Constantinou's Mistress (4 page)

‘That nothing had happened? Be an ostrich that sticks its head in the sand? I needed to talk to you about this because you happen to be my secretary and if either of us felt that we no longer had a tenable working situation then I would be obliged to transfer you to another position within the company.'

Just like that, Lucy thought bitterly. If he thought that he had done something dishonourable, then he would
have given her the push. Their act of making love, the memory of which could still turn her bones to water, whatever she felt about herself for doing what she had done, was less than nothing to him. He might call her an ostrich, but she wasn't. Far from it. She could feel the impact of reality crashing into her like an avalanche.

‘I'm perfectly happy to resign if you don't think you can work with me,' she said coolly.

‘That is not what I'm saying…'

‘No? It sounds that way to me.'

‘And you can say, with your hand on your heart, that you can behave as though none of this had ever happened?'

‘Yes.' She managed to find sufficient resources of control to utter the lie with a perfectly bland expression. ‘As you said, it happened and, yes, it never should have, but it did.'

‘Perhaps because you wanted it to?' Nick asked slyly, and his suggestion was so close to the truth that for a split-second she could feel her body freeze, then a sudden, flaring heat thawed it out and galvanised her into action.

‘If you really want to know,' she said coldly, ‘I did it because I felt sorry for you.'

Nick had thrown out his taunt like an arrow in the dark, never thinking that he might hit the target. Obscurely, the idea that she might have wanted him, have actively wanted to sleep with him, had had the astounding effect of turning him on. Her reply now stopped him in his tracks.

She had felt sorry for him. Of course. It made perfect sense. He had shown up unexpectedly, in a pathetic state, and she had been overwhelmed by pity. The
thought cut through every ounce of pride he had and his expression hardened.

‘I was overcome and I acted stupidly. I just got carried away with…with pity—pity and compassion for the pain I knew you must be feeling.'

‘No one has ever pitied me in my life before,' Nick said harshly. He linked his fingers together and pressed his thumbs into the palms of his hands.
Pity.
The word conjured up images of vulnerability and weakness that he found revolting. At least when applied to him.

‘Perhaps because you've never been in a position to incite such an emotion,' Lucy told him, warming to her subject now that she had found herself unexpectedly saved from having the truth forced out of her. ‘You were in a black hole and…'

‘And, out of the goodness of your heart, you thought you might shine a little ray of light.'

‘No,' she denied, ‘not out of the goodness of my heart. It just seemed natural at the time. But I can see that it was wrong, all wrong, and for that I apologise.'

He wondered savagely whether she had enjoyed dispensing her cure or whether she had simply been swept away by the emotion of the moment.

Well, he could hardly ask her to resign now. That would have been tantamount to declaring that he was too weak to deal with what had taken place.

‘Yes, it was wrong,' he said, forcing some semblance of calm assurance into his voice, ‘and I want you to know that under normal circumstances there is no way in the world that I would ever dream of sleeping with you.' It was an aggressively phrased remark, taut with implications, and he knew that he was hitting below the belt. In truth, he had had no idea that this meeting would progress along these lines. He'd thought that he would
subtly find out what he needed to know, namely that he had not forced himself upon her, and then he would close the book and lay that particular chapter to rest.

He had not reckoned on being drawn into this type of discussion. He had pressed for the truth, though, not satisfied with the obviously genuine reassurances she had given him, and he had discovered that the truth was not to his liking.

Now, obscurely, he was not prepared to lay the matter to rest. He stood up and began prowling restlessly around the room, looking at her from various angles while she kept her head perfectly still and staring straight towards the window behind his desk.

‘Of course,' he said lazily, pausing to inspect the rows of books that he kept on the shelves on one side of the office; he ran his fingers delicately along the hardbound spines, then turned to face her, ‘I hope you do not misinterpret this in any way. I merely want you to know that there will be no repetition of what took place, of that you may be sure.'

Lucy wondered how many more ways there could be for him to dress up the obvious behind lots of protective packaging. He was telling her that he did not find her attractive. She had been a warm body at a time when he had needed it and, fool that she was, she had succumbed because her heart had won the battle with her head. But that was it. In a sober state, she was as sexless as the two framed prints he had hanging on his wall.

‘Oh, good,' she said flatly, her face still averted so that he was unable to see the expression in her eyes. And her eyes were very expressive. He was surprised that he had not noticed that before. Huge brown eyes framed with long, dark brown eyelashes that somehow
seemed at odds with the blondeness of her hair and the paleness of her skin.

He shook his head irritably and walked back to his chair, but instead of sitting down he stood behind it, leaning casually against the high back, his forearms hanging loosely over the front.

Oh, good?
Was that all she had to say on the subject?

‘You're not my type,' he informed her, lowering his eyes and missing the hurt wince that had Lucy drawing her breath in on a hiss.

He might think that spelling it out would somehow make her more comfortable, put her mind at rest that she had nothing to fear from him should they find themselves working late together in an empty building, as they often had in the past.

He was wrong. Every word he uttered was another nail in her heart.

She looked at him, at his dauntingly beautiful face. She knew every groove of that face as though it were her own. Had committed it to memory, even though she had tried hard not to.

No, she wouldn't be his type. She was as physically ordinary as he was impressively, compellingly handsome. He would always be drawn to women like his wife. Stunningly beautiful women with big hair and breasts.

She fancied she saw something ruefully patronising in his expression.

‘And I feel I ought to make this clear if we are to resume our working relationship,' he continued slowly, frowning, as if uncertain as to how he should say what he had to say.

What more? she wondered numbly.

For a few seconds, Nick didn't go on. He simply
looked at her assessingly, as if weighing up in his mind whether he should proceed or not, then he sighed.

