The Billionaire Boss's Innocent Bride(19)

'Not that I'm aware of.' Jake shook his head.

'But-I don't understand. And I don't want to-'

'Perhaps he thought it would be a nice break for you after all you've   done for Nicky?' Mrs Mills suggested. 'And I can get Peta and Brad to   sleep over so you wouldn't have to worry about Nicky.'

'I still don't want to-'

It was Jake who interrupted her this time. 'Miss Hill, Alex, if I may … ' he hesitated

' … it would not be a good time to oppose Mr Goodwin.'

'Uh-oh!' Stan remarked. 'In one of those moods, is he? Then I guess we all need to be on our toes.'

Jake looked forbiddingly at Stan. 'If you knew the kind of pressure he's been under, mate.'

'Plus,' Mrs Hill put in delicately, 'there's, well, there's Nicky.'

Stan raised his hands in mock surrender. 'Don't get me wrong,' he   protested. 'He's a great employer ninety-nine per cent of the time. I   wouldn't want to work for anybody else. But you have to admit that that   other one per cent of the time he can cut you down to size with only a   couple of well-chosen words-sometimes it only takes a look to do it.'

'Don't you have anything to wear, dear?' Mrs Mills put into the silence   that followed Stan's obviously accurate summing-up, Alex guessed.

'I do, actually,' she replied slowly. 'I was supposed to be at this   function as an interpreter. And I brought all those clothes back with me   when I went home a few days ago. I just don't understand why, though.'

'"Ours not to reason why, ours but to do and die,"' Jake quoted,   somewhat surprisingly, 'but, it could have something to do with your new   PA job, Alex.'

She looked surprised. 'So that's all been set up?'

'I believe so. Margaret told me about it, anyway.'

'Oh.' She sat back with a frown. She hadn't expected it to be set in   stone so soon and she hadn't contacted Simon, herself, which she should   have done. 'Well, I guess that's it,' she said a little helplessly.

'And one last footnote.' Jake pushed his glasses up his nose. 'Lady   Olivia McPherson will be in attendance, with Sir Michael, naturally,   tomorrow night.'

It was a moment before Alex made the connection, as both Stan and Mrs Mills snapped upright in their chairs.

'His sister?' she hazarded.

'His sister,' Jake said gently. 'So-' he scanned them in turn '-let's all pull together and produce a perfect evening.'

'What's she like? His sister,' Alex enquired of Mrs Mills after the briefing had broken up.

'She's-she can be a bit exacting,' Mrs Mills said carefully. 'Oh, she's   very attractive, very vibrant, but-just not the easiest person to   please.'

'Sounds a lot like her brother,' Alex commented with a grin. Then she   sobered and sighed. 'I wish I didn't have to go to this function. I'm   not that used to them.'

'You'll do fine, Alex,' Mrs Mills said encouragingly. 'In fact you're   like a breath of fresh air compared to-' She broke off and shrugged.

Alex glanced at her. 'Compared to what?'

'Some of the spoilt socialites we get to see around here. OK. I need to   start making lists. Some people seem to be able to carry it all around   in their heads-I need lists.'

Alex gave her a quick hug. 'You're a treasure, actually.'

At six o'clock the next evening, Alex started to get ready.

The dress was beautiful even though it was discreet and black. It had a   ruched, strapless bodice in a fine silk crêpe and a long fitted skirt   with a small slit up one side. A cropped, short-sleeved bolero with a   stand-up collar completed the outfit. Alex stared at herself once she   was in the dress, and remembered Margaret Winston's enthusiasm for it.                       
       
           



       

'You don't think it's-too dressy for an interpreter?' she'd asked Margaret at the time.

'I think it's perfect for-for you, my dear. And it's going to be a very dressy occasion, believe me.'

Alex came back to the present with a grimace. At the time she'd had no   idea just how glamorous, expensive and sophisticated a world she was   about to enter. She did now and she was grateful for this dress.

Also, black did suit her, she decided. It did make her skin look creamy.   And the style made her waist look reed-slim. With it she wore sheer   black tights and, thankfully, medium-heel black suede shoes.

But as she stared at herself with her hands on her hips something seemed to be missing.

