The Mistress: The Mistress\Wanted: Mistress and Mother (19 page)

“Somewhere safe,” Matilda volunteered.

“Exactly.” Hugh gave a relieved nod. “Somewhere she can’t fall
and hurt herself, somewhere she can run around unhindered or just sit and look
at something beautiful. Look, I know you’re booked up solidly for the next few
months, but if one of the jobs gets cancelled could you bear me in mind? I hate
to put pressure on you, Matilda, but I saw the joy in the children’s faces when
they saw the garden today. And if it can help Alex...” His voice trailed off and
Matilda knew he wasn’t attempting to gain her sympathy, Hugh would never do
that. “My son-in-law thinks that it’s just a waste of time, that it isn’t going
to help a bit, but at the very least Alex would have a garden that’s safe and
gives her some pleasure. I’m sure I’ll be able to talk him around. At the end of
the day he adores Alex—he’d do anything to help her.”

Matilda didn’t know what to say—her diary was fill to burst
with smart mews townhouses all wanting the inevitable low-maintenance,
high-impact garden—but here was the man who had given her the head start, given
her this opportunity. And more importantly, Matilda thought, her eyes lingering
on Alex, here was a little girl who deserved all the help she could get. Her
mind was working overtime—she could almost see the lazy couple of weeks’ holiday
she’d had planned before plunging into her next job slipping away out of her
grasp as she took a deep breath and gave a small smile.

“Hugh, I’d need to get some details and then I’d need to
actually see the site before I commit, but I have a couple of weeks off before I
start on my next job, and I’m on pretty good terms with a few people. If I
called in a few favours maybe I could do it for you. Where does Alex live?”

“Mount Eliza.” Hugh saw her give a small grimace. It had
nothing to do with the location—Mount Eliza was a stunning, exclusive location
overlooking Port Phillip Bay—but the distance from the city meant that it would
cut down Matilda’s working day considerably. “It was their holiday residence
before the accident, but since then... Look, would it make it easier if you
stayed there? There’s plenty of room.”

“I don’t think I’d be able to do it otherwise,” Matilda
admitted. “I’ll have workers arriving at the crack of dawn and I’m going to need
to be there to meet them and show them what I need done.”

“It won’t be a problem,” Hugh assured her, and after a moment
of deep thought Matilda gave a small nod and then followed it up with a more
definite one.

“I’d be happy to do it.”

“You mean it?”

“Of course.” Matilda smiled more widely now, Hugh’s obvious
delight making her spur-of-the-moment choice easily the right one.

“I feel awful that you won’t even get a break.”

“That’s what being in business is all about apparently.”
Matilda shrugged her shoulders. “Anyway, I’m sure lean times will come—it won’t
stay spring for ever and anyway it mightn’t be such a big job. I’d be glad to do
it, Hugh, but I do need a few more details from you, and you need to get your
son-in-law’s permission—I can’t go digging up his land and planting things if he
doesn’t want me there in the first place. Now, I need to know the size of the
land, any existing structures...” Matilda gave in as yet another group was
making its way over, and Hugh’s secretary tapped him on the arm to take an
important phone call.

“It’s impossible to discuss it here.” Hugh gave an apologetic
smile. “And it’s probably inappropriate. You should be enjoying the
celebrations—perhaps we could do it over dinner tonight. I’ll see if my
son-in-law can come along—I’m sure once he hears first hand about it he’ll be
more enthusiastic. Actually, there he is—I’ll go and run it by him now.”

“Good idea,” Matilda agreed, crouching down again to play with
Alex, her head turning to where Hugh was waving. But the smile died on her face
as again she found herself staring at the man who had taken up so much of her
mental energy today—watching as he walked around the water feature, a frown on
his face as he watched her interact with his daughter.

“Dante!” Clearly not picking up on the tension, Hugh called him
over, but Dante didn’t acknowledge either of them, his haughty expression only
softening when Matilda stepped back, his features softer now as he eyed his
daughter. Matilda felt a curious lump swell in her throat as, with infinite
tenderness, he knelt down beside Alex, something welling within as he spoke
gently to his daughter.

