Captive In The Millionaire's Castle. Lee Wilkinson

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or two.

      She was a very beautiful woman, and, even taking into account a broken engagement, it was hard to believe that there was no current man in her life.

      Deciding that that was one thing he ought to establish, he began carefully, ‘Do you live alone?’

      ‘I have a flatmate.’

      ‘As distinct from a live-in lover?’

      A little stiffly, she objected, ‘I’m afraid I don’t see why my private life is relevant.’

      His face cold, he said, ‘It’s relevant on more than one count. Apart from the long hours which this kind of work sometimes involves, when I begin a new book I prefer to leave London and work in comparative isolation, where I can be quite free from any unwanted social distractions.’

      ‘Oh…’

      Deciding to spell it out, he added, ‘Which means I need a PA who is free from any personal commitments or obligations.’

      ‘I see,’ she said slowly.

      ‘Is that a problem for you?’

      She shook her head. ‘No, not really.’

      No nearer to finding out what he wanted to know, he applied a little more pressure.

      ‘Then you have no ties? For example, no fiancé, who would almost certainly object?’

      ‘No.’

      Well, that seemed decided enough. Though he knew to his cost that, if it suited them, some women could lie with composure.

      ‘And you don’t dislike the thought of having to leave London?’

      ‘No, not at all.’

      She sounded as if she meant it.

      He was oddly pleased.

      Claire had hated the thought of leaving the bright lights of London and burying herself in what she referred to as ‘the back of beyond’, and after the first time she had refused point blank to go to Slinterwood again.

      To please her, he had tried staying in town to finish writing Mandrake, but after several unproductive weeks he had given it up as hopeless.

      With that important deadline fast approaching, she had suggested that he should go to Slinterwood while she remained in London.

      Now, in retrospect, he could see that that had been the beginning of the end as far as their marriage was concerned…

      Jenny was sitting quite still, but, sensing that she was once again growing uncomfortable with the lengthening silence, he went on, ‘In that case I’m prepared to offer you a month’s trial period.’

      He hadn’t consciously made up his mind, and his abrupt offer of a job had surprised even himself.

      Jenny, also taken aback by the suddenness of the offer, hesitated, wishing she had more time to think.

      Picking up the vibes, and sensing his earlier indecision, not to mention a certain amount of antagonism, she had expected further searching questions, and then a cool promise to ‘let her know’.

      She wanted the job, so she really ought to be over the moon, but she had found his attitude, and the intentness of his gaze, more than a little daunting.

      But that wasn’t insurmountable, she told herself stoutly. The important thing was that she had been offered the chance to work for a writer she admired enormously, and even if her job was only to transcribe his words she wanted to be part of the creative process…

      Now, watching her hesitate, and suddenly concerned that she was about to refuse after all, he asked brusquely, ‘So what do you say?’

      Telling herself that if it did prove to be a mistake, it was only for a month, she said, ‘Thank you. I—I accept.’

      He nodded. ‘Good. Now the only thing is, how soon can you start?’

      ‘Whenever you like.’

      ‘Then let’s say immediately.’

      ‘You mean Monday?’

      Deciding to strike while the iron was hot, he told her, ‘I mean now.’

      Sounding a little startled, she echoed, ‘Now?’

      ‘As I told you, when I begin a new book I prefer to leave London and work in comparative isolation. I was planning to go today. Seeing that you’re free to start at once, it would be more convenient if you travelled with me.’

      ‘Very well.’

      ‘If my chauffeur takes you home, how long will you need to get organized and pack enough clothes for…shall we say…up to a month? Then we’ll both be free to reassess the situation.’

      ‘Half an hour at the most.’

      ‘Excellent.

      ‘By the time you get down to the lobby, the car will be outside, waiting. The car will drop you home and when you’ve had time to pack, I’ll pick you up myself.’

      ‘Thank you.’

      Feeling as though she had been caught up and swept along by a tidal wave, she got to her feet and prepared to leave.

      Wondering if he’d done the right thing, or if he’d allowed his subconscious feelings to hurry him into something he might regret, Michael rose to accompany her. If he found he had made a mistake he could always pay her for the month but get rid of her straight away.

      Once again picking up the vibes, and not altogether at ease, Jenny headed for the door. Though at five feet seven inches she was tall for a woman, he was a good head taller, with a mature width of shoulder, and for once in her life she felt dwarfed, towered over.

      As he opened the door the butler appeared as if by magic to escort her to the lift.

      ‘I’ll call for you in approximately an hour, depending on the traffic,’ her new boss reminded her.

      ‘I’ll be ready,’ she promised.

      She had moved to join the manservant when a thought struck her, and, turning to Michael Denver, she began, ‘Oh, by the way, where are we—?’

      At the same instant the phone on his desk rang, and with a murmured, ‘Excuse me,’ he turned to answer it.

      Oh, well, Jenny thought resignedly, she could find out exactly where they were going when he came to pick her up.

      The Saturday morning traffic proved to be relatively light, and the drive back to her Bayswater flat was over quite quickly.

      As good as her word, some half an hour after the chauffeur had dropped her Jenny’s case was neatly packed with easy-care, mix-and-match stuff, and she was ready and waiting.

      Smiling

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