Defiant Mistress, Ruthless Millionaire(18)

"At least you had that."

"Yeah, I did. And I promised her that one day I'd make it up to her, but she died before I could give her what she deserved."

"And your father? He still didn't help you, even when she died?"

Josh's bark of laughter lacked humour in any form. "No, I came across  his contact details in her things when she died. Up until then I didn't  even know who he was. Mum would never talk about him and whenever I'd  bring it up she'd change the subject. Then, later, I'd always hear her  crying in her room. It doesn't take too many times before a kid realises  his need to know takes a back seat to his mother's happiness."

Josh shifted to one side, letting Callie slide from his lap. He rose and  walked over to the bookcase that lined one wall of the room. On one  shelf stood a small box, like a miniature pirate's chest. He lifted it  with both hands and turned back to Callie.                       
       
           



       

"She always kept this at her bedside. Locked, of course, although that  didn't stop me trying to get into it," he admitted with a rueful smile.  "She was good at hiding things, though, and I only found the key after  she'd died."

He dug into his trouser pocket and pulled out his keys and, selecting  the smallest, opened the box. From where she sat Callie could see the  yellow paper of a stack of envelopes, tied together with a length of  faded pink silk ribbon.

"They're letters, from him. He stopped writing when she got pregnant with me."

"Have you read them?" Callie asked, feeling as if she was poised at the  edge of a precipice. Were these letters the key to what Irene needed?

"Yeah, I made myself read every one of them-even the letter and cheque  that were sent to my mother, paying her off and telling her to get out  of town."

"She never cashed the cheque? Why? She must have desperately needed the money."

"As I said before, her pride wouldn't let her. I think she felt she'd  lost so much already that she wasn't prepared to lose that, too."

"I can't believe you've kept them all this time. Wouldn't it be better to destroy them, to let go?"

"They were my only contact with a father I'd never known. I've kept his  lies as a reminder of what he owed my mother-what he owed me. And I  vowed on my mother's grave that I'd make him pay one day."

"Josh, surely you can't mean that," Callie protested. "Everyone has to learn to let go eventually."

She levered herself up and out of the seat and crossed the room to take  the box from his hands and place it back on the bookcase next to him.  She slid her arms around his waist, desperate to offer him comfort, but  he remained rigid in her embrace.

"Oh, yes," he replied, his voice hard and strangely detached, a total  contrast to the warm, loving companion she'd known over the weekend. "I  mean every word of it. He'll regret that he didn't do what was right.  He'll regret every word of his lies and the world will finally know what  a two-faced bastard he really is. And when he's forced to publicly  acknowledge me, he will know that he, and he alone, was the master of  his own destruction."

A finger of dread touched Callie's heart. She had no doubt that Josh  would follow through on his promise, and she would hate to be in the  shoes of the man he targeted. If there was anything she was certain of  at this moment, it was that Josh was a man driven by his emotions-and  given those emotions, what would he do to her when he found out the  truth about why she was here?





Nine


That night when they made love there was an edge of desperation to  Josh's touch-a driven hunger that Callie ached to assuage-but she knew,  even as she finally drifted to sleep in his arms, that she could never  remedy what ailed his heart.

The next morning, after a night of fractured sleep, she slipped from the  bed and went downstairs. If she couldn't sleep, at least she could make  herself useful and put together something for them to enjoy for  breakfast.

It was as she passed through to the kitchen her eyes were drawn to the  small chest sitting on the bookcase. Still open. She hesitated a moment,  then, with a tentative hand, slid the top envelope out from under the  ribbon.

The postmark was dated more than thirty years ago and the masculine  handwriting on the envelope stood out in stark black lines. Callie slid  open the flap and unfolded the sheets of paper within. No matter how  stark the bold strokes of the handwriting they could not detract from  the words of love that filled the page. Callie felt a lump form in her  throat as she read the first page filled with private words of love  between a man and his mistress. Words that spoke of his frustration in  being trapped in a marriage of propriety and expectation. A marriage  that was barren of the joy of children.

These weren't the words of a man who lied, of that Callie was certain.  She felt as if she were intruding to read any more, as if she were  trespassing on what had been a deeply intimate connection between two  people. She refolded the sheets and slid the letter back into its  envelope. The sheer depth of emotion she'd felt reading that single page  filled her with a sense of helplessness and, yes, even envy that one  woman had been the object of a man's love and devotion to such an  extent. Her fingers trembled as she replaced the envelope in the stack  and carefully closed the lid on the chest Callie firmly believed should  have been buried with its owner. The letters didn't deserve to be used  as a tool for revenge.

They were private, a glimpse into the love and loss between two people  who loved at the wrong time. A couple destined to be torn apart.                       
       
           



       

She couldn't help wondering whether it would be the same for her and  Josh. He wouldn't suffer her betrayal in silence. He'd come for her with  all guns blazing, unless she could somehow satisfy Irene's demands  without him finding out.

Somehow, she didn't fancy her chances.

Irene had celebrated a birthday over the weekend, and Callie had  promised to stop in and see her at home after work on Monday. As she  drove over the Harbour Bridge to their Northcote Point address, she  couldn't help but keep an eye on her rearview mirror. Her double life  was beginning to mess with her mind, and she castigated herself as a  paranoic fool for believing that Josh even suspected her of any  duplicity. He wasn't the kind of man to put a tail on her. Oh, no. If he  had any idea of what she was up to, he'd confront her, up front and  personal, and demand his answers in no uncertain terms.

Callie's heart ached with the fear of him finding out. The more time she  spent with him, the more she could feel herself falling in love with  him, piece by inexorable piece. And she knew that was a recipe for  disaster. To even begin to think that her love might be returned was  destined for failure. She was in an untenable position unless she told  Irene she could no longer fulfil her promise.

The very thought filled her with trepidation. She owed Irene everything  and she'd felt honour-bound to repay the older woman with her loyalty.  All of which made what she was about to do very, very difficult. She  couldn't go through with it. Not any longer. Irene's obsession with Josh  Tremont was unfounded. The two corporations worked on the same playing  field, competed for the same work, time and time again. Yes, Josh had  had a mole in the Palmer Enterprises structure, which weakened their  chances, but now that that mole had been exposed, surely Irene could let  go of her fears and rely on the Palmers' business acumen and  longstanding reputation to hold their own.

And let Callie fall in love with Josh.

Callie gripped the steering wheel tight as she took the turnoff that led  to the cliff-top home of the Palmer family. She wondered how they'd  feel, leaving it all behind to take up the consular position in  Guildara.

She punched in the security code at the gate and coasted down the  driveway, all the while fighting back the nerves that threatened to send  her stomach into orbit.

Irene was her usual impeccable self, rising from the sofa in the formal lounge as Callie was shown in.

"How are you, my dear?" she asked, bussing Callie on the cheek as she  greeted her. "You look tired. I hope that man isn't demanding too much  of you."

No more than she willingly gave him, Callie thought to herself as she forced a smile and shook her head.

Irene exclaimed over Callie's gift to her, a vintage Chanel handbag  they'd seen on a shopping expedition together months earlier. It had  cost far more than Callie would ordinarily spend on a gift, but Irene  was worth it. Without her steady hand guiding Callie's life, who knew  where she'd have ended up?