Australia: Wicked Mistresses: Fired Waitress, Hired Mistress / His Mistress for a Million / Friday Night Mistress

As they neared the tall blue side gates of the resort Gabriel changed down gears. When he skidded the bike to a stop, he averted his gaze while she alighted. Her feet on solid ground, she straightened the colourful wrap around her legs, and that empty feeling turned to flat-line hopelessness.

Gabriel Steele’s mission here was to wipe out any rot. Given the many eyes and ears around Diamond Shores, her position wouldn’t be a secret for long. Soon enough he’d hear about Nina Petrelle—her substandard performance, how the other staff disapproved of her breezy ticket in.

She didn’t need to purge herself to him now. Tell him how she’d got to this place in her life. How she’d felt so displaced until he’d brought her back to life last night. He’d find out what he needed to know soon enough. Then it would only be a matter of time before she received her marching orders.

“Can you walk?” He dismounted the bike but kept his sunglasses in place. “I’ll organise a motorised buggy if you’re not sure of your ankle.”

A sea breeze peeled through his dark hair, making it dance above the widow’s peak, but his expression—or what she could see of it—remained unmoved. She hated his stiffness, that formal air. A few hours ago they’d talked and laughed and made the sweetest, and at other times wildest love. Now she had trouble imagining how the firm line of that mouth had pressed such tender affection upon her. The most beautiful time of her life was over.

“I’m fine to walk,” she told him, determined to hold onto what remained of her dignity. “Thank you.”

The mirrors of his glasses flashed in the sunlight as his head dipped a margin. “Can I make an appointment for our doctor to check out your leg and that bump on your head?”

“You’ve done enough.”

Bittersweet longing ribboned around her heart. Yes, he’d done more than enough. He’d saved her life. She was standing here only because of this man’s action and focus. That debt could never be repaid. If she felt gutted now, if she wished things could be different—that time could somehow rewind—she needed to remember she’d been given a second chance and go from there.

She headed off towards her quarters. Her vision had blurred and her heart was steadily sinking when that rich, deep voice came from behind her.

“Nina. Wait.”

Her breath caught. After dashing a tear away, she spun back round. Sunglasses removed, he stood before her in those sexy jeans, his legs braced apart.

“I want you to have dinner with me tonight,” he stated.

The unexpected thrill of having him follow her flashed brighter before it fizzled out. Dinner with Gabriel sounded like heaven, but any liaison was out of the question. When he found out who and what she was, he’d understand why.

“Gabriel, please—”

“I’m not taking no for an answer.” He took both her hands in his, and the smile that made her melt sparkled up in his eyes. “You know it won’t do any good to argue.” When she squared her shoulders and stood her shaky ground, he shrugged. “I could always sweep you up and carry you off. It’s worked before.”

A laugh almost escaped.

From churlish to charming—and Gabriel’s charming was so very hard to resist. But she had no choice. Now they were back at the resort, and their positions had changed so dramatically they couldn’t go back to “last night.”

She was working up another refusal when she spotted a woman in staff uniform gaping over at her: Tori Scribbins—Nina’s roommate, and one of her few friends here. Tori’s hand went theatrically to her heart and she pretended to faint. Nina’s smile broke, and Gabriel’s face slanted into her line of vision. With a precision movement he angled her, and next Nina knew she was shrieking with surprise, back in the cradle of those indomitable arms.

Her first instinct was to slap his shoulder, insist he let her down, but more powerful was the knowledge that he wasn’t giving up on her. He never seemed to give up.

Maybe, just maybe …

Was it too stupid to hope again?

But she’d need to explain what was so difficult to put into words—how she’d come to be on this island, why she’d felt so lost—and she couldn’t do that here. They needed privacy. She had a shift in the kitchen that ended at nine tonight. If she went to his bungalow after that …

He’d begun to stride off, but she pushed against his chest to pull him up.

“I’m busy till nine,” she shot out.

His pace died while his crooked smile grew. “Which restaurant do you prefer?”

“Can we eat in? At your place?”

The sparkle in his eyes heated up. “It’s a date.”

Out the corner of her eye Nina spied Tori, leaning against the doorjamb of the room she must be cleaning; her jaw had dropped to the floor. She guessed this scene would look pretty remarkable … a strong, handsome, determined man whisking Nina the waitress away.

