The Billionaire's Secrets(4)

"I think we should leave Chloe in peace for a while," Windy added. She  turned to Chloe. "Your bathroom is directly across the hall. Why don't  you have a nice hot bath?"

"I don't want to miss Mr. Byrne when he comes back," Chloe said. She  really didn't want to be in the bathtub when he booted her out. It would  be so undignified, to say the least!

Windy looked at her watch. "He won't be home for at least another hour. You have time."

"Okay then, I will." A bath would feel good. She would put on something  nice and do her makeup. Perhaps she could convince Gaelan to give her a  chance to prove herself.         

     



 

"And you," Windy said to Sophia, who had climbed up on the bed and was  rearranging all the many pillows and cushions. "You should have your own  bath and get ready for bed. It's way past your bedtime. And you're just  getting over a cold. You know the doctor told you to go to bed on time  and get lots of sleep."

"I want to see Daddy too," Sophia insisted.

Windy sighed indulgently. "Okay, but you're still going to have your  bath. A nice warm one, right full of Epsom salts for that cold."

"All right," Sophia agreed, as if she were doing Windy a favour, and jumped down off the bed.

After they had left, Chloe opened her suitcases. She blushed at the  thought of Gaelan Byrne seeing her underthings spread out on the road.  Some of them now had smudges from the dirt. She sighed, stuffing the  soiled bras and panties into a pocket in the lining of the suitcase, and  searched for something clean. She would have all the time in the world  to do laundry when she got sent back to Boston. Then, suddenly, the full  implications of losing this job hit home. She had moved out of her  apartment with Shawn in Boston weeks ago and couldn't bear the thought  of staying again on her cousin Anthony's couch, she had no money beyond  her small savings, her parents had their own financial problems, and she  had no other job prospects. She had to keep this job. Dream job or not,  this was a matter of survival.

She picked out a simple black wool dress that she knew was flattering  and a pair of black stockings. From the underthings that had survived  the mishap, she chose a pair of lacy white panties and a bra. If she had  to appeal to the sensual side of Gaelan Byrne to keep this job, she  would do it, no matter how loudly the feminist in her objected.

She headed across the hall to her bathroom. It was every bit as  luxurious as her room, with antique fixtures and polished brass taps,  but as she soaked in the deep, old-fashioned claw-foot tub, she found it  hard to relax and enjoy her surroundings-she was too focused on her  upcoming meeting with Gaelan.

Perhaps she had just caught him at a bad moment. Windy had said he was  an "odd duck," but her tone seemed to indicate that everything would be  fine. It was important not to panic. Meeting him again would be like  going on another job interview. She would be polite and calm. She would  shake his hand and introduce herself formally. Perhaps it would be  better not to make any reference to their meeting on the road. Just  start at the beginning. Surely, once he spoke to her, he would realize  she was perfect for the job. Plus, she had the vote of Sophia. Surely,  once he saw how much his child liked her . . .

She washed her hair and got out of the tub, wrapping herself in a thick  white towel. She blow-dried her hair, letting it fall in natural waves  around her shoulders. Her hair, she felt, was her best feature, thick  and shiny and strawberry blond. Back in the bedroom, she dressed and put  on some lipstick. She was as prepared as she ever would be.

Gaelan Byrne opened the door just as Chloe reached the landing  overlooking the entrance hall. Wanting a moment to gather her courage  before meeting him, she stepped back into the shadows of the hall. Just  then, Sophia, dressed in her nightgown, ran out of the kitchen toward  her father. "Daddy!" she called, running toward him. "Chloe's here!"

"I know, Sophia," he said, pulling off his gloves and throwing them onto  a chair. He took off his coat and tossed it on the chair as well. "And  how many times do I have to tell you to stop calling me Daddy? Gaelan  will do just fine. You're not a baby anymore."

"Sorry," Sophia said sheepishly.

