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“Oh, thank you,” Alan said with a smile and a wink, immediately reaching for the card. “I can’t imagine who—”
“Oh no, Mr. Barrington,” the receptionist said with a giggle. “They’re for Miss Cannon.”
“For me?” Grace exclaimed in shock.
“For you?” Alan said with equal shock. “What…who?”
Drawing the card from the envelope, Grace silently read a single line written in a rough, sharp hand.
“Last night you dazzled me like the sun in winter. Waiting outside now for the bright burn of dawn—M.”
Happiness soared through Grace.
She hadn’t made a fool of herself after all! Maksim hadn’t been disgusted with her for being a virgin! He’d just sent her away in the taxi because…
Because he wanted more than just a one-night stand? Because he was trying to protect her and take things slow?
It was the only possible reason.
And he already wanted to see her again! She suddenly felt like tap-dancing beneath her desk.
She closed her eyes and inhaled the heady scent of lilies. Maksim thought she was worth such extravagant beauty.
And for the first time in forever so did she.
“Well?” the receptionist asked slyly. “Who’s the prince charming, Grace?”
“Yes,” Alan demanded. “Who?”
She looked up at her boss and saw him with utterly new eyes. She’d suddenly had enough. Straightening in her chair, she gave a dismissive laugh.
“For heaven’s sake, Alan, I’m your secretary, not your wife. Why do you care who sends me flowers?”
“I don’t,” he stammered, clearly surprised. “I just want to make sure that you devote the proper time and energy to your work.”
“You mean the time I’ve spent buying gifts for your various girlfriends?” she said coolly. “Or do you mean the time I’ve worked for you around the clock without pay?”
The receptionist gasped a laugh. At Alan’s dirty look, she gulped and scurried away.
He looked back at Grace. “Look here, Gracie…”
She leaned her elbows against her desk. “Or maybe you mean the times I’ve asked you for a pay raise.” She thrummed her pen thoughtfully against her cheek. “All the times you put me off and said we’d talk about it later. When I was promoted to your executive assistant. When I moved to London with you.”
He swallowed, licking his lips as he attempted a weak smile. “You know how valuable you are to me—how much I need you!”
“I’m afraid that’s not good enough.”
He leaned over her desk. “Is this because of Francesca? Because you don’t need to feel jealous,” he whispered urgently. “Our engagement isn’t real.”
“You bought her lingerie!” she gasped.
He gave a bitter laugh. “I thought it was real. She set me straight last night when I suggested an elopement. That’s why I asked if you’d started the wedding plans yet—you don’t need to bother. She only agreed to a fake engagement to make some other man jealous. She has no interest in marrying me—or sleeping with me either.” He clenched his jaw. “But as long as I play along with her, she’ll make sure her father doesn’t know, and the merger will still go through.”
Francesca was trying to make some other man jealous?
Grace suddenly feared she knew who that man might be. And she didn’t like it one bit.
“So don’t give up on me.” Alan gave her his old charming, Hugh Grant smile. “In a few months, it will all be over. Things can go back to how they were. Just be patient. I’m asking you, Grace. Wait for me.”
Looking into his smiling eyes, Grace sucked in her breath.
Oh my God.
He’d known.
All this time she’d thought he was clueless about her feelings. But he’d known about her crush all along. He’d used her own feelings against her. Used her for free work. Used her for a nice ego boost or a snog when it suited him.
“Well? What do you say?”
“I’m sorry,” she said evenly.
And she was. Sorry that she’d given him all her time and energy. Sorry she’d thrown away better opportunities with both hands, while pretending he was the solution to all her problems!
With a sympathetic smile, he leaned against her desk. “Sorry you have to wait?”
“I’m sorry, but things have to change.” She slowly rose from her desk. “I’m dating someone else. And if you want me to remain your secretary, it’s going to cost you.”
He gaped at her. “Where else would you go?”
“I’ve had another job offer.”
“From whom?”