Her make-up was nearly as good as Mary's efforts. Her nails were not   painted-dogs and kids didn't seem to go well with painted nails-but they   were smooth, neat ovals and a healthy pink.

Her hair might not have quite the extra-what was the word?-zip it had   had after Mr Roger had combed it, but she was happy with the fair, tamed   curls.

'It just needs something to lift it-I know, I need a flower. Maybe Mrs   Mills or Stan could help me out?' she said to her reflection.

They both helped out.

Stan found a perfect white gardenia for her and Mrs Mills pinned it into her hair with a tiny pearl clip.

'There.' Mrs Mills stood back. 'You look lovely, Alex! Doesn't she, Stan?'

'She looks beaut!' Stan concurred.

She thanked them laughingly, but Nicky was of the same opinion when she went to see him.

'Wow!' he said. 'Can't I come to this party with you?'

Alex chuckled. Nicky was beginning to feel much better. His temperature   was normal and, although he still looked somewhat battle-scarred and  had  patches of calamine lotion all over him, he also looked a lot  better.

'No, Nicky, sorry,' she said affectionately and paused. 'But would you like to have a look at the decorations and so on?'

He would, he told her.





CHAPTER SEVEN


THE transformation of the house for the dinner dance was breathtaking-

considering that the place was rather breathtakingly beautiful even in   normal mode. Once again the vast, stone-flagged terrace was the main   venue, but this time, instead of two long tables, many smaller round   tables were grouped around an imported wooden dance floor.

There were flowers everywhere, on the tables and in standard   wrought-iron vases. A canopy of magenta ribbons was looped above the   dance floor and electric candles in tall sconces shed soft light.

A cascade of tiny flickering lights pricked the night as they outlined   the jetty. The band, more accurately a string quartet, its four members   dressed in dinner suits with magenta velvet bow ties, was tuning up   softly.

Alex gave Nicky a tour, then they sat on the staircase for a while, where they could look through the hall to the terrace.

'It looks like an enchanted castle,' Nicky said. 'Will my dad be here tonight?'

'Indeed he will, but I'm not sure what time he's arriving.'

She turned at a sound above her. It was Peta and she told them she was in residence with Brad and ready to take over.

'Seen enough, Nicky?' Alex asked. 'I think Peta's got a DVD for you and Brad to watch.'

'Oh, boy!' Nicky jumped up. 'Goodnight, Alex.' He gave her a quick hug   and turned to go, then turned back. 'Will you say goodnight to my dad   for me?'

'Of course,' Alex said through a sudden lump in her throat.

She stayed where she was as Nicky pattered out of sight and earshot,   then she jumped as Max Goodwin walked from the shadows beside the   staircase into the pool of light at the bottom of it.

'You!' she gasped. 'I didn't know you were there.'

He inclined his head. 'No, I gathered that.'

'But-' Alex stopped and took an unexpected breath, because this was a   Max Goodwin she'd never seen, and not only because he was impeccably   dressed in a dinner suit and snowy shirt front, not because he wore his   evening clothes to perfection, not even because she'd never seen him   look irritated or impatient-she certainly had.

But what Stan had said flashed through her mind-he could cut you down to   size with a few well-chosen words, sometimes with just a look. That   summed up this Max Goodwin.

There was a harshness in his eyes and the lines of his face, a   forbidding aura about him that also summed up what Jake Frost had   said-this would not be a good time to oppose Mr Goodwin.

And it caused Alex to tremble inwardly and feel like creeping away. But surely …                        
       
           



       

'Didn't you hear?' she asked. 'He called you Dad.'

'I heard. Have you been coaching him, Alex?'

'No. Oh, no! I think Brad, Mrs Mills' grandson, may have helped, though.   He doesn't get to see a lot of his father either, but he talks about   him a lot. I have to say, in the father stakes, Brad's dad is a hard act   to follow since he gets to drive around in tanks and has a real gun.'

She stopped her light-hearted attempt to defuse the situation and the hasty smile she'd pinned on faded from her lips.

But it seemed it might have worked.

He stirred and the harshness relaxed a little. 'I'll go and say goodnight to him now.'