The Millionaire's Rebellious Mistress - By Catherine George Page 0,54
walked into the foyer to confront the receptionist.
‘Sarah Carver,’ she said crisply. ‘I’d like to see Mr Alex Merrick, please. I don’t have an appointment.’
The woman smiled politely. ‘I’ll see if he’s available.’
Sarah felt a surge of triumph. At least he was here in the building.
‘Mr Merrick is in a meeting, but he’ll see you in fifteen minutes, if you care to wait, Miss Carver,’ said the receptionist, putting the phone down.
‘Thanks.’ Sarah took a seat on one of the leather chesterfields, and stared blindly at a magazine until the receptionist came to tell her Mr Merrick was free.
Alex had wound up his meeting sooner than intended, then sprinted to his office to sit behind his desk, all kinds of reasons for Sarah’s visit chasing through his brain as he waited for her to appear. It was unlikely she was coming here to his office to mend things between them. Though he hoped to God she had. The knock on the door brought him upright in his seat, but his voice was calm as he bade her come in.
Last time she’d been here, to sign the deal on the cottages, Sarah had been a vision in some kind of dark red, but today she wore a severe black suit. Her hair was dragged back into a ruthless knot and her mood, he saw at a glance, matched the suit.
‘Good morning,’ he said, rising. ‘This is a surprise.’
‘Good morning. It’s good of you to spare the time to see me.’
‘For God’s sake, Sarah,’ he said wearily. ‘Of course I’ve got time to see you. What’s wrong?’
‘Why should anything be wrong?’ she countered. ‘I came to deliver a letter, in case you were away, but since I’m lucky enough to speak to you face to face I won’t bother with that.’
‘Please sit down, Sarah,’ said Alex.
‘Thank you, I’d rather stand.’
‘Sit down,’ he repeated, without raising his voice.
‘As you wish,’ she said, shrugging, and took the chair facing him.
‘Now, tell me why you’re here.’
‘To tell you I think you’re despicable,’ she said coldly.
The steady eyes didn’t so much as flicker. ‘Despicable?’ he repeated, and raised an eyebrow. ‘Would you care to expand on that? We crossed swords over my desire to see more of you. You didn’t want that. What, exactly, is so despicable? Should I have been more persistent?’
‘Oh, stop tap-dancing, Alex,’ she said wearily. ‘You know exactly why I’m here. You topped my offer to Bob Grover for his barns.’
Alex stared at her, no vestige of expression on his face. ‘No, Sarah,’ he said, after a silence so long she was ready to scream, ‘I most certainly did not.’
‘Oh, all right, if you must split hairs. It was Greg Harris who made the offer.’
‘What the hell would Greg Harris want with the barns?’
‘He doesn’t want them. You know perfectly well he was acting on your behalf,’ she snapped. ‘You couldn’t take it when I preferred to work on them rather than see more of you. So to massage your damaged ego you put a spoke in my wheel in true Merrick fashion. You won’t have any luck, though. Bob Grover won’t go back on his word to me.’
Alex subjected her to another fraught silence, then picked up his phone. ‘Come in, please.’
Greg Harris greeted Sarah politely, and looked at his employer in enquiry.
‘Have you ever been to Westhope Farm?’ asked Alex.
The young man thought for a moment. ‘No. I don’t even know where it is.’
‘Are you sure? It’s about fifteen miles the other side of Hereford.’
Greg shook his head. ‘Sorry, Alex. Do you want some information on it?’
‘No. I want you to go there with me, right now. Postpone the rest of my morning appointments, contact Mr Grover at Westhope Farm to make sure he’s free, then meet me down in the car park.’
When the young man had gone, Sarah got up. ‘I’ve had enough of this charade. I’m leaving—’
‘No, Sarah,’ rapped Alex, in a tone so hard it startled her. ‘You started this. You’re coming to Westhope Farm to see it through.’
‘I most certainly am not!’
‘Why? Are you afraid you’ll be proved wrong?’ he asked, with a smile which made her clench her fists. ‘I wouldn’t have put you down as a coward, Sarah.’
She glared at him, but Alex stood up, his eyes ice-cold as they held hers, and at last, to her mortification, hers were the first to fall. ‘Oh, very well,’ she said ungraciously. ‘I’ll follow you in my car.’