Tori was a true romantic. She’d be hearing wedding bells and planning honeymoons. Nina wouldn’t presume to think that far ahead, but perhaps this rollercoaster Cinderella story might have some kind of happy ending after all.

Gabriel was saying, “Now I’ve got you, I might as well carry you to your room.”

Her room was small and bare and in the staff quarters. No reason she couldn’t get everything off her chest there—but no guarantee he would take the news well. Right or wrong, weak or strong, she wanted to hold onto hope as long as she could. Besides, she needed to get to her shift and he needed to get to work …

To his elimination plan.

“I don’t want to be carried.” But she smiled when she added, “And don’t bother arguing this one. Put me down and I promise I’ll see you after nine.”

He studied her eyes, then reluctantly lowered her to her feet. He stole a lingering kiss from her cheek and murmured near her ear, “I’ll have the champagne poured.”

After she’d watched him stride away around a clump of pygmy date palms, Nina turned back to Tori, who was madly waving her over.

When Nina reached her roommate, Tori swept her into the suite and clapped the door shut.

Tori’s coffee-coloured eyes were dancing with excitement. Her large watermelon wedge earrings swung as she clasped her hands under her chin and literally jumped up and down.

“When you didn’t come in last night I didn’t know what to think. I was going to call the alert if you weren’t back by lunch. Now I understand why you went missing. My only question is … why are you back so soon? You should have called in a sickie.”

Nine chewed her lip. She shouldn’t blab. She didn’t want to risk her secret leaking out before seeing Gabriel tonight. But she simply had to talk. She was bursting to spill about the first good thing to have happened to her in weeks.

They’d moved into the main room and now sat together on the massive semi-circular couch which faced a breathtaking view. The flutter in Nina’s stomach beat faster as she told all about her fantastical evening—up to the point where her cliff-top angel had confessed his true identity as owner of the Diamond Shores Resort.

Tori slumped against the silk brocade cushions and held her cheeks. “Oh. My. Gosh. I’d have passed out. He owns the place? Everything?” Nina nodded and Tori tipped closer. “When are you going to see him again?”

“Tonight. After my shift.”

“Are you going to tell him who you are before or after?”

“Before or after what?”

“He throws you down and ravages you, of course.”

Nina’s sucked down a breath. No use denying she wanted that to happen. A few minutes away from him seemed like an hour. An hour would seem like a week. By tonight she would be near ready to throw herself at him.

But she couldn’t afford any more delays. The longer she kept her secret from Gabriel, the more chance he had of finding out the truth. It was better the news came from her.

“I’ll tell him as soon as I get there.”

They would either kiss, and the fun times would be on again, or he would not be amused and would refuse to contribute to delinquent behaviour as far as resort standards and reputation were concerned. Then again he was the boss. He could make new rules.

Sinking further into the couch, Tori draped her arms over her head and spoke to the rattan fan, circulating air around the vaulted wood beam ceiling. “I bet he kisses like a dream.”

Nina recalled the sensation of Gabriel’s lips covering hers … the way his mouth had coaxed her into sublime submission. “He kisses better than a dream.”

He was drop-dead delectable. That body. That face. That creamy, dreamy voice.

“Maybe he has a brother you could introduce me to?” Tori pushed up and, sashaying over to her vacuum cleaner, gave her watermelon earring a sassy flick. “I could handle putting my duster out to pasture.”

Nina was watching that earring swing. “You could get in trouble, wearing those.” No jewellery was allowed other than studs and a watch. Mr Dorset, the general manager, was a stickler for dress code. Mr Dorset was a stickler for every rule.

Tori struck a pose oozing with attitude. “You’re playing ‘to the manner born’ and I might get in trouble?”

The joke was that Nina was to the manner born. She hadn’t appreciated the privileges she’d enjoyed growing up. She hadn’t missed them when she’d had a well-paid job. Her life had seemed full. She’d been good at what she’d done. Her colleagues had respected her and vice versa.

Tori was deep in thought, fingering that earring. “If you ask me, management need to loosen up. Don’t be overly friendly with the guests,” she sing-songed. “Don’t cough in public or we’ll dock your pay.”