“I’ll have a word with Dante and make a booking for tonight,
then,” Hugh checked hopefully—too pleased to notice Matilda’s stunned
expression. The most she could manage was the briefest of nods as realisation
started to dawn.

She’d barely managed two minutes in the lift with him and now
she was about to be his house guest!

He’s a husband and father, Matilda reminded herself firmly,
calming herself down a touch, almost convincing herself she’d imagined the
undercurrents that had sizzled between them.

And even if she hadn’t misread things, even if there was an
attraction between them, he was a married man and she wouldn’t forget it for a
single moment!

Chapter 2

S
he
didn’t want to do this
.

Walking towards the restaurant, Matilda was tempted to turn on
her stilleto heels and run. She
hated
with a passion
the formalities that preceded a garden makeover, looking at plans, talking
figures, time-frames—and the fact she hadn’t even seen the garden made this
meeting a complete time-waster. But, Matilda was quickly realizing, this type of
thing was becoming more and more frequent. As her business took off, gone were
the days where she rolled up on a doorstep in her beloved Blundstone boots,
accepted a coffee if she was lucky enough to be offered one and drew a
comprehensive sketch of her plans for the owners, along with a quote for her
services—only to spend the next few days chewing her nails and wondering if
they’d call, worrying if perhaps she’d charged too much or, worse, seriously
underquoted and would have to make up the difference herself.

Now her initial meetings took place in people’s offices or
restaurants, and even if she
was
lucky enough to be
invited into their homes, Matilda had quickly learnt that her new clientele
expected a smart, efficient professional for that first important encounter.

But it wasn’t just the formalities that were causing
butterflies this evening. Ducking into the shadowy retreat of a large pillar
beside the restaurant, Matilda stopped for a moment, rummaged in her bag and
pulled out a small mirror. She touched up her lipstick and fiddled with her hair
for a second, acknowledging the
real
reason for
anxiety tonight.

Facing Dante.

Even his name made her stomach ball into a knot of tension.
She’d wanted him to remain nameless—for that brief, scorching but utterly
one-sided encounter to be left at that—to somehow push him to the back of her
mind and completely forget about him.

And now she was going to be working for him!

Maybe this dinner was
exactly
what
she needed, Matilda consoled herself, peeling herself from the pillar ready to
walk the short distance that remained to the restaurant. Maybe a night in his
arrogant, obnoxious, pompous company would purge whatever it was that had
coursed through her system since she’d laid eyes on him, and anyway, Matilda
reassured herself, Hugh was going to be there, too.

An impressive silver car pulling up at the restaurant caught
Matilda’s attention and as the driver walked around and opened the rear door in
a feat of self-preservation she found herself stepping back into the shadows,
watching as the dignified figure of Dante stepped out—she had utterly no desire
to enter the restaurant with him and attempt small talk until she had the
reassuring company of Hugh.

He really was stunning, Matilda sighed, feeling slightly
voyeuristic as she watched him walk. Clearly she wasn’t the only one who thought
so. From the second he’d stepped out of the car, heads had turned, a few people
halting their progress to watch as if it were some celebrity arriving on the red
carpet. But just as the driver was about to close the car door, just as the
doorman greeted him, a piercing shriek emanating from the car had every head
turning.

Especially Dante’s.

Even from here she could see the tension etched in his face as
he walked back towards the car, from where an anxious young woman appeared,
holding the furious, livid, rigid body of his daughter. Grateful for the
shadows, Matilda watched with something akin to horror as, oblivious to the
gathering crowd, he took the terrified child from the woman and attempted to
soothe her, holding her angry, unyielding body against his, talking to her in
low, soothing tones, capturing her tiny wrists as she attempted to gouge him,
her little teeth like those of a feral animal. Matilda had never seen such
anger, never witnessed such a paroxysm of rage, could scarcely comprehend that
it could come from someone so small.

“That child needs a good smack, if you ask me,” an elderly lady
volunteered, even though no one had asked her. Matilda had to swallow down a
smart reply, surprising herself at her own anger over such a thoughtless
comment—tempted now to step out from the shadows and offer her support, to see
if there was anything she could do to help. But almost as soon as it had started
it was over. The fight that had fuelled Alex left her, her little body almost
slumping in defeat, the shrieks replaced by quiet, shuddering sobs, which were
so pain-filled they were almost harder to bear. After a moment more of tender
comfort, with a final nod Dante handed her back to the woman, his taut, strained
face taking in every detail as the duo headed for the car, before, without
deigning to give the crowd a glance, he headed into the restaurant.

