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‘How inconsiderate of me to arrive unannounced.’ The sarcasm brought a flush to her cheeks. ‘I admit I’m curious—what part of your designated role as someone responsible for the smooth running of this establishment did you think you were providing when you decided to turn my home into a cheap sideshow?’
‘I thought…well, actually…I’ve already said it did get a bit out of hand, but it’s not as if you are ever here.’
‘So this is a case of while the cat’s away. You have a novel way of pleading your cause, Miss Grace.’
‘I need this job.’ It went against every instinct to beg but what choice did she have? Speaking her mind was a luxury she could no longer afford. ‘I really need this job. If you give me a chance to prove myself you won’t regret it.’
His lifted his magnificent shoulders in a shrug. ‘Like I said, you should have thought about that.’ He studied her white face and felt an unexpected flicker of something he refused to recognise as sympathy as he could almost taste her desperation. ‘Have you actually got any experience of being a housekeeper?’
She was too stressed to give anything but an honest answer. ‘No.’
‘I think it might be better if I do not enquire too far into the reason my assistant saw fit to offer you this job.’
‘He knew I needed it.’
Her reply drew a hard, incredulous laugh from him. Actually, he had some sympathy for his assistant. If her performance at interview had been half as good as the one she was delivering now, he would not have been surprised if the man had offered her more than a job.
He would be having words with Tom.
‘If when I take an inventory there are any valuables missing you will be hearing from me. Other than that I shall expect you to have vacated your flat by the morning.’
Zoe gave a wild little laugh. Short of falling to her knees, which might give him a kick but would obviously not change his mind, what was she meant to do? She had no skills, nothing to sell…The sheer hopelessness of her situation rushed in on her like a black choking cloud.
Falling back on the charity of friends was her only option, and that was only temporary.
She made one final attempt.
‘Please, Mr Montero.’
His mouth thinned in distaste. ‘Your tears are very touching, but wasted on me.’
She looked at him with tear-filled eyes. There was no longer anything to lose by telling him what she really thought. ‘You’re a monster!’
He shrugged. Being considered a monster was to his way of thinking infinitely preferable to being a sucker.
Zoe lifted her chin and, head high, walked towards the door, feeling the honeysuckle-scented breeze blowing through the open window stroke her cheek as she walked past him.
She was so blinded by the tears she fought to hold back that she almost collided with the vicar who was entering the room.
‘Oops!’ he said, placing both his hands on her shoulders to steady her. ‘Zoe, dear, we were looking for you.’ In the act of turning to include in this comment the woman who stood beside him with the child in a wheelchair he saw Isandro and paused, his good-natured face breaking into a beaming smile as he recognised him before surging forward.
‘Mr Montero, I can’t tell you how grateful we are…all of us.’
Isandro, who had met the man on one previous occasion, acknowledged the gushing gratitude with a tilt of his head. ‘The work is finished on the new roof?’
‘New roof? Oh, yes, that’s marvellous but I am talking about today. This totally splendid turnout. It warms the heart to see the entire community pulling together.’
He didn’t have a heart to warm, Zoe thought as she saw the hateful billionaire tip his dark head and hide his confusion behind an impassive mask of hauteur. Actually it wasn’t a mask; it was probably just him. Cold, cruel, vindictive, positively hateful!
‘Mr Montero, oh, thank you…Hannah, this is Mr Montero, darling. Come and say thank you.’
Startled to find himself being hugged by a tearful woman, Isandro stood rigid in the embrace, his arms stiff at his side. Oblivious to the recipient’s discomfort, Chloe sobbed into his broad chest and told him he was marvellous.
Zoe took a small degree of comfort from the discomfort etched on the Spaniard’s handsome face. She’d have preferred a job and a roof over her head but it was something.
When Hannah propelled her wheelchair over, her little face wreathed in smiles, and informed the startled billionaire that he could have a puppy from the next litter, his expression almost made her smile…though that might have been hysteria.
‘Bella is the smartest dog, even though she was the runt, and everyone wanted her last puppies, though this time we think the father might be…Well, that’s all right, you’ve plenty of room here and you look like a dog person.’
