In true Blaise style, there was no prevarication or asking her if he was putting her about. ‘Thanks,’ he said shortly. ‘Come and meet her.’
He led the way to his Ferrari. It was a panther of a car, black and sleek and powerful, and always sat in the space reserved for it in the firm’s car park like a dark, brooding presence. The young child sitting in the passenger seat couldn’t have been more at odds with the car’s aura. She looked much younger than nearly ten, seven at the most, and was tiny and fragile and as blonde as Blaise was dark.
As Blaise opened the door, saying, ‘This is my new personal assistant, Lucy. Her name’s Kim,’ she bent and peered at the little girl, smiling widely.
‘Hello, Lucy. Nice to meet you.’
The child stared back at her with enormous clear blue eyes. ‘Hello,’ she said reluctantly. She didn’t smile back.
‘Come and sit in; I won’t be more than a minute or two.’ Blaise took Kim’s arm, moving her round the bonnet of the car and opening the driver’s door. She had no option but to slide in beside Lucy, who was now eyeing her resentfully, as Blaise said, ‘Kim’s going to keep you company, Lucy,’ and then shut the door.
Great. She turned to the child but before she could speak, Lucy muttered, ‘I’m not a baby, you know.’
Kim watched Blaise disappear into the building in the wing mirror. ‘I know that. You’re ten in two weeks’ time, aren’t you?’ she said brightly. ‘Are you having a party?’
Ignoring this, Lucy continued, ‘So you don’t need to sit with me, all right? You can go.’
She wished. ‘Your father asked me to wait until he comes out,’ she stated calmly.
‘I’ve told you, there’s no need.’
Kim took a deep breath and let it out evenly. ‘Nevertheless, I said I would.’
‘I don’t want you to.’
‘I’m sorry but I can’t help that.’
‘This is my car, not yours. If I want you to get out then you have to.’
Thanks a million, Blaise. And this definitely didn’t come under the job description. Looking into the angry little face, which was undeniably pretty, Kim said quietly, ‘Are you always this rude, Lucy?’
Blue eyes blinked in surprise. For a moment Kim thought Blaise’s daughter was going to defend herself but instead she repeated stubbornly, ‘I want you to get out now.’
‘Very well. I’ll stand by the car until your father comes back, OK? Will that satisfy your desire to show me I’m just one of your father’s employees?’ She opened the car door but didn’t exit immediately, saying first, ‘One day you will learn that having lots of money and power should make you treat people under you, those not as fortunate, more kindly than anything else. Throwing your weight about makes you look like a spoilt, petulant brat, that’s all. And that is extremely unattractive.’
She would have liked to climb out of the car with dignity but it was crouched so low to the ground it was more of a scramble. Shutting the door extra gently because what she really wanted to do was slam it hard, Kim stood by the car. Perfect. Not only would this little scenario make Blaise think she couldn’t even handle a nine-year-old child, but she had insulted his daughter to boot. The apple of his eye. Wonderful start to the week.
She didn’t glance down into the interior of the car before she saw him hurrying towards her. Then she slanted her eyes at Lucy, who was staring stiffly ahead, scowling.
As Blaise reached the car Kim began walking, saying over her shoulder, ‘Over to you.’ And you are more than welcome.
His voice, somewhat startled, followed her. ‘Thanks. See you in the morning.’
Unless I get a phone call to tell me I needn’t bother. But no, he wouldn’t do that, not with Pat in hospital. Blaise wouldn’t cut off his nose to spite his face.
Would he?
CHAPTER FOUR
ALL evening Kim was on edge. She didn’t regret saying what she had to Blaise’s daughter—in fact, she thought Lucy had got away lightly—but at the same time the fact that the episode might have soured her future at West International had shown her just how much she wanted to work for Blaise.
She’d had no idea the job would prove to be quite so fascinating before she had started. She had imagined being the personal assistant of a multimillionaire wouldn’t be boring, but Blaise wasn’t even your normal run-of-the-mill mogul. He was larger than life in every way, a high-profile personality who mixed with others of the same ilk.
She had already seen that he was implacably businesslike, very level-headed and more than a little cynical, but he had a wicked masculine charm that he used to great effect on occasion when all else failed. Altogether he was formidable, physically and every other way, and she still wasn’t really sure if she actually liked him or not because she had the feeling Blaise only let you see what he wanted you to see. The real man was an enigma. And she didn’t like that. After David, when she’d had to face the unwelcome truth that she had been all set to marry a man who was nothing more than an image he had projected which wasn’t the real man at all, she had steered well clear of anyone her instinct had dubbed mysterious or a conundrum.
But she was only working for Blaise. She had comforted herself with that numerous times. And the job was, without a doubt, a peach.
It was a little later, as she lay relaxing in a warm, bubbly bath with a glass of wine at her elbow and a candle filling the air with the scent of magnolias, that it dawned on her the reason she was so unsettled tonight wasn’t wholly due to the possible outcome of her confrontation with Blaise’s daughter; it was seeing Blaise in a different light. A more…human light. She could barely equate the word vulnerable with her aggressive, dynamic boss, but he had certainly been different.
She sighed, wriggling her toes and then reaching for the glass of wine. She was going to pamper herself tonight; do a facial and paint her toenails and make sure she was perfectly groomed and on the ball when she went into work tomorrow. With Pat gone, Blaise needed her more than she needed him at the moment, she had to remember that. He couldn’t abide disorder or any hint of confusion; his office had to run like clockwork. And she wasn’t going to think of him or his brat of a daughter any more either. Tomorrow would come soon enough.
The next morning Kim strode into the office looking every inch Blaise’s personal assistant. Her classic tailored suit, neat court shoes and immaculate appearance stated she was competent and proficient, and no one would have guessed she had a stomach full of butterflies doing the fandango.
She hadn’t even reached her desk when the interconnecting door opened.
‘Good morning.’ As ever Blaise’s tie was loose and the first few buttons of his shirt were undone. Kim had schooled herself to take this in her stride over the last four weeks. Just. ‘Thanks for helping out with Lucy yesterday.’
She eyed him warily. The deep, smoky voice hadn’t carried any hint of sarcasm or annoyance but you never could tell with Blaise. ‘That’s all right.’
‘She’s going through a bit of a troubled patch at the moment and yesterday wasn’t a good day. Her grandmother, my ex-wife’s mother, called round and Lucy is always unsettled after she’s gone.’
Considering that not once in the last month had he said anything remotely personal, Kim didn’t know how to react. But it wouldn’t do to show that. Quickly, she said, ‘It must be difficult knowing how to handle things at times. One of my close friends is in the same position. She says what she misses most since her divorce is being able to talk out a problem concerning one of the children at night and get a balanced view.’ She immediately felt she’d said too much. Hastily, she added, ‘Of course, every situation and every child is different.’
He was looking at her intently now. For a moment she thought he was going to make a dismissive remark and turn round and go back into his office. Instead he nodded slowly. ‘She has something approaching a phobia about hospitals; it all dates back to the accident, I guess. Normally I wouldn’t have dreamt of bringing her with me but I was already in the car when she insisted on coming. She was getting upset and it seemed the lesser of two evils.’ He shrugged. ‘She’s approaching that awkward age when she needs a mother to talk to.’
