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

instantly, his eyes blazing.
    ‘Arabella?’
    Rachel took a few stumbling steps backwards.
    So that was it. She really should be grateful. It was far better to know before she made even more of a fool of herself than she had already.
    Going into the kitchen, she tried to quell the biting sense of disappointment and hurt that burned in her chest. Last night had come with no promises, she had understood that perfectly, but she had at least wanted to be allowed to believe that for as long as it had lasted it had meant something.
    The way he had looked at her—her throat constricted painfully as she remembered the intensity of his stare—the way he’d seemed to look beyond her face and into her soul. Now she understood why. He hadn’t seen her at all.
    He’d seen this Arabella. An image of a dark, exotic supermodel swathed in black satin sheets swam into Rachel’s head as she mindlessly held the sleek designer kettle under the tap. She was just adding scarlet lipstick and a bottle of champagne to the image when she jumped back with a howl, as water sprayed copiously all over her.
    Suddenly strong hands relieved her of the kettle and turned off the tap. Dripping and miserable, she looked up into Orlando’s darkly scowling face and felt a further twist of pain.
    ‘I was just going to have a cup of coffee, and then I’ll go,’ she muttered, not meeting his eye.
    ‘Don’t be ridiculous. Go where?’
    He seemed distracted. Distracted and angry. And very cold. She felt her bruised heart shrivel a little.
    ‘I don’t know, exactly, but obviously I’ll find a hotel or something. I have plenty of money…’
    ‘No. You’re not going any where.’
    Orlando said the words as if it hurt him to speak them. It pretty much did. For the sake of his peace of mind he wanted her gone. For the sake of his conscience he needed her to stay. He wasn’t quite sure what she’d meant by saying she’d never wanted sex before last night, but something about it troubled him deeply.
    ‘But we agreed…It was just for last night.’
    Abruptly Orlando moved away, going to stand at the other side of the kitchen with his back to her in a gesture which told her just as plainly as if he’d spoken the words out loud that as far as he was concerned last night was something he didn’t wish to be reminded of.
    ‘That was the housekeeper’s son on the phone just now. He was ringing to say that Mrs Harper slipped on some ice on her way here this morning and is on her way to hospital now, with a suspected broken ankle and fractured collarbone.’
    ‘Oh, poor her!’
    ‘You’re kinder than I am. My first reaction was far less selfless. Today of all bloody days.’
    ‘The ball…of course.’
    ‘Yes.’ He didn’t turn round.
    He couldn’t bear to look at her this morning, Rachel thought miserably.
    ‘I want you to stay.’
    The words cut through her thoughts, unexpected and shocking.
    ‘What?’
    He sighed, his huge shoulders rising and falling, his head drooping for a moment before he seemed to make a massive effort to conceal his exasperation and repeat the words.
    ‘I said, I want you to stay.’ He spoke through gritted teeth, with exaggerated patience, as if she were very stupid. ‘I have to work. There’s an incident brewing over border control in the Middle East, and I’m going to be in consultation with Whitehall and the Pentagon for most of the day. I need you…’ He paused to suck in a breath. ‘I need you to help tonight, and with getting everything ready.’
    Rachel shook her head in bewilderment, trying to keep a grip on reality. For the briefest second she’d allowed herself to imagine that that pause after I need you meant something—that Orlando Winterton was asking her to stay because he wanted her, not because he was short-staffed.
    ‘I can’t—you know I can’t! I’d be hopeless, Orlando. You know I’m completely impractical. I’d make a mess of it all, and spill red wine down someone’s priceless