Pushing open the door, though shaken from what she had just
witnessed, Matilda attempted assurance as her eyes worked the restaurant, her
smile ready for Hugh, but as the waiter took her name and guided her towards the
table, she was again tempted to turn tail and run.

It was definitely a table for two—but instead of the teddy bear
proportions of Hugh, instead of his beaming red face smiling to greet her, she
was met by the austere face of Dante, his tall muscular frame standing as she
approached, his face expressionless as she crossed the room. If Matilda hadn’t
witnessed it herself, she’d never have believed what he’d just been through, for
nothing in his stance indicated the hellish encounter of only moments
before.

In her peripheral vision she was aware of heads turning, but
definitely not towards her, could hear flickers of conversation as she walked
towards him.

“Is he famous...?”

“He looks familiar...”

He looked familiar because he was perfection—a man that
normally glowered from the centre of the glossiest of glossy magazines, a man
who should be dressed in nothing more than a ten-thousand-dollar watch or in the
driver’s seat of a luxury convertible.

He certainly wasn’t the type of man that Matilda was used to
dining with...

And certainly not alone.

Please, Matilda silently begged, please, let a waiter appear,
breathlessly dragging a table over, and preferably, another waiter, too, to
hastily turn those two table settings into three. Please, please, let it not be
how it looked.

“Matilda.” His manners were perfect, waiting till she was
seated before sitting down himself, patiently waiting as she gave her drink
order to the waiter. She was pathetically grateful that she’d chosen to walk to
the restaurant—no mean feat in her fabulous new shoes, but there was no chance
of a punctual taxi this time on a Friday evening, and by the time she’d parked
she could have been here anyway.

Good choice.

Good, because she could now order a gin and tonic, and
hopefully douse some of the rowdier butterflies that were dancing in her
stomach.

“Hugh sends his apologies.” Dante gave her a very on-off smile
as Matilda frowned. The Hugh she knew would be the last person to have bailed—no
matter how important the diversion. After all, he’d practically begged her to do
the garden.

“He had a headache after the opening. He didn’t look well, so I
walked him back to his office where he had...” Dante snapped his fingers,
clearly trying to locate his word of choice. “He had a small turn,” he said
finally, as Matilda’s expression changed from a frown to one of horror.

“Oh, my goodness...”

“He’s OK,” Dante said quickly. “His blood pressure has been
very high for the past few months, the doctors have had him on several different
combinations of tablets to try to lower it, but it would seem the one they’d
recently given him has brought it down too low—that’s why he had a small
collapse. Luckily we were in the hospital when it happened—all I had to do was
pick up the phone.”

“You’re not a doctor, then.”

Dante gave a slightly startled look. “Heavens, no. What on
earth gave you that impression?”

“I don’t know,” Matilda shrugged. “You seemed to know your way
around the hospital...”

“I’ve spent rather too much time there,” Dante said, and
Matilda could only assume he was talking about Alex. But he revealed absolutely
nothing, promptly diverting the subject from himself back to Hugh. “He’s resting
at home now, but naturally he wasn’t well enough to come out. Hugh feels
terrible to have let you down after you were kind enough to accommodate him at
such short notice. I tried many times to contact you on your mobile...”

“My phone isn’t on,” Matilda said, flustered. “I never thought
to check.”

Fool, Matilda raged to herself. He’d been frantically trying to
cancel, to put her off, and because her blessed phone hadn’t been turned on,
Dante had been forced to show up and babysit her when he hadn’t even wanted her
to do the garden in the first place, when clearly he wanted to be at home with
his daughter.

Taking a grateful sip of her drink, Matilda eyed the proffered
menu, her face burning in uncomfortable embarrassment, utterly aware that here
with her was the last place Dante either wanted or needed to be tonight.

“I’ve agreed to the garden.” Dante broke the difficult silence.
“Hugh said that I had to see you to give my consent. Do I need to sign
anything?”

