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Mistress On Demand
Maggie Cox
After a reckless, hot encounter with Dominic van Straaten, Sophie tried to slip back to her quiet life as a schoolteacher. But Dominic insisted that she should become part of his glamorous, glittering existence.It didn't take her long to realize that she was out of her depth… Now Dominic was proposing that she be available whenever and wherever he wanted her.But could Sophie let herself become Dominic's mistress on demand when she knew that he didn't love her?
Mistress on Demand
Maggie Cox
Contents
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
COMING NEXT MONTH
CHAPTER ONE
SOPHIE had woken up with an awful presentiment that the day wouldn’t go well. From the moment she’d squirted toothpaste all down the front of her pyjama top, to the near disaster when she’d just narrowly escaped spilling a whole mug of coffee down the front of the ‘posh’ frock she was reluctantly wearing to her friend Diana’s wedding, her nerves had been jangled. Okay, so she didn’t like weddings—hated them, in fact, but Diana was her closest female friend, and after a tumultuous year when her volatile relationship with Freddie was on one minute, then off the next, the least Sophie could do was show up and bear witness to the occasion.
But her luck, if she was going to be blessed with any at all today—and Sophie was beginning to think that she wasn’t—just seemed to get worse and worse. She’d made three-quarters of the journey to the register office in her car when there’d been an awful spluttering hiss from the engine, then a pop, then…nothing, as it had finally given up the ghost and come to an undignified end by the side of the road. Sophie had had no alternative but to grab her coat and start walking to the register office. There was nobody she could ring for help because she wasn’t covered for breakdown and, besides, wouldn’t you know it? she’d left her mobile phone on the hall table along with her purse as she’d rushed out through the door. So she hadn’t even been able to get a taxi.
Now, as she hurried across the grey London pavements grimly clutching her umbrella because it had been raining all morning, and was still raining, and just when she believed her luck couldn’t get any worse, a gleaming black Rolls Royce swept past her into a puddle, which resembled a small reservoir, and all but drowned her in the backwash. Coming to a furious standstill as cold, muddy water dripped like sludge down the side of her fawn-coloured coat and turned her expensive matching shoes to a darker, grimier version of the concrete pavement, Sophie swore out loud. Not just once—but three times, in quick violent succession, each passionate utterance giving undisputed vent to her fury and indignation.
Narrowing her gaze, she saw to her surprise and satisfaction that the stately vehicle had slowed, then stopped at the side of the kerb. Not hesitating, she hurried towards it, her heart pumping with rage and her breath tight, her only concern that whoever was in there got a piece of her mind that they wouldn’t soon forget. If Sophie had to arrive at her best friend’s marriage ceremony looking as if she’d slept in a puddle beneath Waterloo bridge, then the occupant of that damned Rolls Royce was going to know that she prayed the same bad luck which had been visited on her today would dog the rest of his day.
She didn’t for one moment doubt that the car’s owner would be male. Only a thoughtless, insensitive oaf would deliberately drive through a puddle when he could clearly see her walking on the pavement beside it. But when she reached the car, a silver-haired chauffeur stepped out and looked immediately contrite.
‘I’m so sorry, miss. We were in a hurry and I didn’t see that confounded puddle until it was too late.’
‘Well, I’m in a hurry, too, but you don’t see me ruining someone else’s day with my thoughtlessness, do you? You should have been more careful! Now what am I supposed to do?’ Her freezing fingers curling stiffly around her umbrella handle, and the puddle that had soaked her shoes turning her feet to twin blocks of ice, Sophie had trouble keeping her teeth from chattering.
‘Get back in the car, Louis. I don’t have time for this. We’re going to be late as it is.’
It was only at the sound of that coolly imperious voice that Sophie glanced into the passenger-seat window at the back of the car. Catching a glimpse of precision-cut wheat-blond hair and eyes as hard as flint, she felt a shiver run down her spine that had nothing to do with the cold or damp conditions she currently found herself in. The man’s rapier-like instruction to his chauffeur, delivered as if he didn’t give a damn what had happened to Sophie as long as he got to where he was going, made her blood boil.
