But men like him were never as perfect as they appeared. God knows she’d met her share of imperfect men. Despite his looks and money and power, he was just as flawed as the next guy. Probably more so. And being that he was an attorney, she wouldn’t trust him as far as she could throw him—which, considering their size difference, wouldn’t