The Billionaire's Trophy (3 page)

‘I’ll have the photo taken down from the website. It shouldn’t be there,’ she declared defensively. ‘I don’t actually work as an escort—’

‘But clearly you have a connection to the agency,’ Bastian pointed out, amused by her vehemence, her eagerness to persuade him that he had somehow misunderstood. She had little hope of getting far with that objective when he had so recently booked and paid for her services, he conceded grimly.

Emmie squirmed, determined not to admit the degrading truth that her connection to the escort agency was through her mother. ‘I promise you that I’ll deal with it and that photo will be taken down as soon as I can get it organised.’

‘If you’re tied into an employment contract with the agency it won’t be that simple a matter,’ Bastian warned her and he pushed a business card across the desk towards her. ‘Feel free to contact this lawyer if you need advice or assistance on that score.’

‘There
is
no contract. I told you...I don’t work as an escort,’ Emmie repeated doggedly, her colour high because she knew he didn’t believe her and she didn’t really blame him for that when her photo was on the website for all to see. She was mortified by the entire conversation but surprised that he was offering her a legal contact who could help her cut ties that didn’t actually exist. Fortunately, the only tie Emmie had to Exclusive Companions was her blood tie to her manipulative mother.

‘Tell me, why isn’t the HR department dealing with this?’ she queried.

‘I felt the issue needed to be dealt with immediately and without spreading the news round the office.’

Exerting self-control, Emmie clenched her teeth together. ‘Thanks. I appreciate that,’ she felt forced to say with very real gratitude.

‘Take the rest of the day off to handle this business,’ Bastian advised, further surprising her with his consideration. ‘I’ll clear it with Marie.’

Thoroughly disconcerted by that generous suggestion, Emmie stiffened, but she was very grateful for the chance to go straight home and confront her mother about what she had done as it was scarcely something she could ignore.

‘A stitch in time saves nine,’ Emmie muttered shakily, taut with rage and embarrassment and frustration that she could not clear her own name but, on another level, very grateful to have discovered that her face was on that website, so that she could demand it be removed forthwith.

Bastian elevated a satiric brow. ‘Another one of your funny little homilies?’

‘I was talking to myself,’ Emmie breathed curtly, flushing slightly because she had picked up the habit of uttering proverbs when she was a child and tended to blurt them out mindlessly when she was nervous or apprehensive.

So far, so good, Bastian reflected cynically when she had left his office, having reacted exactly as he had expected her to and engaged in a frantic cover-up. Even so, she would get that photo down from the site and cut her ties to the agency, which would perfectly suit his requirements. He had no desire for anyone to discover that he was keeping company with an escort and once she was removed from the site there would be less risk of that happening.

CHAPTER TWO

O
DETTE
WAS
USING
her laptop in her elegant lounge when Emmie entered the apartment. Her mother was a tall woman in her fifties with the same classic blonde looks that had raised Saffy, Emmie’s twin sister, to supermodel status and universal acclaim.

‘My word, you’re home early...did the old office sweatshop burn down?’ the older woman commented flippantly.

Emmie’s face was already flushed by the speed with which she had walked from the bus but now her slender hands clenched as anger rose inside her. ‘You put my photo on your website without my permission,’ she accused.

Impervious to her daughter’s tension, Odette lifted and dropped a slim shoulder, her unconcern patent. ‘Photos of very beautiful girls improve business. Lots of my clients have phoned asking specially for you and I simply say you’re already booked—but if you weren’t so stubborn, you
could
be making a fortune.’

‘You must have taken that photo from my camera.’ Emmie was disconcerted by her mother’s lack of reaction to her accusation.

Odette’s blue eyes, so like her daughter’s, were cold as a winter sky. ‘Yes. I can’t see why that should be a problem—’

‘You...
can’t
? But you know that I don’t want any involvement in your business—’

‘Although you’re quite happy to live off my earnings from running an escort agency!’ Odette sliced back with stinging effect.

Emmie reddened. ‘That’s not true. I’m not living off you. I give you everything I earn from waitressing—’

Odette lifted a scornful brow. ‘Which amounts to peanuts!’ she exclaimed. ‘If I rented out that room, I could be making three times as much for it. Instead I decided to be generous and help you out with your career. Is this all the thanks I get for it?’

Emmie hovered uncomfortably. ‘You know I’m grateful, but I still want that photo taken down from the site. I’m not an escort and I don’t want people thinking that I am—’

Odette settled resentful blue eyes on her. ‘My girls aren’t prostitutes. I’ve told you that before. They are companions,
professional
companions, guaranteed to be presentable and pleasant. Sex isn’t included in the package.’

‘As far as you know,’ Emmie added jerkily. ‘You don’t know how your escorts behave if a man asks for something more and is willing to pay for it—’

Odette rose gracefully upright. ‘No, I don’t,’ she conceded. ‘I’m not their keeper or their mother,’ she said. ‘I’m only the manager who takes the bookings and runs credit and character checks on the clients. Why are you so prudish and suspicious of my business, Emmie? The girls on my books are educated middle-class young women, who want to make a decent income. Some of them are paying their way through college...’