‘How dare you?’ she shouted. ‘I’m standing here soaked to the skin, my outfit ruined, because your stupid car happened to drive straight through a puddle the size of the River Thames, and all you can do is think about yourself and your own comfort! Well, I hope you have the worst day ever, I really do! You don’t even have the guts to step out and face me, do you? Never mind apologise!’
‘Miss…let me help you. I’m sure we could give you a lift to wherever you’re going. We could—’
As the mortified chauffeur did his best to make amends for the ignorance of his boss, the passenger door suddenly opened and the man seated in the back of the car stepped out to gaze at Sophie with unconcealed disdain, as if she was an annoying drone buzzing around his dinner. He was very tall, and his height and breadth of shoulders alone, beneath his formal black coat, should have intimidated her. Green eyes, as crystal-clear and sharp as unflawed emeralds, studied her indignant features without so much as a flicker of emotion. None.
‘What is it you want from me? You shouldn’t have been walking so close to the kerb, and wearing such ridiculous shoes in this weather, too. You have only yourself to blame.’
Ridiculous shoes? Sparing a brief wounded glance down at her too-expensive open-toed cream high-heeled sandals, which she had splashed out on purely in deference to her friend’s wedding, Sophie almost spluttered with rage.
‘How dare you? What kind of footwear I put on my feet isn’t your damned business remotely! I happen to be attending a special occasion…Not that that’s any of your business, either. Am I supposed to have foreseen that some idiot would drive by and almost drown me? You have a bloody nerve, you know that?’
‘I repeat…what do you want from me? Do you want me to reimburse you for the shoes or pay for your dry-cleaning? What? Tell me quickly so I can be on my way. I have already wasted valuable time standing here listening to you scream at me like a fishwife.’
He had some kind of accent, Sophie realised from his clipped speech. Dutch perhaps? But, more than that, she was reeling that he should dare to call her a fishwife just because she’d stood up for herself and hadn’t let him simply get in his car and be driven away without making her feelings known.
Seeing him take out his wallet and extract some notes, she all but blanched. ‘I don’t want your damned money! Didn’t it even occur to you that a simple gracious apology would do? I feel sorry for you…you know that? Driving around in your expensive car, hiding behind your tinted windows, acting like you run the world! Well, go on your way, Mister Whoever-you-are, and God forbid you’re as late for your precious appointment as I’m clearly going to be for mine! But if you are—just remember the reason why, huh?’
About to turn on her unaccustomed high heel, Sophie was shocked into speechlessness by the blond giant’s hand clamping suddenly around her more fragile wrist.
‘If you don’t want my money then perhaps a lift to wherever you are going would be more appropriate? Louis can drop me off at my own destination, then take you on to yours. Will that suffice?’
Knowing that it probably almost choked him to offer her a lift, and because her anger made her feel perverse, Sophie snatched her hand free and glared back at him with a distinct challenge in her large blue eyes. ‘In the absence of an apology then a lift will have to suffice under the circumstances.’ Biting her lip to prevent the more polite ‘thank you’ which threatened to follow her little speech, Sophie folded up her dripping umbrella and, at his instigation, preceded her reluctant host into the opulent hide-seated interior.
Feeling mutinous when her folded umbrella dripped muddy water all over the floor, she deliberately pursed her lips and stared out of the window while he settled himself as far away from her as possible at the other end of the seat. Perhaps he thought he might catch something contagious?
As the door slammed he said in a terse, reluctant voice, ‘You may tell Louis where you are going when I get out.’
Not believing a reply to be necessary, Sophie glanced down at the time on her watch, then back out of the tinted glass window at the rainy London street. She couldn’t help wondering if Diana was ever going to forgive her for turning up to her wedding late, and not only that, but looking like something the cat dragged in, too.