“You wouldn’t be docked for coughing.” Unless it was excessive.

Adjusting the vacuum head, Tori sent her a dry look. “This place needs a darn good shake-up. And you can tell your rich boyfriend that from me.”

“He’s not my boyfriend.”

“Then what are you waiting for?” Tori stepped on the power, the vacuum roared to life, and she swung her hips in a hoola circle. “Work it, baby.”

Promising to give Tori an update, either tomorrow or later that night, depending on how things went, Nina headed off to change. But she was preoccupied with hoping things would go well, buoyed by fond thoughts of her previous job back in Sydney. She’d belonged at Shimmer magazine in a way she would never belong here. One thing was certain. She needed to feel that sense of belonging again.

While dragging her uniform out from the single-door wardrobe, the phone extension caught Nina’s eye. She’d asked the receptionist at Shimmer to keep her ear to the ground; sometimes management cut too many corners and people were needed back to fill the gaps. So why not take the initiative and call?

A moment later a voice Nina didn’t recognise answered the connection in Sydney, and Nina cleared her throat. “Hello. Would Abbey King be there?”

“Abbey left last week. Can anyone else help?”

Nina’s stomach bottomed out. Abbey was gone too? “Uh, I’m not sure who’s there any more.”

“May I ask who’s speaking?”

“Nina Petrelle.”

“And you’re enquiring about …?”

“I used to work there.”

The receptionist’s tone changed, became low and flat. “Shimmer have no vacancies at this time.”

Nina’s hand fisted around the receiver as suffocating heat crept up her neck.

I was in charge of Features, she wanted to say. I used to buy a latte with extra sprinkles every morning before work. I used to sit around the boardroom and discuss upcoming stories and strategies with my colleagues. I was part of that office, dammit!

The receptionist’s voice infiltrated the red haze. “Hello? Were you calling about a job?”

Nina set her teeth. “I already have a job.”

She slammed the receiver down.

Don’t cry. Don’t you dare cry.

If she started she might not be able to stop, because that same draining question was whispering again in her mind …

Who are you? Where will you end up?

She knew she would survive. It was just a matter of staying strong.

But if Gabriel threw her out tonight she didn’t know what she’d do.

With a spring in his step, Gabriel headed down the wide slate path, which was lined by a jungle of lush tropical garden. Unwilling to admit defeat, he’d made a no-holds-barred play to see Nina again and she’d acquiesced. He wasn’t prepared to throw in the towel without at least writing a closing chapter to their beach-side affair.

When he’d told her that he owned this island resort initially he’d thought she was embarrassed. Then he’d thought she was being a princess, and then he’d surmised that he’d merely lost his appeal. But when she’d walked away, resigned yet also somehow brave, he’d known something more lay behind her change in attitude.

He remembered their conversation the previous night … the way she’d opened up.

What had knocked the wind out of her? he wondered. She’d said she wanted to know who she was. He’d blamed her general dislike of the resort on service and facilities, but after seeing how bereft she’d looked before he’d called her back, he knew it went deeper than that. The obstacle, the crisis bringing her down, was waiting for her here.

Something dug into his hip. He reached and pulled a shell from his pocket. Before leaving this morning he’d found it on the bathroom shelf. Knowing Nina must have left it there, on impulse he’d taken it with him. He focused on the shell’s decorative rays and remembered Nina’s incredible smile.

He held the shell tighter.

He wouldn’t rest until A: he found out all of Nina’s story, and B: he fixed whatever was wrong. If she needed an ally, no matter how busy he got here, he’d be it.

“Excuse me, Mr Steele?”

Gabe wheeled around. Horace Dorset, General Manager of Diamond Shores Resort, was striding up the path. Dorset, with a lemon rosebud adorning his lapel, gave him a pleasant, enquiring look. “Everything well with you, sir?”

“I received your message,” said Gabe. Dorset wanted to speak with him about standardising staff prerequisites. Good plan, but not now. “I’ll get back to you tomorrow.”

Dorset nodded, but didn’t bow off. “I see you’ve introduced yourself to some of the staff.”

Gabriel cast his mind back. “No. Only the managers.”

“The young lady …?”

