young sandy-haired man wearing a green coat with ‘Jay’s, Florist’ embroidered in red on the lapel said a cheerful, ‘Good morning,’ and, handing her a huge bouquet, went off whistling, despite the cold, grey day.
The long-stemmed, dark red roses, scented and velvety, were exquisite. Hot-house blooms like those must have cost a king’s ransom, Annis thought dazedly. Stephen, bless him, had got carried away.
Nestling among the glossy leaves was a small envelope. Opening it, she took out the slip of pasteboard. Written in a strong black scrawl on the gilt-edged card was one word. Zan.
Shock held her rigid for a moment, then, tearing the card in two, she dropped the pieces in the waste-paper basket as if they were stinging nettles.
Unable to bring herself to destroy the roses, after a moment’s thought she picked up the bouquet and headed for the door once more.
Mrs Neilson, her middle-aged neighbour, was just getting about again after an operation, and Annis knocked most days to enquire if any shopping was needed.
None was this morning, but at the sight of the flowers Mrs Neilson’s drawn face lit up. ‘My dear, they’re beautiful!’ she exclaimed. ‘How very kind of you.’
Wishing she could dispose of Zan Power as easily, Annis walked to the Tube station, girding her loins to face what a strange premonition warned her was going to be a fraught day.
CHAPTER TWO
JOINING the Friday morning rush, Annis caught a train to Oxford Circus then hurried the few blocks to her Regent Street office, a cramped first-floor room from which she ran Help, her own small temp business.
She employed ten women of diverse ages from varied walks of life, each with the willingness and ability to do several different jobs.
Requests for secretarial, nursing, housekeeping, cooking and catering help were the most common. But she and her staff could, and did, fill a variety of other roles.
Having unlocked the narrow, slightly shabby street door squeezed between a boutique and a video shop, she climbed the uncarpeted stairs and let herself into her office. Two wooden chairs and a desk were its only furnishings.
As she switched off the answering machine and hung her stone-coloured mac on a hook behind the door, the phone started to chirp.
A woman’s businesslike voice identified herself as being from, ‘Blair Electronics. Mr Blair’s personal assistant…’ and requested immediate help in the form of a competent secretary for the managing director.
Adding, ‘I was advised to ask for a Miss Warrener, if she’s available.’
‘I’m Miss Warrener,’ Annis said, and, a frown tugging at her well-marked brows, queried, ‘But surely I haven’t worked for you before?’
‘No, but I understand you were highly recommended by the sales manager of one of our subsidiaries.’
‘How long will you need my help for?’
‘Miss Winton will be away for a month.’
All the details having been settled, Annis jotted down the address and promised, ‘I’ll be with you inside an hour.’
In a little over forty-five minutes, she was climbing the steps to the Marylebone office block which housed the electronics firm.
At the desk in the foyer she stopped to give her name and state her business.
‘Turn right, then left,’ the frizzy-haired receptionist told her, ‘and you’ll find the MD’s office at the end of the main corridor. Go straight in, Miss Warrener. You’re expected.’
Her heels sinking into the luxurious carpet, Annis made her way down the wide corridor. When she reached the unmarked door at the end, she knocked and walked in, as instructed.
Just inside the threshold she stopped short, feeling as though she’d received a punch in the solar plexus, as she saw the powerfully attractive face of the man sitting behind the leather-topped desk.
The shorn black curls, the green-gold eyes and bony, slightly crooked nose, the wide, thin-lipped mouth and cleft chin, were indelibly printed on her mind. If she never saw him again she would carry his hated image to her grave.
‘Good morning, Annis.’ A smile in those tawny eyes, he added, ‘Close the the door and come and sit down.’
When she made no move to do either, he queried, ‘Did you like the flowers?’
Somehow she found her voice. ‘My next-door neighbour did.’
‘So you gave them away?’
‘What did you expect?’ Without waiting for an answer, she rushed on, ‘And I don’t know what you hope to gain by dragging me here… I can’t afford to play silly games. I’ve a business to run.’
‘So have I. That’s why I need a secretary.’
Trying to ignore the unnerving gaze fixed on her face, she demanded, ‘How did you know where to find me?’
‘Leighton was only too willing to provide any information I wanted. It was really quite amusing… But please do sit down.’
She shook her head. ‘You’ve had your fun. Now I’m going.’
Softly, he said, ‘I think not. We have a verbal contract. You agreed to work for me for a month.’
‘The agreement was that I should work for the managing director of Blair Electronics.’
‘Exactly.’
So this was yet another firm controlled by AP Worldwide.
Feeing the trap closing, she protested, ‘Surely making me come here was just to prove how well you can manipulate people? You don’t really want me to work for you…’
‘Oh, but I do. Since having bronchitis just after Christmas, Miss Winton hasn’t been at all well. I gave her a month’s sick leave, so I require someone to fill her place.’
Annis’s long-lashed almond eyes, beautiful eyes which slanted up a little at the outer corners, were blazing with anger and indignation. ‘You mean you got rid of her on purpose!’
He moved his shoulders in a slight shrug. ‘She needed a holiday. A few weeks’ complete rest will do her a world of good.’
Reading Annis’s mind with frightening accuracy, he went on, ‘Of course I can’t force you to stay. But you seem to be building up a nice little business, and if you value it you’d be wise to think carefully before doing anything rash.’
‘That sounds remarkably like a threat.’ Her voice shook a little as it was borne on her what power a man like him could wield.
‘Merely good advice,’ he said smoothly. ‘After all, what’s a month?’
As he spoke he got to his feet and strode over. A moment later he had closed the door, relieved her of her scarf and mac,