Chloe was shocked. Where were the hugs and kisses fathers were supposed  to greet their children with when they came home? And what was this  about not calling him Daddy? Chloe still called her father Dad and  always would. She couldn't imagine even Shawn being this cold. How could  Gaelan Byrne have so little affection for his own child?

"Why aren't you in bed?" he asked sharply. "You were supposed to be in bed two hours ago."

"Windy said I could stay up 'cause Chloe's here."

"Okay, so now that you've told me she's here, it's time you went to bed. Where's Windy?"

"She's in the kitchen, and I want Chloe to put me to bed!"

"Sophia," he said impatiently, "be reasonable, please. It has been a long day. And you know what the doctor said."

"I don't want you to send Chloe away," she said stubbornly. "I want her to be my teacher."

"Who said I was going to send Chloe away?" he demanded.

"Chloe did."         

     



 

"She did, did she? And where is Chloe now?"

Chloe decided this was her cue. She stepped out of the shadows of the  hall onto the landing toward the stairs. "I'm here," she said.

She felt Gaelan's eyes on her as she walked down the stairs. Sophia ran  over to her and held her arms up. Chloe gave her a quick hug. "Go find  Windy and tell her it's time for bed. I need to talk with your daddy."  She emphasized the word daddy, hoping Gaelan would notice.

"I don't want you to go!" Sophia sounded desperate and close to tears.

"That's what I have to talk to your daddy about. So go to bed and try  not to worry, okay? I'll come in and say good night in a little while."

"But what if I'm asleep?"

"I'll say good night anyway, and you'll hear me in your dreams." Certainly, Gaelan would allow that much.

"Good night, Sophia," Gaelan said firmly, and to Chloe's surprise, he  gave her a quick hug and kissed her on the cheek. She hugged him back  before going off meekly to find Windy.

While the hug seemed to satisfy Sophia, it only strengthened Chloe's  resolve to stay. She couldn't help but think it was only for show. What a  poor little rich girl Sophia was! Isolated in this great big house with  no school friends, no mother, and a father who was so cold he didn't  even allow her to call him Daddy. If the child was prone to temper  tantrums, it was no surprise-she was starved for affection.

"I overheard you speaking with Sophia," Chloe said in the neutral  professional voice she used in parent-teacher interviews. "I thought it  best not to get her hopes up that I was staying."

"I see. Well, it didn't take you long to turn her into a good advocate on your behalf," he said cynically.

"I can assure you that was not the intention. I was simply trying to spare her feelings."

"Yes, I'm sure." He sounded unconvinced. "Come into my study. I'd like to have a drink."

He led the way to a room on the main floor and, as she entered, Chloe  realized it was directly below her bedroom, the alcove surrounded with  windows part of the same turret. The rest of the room looked like the  sort of study seen in movies set in manor houses in the English  countryside, all dark panelling and leather furniture. He closed the  door behind her and lit a fire under the logs in the fireplace before  pouring a drink from a bottle on the mantel. He did not ask her to sit,  and she stood awkwardly in the doorway.

"Would you like a Scotch?" he asked, and it occurred to Chloe it was perhaps the first polite gesture he had made toward her.

"Yes, please," she said.

"I don't have any ice."

Is that an apology? she wondered. Perhaps there's a man with a heart under there after all, she thought sarcastically.

"That's fine. I like mine neat."

"Not very schoolmarm-like of you," he said, pouring her a glass.  "Although I approve. Good Scotch should never be watered down." He held  the glass out toward her, and she left her post by the door to take the  drink from his hand. He did not relinquish the drink immediately,  holding it for a moment as he looked at her critically. She was very  aware of his closeness. Her head did not quite reach his shoulder, and  she was looking at the button of his ivory-coloured shirt. He smelled of  the outdoors, of the ocean air. She could sense the power of his body  and was again reminded of the ocean, so powerful, moody, and restless.  It was attractive and seductive-she couldn't deny that-but it was also  dangerous, full of pitfalls, susceptible to sudden storms. Definitely  someone not to get involved with. Not if you didn't want your heart  broken . . .