Young lady? He meant Nina?

Gabriel laughed. “You’re mistaken. Nina’s a guest.” Dorset’s brows slanted, then he shook his head. “You’re confusing her with someone else,’ Gabriel pointed out. Although he wasn’t sure how anyone could mistake an air that confirmed an impeccable upbringing … the way she held herself … the way she spoke.

Dorset thought she was staff? Absurd.

And yet Dorset kept looking at him with something like pity pinching his brows.

Gabriel thought more, then waved an impatient arm towards the hotel. “I saw her go into her room, for God’s sake.”

“Not her room, Mr Steele. A housekeeping trolley was outside. Perhaps Nina entered to help another staff member clean.”

Gabriel probed Dorset’s cool gaze. If Dorset thought this was funny, he wasn’t laughing. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“The woman you saw is a waitress. Nina Petrelle started with Diamond Shores six weeks ago.” Dorset’s shoulders rolled back. “We like to pride ourselves on our standards, and I’m afraid Nina has made one too many errors. I’ve been patient so far, but this episode, withholding her identity from a guest—from you, Mr Steele—is an infringement that cannot be ignored. Measures must be taken.”

Gabriel’s mind felt frozen. He opened his palm and glared at the shell. Had he heard her name right?

“The staff are well aware of our number one rule,” Dorset continued. “No fraternising with guests. I want you to know I’m very strict on that. It can be tempting for a single young woman to covet what others here enjoy—”

Gabriel shot up a hand. He was interested in only one thing. “What did you say her name was?”

“Nina.”

“Last name?”

“Petrelle.”

Nina Petrelle. Anthony Petrelle’s baby sister?

A thousand memories flashed through his mind—playing touch in the Petrelles’ enormous manicured backyard … surfing at Bondi that last summer … Anthony’s sister, that right little madam, sticking it to him every chance she got. If she wasn’t jeering at his favourite shoes, she was niggling about his numerous after-school jobs, or insisting he should do them all a favour and buy a new pair of glasses.

She’d been the kind of over-indulged kid who had a tantrum if no one noticed the new designer ribbon in her silky blonde hair. Nina Petrelle had been the poster girl for spoilt rotten. But for the sake of his friendship with Anthony, who’d been as down to earth as the next bloke, he’d kept his mouth shut.

Gabriel shook his brain and came back to the present.

How the tables had turned. When he’d known Nina last his surname had been Turner, his mother’s name. But if Nina didn’t recognise him, he sure as hell hadn’t recognised her. For one, she was twice the size—and in all the right places. Her hair was six shades darker too.

He remembered her body writhing beneath him in the firelight last night and his insides twisted.

He’d made love to Nina Petrelle?

Dorset’s voice cut into his thoughts. “Mr Steele, I apologise for her behaviour. Gold-digging will not be tolerated here. I’ll go speak with her now.”

As Dorset moved off, Gabriel gripped the older man’s forearm. His tone was close to dangerous. “I don’t want you to say or do a thing with regard to Miss Petrelle.”

“I—I beg your pardon—?”

“You heard me.” He released Dorset’s arm. “I’ll handle this.”

Dorset opened his mouth to protest, but when Gabriel glowered Dorset nodded, although clearly unhappy with the decision. “As you wish.”

Gabriel continued on to his accommodation, the shell tucked inside one clenched hand. He felt as if his chest had been rammed by a tree trunk.

Yes, when she’d told him her name he’d thought twice, but she looked nothing like the squirt who’d hung around and annoyed the crap out of him all those years ago. What was she doing working here? Her family was loaded.

Perhaps they’d had a falling out? She obviously needed money—badly enough to hunt down and snare herself a millionaire. Although her near drowning must have been an accident; no one would risk their life that way. But clearly she’d taken advantage of the situation from there, playing him with a combination of coy and sassy to see which stoked his fires best.

Let someone have faith in you again, she’d said. Hell, he’d really thought she’d cared.

He kicked open his front door.

What a schmuck!

As he stood in the foyer of his bungalow, another thought sprang to mind.

Nina knew he owned this island, but she didn’t know who he was—or rather who he’d been: Gabe Turner, her brother’s egghead friend, the “pauper” she’d lived to humiliate. The guy who’d kept his lip buttoned while she tried to put him in his place.

