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The Parisian Playboy
HELEN BROOKS
Jacques Querruel appeared regularly in society magazines with a string of women. When he decided that he wanted shy, sexy Holly Stanton as his personal assistant, it was a fait accompli!Holly fully intended not to be swept off her feet. But working long hours by Jacques's side, she was bombarded with temptation! And mixing business with pleasure was Jacques's specialty…!
“Oh, I’m sorry, Mr. Querruel.”
As Holly stepped out of the elevator, in a world of her own, she found herself in Jacques Querruel’s arms, the file he was holding spreading its pages over the floor as he dropped it to steady them both.
He looked devastating. “I thought we decided last night it was Jacques?” he asked, still holding her.
Holly was mesmerized. “But that was away from the office,” she said weakly.
“And this is in the office, and I still wish you to call me by my first name, mademoiselle.”
“People might get the wrong idea,” she insisted.
“I am the boss, am I not? I can do whatever I want.”
It used to be just a nine-to-five job…
until she realized she was
Now it’s an after-hours affair!
Getting to know him in the boardroom…and the bedroom!
Coming soon:
The Boss’s Secret Mistress
by Alison Fraser
#2378
His Boardroom Mistress
by Emma Darcy
#2380
Mistress by Agreement
by Helen Brooks
#2390
The Parisian Playboy
Helen Brooks
CONTENTS
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ONE
‘AND how is the lovely Holly this morning? Had fun over the weekend, darling? You look like a girl who knows how to have a good time.’
As Holly raised her eyes from her word processor she steeled herself to show no reaction at all when she saw Jeff Roberts’s podgy face leering at her from the doorway. ‘Good morning, Mr Roberts,’ she said flatly, her voice dismissive. And then she felt her stomach muscles contract as he sauntered over to her desk.
He was close enough now for his eye-wateringly pungent aftershave to invade her air space, but Holly continued typing without glancing at him again, hoping he would take the hint and leave.
There were basically three ways to deal with the problem of a serial groper in the office, Holly had decided some weeks before, when she had first started work at Querruel International.
One—ignore and avoid the sad individual in question, whilst letting him know by as icy a manner as possible that his advances were not appreciated.
Two—yell sexual harassment and take it as high as it needed.
Three—go for ultimate satisfaction and sock the scumbag a strong right hook on the jaw.
Holly had been trying the rational approach for eight weeks on the scumbag concerned with no visible result, and reporting him was a no-go unless she was prepared to lose her job because Jeff Roberts was the son of the managing director and the apple of his doting father’s eye.
The third option would definitely mean she sacrificed all possibility of a future reference as well as the job—a job which had promised bright prospects and an interesting and rosy future at her initial interview. But—and the but had become increasingly attractive over the last couple of months—it would certainly teach the little wimp a lesson he wouldn’t forget in a hurry.
He leant over her, reading the report she was copying from the draft on her desk, and his voice was low when he said, ‘I’ve told you before, call me Jeff when there’s just the two of us.’
There was always a faintly musty, almost unwashed odour emanating from his clothes, or maybe his skin, and Holly had to suppress a shudder of distaste. It didn’t help that her tiny office was little more than a cubby-hole off Jeff’s father’s secretary’s office, with one small window and wall-to-wall filing cabinets. There was one other door apart from that opening into the secretary’s domain, and this would have led into the corridor outside but for the fact that two filing cabinets had been placed in front of it. Now necessity dictated one entered and left through the one door; something Jeff hadn’t been slow to take advantage of from her first week.
‘If you are looking for Margaret she should be back from the canteen in just a moment,’ Holly said pointedly.
‘Is that so?’ As she continued with her work he adjusted his position, bending down and reaching across her for a pen and managing to brush the side of her breast as he did so. ‘I’ll just borrow this for a moment, if I may?’
Holly stopped typing, forcing herself to stare up into his sallow, moist face as she said steadily, ‘I’ve told you before, Mr. Roberts, I don’t want you to do that.’
