Ruthless Boss, Hired Wife. Kate HewittЧитать онлайн книгу.
had left for him to sign and irritably pulled them towards him. He was just scrawling his name on the bottom of the first page when he stopped. Smiled.
Considered.
He had the perfect idea. The perfect wife.
She just didn’t know it yet.
‘I’m glad you’re doing so well, Dani,’ Lizzie said into the phone. She swallowed past the lump which had risen suddenly—stupidly—in her throat. It was ridiculous to feel sad. Dani was happy, enjoying life at university, doing all the things an eighteen-year-old should do.
This was what she’d always wanted for her sister. Always.
There was a low rumble of male laughter from the end of the line and Dani said, ‘I ought to go, some friends are coming over…’
‘It’s only five o’clock,’ Lizzie found herself protesting, aware of the prissy censure in her voice.
‘It’s Thursday, Lizzie!’ Dani laughed. ‘Weekends at university always start early.’ Another male laugh sounded in the background and she asked a bit guiltily, ‘Do you have plans for the weekend? Your first weekend alone!’
‘Yes.’ Lizzie tried to inject some enthusiasm into her voice and failed. ‘Yes, I’m going to…’ Her mind went blank. Read a book. Take a bath. Go to bed.
‘Paint the town red?’ If there was any mockery in Dani’s voice, it was gentle, but it still stung. ‘You should go for it, Lizzie. You’ve spent too much of your life looking after me as it is. Seize life! Or at least a man.’ She giggled. ‘Anyway, someone’s calling me, so I’d better go…’ Giggling again, at someone other than Lizzie, she hung up the phone.
Seize life. Dani’s reckless advice rang in Lizzie’s ears as she replaced the receiver. It was easy for her sister to seize things; she was carefree, young, thoughtless. She didn’t have responsibilities, concerns, bills weighing her down.
Lizzie sighed. She didn’t want to think badly of Dani. Hadn’t she worked so hard—sacrificed her own dreams—so Dani could have hers?
And now she had them. Lizzie knew she should be thrilled.
And she was. She was.
Determinedly, she rose from her desk. Perhaps she would paint the town, if not red, then a light pink. She could go to a wine bar on Rose Street, see if anyone from work was going…There was an associate architect she vaguely fancied—John something. Of course, he didn’t even know her name.
No one did.
And even as these plans half-formed in her mind, Lizzie knew she would never carry them out. Didn’t know how. Didn’t dare.
Sighing, she reached for her handbag. She’d make sure her boss didn’t need anything else from her tonight and then she’d go home. Alone. Lonely.
As always.
She knocked lightly on Cormac Douglas’s door.
‘Come in.’
The barked-out command made Lizzie stiffen slightly. Cormac Douglas was in the Edinburgh office for only one week out of four, and she found she preferred the other three. His terse commands were taken better by e-mail or a short note left on her desk than face to face.
Lizzie pushed the door open. ‘Mr Douglas? I was just going to head out unless you need me…?’
Cormac stood by the window, hands shoved deep into his trouser pockets, his gaze studying the grey cityscape stretched out before him. ‘Need you?’ he repeated as if considering the question. He turned to face her, his eyes sweeping her form in a strangely assessing way. ‘As a matter of fact, I do.’
‘All right.’ Lizzie waited for instructions. She was used to staying late when Cormac was in town, although she’d finished all the work he’d given her. Something must have come up.
‘Do you have a current passport?’ he asked, and Lizzie blinked, nonplussed.
‘Yes…’
‘Good.’ He paused and Lizzie had the feeling he was considering what to say. An odd thought, since Cormac Douglas was the kind of man who always knew what to say. ‘I have a business engagement,’ he finally explained tersely, ‘and I need a secretary to accompany me.’
‘Very well.’ Lizzie nodded, as if this was something she’d done before. In the two years she’d worked for Douglas Architectural Designs, she’d never accompanied Cormac anywhere, not even to a local work site. He preferred to do things on his own. Besides, he was more likely to take one of his assistants from the London office with him than Lizzie, a plain, parochial Edinburgh girl. ‘Where are we going?’
‘We leave for the Dutch Antilles tomorrow evening and return on Monday. It’s a very important commission.’ He paused, eyes narrowed, brow furrowed in concentration. ‘Do you understand?’
‘Yes.’ Lizzie’s mind was spinning, although she strove to look unruffled. The Dutch Antilles…If her geography wasn’t too far off, that was in the Caribbean and at least eight hours by plane. If Cormac was travelling that far simply to court a commission, it had to be serious. And so did she.
She swallowed, heard the audible gulp, and forced herself to meet Cormac’s harsh gaze.
‘Is there anything I can do to arrange the travel?’
‘Yes, book the tickets.’ He pushed a piece of paper across the desk. ‘The information’s there. I’ll be out of the office tomorrow, so I’ll meet you at the airport, first-class lounge. Just text me the relevant information.’
Lizzie nodded, used to such terse commands. She picked up the paper and scanned the few scrawled details.
She could hardly pump Cormac for information, or ask him what kind of clothes she should bring. Or why he had chosen to bring her.
She swallowed down her curiosity and smiled stiffly. ‘Is that all?’
His gaze swept over her once more and a strange sardonic smile curved his mouth. Lizzie had the eerie feeling she’d somehow done something that Cormac had expected…and it was a disappointment.
‘That’s it,’ he said and, sitting down at his desk, turned back to his work, dismissing her from both his presence and his mind.
Lizzie slipped silently from the room.
Back at her desk she sank into her chair, her knees weak.
She was going to the Caribbean. She pictured white sandy beaches, tropical forests, tropical drinks. People, laughter, sultry breezes. For a moment she allowed a thrill to trickle through her like quicksilver, awakening nerves, dreams, even desires she hadn’t known she still had.
Who knew what could happen? Who she might meet?
She had plans for this weekend. Big ones.
After making the necessary travel arrangements, Lizzie got up and shrugged on her coat.
She was going to the Caribbean…with Cormac Douglas.
For a moment she paused, her coat halfway on, as she considered what a trip with her boss would be like. Together on a plane, in a hotel, on the beach.
Would Cormac soften in a new, more relaxed environment? Or would he be just as tense and short with her as always?
She pictured him for a moment, tried to imagine his face in a smile rather than a scowl, eyes crinkled with laughter rather than narrowed in scorn. It was virtually impossible. She wasn’t sure she’d ever seen Cormac Douglas smile—a kind smile rather than something born of contempt or cold-blooded business acumen.
She gave herself a mental shake; she had no place imagining what Cormac would be like. It didn’t matter. All he wanted her for was to take notes, carry papers. And do it well.
And yet…the Caribbean.