Gabriel’s smile was more a sneer.

He couldn’t wait to see her face when she found out.

But a greater challenge awaited her. Not only was Nina a down-on-her-luck gold-digger, according to Dorset she was no good at her job. How on earth had she got a position here in the first place?

But the bigger question was …

He dropped the shell and ground it beneath his heel.

How soon could he get rid of her?

CHAPTER EIGHT

AFTER her shift in the kitchen, Nina showered, slipped into a light summer dress, and made her way to Gabriel Steele’s ultra-private bungalow. Her throat was tight with nerves and her stomach was riding a rollercoaster by the time she dropped the knocker on the imposing double doors. After several moments, when no one answered, she dared to turn the handle and ease inside.

Towering potted palms, mirror-polished marble counters, exquisitely crafted teak furniture, fresh sprays of exotic flowers … Surrounded by such luxury, in “guest” versus “employee” mode, she felt the dizzy scent of excess fill her head.

Spending last night with Gabriel in that cabin had been like a beautiful elixir, a once-in-a-lifetime experience which would live for ever in her mind and her heart. Being here in this setting, about to be with Gabriel again, was possibly an even headier thrill. After spending hours packing dishwashers, the sight of that cushiony white couch was almost enough to convince her that indulgence—this kind of over-the-top lavish extravagance—wasn’t so offensive after all. She would love to lie back on the couch and put her feet up.

Massaging the weary small of her spine, she did another sweep of the main room. Gabriel wasn’t here. Limping slightly, she edged towards the opened concertina doors.

The full moon spilled a shimmering river of gold across an otherwise black sea. The scent of salt and natural floral perfumes filled the warm air, and on the deck Gabriel stood with a phone pressed to his ear. He wore dark tailored trousers and a crisp white Oxford shirt. His sleeves were rolled to below the elbow, leaving tanned corded forearms exposed. His dark hair was freshly showered, wet and stylishly messy.

The overall picture—complete with a vee of wiry hair visible at his throat and broad shoulders adorned in silk weave—was enough for Nina to clutch at her fast-beating heart. She hadn’t thought he could be more attractive than when she’d first seen him—muscles pumped and bare chest battle-whipped.

She’d been wrong.

Without trying, he dominated any scene.

Angling around, Gabriel spotted her. He nodded twice into the phone, gave a parting remark, then disconnected and moved towards her.

“Important call?” she asked, when she might easily have said, The sight of you turns my legs to jelly.

“My second in charge,” he said, sauntering nearer. “Zane Rutley knows as much about my company as I do, but he likes to keep me up to date. Says there’s no rest for the wicked.”

“You’ve known him long?”

“Since university. We duxed Management Accounting and Strategy.”

“Ooh, bad boys.”

He grinned. “I can’t speak for Zane.”

She didn’t know about Zane Rutley either, but Gabriel Steele could make any woman melt at a hundred paces. His every move was measured, exact, and at the same time effected with inherent masculine grace. Her cheeks heated. Although he hadn’t touched her yet, she was already simmering inside.

When he stopped before her, she expected his mouth to break into his trademark sexy-as-sin smile. She expected him to sweep her up and kiss her as he’d kissed her through the magical hours of last night. But his lopsided grin remained fixed, and the gleam in his eye seemed somehow … cool.

She felt a little off balance when his fingers curled around her arm and his freshly shaved cheek rubbed lightly against hers.

His lips brushed her temple. “How was your afternoon?”

“Busy.” Her ankle throbbed to punctuate the point.

He drew away and assessed her butter-yellow dress, his gaze deliberately trailing her shape in a vaguely predatory fashion before he ushered her, a hand on her elbow, towards the outdoor setting.

He indicated an ice bucket. “Champagne?”

“You said you’d have it poured,” she teased.

“Nothing worse than when bubbles go flat.”

He popped the cork, and foam spilled over the rim to darken the timber near his feet. To take her mind off his intoxicating sandalwood scent, she inspected the champagne label.

“My father used to keep a couple of bottles of that for special occasions.”

“It’s a rare vintage.” He handed her a glass. “Is your father here with you on the island?”