no objection to that, Miss Millett?’ he asked softly, something in his face making it quite clear to Georgie he had known exactly what she was thinking. ‘I take it you are your brother’s…temporary secretary?’
Somehow, and she couldn’t quite put a finger on it, but somehow he made it sound insulting. ‘Yes, I am,’ she responded tightly.
‘How…convenient,’ he drawled smoothly.
‘Convenient?’ It was wary.
‘To have a ready-made job available like this rather than having to fight your way in the big bad world and prove yourself,’ was the—to Georgie—shocking answer.
How dared he? How dared he make assumptions about her just because she had ruffled his wealthy, powerful feathers? That last remark was just plain nasty. Georgie reared up like a small tigress, all thoughts of appeasement flying out of the window as she bit out, ‘I happen to be a very good secretary, Mr de Capistrano.’ She had worked her socks off as a temp all through the university holidays in order to be less of a financial burden on Robert—one of her ten GCSEs being that of Typing and Computer Literacy before her A Levels in Business Studies, English and Art and Design—and every firm the temping agency had placed her with had wanted her back.
‘Really?’ Her obvious annoyance seemed to diminish his. ‘You did a secretarial course at college?’
‘Not exactly.’ She glared at him angrily.
‘My sister graduated from university two years ago with a First in Art and Design,’ Robert cut in swiftly, sensing Georgie was ready to explode.
‘Then why waste such admirable talents working for big brother?’ He was speaking to her as though Robert and his secretary didn’t exist, and apart from the content of his words hadn’t acknowledged Robert had spoken. ‘Lack of ambition? Contentment with the status quo? Laziness? What?’
Georgie couldn’t believe her ears. ‘Now look here, you—’
Robert cut in again, his face very straight now and his voice holding a harsh note as he said, ‘Georgie left an excellent job a few months ago, Mr de Capistrano, in advertising—a job she was successful in obtaining over a host of other applicants, I might add. She did this purely for me and there is no question of it being a free ride here, if that is what you are suggesting. My wife used to run the office here but—’
‘You don’t have to explain to him.’ Georgie was past caring about the contract or anything else she was so mad.
‘But she died six months ago. Okay?’ Robert finished more calmly.
There was a screaming silence for a full ten seconds and Georgie moved closer to Robert, putting her hand on his arm. She noticed the secretary had done the same thing to Matt de Capistrano which seemed to suggest a certain closeness if nothing else.
‘I’m not sure that an apology even begins to cover such insensitivity, Mr Millett, but I would be grateful if you would accept it,’ the tall dark man in front of them said quietly. ‘I had no idea of your circumstances, of course.’
‘There was no reason why you should have.’ Robert’s voice was more resigned than anything now. He had the feeling Matt de Capistrano was itching to shake the dust of this particular building firm off his feet as quickly—and finally—as possible.
‘Perhaps not, but I have inadvertently added to your pain at this difficult time and that is unforgivable.’ The accent made the words almost quaint, but in view of the situation—and not least the big lean figure speaking them—there was nothing cosy about the scenario being played out in the small office.
‘Forget it.’ Robert waved a dismissive hand. ‘But it is the case that I find myself in somewhat changed circumstances. We discovered this morning we had lost some vital work, work which I had assumed would finance the extra men and hire of machinery I need for your job, Mr de Capistrano.’
‘Are you saying the estimate you supplied is no longer viable?’ The deep voice was now utterly businesslike, and Georgie—standing to one side of the two men—suddenly felt invisible. It was not a pleasant feeling.
‘Not exactly,’ Robert replied cautiously. ‘I can still do the job at the price I put forward, if my bank is prepared to finance the machinery and so on, but—’
‘They won’t,’ Matt de Capistrano finished for him coolly. ‘Are you telling me your business is in financial difficulties, Mr Millett?’
‘I’m virtually bankrupt.’
Georgie couldn’t stop the gasp of shock at hearing it put so baldly, and as the men’s heads turned her way she said quickly, without thinking about it, ‘Because he dedicated himself to his wife when she and the children needed him, Mr de Capistrano, not because he isn’t a good builder. He’s a great builder, the best you could get, and he never cuts corners like some I could mention. You can look at any of the work he’s done in the past and—’
‘Georgie, please.’ Robert was scarlet with embarrassment. ‘This is between me and Mr de Capistrano.’
‘But you are a fine builder,’ Georgie returned desperately. ‘You know you are but you won’t say so—’
‘Georgie.’ Robert’s voice was not loud but the quality of his tone told her she had gone as far as she could go.
‘I think it might be better if you waited in your office, Miss Millett,’ Matt de Capistrano suggested smoothly, nodding his head at the door through which her small cubby-hole of a place was situated.
Georgie longed to defy him—she had never longed for anything so much in all her life—but something in Robert’s eyes forced her to comply without another word.
For the first time since childhood she found herself biting her nails as she sat at her desk piled high with paperwork, the interconnecting door to Robert’s office now firmly shut. She could just hear the low murmur of voices from within, but the actual conversation was indistinguishable, and as time slipped by her apprehension grew.
How long did it take to rip up a contract and say bye-bye? she thought painfully. Matt de Capistrano wasn’t going to twist the knife in some way to pay her back for her rudeness, was he? Those few minutes in there had made it plain he’d never been spoken to like that before in his life, and a man like him didn’t take such an insult lying down. Not that she had actually spoken to him when she’d insulted him, just about him. She groaned softly. Her and her big mouth. Oh, why, why had he had to come in at that precise moment and why had she left the door to her office open so he’d heard every word? And Robert. Why hadn’t he told her how bad things were?
The abrupt opening of the door caught her by surprise and she raised anxious green eyes to see Matt de Capistrano looking straight at her, a hard, speculative gleam in the dark grey eyes. ‘Daydreaming, Miss Millett?’
The tone of his voice could have indicated he was being friendly, lightly amusing in a pleasant teasing fashion, but Georgie was looking into his face—unlike the two behind him—and she knew different. ‘Of course. What else do temporary secretaries do?’ she answered sweetly, her green eyes narrowing as she stared her dislike.
He smiled, moving to stand by her desk as he said, ‘I intend to phone your brother tonight from Scotland after certain enquiries have been made. The call will be of vital importance so can you make sure the line is free?’
‘Certainly.’ She knew exactly what he was implying and now added, ‘I’ll let all my friends and my hairdresser and beautician know not to call me then, shall I?’ in helpful, dulcet tones.
His mouth tightened; it clearly wasn’t often he was answered in like vein. ‘Just so.’ The harsh face could have been set in stone. ‘I shall be working to a tight schedule so time is of the essence.’
‘Absolutely, Mr de Capistrano.’
The grey gaze held her one more moment and then he swept past her, the secretary and Robert at his heels,