At a loss for once in his life, the dog person swallowed and wondered if the entire community here were off their heads.
Chloe still bubbling, her face alight, stopped her daughter’s chair before it hit the desk. ‘You two made this happen…’ She took Zoe’s hand and then that of the man she considered benefactor and pressed them palm to palm before sealing them between her own.
Standing there with a frozen smile on her face, Zoe had to fight the urge to tear her hand free. The only comfort she found in the situation was that he had to be hating this as much as she was.
‘We made the target, so you won’t have to shave your head!’
Zoe, forgetting for a moment her own situation, smiled happily, without noticing the expression on the tall Spaniard’s face as he watched her light up with pleasure.
‘Oh, Chloe, that’s marvellous! Is there enough for John to come with you?’
‘Not quite,’ the older woman conceded. ‘But he wouldn’t be able to take that much time off work anyway. And we’ll have so much to tell Daddy when we come home, won’t we, Hannah?’ She released the two hands she held and ducked down to her daughter, leaving Zoe standing there with her fingers curled around the long brown fingers of Isandro Montero.
While Chloe was kissing her daughter, and the vicar was taking off his glasses to study one of the paintings on the wall, Zoe took the opportunity to wrench her hand free and sling a poisonous look up at his face.
‘Oh, Zoe, you’ve worked so hard. How will we ever be able to thank you? And don’t you worry—we’ll be here bright and early to clear away.’ She stretched up to kiss Zoe’s cheek. ‘I wanted you to know first. Now I think we should go and tell everyone else…Vicar?’
‘Yes, indeed. Mr Montero, you have a very impressive art collection here…amazing…’ He wrung the younger man’s hand with enthusiasm before following Chloe from the room. Zoe, who had tacked on behind them, was stopped by the sound of her name.
‘Miss Grace, if I could have a moment…?’
Half inclined to carry on walking but knowing if she did the likelihood would be that the story would come out, Zoe paused and turned back, promising Chloe she would catch up. She knew it was inevitable that her friend would feel in part responsible for her sacking, but she saw no need to cast a cloud over this happy moment for the family who had not had a lot to be happy about recently.
She held herself rigid as he walked past her and closed the door.
‘So?’
She shrugged and matched his tone. ‘What?’
‘Would you like to tell me what that was all about?’
Now he wants to know. ‘I was trying to explain.’
Isandro’s jaw tightened. He was furious to have been put in the position of being treated like some sort of hero and not having a clue why, and his anger was aimed at the person he held responsible for it.
‘Well, explain now.’
‘The fund-raiser was for Hannah.’
‘The child in the wheelchair?’
Zoe nodded. ‘Hannah had surgery for a spinal tumour. It was successful, they got all the tumour, but the pressure on the spinal cord caused damage and she can’t walk. The doctors can’t do anything, but Chloe, her mum, found a hospital in Boston that might be able to help. The treatment is experimental but so far the results have been really good.’
‘And all this today was for that cause?’
She nodded.
His dark brows drew together in a straight line above his hawkish nose. ‘Why on earth did you not tell me this straight away?’
She stared at him, staggered he could ask the question with a straight face…Priceless—the man was incredible. ‘Possibly because you didn’t give me a chance?’
Before he could respond there was a tap on the door and Chloe poked her head into the room.
‘I almost forgot—we’re having a party tomorrow at our house. Please come, Mr Montero.’
‘Isandro.’
‘Isandro,’ she said, smiling. ‘I’m sure Zoe will drive you if you want a drink,’ Zoe was mortified to hear her friend suggest warmly. ‘Her being the teetotaller she is.’
Zoe tensed, dreading the man would respond with a crushing refusal to the invitation, but to her surprise he simply nodded and said, ‘Most kind of you.’
‘Great—we’ll see you both at seven.’