“That’s irrelevant,” she said. “Since I had to move from Los Angeles, my mother’s had trouble paying her mortgage. I need ten thousand dollars to stay working for you. Call it a retroactive raise.”
“Ten thousand?” he gasped. “Dollars? Are you joking?”
“And effective immediately,” she continued sweetly, “I expect a raise in pay commensurate with the increased cost-of-living expenses in London.”
“Grace!”
“So what do you say?” She paused. “Shall I stay and finish writing your speech for the charity event this afternoon? Or shall I clean out my desk?”
He stared at her.
“Stay,” he muttered. “Finish the speech. You’ll get your raise with your next paycheck.”
“And my bonus?”
“Ten thousand dollars? That will take longer.”
“You have until Christmas Eve.”
He ground his teeth. “Fine. Would you perhaps like to take the rest of the afternoon off, as well?” he suggested acidly.
“Yes, thank you.” She smiled at him. “I’ll go as soon as I’m done with your lovely speech.”
Alan tightened his jaw, then turned away. “Fine.”
She almost felt sorry for him as she watched his hunched shoulders as he returned to his office and slammed the door. Almost.
Getting one afternoon off wasn’t even close to all the hours she’d worked for free over the past two years, but…Maksim was outside at this very moment, waiting for her. Grace’s feet tapped excitedly as she polished the last few paragraphs of the speech, making sure it was perfect before she e-mailed Alan the finished copy. Her spirits were soaring as she put on her old coat and came triumphantly out of the building.
She found Maksim waiting for her at the curb in an ultra-expensive, black Bugatti Veyron.
“Thank God,” he said with a dark gleam in his eye as she climbed into the car. “It was agony waiting for you.”
“It was twenty minutes.”
He put on dark sunglasses. “I’m not a patient man.”
She laughed aloud, happier than she’d been for years. “Thanks for the flowers,” she said. “They really lifted employee morale. I just got a raise from my boss.”
“You lift my morale, solnishka mayo,” he growled. He reached over to change gears, and his hand accidentally brushed her thigh. “Ready to celebrate?”
“Yes,” she breathed.
“So am I,” he said, looking down at her steadily in a way that made her feel hot all over. Then he gunned the thousand-horsepower motor, and the Bugatti flew like a black raven through the mist and rain.
CHAPTER SEVEN
GRACE took a deep breath as she stood on the terrace of Maksim’s Dartmoor estate, staring out at the snow-dusted fields. They’d left the London rain far behind. Here the moors were wide and haunted beneath the last rays of fading red sun. A thick white mist was blowing in from the sea.
Tears fell unheeded down Grace’s cold cheeks. The sound of her mother’s happy crying still echoed in her ears as she tucked her cell phone back into her bag.
She’d done it. She’d told her mother that she would save the house from foreclosure. Now Grace would make sure her family never worried about money again. She took another deep breath, grateful beyond words that she’d found her strength. That she’d found herself.
Thanks to Maksim.
Maksim, who’d treated Grace like a princess. She’d never have imagined that any man, let alone someone so handsome and powerful and rich beyond belief, would treat her that way.
Now Grace realized she should accept nothing less. She would never settle again.
She wanted the fairy tale.
She turned from the wide terrace overlooking the carefully tended classical garden and returned through the back door of his eighteenth-century country house. Maksim was waiting.
The inside of the house was every bit as Gothic and misty as the moors outside. Perhaps because the fifty rooms had no furniture—just white translucent curtains that seemed to move against the windows even when they were closed, twisting eerily in an invisible draft that no human skin could feel.
She’d called her mother outside on the terrace, where the cell phone reception was better, and where she could have privacy. She didn’t want Maksim to know how desperate she’d been for money. She didn’t want him to think of her as someone who needed saving.
She’d been proud to save herself.
She wanted Maksim as her equal. As her friend. As her…lover? She could barely move her lips to form the word, but there it was. Her secret.
She wanted him as her lover.