‘Do what?’ He didn’t even bother to try to sound indignant, and when his gaze moved over her breasts and then down to her legs before returning to her face his tongue wet his lower lip.
‘I don’t want you to touch me,’ she spelt out tightly.
‘Did I touch you?’ He smiled, bending closer again and giving her the full benefit of his bad breath as he murmured, ‘Why don’t we go for a nice little drink after work, eh? I know just the place. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?’
When hell froze over! ‘I’m afraid I’ve got other plans,’ Holly said stiffly.
‘Tomorrow, then?’ Speckled hazel eyes of a muddy hue slithered over her greedily. ‘I’ll buy you dinner too if you’re a good girl. Can’t say fairer than that.’
Where was this man coming from? What did it take to puncture this inflated ego that thought because of his standing in the firm he could behave however he liked? Holly knew from talk she’d heard in the canteen during her coffee breaks that Jeff Roberts pawed whomsoever he could, but most of the other girls worked in conditions where there was safety in numbers.
She stared him straight in the eye as she said coldly, ‘I’m sorry but I can’t go for a drink with you tomorrow or any other time, Mr. Roberts.’
His face changed. ‘I can do you some good here, Holly, if you play your cards right,’ he said very softly, ‘but the opposite also applies. Do you understand what I’m saying?’
‘I understand you very well,’ Holly returned icily.
‘And?’
‘And my answer remains the same. Now, I need to get this report finished.’
He looked at her for a moment more before straightening up, and Holly was fooled into thinking he was going to leave as her eyes returned to her word processor. And then, for a shocking second, two meaty hands appeared over her shoulders and grabbed her breasts, squeezing them painfully hard before he went to walk away.
She didn’t have to think about what to do. She was up out of her chair in the blink of an eye and all her strength was behind the ringing slap she delivered across his face.
He clearly hadn’t expected anything like such a fiery reaction. He staggered backwards for a good few steps, thudding against a filing cabinet before letting forth with a string of obscenities which turned the air blue. As he straightened Holly knew he was going to come at her again and she prepared herself, her blue eyes flashing and her slim, petite body held stiff and tense.
‘What the hell is happening here?’
The voice from the doorway brought Jeff swinging round and Holly’s startled eyes focusing on the tall, dark figure standing in the aperture. She knew instantly who he was, even if the heavy French accent hadn’t proclaimed it. She had heard so much from the other girls about the unique owner of Querruel International she could have described him down to the last eyelash, even though she’d never seen the ruggedly handsome Frenchman in person.
Jacques Querruel. Thirty-two years of age; unattached but with a string of mistresses and affairs that made him the favourite of society magazines and the tabloids, alike; the ultimate playboy except in Jacques Querruel’s case he worked hard as well as playing hard. A self-made millionaire who had risen from the depths of squalor in a Paris slum to become a wealthy and successful industrialist, his original furniture company in Paris now having a string of subsidiaries in France as well as the United States and England.
And he played life by his own rules, as his present ensemble proclaimed. According to office gossip he owned several flashy cars, as one would expect of a young French millionaire, but his favourite transport when he visited England was his Harley-Davidson.
‘Mind-blowing piece of equipment,’ one of the young lads in the accounts department had told Holly dreamily a couple of weeks ago. ‘A Road King in monochrome black ice. You could really reel in the big miles on that beauty.’
‘You ought to see Mr Querruel in his black leathers.’ This had been from one of the females at the lunch table who clearly didn’t want to waste time talking about a machine when it could be used discussing the rider. ‘Everything stops when he walks in, I tell you. There’s not a woman here who doesn’t go weak at the knees. We’re talking pure dynamite, Holly.’