The door closed. ‘Don’t worry, I’ll make your excuses. I’m assuming that as you know I’m not some sort of con artist you’ll allow me to work my notice. I’m not asking for myself, but the children—’
Frowning, he cut across her. ‘They all seem to be under the impression that I gave the go-ahead for this…this…’
‘Fund-raising Fun Day.’
‘Fun?’
‘It started out as a coffee morning and then it just…’
He produced the sarcastic smile that made her want to stick a pin in him.
She clenched her teeth. ‘Got out of hand.’
‘It would seem you have a problem saying no.’ He looked at her mouth and imagined her saying yes to a lot of things…yes and please. ‘Did it not occur to you to tell me what this was about?’
She lifted her chin in response to his daunting disapproval and countered, ‘Did it not occur to you to tell me who you were?’
The retort drew a frown. ‘You have placed me in an impossible situation,’ he brooded darkly.
Logic told him his hands were tied.
Sack her now and he would go from being the hero of the hour to the villain in a breath, and while he did not care overly for his standing in the local community, what bothered him was the press getting a sniff and running with it.
With the Fitzgerald deal in the balance the timing was as bad as it could be and this was the sort of story that the tabloids loved. The wheelchair-bound child, the rich landowner…He could see the headlines now, closely followed by the deal he had spent the last six months pulling together going down the drain along with all the jobs it would bring.
As tempting as it was to let the dismissal stand—every instinct he had was telling him she was nothing but trouble—Isandro knew the more sensible alternative was letting her stay. He had no doubt whatever that he would not have long to wait before she provided him with ample legitimate reasons to dismiss her.
An image of the pale freckled face flashed into his head. ‘The child could not be treated in this country?’
Zoe smiled—the day had done some good. ‘No, the surgery is ground-breaking.’
‘And shaving your head?’ He directed a curious glance at her glossy head, the light shining from the window highlighting natural-looking glossy chestnut streaks in the rich brown. ‘A joke?’
Zoe lifted a self-conscious hand and flicked her plait over shoulder. ‘Not really. Chloe has bad days sometimes and to make her laugh I said if the day didn’t raise the money she needed I’d shave off my hair to raise more.’
‘No!’ The strength of his spontaneous rebuttal startled Isandro as much as it appeared to the owner of the hair.
She blinked, startled. ‘Pardon?’
‘It would not be appropriate for my housekeeper to go around with a shaved head.’
For a moment Zoe stared at him, her hope soaring despite the voice in her head that counselled caution. ‘Housekeeper. Does that mean…?’
‘I will be back tomorrow and I expect—’ He broke off as a great roar went up from outside. ‘I will expect things to be back to normal.’
‘So you’re not sacking me?’ Zoe lowered her gaze, appalled to find her eyes filling with weak tears of relief.
‘I will give you a trial period.’ He gave her a month.
‘You won’t regret it.’
He probably would. ‘The child…?’ He touched the back of the chair she had been spinning around in. ‘The one with the ginger hair.’
‘Auburn. That was Georgie…Georgina.’
‘She is…?’ he prompted impatiently. It was like getting blood out of a stone.
‘My niece.’ She beamed happily. He could look down his aristocratic nose at her as much as he liked—she was no longer homeless, jobless and virtually destitute.
‘She is staying long?’
‘She lives with me and her twin brother, Harry.’ In her head she could hear Laura on the phone when the scan had revealed she was carrying twins…One of each, Zoe, how lucky are we?
In the act of opening a diary on his desk, he stopped, his hands flat on the desk as he lifted his head. ‘You have two children living here? No, that is not acceptable. You will have to make other arrangements.’
Zoe stared at him, breathing deeply to distract herself from the rush of anger. ‘Arrangements? What,’ she asked, ‘did you have in mind?’
His eyes narrowed at the edge of sarcasm in her voice. ‘I know nothing about children.’
‘Except that you have no room in your twenty-bedroom house for two small ones.’
‘So you’re suggesting you move into my home.’ He arched a sardonic brow and watched her flush. ‘Or perhaps you already have?’ It struck him that this might not be so far from the truth—the child had looked very comfortable in his chair.
Zoe flushed and bit her lip. ‘Of course not.’