“It isn’t a child custody battle.” Matilda looked up and for
the first time since she’d joined him at the table actually managed to look him
in the eye. “I don’t need your written consent or anything. I just wanted to be
sure that you were happy for me to work on your garden.”

“It’s not a problem,” Dante said, which was a long way from
happy.

“I have brought along the plans for you to look at—I’ve
highlighted the area Hugh discussed with you.” Glancing up, Dante nodded to the
waiter who had approached, giving him permission to speak.

“Are you ready to order, sir?”

The waiter hovered as Dante turned to Matilda, but she shook
her head.

“Could you give us a minute?” Dante asked and the waiter melted
away. Clearly assuming she was out of her depth, he proceeded to walk her
through the menu. “I will be having my usual gnocchi, but I hear that the
Tasmanian salmon is excellent here—it’s wild—”

“I’m sure it’s divine,” Matilda interrupted. “I do know how to
read a menu, Dante. And there’s really no need to go through the charade of a
meal...”

“Charade?”

Matilda resisted rolling her eyes.

“The pretence,” she explained, but Dante interrupted her.

“I do know how to speak English, Matilda.” He flashed her a
tight smile. “Why do you call it a charade?”

“Because we both know that you don’t want the garden, that
you’ve probably only agreed because Hugh’s unwell...” He opened his mouth to
interrupt but Matilda spoke on. “You tried to contact me to cancel. I’m sorry, I
never thought to check my phone. So why don’t I save us both an uncomfortable
evening? We can drink up, I’ll take the plans and ring tomorrow to arrange a
convenient time to come and look at your property. There’s really no need to
make a meal out of it—if you’ll excuse the pun.”

“The pun?”

“The pun.” Matilda bristled then rolled her eyes. “It’s a
saying—let’s not make a meal out of things, as in let’s not make a big deal out
of it, but given that we were about to
have
a
meal...”

“You made a pun.”

God, why was the English language so complicated at times?

“I did.” Matilda smiled brightly, but it didn’t reach her
eyes.

“So you don’t want to eat?”

“I don’t want to waste your time.” Matilda swallowed hard, not
sure whether to broach the subject that was undoubtedly on both their minds. “I
saw you arrive...” Taking a gulp of her drink, Matilda waited, waited for his
face to colour a touch, for him to admit to the problem he had clearly faced by
being here, but again Dante revealed nothing, just left her to stew a moment
longer in a very uncomfortable silence. “Alex seemed very...upset; so I’m sure
that dinner is the last thing you need tonight.”

“Alex is often upset,” Dante responded in a matter-of-fact
voice, which did nothing to reassure her. “And given it is already after eight
and I haven’t stopped all day, dinner is exactly what I need now.” He snapped
his fingers for the waiter and barked his short order. “My usual.”

“Certainly, and, madam...?”

Matilda faltered, desperate to go yet wanting to stay all the
same.

“
Madam
?” Dante smiled tightly,
making her feel like one.

“The salmon for me.
Please
,” she
added pointedly as the waiter took her menu. Then, remembering that as
uncomfortable as she might feel, this was, in fact, a business dinner, Matilda
attempted an apology. “I’m sorry if I was rude before,” she said once the waiter
had left. “It’s just I got the impression from Hugh that this meeting tonight
was the last thing you wanted.”

“Funny, that.” Dante took a long sip of his drink before
continuing, “I got the same impression from Hugh, too...” He smiled at her
obvious confusion.

“Why would you think that?” Matilda asked.

“Hugh gave me strict orders not to upset you.” He flashed a
very bewitching grin and Matilda found herself smiling back, not so much in
response to his smile, more at the mental picture of
anyone
giving this man strict orders about anything. “He told me that you were
booked up months ahead, and that you’d agree to come in and do this job during
your annual leave.”

“Yes...” Matilda admitted, “but—”

“He also told me that you were doing this as a favour because
he’d backed your tender, that you felt obliged—”

“Not all obligations are bad,” Matilda broke in, rather more
forcibly this time. “I
did
agree to work on your
garden during my holiday and, yes, I
did
feel a
certain obligation to Hugh because of the faith he showed in my proposal for the
hospital garden, but I can assure you that I was more than happy to do the
work.”