And now she was seeing the pure dynamite for herself, Holly thought a trifle hysterically. And it was dangerous stuff all right. But then her attention was snapped away from the big black figure in the doorway and back to Jeff, when he said quickly, ‘Mr Querruel, I’m sorry you had to be a party to this, sir. It’s inexcusable, I know. I was reprimanding Miss Stanton on the inferior quality of some work she did for me and she reacted badly. I’m afraid I lost my temper when she hit me.’
‘You liar!’ Holly was amazed at his duplicity. ‘How dare you—?’
‘That’s enough.’ As her voice rose Jacques Querruel cut into her protest, his voice quiet but razor-sharp. ‘We will discuss this in Mr Roberts’s office, please. You will both accompany me there now.’
‘Now, just hang on a minute!’ Holly had thrown caution to the wind, she was so mad. She knew what would happen when Mr Roberts Senior got involved in this—she’d be out on her ear quicker than you could say Harley-Davidson. ‘He’s lying. There was no work—’
‘Have I not made myself clear?’ The French accent was stronger than ever. ‘We will discuss this matter in the privacy of Mr Roberts’s office, Miss Stanton. I have already been informed that Mr Roberts is not expected back from a prior appointment for another hour, so we will not be interrupted.’
Had he guessed the reason for her objection? Holly stared into narrowed amber eyes that had all the softness of that solid fossilised resin, and found she couldn’t drag herself away from the translucent gaze. They were unnerving, those eyes. Mesmerising and beautiful but cold, like the predatory surveillance of a wolf or one of the big cats.
And then she mentally shook herself, angry with the fanciful description. What on earth was the matter with her? she asked herself silently as she followed the two men through into Margaret’s office, and then beyond into Mr Roberts Senior’s large and opulent domain.
She just had time to notice Margaret standing against her desk, looking aghast, which implied the managing director’s secretary had heard something of the events which had transpired in her coffee break, but then the door was firmly shut and she was alone with Jacques Querruel and a blustering Jeff Roberts. ‘Really, Mr Querruel, there is no need for you to concern yourself with this unfortunate matter,’ he was saying with ingratiating and sickening servility. ‘You’ve obviously got more important things to do and—’
‘On the contrary, Jeff.’ It was cool, very cool, and as Jacques Querruel indicated for them both to be seated with an authoritative wave of his hand Jeff said nothing more.
Holly had expected the Frenchman to seat himself behind the massive oak desk which dominated the room, but instead he perched easily on the edge of it, the piercing eyes surveying her critically.
She forced herself not to fiddle with her hair or make any other nervous movement, but it was hard. Especially in the circumstances and with Jeff sitting a foot or so away. But there was absolutely no way she was going to give any ground over this. She raised her small chin at the thought, her eyes stormy.
‘So…’ Jacques’s compelling gaze moved from her flushed face to Jeff’s sulky one, and the amber eyes took full note of the unmistakable handprint etched on the other man’s plump cheek. ‘I think there is a problem, yes?’
‘Nothing I can’t handle, Mr Querruel—’
‘Yes, there darn well is!’ It was Holly’s turn to cut across Jeff’s voice and she did it vehemently. ‘I have asked Mr Roberts to keep his hands to himself on several occasions and today was the last straw. The man’s a pervert and I refuse to be mauled by him one more time.’
Dark eyebrows lifted and the carved lips twitched a little before Jacques said, ‘Do not beat about the bush, Miss Stanton. Say what you feel.’
So he thought this was funny, did he? The flare of furious resentment in Holly’s eyes turned the blue purple as she glared at the illustrious head of Querruel International, and in that moment she didn’t care a jot who he was. She stood to her feet, her voice shaking with rage as she said, ‘Thank you, Mr Querruel. That’s exactly what I intend to do. Your managing director’s son is a liar as well as a lech. There is nothing wrong with my work and far from reprimanding me he had taken his molesting of recent weeks to a new high. That was why I slapped his face and he was lucky to get off so lightly.’
‘This I can see.’ It was a quiet murmur.