Minutes later, when the Rolls Royce purred to a halt outside a familiar-looking building, with wide curving steps leading up to its twin front doors, Sophie knitted her brows in confusion. She hadn’t yet told Louis where she was going, so how come he’d just pulled up outside the same register office where Diana was getting married to Freddie? As she saw the blond Adonis beside her open the passenger door next to him, she frowned again. ‘Wait a minute. This is where I need to be dropped off. I’m going to my friend’s wedding.’
Cool green eyes assessed her confusion with the kind of haughtiness that was normally associated with royalty. It made Sophie bristle, as well as causing hot, indignant colour to flood into her cheeks.
‘You are going to Diana Fitzwalter’s wedding?’ he demanded.
Now, how did he know that? And, more to the point, how did he know Diana? Sophie froze, as though she’d just lost her nerve on a tightrope walk, as the most obvious conclusion seeped slowly into her brain. Was he going to Diana’s wedding, too?
‘You know Diana?’ she queried, her shock barely allowing her vocal chords to function.
‘She is my personal assistant so, yes, obviously I know her.’
He was Dominic Van Straten? The billionaire property developer Diana worked for? The man who, according to her, found it hard to raise a smile even when the value of his stocks and shares had just shot through the roof and made him even richer? But why on earth would Diana invite him to her wedding when Sophie and one of Freddie’s friends were supposed to be the only witnesses because the couple wanted to keep the whole thing low-key?
Even her confident, outgoing friend had admitted to Sophie that the man just plain intimidated her, and the only reason she stayed working for him was that her salary far exceeded most personal assistants’, thereby allowing her a very comfortable lifestyle indeed.
Her legs feeling drained of strength, Sophie climbed out of the car behind him to finish speaking. ‘Well, I’m Diana’s friend…Sophie.’
Dominic didn’t smile. Neither did he introduce himself. The light grooves bracketing his forbidding mouth stayed obstinately still, without the merest suggestion of a surprised or conciliatory gesture such as a rueful smile. Well, what did she expect? The man was about as warm as a frozen joint of beef straight out of the freezer.
Pushing her fingers through the short damp strands of her hair, Sophie glanced down at her watch, barely registering that they were five minutes late for the ceremony already because she was suddenly feeling drained of every bit of pleasure or hope of an enjoyable afternoon. She visibly shivered, and Dominic Van Straten’s glacial glance flicked across her face with a flash of impatience before he turned and negotiated the wide concrete steps which led to the entrance of the building with an imposing long-legged stride.
In the vestibule they were greeted by a radiant-looking but anxious Diana, and her relieved and handsome fiancé, Freddie Carmichael.
‘Sophie! Thank God! What on earth happened to you?’ Diana’s eyes widened in disbelief as she took in the dark greying stains on Sophie’s fawn coat and the mud splashed up her cream hosiery and shoes.
Glancing briefly at her brooding and so far silent companion, Sophie shrugged. ‘Car broke down and I had to walk. I’ll tell you all about it later. Is it time to go in?’
‘It is. Oh, God, I’m feeling nervous! How nice to see you, Dominic. I’m so glad you could come at such short notice. Trust Freddie’s best pal to come down with flu! So good of you to act as stand-in. Shall we go in? I believe the registrar is waiting for us.’
All through the touching ceremony, it seemed to Sophie that Dominic expressed very little emotion of any kind. Not even a smile. His presence unnerved Sophie tremendously, she had to admit. When they both had to sign the marriage certificate as witnesses afterwards, he bent his blond head to the task as gravely as though he were signing someone’s death certificate.
Diana had told Sophie that they were all going to lunch at the Park Lane Hilton where other friends were joining them, and Sophie found herself praying hard that Dominic wouldn’t be accompanying them. Having to maintain a pretended civility towards a man she instinctively disliked would be like being forced to wear a tight Victorian corset that constricted her breathing for the afternoon.
