The Millionaire's Rebellious Mistress - By Catherine George Page 0,25

to the Merrick Group offices.’

Oliver ushered her into his Daimler, smiling rather smugly. ‘I didn’t mention my presence here beforehand, in case something unforeseen cropped up to prevent it. And my usual hotel room is free for me tonight, so I shall drive back first thing in the morning. You look utterly delightful, Sarah.’

‘Good to know, because it took work,’ she said with feeling, and beamed at Oliver. ‘Thank you so much for coming.’

The Merrick Group offices were housed a few miles away, in a purpose-built modern building surrounded by manicured gardens. The woman at a reception desk flanked by banks of greenery smiled in enquiry at their approach.

‘Miss Carver for Mr Merrick. These gentlemen are my lawyers,’ Sarah said grandly.

The receptionist rang through to report their arrival, then conducted them across a gleaming expanse of parquet to a trio of lifts, and told them where to find Mr Merrick’s office on the top floor.

Sarah grinned at Oliver as the lift doors closed on them. ‘What cheek, talking about my lawyers! I hope you didn’t mind.’

‘Since both Selby and I are lawyers, not at all,’ Oliver assured her.

‘A pity you couldn’t have worn your wig and gown,’ she said with regret. ‘Though you look impressive enough just the way you are.’

He was immaculate, as usual, his silver hair expertly styled, his superb three piece suit complete with watch chain. Mr Selby was similarly dressed, but his receding hair and smaller stature were no contest against the magnificence of Oliver Moore QC.

A tall young man in stylish spectacles greeted them as the lift doors opened on the top floor.

‘Good morning, Miss Carver. I’m Gregory Harris, Mr Merrick’s assistant.’

‘Good morning. This is my solicitor, Mr Charles Selby, also Mr Oliver Moore QC.’ A statement which impressed, just as she’d intended.

‘Good morning, gentlemen. Please follow me.’

Alex got to his feet as the trio followed Greg into his office, his eyes narrowing as he saw two men flanking the vision of elegance approaching his desk. She’d pulled a fast one again, by springing not just her solicitor but a Lincoln’s Inn Queen’s Counsel on him as well. ‘Good morning, Miss Carver—gentlemen. How nice to see you, Mr Moore.’

‘You too, my boy,’ said Oliver affably. ‘I come in loco parentis for Sarah. I trust you have no objection to my presence?’

‘None at all,’ said Alex, equally affable.

‘Good morning, Mr Merrick,’ said Sarah. ‘May I introduce Mr Charles Selby, my solicitor?’

There was a round of hand-shaking, including an introduction to Lewis Francis, the Merrick Group legal representative.

‘Coffee?’ suggested Alex.

Sarah opened her mouth to refuse, but Oliver nodded genially.

‘That would be very pleasant—I had an early start.’

And, instead of getting straight down to business, as she would have preferred, Sarah was forced to make pleasant conversation with Lewis Francis while coffee was consumed, along with croissants and French pastries, which Sarah refused. She was hard put to it to swallow the coffee, let alone try chomping on a pastry. It seemed an age before Greg Harris came in to clear away and they could finally get down to business.

‘Carry on then, Lewis,’ said Alex at last.

Lewis Francis opened the file in front of him. ‘All six houses on the property known as Medlar Farm Cottages met the standards of the building inspection, therefore the price remains as agreed privately by Miss Carver and Mr Merrick. This sum has now been paid into Miss Carver’s account, if she would like to check before signing the necessary documents.’

‘Ring your bank to confirm, Sarah,’ said Oliver casually.

Sarah took out her phone to do so, and felt a surge of pure adrenaline as she heard the new total. ‘Yes,’ she said quietly. ‘It’s there.’

Eventually, when the contracts held the necessary signatures, and all was legally finalised even to Oliver’s satisfaction, instead of the expected relief Sarah felt an overpowering sense of anticlimax.

‘Congratulations, Miss Carver,’ Alex said, holding her hand a fraction longer than necessary after shaking it.

‘Thank you.’

‘May I ask if you have another project in mind?’

‘I do, yes.’

‘Locally?’

‘Yes.’

‘How interesting.’ He smiled his crooked smile, his eyes holding hers. ‘I wish you every success with it.’

‘Splendid,’ said Oliver, watching the exchange like a hawk. ‘I suggest I take everyone to lunch to celebrate.’

Due to other appointments, both solicitors regretfully declined, but Alex thanked Oliver warmly. ‘I know the very place.’

‘If you mean Easthope Court, Alex, I’d rather something more conventional at lunchtime,’ warned Oliver.

‘I promise you’ll like the place I have in mind, sir,’ Alex assured him. ’And, to let us