Free Mistress: Hired for the Billionaire's Pleasure by India Grey Page A

thought was interrupted by the sudden shrill ring of a telephone, echoing through the silent house. Looking round, Rachel traced it to a table in the entrance hall, and hesitated, not knowing what to do. There was no sign of Orlando—but then might he be in his study and would pick it up there? She walked on a few steps, but the ringing continued in a way that seemed to Rachel to be getting increasingly urgent.
    She turned and looked back at the phone nervously. She’d never had to answer the phone for anyone else before. In fact she’d hardly had any need to answer the phone at all…
    Courage.
    For goodness’ sake—it was a telephone, not an explosive device, she told herself disgustedly and seized the receiver.
    ‘Hello, Easton Hall?’ Pride suffused her at her new-found competence. ‘Can I help you?’
    ‘Ohh…?’ It was a woman’s voice, smoky, drawling, surprised. Rachel felt the confidence of a few moments ago evaporate. ‘That’s not Mrs Harper, is it?’
    ‘N-no.’ Rachel stammered. ‘Can I take a message?’
    ‘Well…’ said the woman, and the short word seemed to crackle with indignation—as if Rachel was personally responsible for Mrs Harper’s absence and had organised it on purpose. ‘Could I speak to Orlando, please?’
    ‘Oh…I’m sorry but I don’t think he’s here,’ Rachel said faintly. ‘I mean, I’ve only just got up and I haven’t seen—’
    ‘Got up?’ repeated the voice, in a tone of utter disbelief. ‘I see. In that case I do apologise.’ The woman gave an incredulous laugh. ‘I assumed you were one of Mrs Harper’s helpers…’
    She left the sentence hanging, making Rachel feel compelled to rush into an explanation. ‘No—no, I’m just a friend…of…of Orlando’s…’
    Rachel winced at the blatant cliché.
    ‘A friend ?’
    The woman’s voice was suddenly sharp with animosity, and Rachel held her breath, wondering whether she should just put the phone down now, before she incriminated herself even further. There was a long pause, but then the woman at the other end started speaking again, her voice suddenly syrupy with concern.
    ‘In that case, as you’re a friend of Orlando, I wonder if you could maybe just…tell me how he is?
    Rachel swallowed, caught off-guard by this change of tack. ‘He’s…fine.’
    There was a small sigh. ‘I’m sorry. I know this must sound mad and you don’t know me, but I don’t know who else to ask. How is he really ? I mean, as a friend ? Does he seem miserable to you?’
    Pieces of the jigsaw were flying into place with a speed that took Rachel’s breath away. And her foolish, naïve happiness along with it. Her throat suddenly felt very dry. ‘Yes,’ she croaked. ‘He seems miserable.’
    ‘Oh, God…what a mess,’ the woman said slowly. Her sexy, lightly accented voice was choked with emotion, and Rachel was ashamed of the strength of her hostility. She wanted to hurl the phone at the wall, as if that could somehow hurt the person at the other end. The person Orlando loved.
    ‘But thank you,’ continued the woman. ‘It helps to know he’s as unhappy as I am. It’s mad that we’re apart…you’ve told me all I’ve needed to hear to convince me to come back.’
    ‘I’ll tell him…’ Rachel just managed to mutter through numb lips.
    ‘No!’ The response was instantaneous, and surprisingly sharp. ‘No. Don’t tell him. Don’t say anything. I’d like to surprise him.’ She gave a breathy, intimate laugh that contained no trace of any unhappiness at all. Only triumph.
    Nauseous, Rachel was just replacing the receiver with a shaking hand when the front door was flung open. Orlando stood in the doorway, his broad shoulders blocking out the white glare behind him, snowflakes resting on his dark hair. He came towards her, a sharp line carved between his dark brows.
    ‘Who was that?’
    ‘She didn’t give a name,’ Rachel muttered, and jumped as the phone rang again. Orlando snatched it up