Page 7 of His Secretary's Nine-Month Notice
‘He’s had problems with his liver, which he’s coped with well enough, but my stepmother died six months ago, and ever since then he’s been getting more and more depressed,’ Violet said abruptly. She needed a bit of wine as well, and she poured herself a glass before sitting back down. ‘He visited for two weeks a couple of months ago and he tried to put a brave face on things, but I could see through that.’
‘Liver problems... Drinker?’
Violet reddened. Of course, he would ask questions.
‘He used to be, but as you know, drink is always the devil waiting in the wings when it comes to ex...ex...’
‘Alcoholics?’
She nodded brusquely and looked away. ‘Depression is his enemy and I’m very much afraid that, left to his own devices, he may find that devil on his shoulder just a little bit too tempting.’
‘He’s still in Melbourne?’
‘Yes.’
‘Why doesn’t he move back over here?’ Matt looked around the bijou mews house and Violet could see what he was thinking without him having to spell it out.
The house might not be a mansion, but it was big enough for two. It was certainly worth a lot of money and could easily be sold and something bigger purchased in a less flashy postcode.
‘Money issues?’
‘If there were money issues I wouldn’t be living in a place like this.’
‘Which brings me to the question I’ve been meaning to ask since I walked through your front door...’ He paused for a heartbeat, then continued with more urgency in his voice. ‘I don’t give a damn how you’re managing to afford the rent on a place like this. Maybe you have a thing for small, expensive houses and would rather sacrifice your monthly pay cheque renting one of them than throwing your hard-earned cash away on holidays, fast cars and designer clothes. Your business. Bottom line is, if you can’t afford to support your father if he returns here, then say the word.’
‘Holidays, fast cars and designer clothes?’ Violet parroted faintly, wondering if he was actually talking abouther.
‘You know where I’m going with this. If it’s money you’re after, then I’m prepared to throw as much as you need your way. We can call it a loan with zero interest rate.’ He raked his fingers through his hair and stared at her. ‘I never thought I’d beg for any woman.’ He shot her a crooked smile that did all the wrong things to her nervous system. ‘But I’m big enough to concede that there’s always a first time for everything.’ This time his expression was serious. ‘No one has ever worked so well with me before. You understand how I think and you don’t go into a tailspin if I get too close to you.’
Violet knew that there was a huge compliment in there somewhere, but all she could think about wasyou don’t go into a tailspin if I get too close to you.He could say that with certainty because the unspoken rider was that they both knew he could never find her attractive, so why would she be affected by him the way other, more suitably blonde and busty women might be?
Gossip over the years had informed her that the only PA who had ever stuck it out with him—and she had stuck it out for a lifetime—had been a sixty-year-old married grandmother who had taken early retirement, leaving him in the lurch three years previously. Before Violet had come along, the vacant spot had been filled by an unsatisfactory procession of attractive potentials because, one of the girls in Accounts had confided after a couple of after-work drinks, he’d decided he liked a bit of eye candy.
‘Not very PC,’ Violet had responded, and Amelia had burst out laughing.
‘Oh, Matt wouldn’t even be aware of it! No, that’s just the conclusion we all reached after a while. Problem is, he’s a hunk, and girls go into a tizzy when he’s around. Even bigger problem is that he really doesn’t get it. Which is why he’s kept making the same mistake over and over.’
Until me,Violet had thought.
‘I’m very flattered,’ she said now, banking down all negative thoughts about her appearance. ‘But it’s nothing to do with the money.’
Violet sighed and resigned herself to the fact that he would be shocked at a past she had always kept to herself. She stood up, opened one of the drawers and pulled out a photo album, which she handed to him, because in this case, pictures would speak so much more clearly than words.
He opened it. Flicked through the pages. Sat up just a little bit straighter and flicked through the pages again, more slowly, inspecting each and every one. Then he looked at her with astonishment.
‘Your father isMickey Dunn?’
‘Real name Victor. I’m surprised you’ve heard of him.’
‘Who hasn’t? Burnt out young. Drink and drugs.’
‘Stop looking at me like that,’ Violet said irritably. She drained her glass and felt the buzz of alcohol race to her head. She barely drank. A legacy from being around people who did very littlebut.
‘I would never have guessed that you were the daughter of a hellraiser like Mickey Dunn,’ Matt murmured, unashamedly curious. He glanced round the kitchen as though seeing it for the first time. ‘That explains this place,’ he said slowly. ‘And all the while, I thought you were saving hard to buy somewhere, being careful with what you earned, avoiding holidays like the plague because a mortgage was more important. And then I figured you were renting. Presumably, you own the place lock, stock and smoking barrels?’
‘I never lied to you,’ Violet said defensively, and he just looked at her with the sort of shuttered expression that made her feel as though she had, somehow, deliberately deceived him, which of courseshehadn’t.
‘You’re right,’ he said, in a voice as smooth as silk. There was a coldness there that went to the very core of her, making her realise how used to his teasing she had become, to the warmth of those fabulous deep-blue eyes, to the respect that was always there whenever he addressed her.