It wasn’t the moment to think that he had the sexiest voice she had ever heard, richly seductive in spite of the disparagement, Holly thought with a strong burst of self-disgust.
‘That’s all utter rubbish.’ Jeff decided he’d been out of the conversation long enough and he glared up at her, spite prevalent in his voice as he said, ‘The actual fact of the matter is that Miss Stanton is not up to the job for which she was employed but I felt sorry for her. I’ve given her endless chances over the last weeks and realised too late she had misconstrued my kindness as personal interest in her. When I had to make it clear I did not appreciate her flirting with me she suddenly went crazy. A woman scorned and all that.’
Jacques Querruel’s steady gaze moved over the fat, greasy-haired individual sitting in front of him before returning to the lovely young woman standing in front of the desk. She had hair the colour of dark, rich chocolate, smoothly groomed into a shoulder-length bob, eyes as blue as cornflowers and the sort of cheekbones many a model would have killed for. And she was mad. Boy, was she mad. It was as likely she’d made up to the slug in the chair as the pope marrying. He smiled. ‘Do I take it you refute Mr Roberts’s explanation?’ he asked silkily.
Her nostrils flared. ‘Darn right I do.’ He was aggressively good-looking, hard and chiselled with no sign of softness about him at all. Funny, but from the other woman’s gossip she’d pictured him as more pretty-boy handsome than anything, especially when they’d gone on about the tan and the jet-black hair and wickedly thick eyelashes. He had got all those things, and the eyelashes were gorgeous enough to be utterly wasted on a man, but there was nothing remotely boyish about Jacques Querruel. In fact she wouldn’t have been surprised to learn he had been born six feet two and radiating power and authority. He couldn’t ever have been a helpless baby or vulnerable little boy.
‘It would appear we have something of a stalemate.’ The piercing amber eyes looked from one face to the other. ‘Have either of you proof of what you claim? I take it Miss Stanton’s work bears evidence of her ineptitude?’ he asked Jeff smoothly.
‘She—er—I mean, by the time it’s been corrected…it’s eventually brought up to scratch,’ the other man finished lamely.
‘And you, Miss Stanton? You have witnesses to Mr Roberts’s over-familiarity?’ The dark eyebrows rose again.
‘It’s not over-familiarity,’ Holly said tightly. ‘It’s downright groping of the most intimate kind, and he thinks he can get away with it because he’s the managing director’s son. All the girls avoid him when they can. And, no, I haven’t got any witnesses—Mr Roberts has always made sure of that. Stuck in that little box out there I haven’t exactly got a way of escape or a camera whirring to record his goings-on, have I? And if you are going to ask me if any of the others would come forward to back up what I say, I don’t know. Possibly, if they want to continue working here, the answer would be no.’
‘A somewhat jaundiced view, Miss Stanton,’ he drawled, his accent making her name sound very different.
‘No, merely realistic,’ she snapped back quickly. She was not going to bow and scrape to this arrogant individual like everyone else; neither was she going to be intimidated into saying anything less than the truth. No doubt Mr Roberts Senior would produce half a dozen female staff to swear that Jeff was approaching sainthood, along with suggesting to Margaret that her new assistant wasn’t quite on the ball, but she couldn’t do anything about that. Whatever, her days at Querruel International were numbered, which was a shame. She had fought off some stiff competition to secure the job and for it to end like this…
‘So you have no faith in company procedure for this kind of incident?’ Jacques Querruel asked softly.
Holly raised her head, her glossy curtain of hair shimmering with the movement. His keen appraisal was making her feel isolated and insignificant but those feelings weren’t new to her and she was adept at hiding them. She swallowed, aware of tension tightening her jaw, but her voice was firm and steady when she replied, ‘I have only been in this company’s employ for eight weeks so I cannot answer that in a general sense.’ She paused. ‘However, with regard to this particular incident, and taking into account the person involved—’ she shot Jeff a glance of pure loathing ‘—I would say it would be very naïve of me to think justice would be done.’