‘I’m not condemning their choices, I’m only saying that it’s not a choice I would make,’ Emmie declared, lifting her head high and wondering why she was feeling so guilty and ungrateful. ‘Will you take down that photo right now, please?’

‘You’re making such a fuss about nothing,’ Odette complained. ‘You wouldn’t think twice about posting that photo on one of those social networking sites you use—’

‘That’s different. You must take that photo down and remove any mention of me from the site,’ Emmie reiterated. ‘Whether you accept it or not, being associated with an escort site is damaging to my reputation, and have you even thought about what it could do to Saffy’s reputation? The embarrassment this could cause her?’

‘What the heck has Saffy got to do with this?’ her mother demanded tartly.

‘My face is
her
face, or have you forgotten that we’re identical twins?’ Emmie retorted impatiently, wishing the older woman would stop trying to play dumb when she was as wily as a box of ferrets. ‘Saffy would go spare about this if she found out—’

Odette was unmoved. ‘And why should that bother you? She’s already made a fortune out of her face and body. She’s got a lot more wit than you have but, let’s face it, according to what Topsy has told me, you and your twin are not exactly close.’

Emmie stiffened at that reference to her youngest sister, who had taken to occasionally visiting their mother and had no doubt innocently let slip personal details that Odette would happily use against her daughters if it suited her to do so. ‘Saffy and I may not be close but I wouldn’t do anything to harm her or her career,’ she proffered tautly. ‘And I certainly wouldn’t want to embarrass her the way I was embarrassed when someone showed me my photo on your website today. I’m really upset about this—please tell me you’ll take the photo down now...’

Odette expelled her breath on an irritable hiss, her annoyance palpable. ‘I will—if it really means that much to you—’

‘It does. Thank you,’ Emmie pronounced stiltedly, realising in frustration that she had said nothing that she intended to say and that once again Odette had contrived to talk her down and act as the victim rather than the perpetrator. Her mother had not even apologised for stealing that photo and using it on her website, she reflected in frustration as she walked towards her bedroom to get changed for her shift at the café where she worked weeknights. But then, another voice reminded her grimly, she could not really afford to have a no-holds-barred row with her mother while Odette was allowing her to occupy her spare room. Accepting favours always came with a price.

‘Unfortunately, it’s no longer quite as simple as that,’ Odette remarked softly.

Emmie spun round in confusion. ‘What are you talking about?’

‘I’ve already taken a booking for you—’

Emmie was stunned into momentary silence. ‘How can you have taken a booking for me when I don’t work as an escort for you?’ she asked drily.

‘The client offered me so much money, I agreed,’ her mother admitted without shame or embarrassment. ‘I need the money and, let’s be frank, so do you.’

‘Well, you’re just going to have to give the money right back again!’ Emmie shot back at her mother in angry disbelief. ‘I’m not for hire!’

‘He’s a businessman. He sent a contract over by courier and I signed it on your behalf—’

‘But that can’t be legally binding when I don’t work for you!’ Emmie protested.

‘How are you going to prove that you don’t work for me when your profile is on the website?’ Odette enquired dulcetly.

At that suggestion of outright blackmail, Emmie went rigid. ‘It’s nothing to do with me. Return his money—’

Odette pushed her laptop aside and stood up. ‘It’s not that simple. I had outstanding bills and I’ve paid them. There’s still a healthy cut of that money set aside for you—’

‘I don’t want it!’ Emmie flung back at her furiously. ‘I’m not going to be forced into acting as an escort so that you can make money out of me... It’s not going to happen!’

‘But I have no way of paying the money back,’ her mother declared.

‘That’s not my problem,’ Emmie stated curtly. ‘Although I had no idea you had financial problems—’

‘It’s a tough world out there and an escort is a luxury. This guy’s young, rich and handsome, so you can’t complain on that score,’ Odette told her with derision.

‘I don’t care...I’m not doing it, not for you, not for anyone!’

‘Let me tell you just how much he was willing to pay to take you abroad for a weekend,’ Odette urged thinly and she mentioned a figure of thousands of pounds that shocked Emmie rigid, for there was a much greater sum of money involved than she could ever have imagined.

‘Odette...’ Emmie said shakily. ‘It doesn’t matter what he paid you or what you signed. You can’t sell me or my time like a product. I’m not for sale, and after the number of arguments we’ve had on this subject, I can’t believe that you went ahead and accepted a booking for me knowing how I felt about the idea.’

The older woman settled icy blue eyes on her defiant daughter. ‘You owe me, Emmie, and I intend to collect.’

‘How do I owe you?’ Emmie prompted painfully. ‘You never bothered with me from the age of twelve. You never visited or wrote or phoned or even paid towards my upkeep—’

‘I had a hard time surviving. And you were all quite happy living with your sister, Kat,’ Odette argued tautly. ‘But when it
really
mattered, I was still there for you—’

Emmie’s facial muscles were locked tight with self-discipline. ‘And when was that?’