‘Perhaps this is something best left unsaid.'

Lucy drew her lips together in a stubborn line. ‘If you feel you have something further to add then I really do wish that you would tell me. I've been very…happy working here and, as you say, we have to clear the air if we can continue our working relationship…' She could be as coolly controlled as he could, she thought to herself. The fact was that she loved what she did, whether Nick was her boss or not. She enjoyed the work and she doubted she would ever have been able to find a job that paid as well anywhere else in London.

‘All right.' He shrugged his broad shoulders with typically Mediterranean expressiveness and swung his chair around, turning it to face her once he was sitting. ‘If you insist…'

‘I insist.'

‘You are young and I would not want you to harbour any notions that our few hours together might be the start of an agenda. Nor would I wish you to think that you are now somehow privileged in any way whatsoever. You are an excellent secretary and I personally feel that it is imperative that we maintain the boundaries between us.'

‘In other words, you're cautioning me not to rip my clothes off and fling myself at you,' Lucy said slowly, appalled at his line of thinking.

The disparaging tone of her voice, which only just managed to escape being insolent, was not sufficient for his mind to ignore the image she had presented of herself. Wild, abandoned, coming towards him with her arms outstretched and her naked, creamy body offering itself for his inspection. For his lingering exploration.
The image sent a rush of heat to his loins and he compensated for that by frowning coldly at her.

‘Not precisely my words…'

‘As good as,' Lucy clarified brutally. ‘You can rest assured that I won't,
sir
.'

‘There is no need to labour the point.' Nick flushed darkly, fully aware of how he had sounded.

‘Nor,' she continued, steamrolling over his interruption and barely managing to keep her voice steady, ‘will I suddenly think that I can swan in and out and do as I please because we made a mistake. I won't.' Never before had she deviated from her role of efficient secretary, willing to put in whatever hours were asked of her without complaint. Nor had she ever verbally struck out at him, as she was doing now, and it felt good. Good to be letting some of her crushing hurt spill out in anger. If she had to, she could get another job. It might pay half the amount she earned working for him, but at least she would be free of his presence and the havoc he wreaked on her heart without even being aware of it.

‘And just for the record,' she flung at him, making no attempt to lower her voice, ‘you are no more my type than I am yours!'

‘So, you make a habit of sleeping with men you don't like?' He should have closed the conversation. Instead he found himself prolonging it, his dark face flushed and scowling.

‘No,' Lucy sighed, ‘that's not what I said at all. And I apologise for…well, for speaking my mind out of turn.' She ran her fingers through her short blonde hair and then linked them together on her lap. ‘The circumstances were, as you said, extraordinary. I like you well enough, and I respect you, but you're not the sort of man I would normally…normally…'

‘Be attracted to?' Nick enquired silkily.

‘If you want to put it that way.' Thank goodness she wasn't Pinocchio, she thought, or her nose would be reaching the other side of the office by now.

‘And what sort of man
are
you attracted to?'

‘Look,' Lucy said, horrified that she had overstepped the mark with no thought for what he had so recently gone through. As if, at this point in time, he really cared one way or another about her or what she thought! Just another instance of how easy it was for her to lose touch with reality when he was around. ‘Look, I'm sorry. This is the wrong time for us to be pursuing this conversation. You must have had a hellish weekend and you certainly do not need to come in here to work to have a hellish morning.' She attempted a soothing, understanding smile.

‘You still haven't answered my question.'

‘No, I haven't,' she said in the same soothing voice, which appeared to be having no effect whatsoever. ‘But, if you really want to know, I'm attracted to…nice, thoughtful, caring men…'

‘Nice. Thoughtful. Caring.'

‘Not,' she amended hastily, ‘that you aren't. I'm sure you're all of those things.'

‘But you wouldn't want to stake your house on it,' Nick said drily, forcing a reluctant smile from her.

‘Maybe not,' Lucy agreed.

This was as close to a truce as they could get, she realised. Now the air had been cleared and work could begin. He had said his piece, she had said hers and she knew instinctively that every word spoken between them would remain behind these four walls.

‘So…' Nick sat back and extracted a file in front of him ‘…I want you to get some letters out for this lot.
I've already dictated three into the machine. You'll need to transcribe those, and, with this one, just write and question some of the bills we've been charged. Find out whether our guy in Boston checked out all the suppliers before he placed this particular order. It just seems a little excessive to me…'

He watched as she stood up and bent over to take the file from him.

Everything back to normal. Except…he couldn't help his eyes from drifting towards the neckline of her blouse, following it down to where, as she straightened, it fell softly over her breasts. Everything about her appearance was neat and smart, but there was a fire burning there. He had sensed it during their conversation and he could almost catch hold of wisps of memory about the Friday before, teasing little recollections of her moaning hotly as he had touched her.

Nick shook his head.

Not each other's type. That much was true. His type, from as far back as when he had been an adolescent, was along Gina's lines. Voluptuously built women with long hair and bodies that swayed with blatant sexuality.

And Lucy… His eyes drifted back towards her. Yes, he could see that she would be attracted to the clean-cut, boy-next-door kind of man, someone pleasant, easygoing, nice. Dull, in other words.

He turned his chair at an angle so that he had his profile towards her and stared absent-mindedly through the large window.

‘Are you all right?'

Nick inclined his head towards Lucy, who had gathered her various files and was standing hesitantly by the chair in which she had previously been sitting.

‘What did you think of Gina?' he asked curiously.
‘You met her a few times over the months you've been working with me. What did you think of her?'

The question threw Lucy, not least because she had never felt a great deal of empathy towards the woman. She had always assumed that that was because she was, quite simply, Nick's wife.

‘She was amazingly beautiful,' Lucy told him truthfully.