She hadn’t prayed hard enough. Half an hour later, holding a glass of crystal champagne in the foyer of the plush hotel to toast the bride and groom, her stained coat at last relegated to an obliging assistant in the cloakroom, and Dominic standing beside her, she gulped down her champagne too quickly and had an immediate coughing fit. The hand that clapped down on her back to try and ease her discomfort was surprisingly Dominic’s.
‘Here,’ he said, ‘let me take your glass until you compose yourself.’
‘Oh, Soph! Are you all right, darling?’ Diana appeared at her other side, her hazel eyes full of concern. Smiling through the tears that had embarrassingly sprung to her eyes, Sophie nodded. Retrieving her glass from Dominic’s large square hand, she wished the ground would open up and swallow her. She was having a pig of a day and no mistake! If anything else went wrong for her she vowed to herself she would simply go home, lock the door and devour a large box of chocolates, as recompense.
‘I’m fine, thanks. Just went down the wrong way.’
‘Oh, look who’s just arrived! It’s Katie and David. Will you excuse us for a moment, you two? We’ll be right back.’
Before she could say anything, Sophie watched Diana glide away with her attentive new husband to greet the newcomers she had spotted in the foyer’s entrance. Disconcertingly, she was left alone with Dominic. It was a little like being left alone in a sealed cage with a boa constrictor and a man-eating tiger, and probably twice as intimidating.
‘The ceremony went well, don’t you think?’ Inwardly Sophie groaned as soon as the words were out of her mouth. Now I sound like a character in an old English farce! She thought with annoyance. It would probably be better if she stopped the pretence of civility right there and then, and simply ignored the hateful man. And she’d never forgive him if his taciturn and condescending manner ruined Diana’s wedding day.
‘Do you like weddings?’ he asked her, surprisingly.
Seeing that there was still no hint of a smile or anything remotely friendly on his severe but handsome face, Sophie stared back at him defiantly. ‘No. I hate them, as a matter of fact.’
‘Why?’
Never having had to express her feelings about the subject before to a stranger, Sophie honestly wasn’t sure how to explain her aversion. ‘I find them…awkward. In my opinion Diana and Freddie did the right thing, keeping things simple. There’s always some kind of horrible tension when families get together at these sorts of occasions, don’t you think? Plus, you have to talk to people you’d rather not at the reception, and it’s all very difficult.’
She reached the end of her sentence and clamped her mouth shut in horror at what she’d just said. Talk about putting her foot in it! But, to her consternation, Dominic didn’t appear at all offended. Instead, a smile started to lurk around his lips, completely transforming that gravely serious face of his into something much more humane.
‘I take it you are not married yourself, Sophie?’
‘That’s correct.’ Her own manner now a little stiff, because she thought he must be thinking, I’m not surprised, she couldn’t help flushing a little in embarrassment. She knew she wasn’t exactly plain but she was hardly extraordinary, and the fact that he had already called her a ‘fish wife’ when she’d lost her temper with him didn’t exactly help her case.
When he appeared not to be going to make any comment whatsoever, but simply studied her as though she were an interesting alien specimen that had flown in from Mars, Sophie honestly just wanted to go to the cloakroom, collect her ruined coat and flag down a taxi to take her home. She could pay for it when she got there. But, even though that was her strongest urge, she knew she would grit it out, for Diana. She wouldn’t be the one fly in the ointment that spoiled her friend’s wedding day. She would leave that particular little trick to Diana’s very superior and aloof boss.
‘You must let me reimburse you for your spoiled coat and shoes,’ he said eventually, and Sophie squirmed with discomfort.
She didn’t want to accept his money, or his sudden inclination to give it to her. She just wanted to get away from this horribly embarrassing situation that she found herself in as quickly as possible. Would Diana buy her story that she was up to her eyes in marking essays for her five-year-old pupils? No. She didn’t think so…
‘Look, Mr Van Straten. You don’t like me, and I don’t like you, so you don’t have to reimburse me for anything, and we don’t need to stand here making polite conversation when we’d both clearly prefer to be somewhere else! Why did you agree to be Diana’s witness, by the way?’
