The Australian Affairs Collection. Margaret Way

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      For a moment she thought he’d press the matter. Instead he stood and held out his hand. ‘Until tomorrow, then, Mia.’

      She stood too and shook it, eager to be away from him. ‘Goodbye, Dylan.’

      She didn’t tell him that in all likelihood she wouldn’t see him tomorrow. Funny how suddenly the eastern boundary didn’t seem as exciting a prospect as it had earlier in the day.

      She’d barely settled down in the meeting room with the office laptop, to type up her copious notes for Nora, when the receptionist tapped on the glass door.

      ‘Mr Coulter wants to see you, Mia.’

      To grill her about how things had gone with the Fairweathers, no doubt. She’d have rather discussed it all with Nora first, but she couldn’t very well refuse to speak to him.

      Taking a deep breath, she knocked on his door, only entering when he bellowed, ‘Come in.’

      She left the door ajar. She didn’t fully trust Gordon Coulter. ‘You wanted to see me?’

      ‘Yes.’

      He didn’t invite her to sit. The smile he sent her chased ice down her spine.

      ‘It’s my very great pleasure to inform you, Ms Maydew, that you’re fired. Effective immediately.’

      The room spun. Mia’s chest cramped. She couldn’t lose this job. It was all that she had. Her fingers went cold. She needed this job!

      * * *

      ‘You’re terminating my contract? But...why?’

      Dylan stood on the threshold of Gordon Coulter’s office, his head rocking back at the words he heard emerging from the other side of the door.

      Gordon Coulter was firing Mia?

      ‘Your behaviour with Dylan Fairweather today was scandalous and utterly inappropriate. You’re not here to make sexual advances towards our clients. You’re here to perform your duties as efficiently and as capably as possible—a duty that’s obviously beyond you and your bitch-on-heat morals.’

      Darkness threatened the edges of Dylan’s vision. Mia hadn’t made one inappropriate advance towards him—not one! His hands curled into fists. A pity the same couldn’t be said for him towards her. He hadn’t been able to resist flirting with her in the café—just a little bit. He hadn’t been able to resist making her laugh again.

      This was his fault. How could he have been so careless as to put her in this position?

      Gordon continued to wax lyrical on a list of Mia’s imaginary faults and Dylan’s insides coiled up, tight and lethal. Gordon Coulter was a pompous ass!

      ‘But even if I was prepared to overlook all that,’ Gordon continued, his tone clearly saying that he had no intention of doing so, ‘I refuse to disregard the fact that when you entered the emu enclosure you put the safety of a member of the public at risk.’

      No way, buddy!

      Dylan backed up two steps and then propelled himself forward with a cheery, ‘Knock-knock!’ before bursting into the office.

      Two sets of eyes swung to him. Mia’s face was ashen. Guilt plunged through him like a serrated-edge knife.

      You’re nothing but a trust fund baby without substance or significance.

      As true as that might be, it meant that he knew how to act entitled and high-handed. He used that to his advantage now, striding into the room as if he owned it and everything inside it.

      ‘You moved very quickly to bring my proposal to the attention of your superiors, Mia. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate it.’

      He took a seat across from Gordon, making himself completely at home.

      ‘I hope you realise what a gem you have here, Gordon.’ He pulled Mia down to the seat beside him. How dared Gordon leave her standing like some recalcitrant child deserving of punishment and castigation? ‘Have you finished telling Gordon about my proposal, Mia?’

      ‘Um...no, not yet.’

      She swallowed and he saw how valiantly she hauled her composure back into place. Atta girl!

      ‘I’m afraid I haven’t had a chance.’

      ‘Oh, before I forget—’ Dylan turned back to Gordon ‘—my sister and I will be returning tomorrow with Thierry. If he approves our plans, and if you accept my proposal, then we’ll be booking Plum Pines as Carla and Thierry’s wedding venue.’

      Dollar signs all but flashed in Gordon’s eyes. ‘That’s splendid news!’

      ‘Carla has requested that Mia be available for tomorrow’s meeting. I’m sure that won’t be a problem.’

      ‘Well, I—’

      ‘Now to my proposal...’ he continued, making it obvious that he took Gordon’s agreement for granted. He saw Mia bite her lip, as if to hold back a laugh. The tightness in his chest eased a fraction.

      ‘While I understand that Plum Pines has a talented and capable events team, I want to be completely in charge of Carla’s wedding preparations—bringing in my own people, et cetera. I understand this isn’t how Plum Pines normally operates, but if I promise to acquire all the necessary licenses and, as a show of gratitude, donate...say...a hundred thousand dollars to the Plum Pines Nature Fund, I was hoping you might make an exception.’

      Gordon’s fleshy mouth dropped open. He hauled it back into place. ‘I’m sure we can find a way to accommodate such a reasonable request from such a generous benefactor.’

      Dylan rubbed his hands together. ‘Excellent.’

      Gordon Coulter was ridiculously transparent. Rumour had it he was planning to run for mayor next year. A donation as sizable as Dylan’s would be a real feather in his cap. Dylan just hoped the good people of Newcastle were smart enough not to elect such a small-minded bully to office.

      He made a note to donate a large sum to Gordon’s opponent’s campaign.

      ‘If there’s any further way we can assist you, don’t hesitate to ask. We’re here to provide you with the very best service we can.’

      ‘Well, now that you mention it... Carla would like Mia as her official liaison between FWE and Plum Pines.’

      Gordon’s face darkened. ‘Mia doesn’t have the necessary training. We can provide you with a far better level of service than that, and—’

      ‘It’s non-negotiable, I’m afraid.’ He spoke calmly. ‘If there’s no Mia there’ll be no Fairweather wedding at Plum Pines—and, sadly, no hundred-thousand-dollar donation.’

      It was as simple as that, and Gordon could take it or leave it. If he refused to let Mia act as liaison then Dylan would whisk her away from Plum Pines and find a position for her in his own organisation. He was always on the lookout for good people.

      In

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