One Night With Her Millionaire Boss

‘Well done,’ Ned said.

‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘Hugh was as thrilled as I was.’ Once she would have made some self-deprecating comment about her achievement. Now she had learned to own her talent and hard-earned skills.

‘Then in my final semester, he let me do a student placement at his studio. When his assistant left I was beyond delighted when Hugh offered me the role. I’ve learned so much from him. I worked my way up to become a photographer on his team. I couldn’t have had a better mentor.’

‘He must have great confidence in you to have subbed you for this job. I look forward to seeing the results. Before I go back to work, I’ll introduce you to our housekeeper, Marian. She can answer any further questions you might have, and give you lunch when you’re ready.’

‘No café on the next corner way out here, when you need a coffee or a snack,’ Freya said—and immediately regretted it. She intended her comment to be light-hearted but it came out, she feared, more like criticism. ‘Not that I would expect there to be,’ she added hastily. ‘There are other wonderful things in the country besides...er...coffee.’

‘Rest assured, we do have coffee in the house,’ he said, rather coldly, she thought. ‘Just ask Marian.’

‘I...er...will, thank you,’ she said.

‘Can I help you with your equipment?’ Yes, she hadn’t imagined it. His tone was cooler, less friendly. It appeared she had unwittingly insulted him. She gave a mental shrug. He was the client. As long as he was polite, he could speak coolly to her. It made no difference.

‘Yes. Please.’ Not that she couldn’t handle all her own gear. But his help getting it into the house would let her get started quicker.

Once her cameras and lenses, tripods, reflectors, diffusers and the laptop she used for work outside the studio were in place, Ned turned to her. ‘My mother said for you to help yourself to any flowers from the garden.’

‘I brought flowers in buckets from Melbourne for styling purposes. But fresh from the garden would be so much better.’ She paused. ‘I’d feel a bit nervous about hacking into the plants. I’m not a gardener.’

‘Neither am I. But our head gardener is working in the rose garden today. Ask him for whatever you need.’

Gardener. Housekeeper. Freya could only imagine the number of staff required to keep this gracious house and its grounds looking immaculate. Her grandmother had cleaned houses for the wealthy. ‘Thank you for your help,’ she said.

He nodded, turned, and left her to it. Suddenly, the room felt very empty.

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