If he was taken aback, either by her outburst or her question, again Dominic gave no sign. ‘She asked me as a favour and I was happy to comply. That obviously surprises you, Sophie.’
It surprised the hell out of her that he even deigned to call her by her name, let alone pursue any further conversation with her after what had happened between them.
‘Frankly, it does. You don’t strike me as the kind of man who easily dispenses favours.’
‘Oh? And so what kind of man do I strike you as, Sophie?’
Now she’d done it. The words cold, remote, insensitive and superior hovering on her tongue, she forged recklessly ahead instead with, ‘Too self-contained and self-interested to notice others’ needs if you want to know the truth.’ Those words were probably worse. Much worse, going by the glower that had suddenly replaced his previously more benign expression.
‘You don’t believe in mincing your words, do you? It does not surprise me that you are not married. A man likes a little verbal jousting, from time to time, Sophie, but he does not like a shrew.’
‘I’m not a shrew!’ It was true she had a temper, but it was only really roused by injustice of any kind. Like earlier, when Dominic’s expensive regal car had splashed muddy water all over her nice clothes. Clothes that she was hard-pushed to afford on the ridiculously inadequate pay of a primary-school teacher.
Pursing her lips, Sophie held onto that temper by a thread, wishing that Diana would quickly come back and join them, to help alleviate the now increasingly uncomfortable tension between herself and this man.
‘I’m not a shrew, but neither am I a woman who is scared to speak her mind. If it weren’t for the kindness of your chauffeur, Mr Van Straten, you would have left me stranded and bedraggled by the roadside while you made your way to my best friend’s wedding. Nothing you have said or done since makes me think that you have any redeeming qualities that I may have missed!’
‘Even when I stopped you from choking?’
Sophie’s blue eyes flew indignantly wide. ‘You did not stop me from choking! My champagne went down the wrong way, that’s all.’
‘So I am too ‘‘self-contained’’ and ‘‘self-interested’’ to help someone in obvious distress? That is what you think?’
‘Actions speak louder than words, so they say.’
‘Then you need not worry that I will be joining you for lunch. I will not inflict my company upon you any longer.’
And, with that, Dominic abruptly turned his back on Sophie and left. With her heart throbbing beneath her ribs, she watched him cross the plushly carpeted foyer and go over to speak to Diana. Clearly seeing the surprise and dismay reflected on her friend’s attractive face as he spoke to her, Sophie could have kicked herself for being the reason that Dominic was leaving. Obviously Diana wanted him there, or she wouldn’t have asked him to stand in as a witness in the first place.
If only Sophie had been able to contain her temper! This day wasn’t about her own comfort or discomfort. It was about Diana having one of the best days of her life. Now her best friend had thoughtlessly gone and ruined it!
Even though she disliked Dominic Van Straten with a passion, she still felt terribly guilty at driving him away. As soon she managed to get Diana on her own she confessed her feelings to her friend.
‘I scared him off.’
She took another sip of champagne and screwed up her nose at a taste she wasn’t sure she would ever become accustomed to. She needn’t have worried. On a teacher’s salary buying champagne was not exactly a dilemma.
‘What do you mean, you scared him off?’ Looking puzzled and beautiful, with her carefully styled blonde hair and her fitted ivory suit, Diana frowned. ‘Nobody scares Dominic Van Straten away from anything! More like the other way round! He told me something important came up that he had to attend to. I thought that might happen. The man barely ever takes a break from his work. What a shame…especially as he’s paying for all of this!’
‘Your boss is paying for your wedding feast?’ Now Sophie was aghast. You don’t strike me as a man who dispenses favours easily…she had said to him.
‘He insisted. Including all the champagne we can drink. He’s not the easiest man in the world to work for, but you can’t fault his generosity.’