‘When you needed surgery for your damaged leg. When you were desperate to walk again, I came through for you,’ her mother declared impressively.

Emmie was knocked sideways by that announcement. ‘You’re saying that
you
paid for the surgery I had on my leg?’ She gasped in shock.

‘Where did you think Kat got the money from?’ her mother enquired drily.

Emmie was too distraught at what she had been told to continue reasoning with her unrepentant parent. She changed for her shift at the café and went to work in a daze. Was it true that Odette had paid for her surgery? It was a supreme irony that as a teenager it had not even occurred to Emmie to wonder where her oldest sister, Kat, had got the cash to pay for Emmie’s private surgery abroad. Even though Emmie was now in her twenties it had never occurred to her to ask, an oversight that now struck her as unforgivably obtuse and selfish. Emmie knew how much that surgery had meant to her at the time, how desperately she had craved the normality and the independence of no longer needing assistance in almost everything she did. She was dumbfounded by the assurance that her mother had paid to make her deepest wish come true.

While she served meals and drinks that evening, her mind was lost on another plane. Her sister, Saffy, had never overcome her guilt that she had not been injured in that same crash and she had been fiercely protective of her injured twin in the aftermath. Saffy had never understood that the continual presence of her physical perfection and glowing health had only made Emmie all the more aware of what she had lost. Emmie’s teenaged experience of infirmity had been wretched and she had often been depressed. People had continually looked away from the awkward gait caused by her disability, embarrassed by her, embarrassed for her, pitying, avoiding her as if her brain might be as damaged as her body. At the same time Saffy, blonde, beautiful, sporty and gregarious, had been the most popular girl in school. Emmie hadn’t resented her twin and she hadn’t been jealous either, but that was when she had learned to hate the wounding comparisons that people made between the two girls, one so perfect, the other so physically flawed. Those feelings had been compounded from early childhood by Odette’s resentful attitude to having had twins when she had only wanted one child. Even worse, Emmie had proved to be a heavy responsibility, underweight when born and often ill afterwards, a sickly child continually requiring extra care and attention. Emmie was always painfully aware that in those days Odette had found caring for her too heavy a responsibility.

Her mother was in bed when Emmie got home and although it was a relief not to have to face the older woman again Emmie was still in turmoil. Odette might once have been a neglectful parent but that costly surgery had transformed Emmie’s life, not least giving her her freedom and independence back. If her mother had paid for that operation, Emmie
did
owe her a debt. But surely that didn’t mean she was honour bound to perform escort duties for some stranger? Hadn’t Odette said ‘a weekend
abroad
’? My goodness, could such an arrangement be any more bizarre or dangerous? A
whole
weekend out of the country? He could be a white slaver and she might never be heard of again.

* * *

‘I’d like to see that contract,’ Emmie told her mother staunchly over breakfast, determined not to let her emotions take control of her again. She needed a solution and another argument would be counter-productive.

A couple of minutes later, Odette passed her a slim document. Emmie glanced down it and leafed to the last page to see the signature and what she saw there astonished her.
Sebastiano
Christou!
How was that possible? How could Emmie’s boss be the man who had booked her as an escort? The same boss who had informed her that her supposed second career as an escort ran contrary to company policy? Emmie was so enraged by the sight of that particular name that she was vaguely surprised steam didn’t pump from her ears. She stuffed the contract into her bag. ‘I’ll handle this,’ she told the older woman tautly.

Evidently having expected more of a reaction from her, her mother said, ‘Aren’t you surprised by the identity of the client?’

‘Should I be?’

‘You do work for the guy—’

‘Oh, so you’re aware of that?’ Emmie fielded thinly.

‘Of course I am. It puts a whole new spin on office romance,’ Odette remarked mockingly.

‘Believe me,’ Emmie declared as she stood up, ‘there’s nothing romantic about this situation.’

Rage was powering Emmie like adrenalin by the time she reached the office. Bastian Christou was a complete hypocrite. Unbelievably, the same guy who had paid a ridiculous sum for her services as an escort had dared to warn her that her working in such a role threatened to bring
his
company into disrepute. But at least now she knew why he had been looking at her so oddly, doubtless imagining that if she worked as an escort she was a much more sexually exciting and adventurous personality than she appeared on the surface. Well, we’ll just see about that, Emmie reflected, furiously gritting her teeth together.

‘Mr Christou and I discussed a private matter yesterday and I need to see him as soon as possible to update him on...er, a recent development,’ Emmie informed Marie.

Her eyes carefully veiled, Bastian’s PA passed no comment and swept up her phone.

‘Go on ahead,’ she urged then, before adding, ‘Be careful, Emmie—’

‘Careful?’ Emmie queried, glancing back over her shoulder.

‘Before Lilah, Bastian had a bad track record with women,’ his PA murmured warningly.

Her face flaming at the type of development that the other woman so obviously suspected, Emmie knocked on the office door and entered. Bastian surveyed her from his stance by the window, his arrogant dark head set at a questioning angle, his brilliant eyes narrowed. Emmie dug the contract from her bag and slapped it down on the desk top in explanation.