Confessions of a Millionaire's Mistress Read online

  •

  The morning after the cocktail party I woke up feeling so confused. I didn’t know how I was going to hide what I was beginning to feel in order to maintain a professional relationship and pursue my career. Also, my early experiences had left me afraid of intimacy, and I knew deep down that I couldn’t bear the thought of being touched. I was genuinely afraid, although I couldn’t articulate even to myself what I was afraid of.

  When I arrived at the office the morning after the cocktail party, my phone began to ring: it was Hugh. The moment I saw his name I felt an indescribable rush of emotions. I knew that whatever it was that I was facing with Hugh was not only dangerous for my career but also for my sanity. I couldn’t bring myself to believe that a man of his calibre would glance twice at someone like me, but maybe that added to the intrigue.

  I answered warily, and his voice filled my soul with chills that rippled from the inside out. I closed my eyes as he said, ‘Good morning, babe. Fancy breakfast?’

  Inside I was screaming. I knew I wanted to say yes but my mind took charge and I said no.

  ‘I want to see you today,’ he argued. ‘I promise I’ll be professional.’

  I sighed. ‘I really don’t know; I have a lot of work to do.’

  ‘Ava, please come in. I’d like to introduce you to some of my clients,’ he pleaded.

  As business took charge in my mind I hung up, gathered my bag and headed to Hugh’s hotel. The best thing about creating and running a new division for the company was that when I needed to make an executive decision, I was able to do so. I had to answer for any business time that wasn’t deemed to have been productive, of course, but I never really had that problem. I was so determined to deliver results that I didn’t feel like wasting time, which goes against the common conception of my generation.

  The whole way to the hotel I trembled from the inside out, wondering what the hell I was doing. I realised I had been kidding myself to say that I was going to be able to keep this professional. It was becoming painful, as if a devil and an angel were on my shoulders and I was stuck in the middle. I have always been prone to anxiety when it comes to men, but with Hugh I felt as though I was being split in two: I wanted to be the carefree young woman who took risks, but then the smart, strong-willed business figure would pop up and remind me I was playing with fire. What if I did entertain whatever this was and then it turned sour?

  When I arrived at the hotel I couldn’t see him anywhere but I could see the media everywhere. Seeing so many photographers, reporters and important industry people gathered in the grand foyer made me jump inside. I was so scared of being seen with him because I was determined to be viewed as his business associate, not just yet another woman he was photographed with. Walking through the foyer past all the journalists who would never have looked at me under normal circumstances, it began to hit me just how important this man was. I knew the media was there for Hugh’s clients but I also knew that their money shot would be anything that included him. It had been months since he had been snapped and yet here I was, invisible to the awaiting media, about to meet him. I prayed that I would not be forced into the public eye so brutally.

  I pulled my iPhone out of my bag and called him, but he didn’t answer. I called again, part of me aching to hear his voice but another part of me dreading it. When the call again went to voicemail I grew annoyed—after all, he was the one who had begged me to meet with him, had texted me the entire time I was on my way. The media frenzy was causing my anxiety to fly through the roof, adding to my rising impatience, and I turned around and made my way towards the front doors. As I was about to step out into the street I saw one of the women who had been all over Hugh at the event the night before. I stopped dead in my tracks, and then changed my course and walked up to her. I asked if she had heard from Hugh. She recognised me immediately, looked me up and down before saying no but then she whipped out her phone and dialled his number—and he answered straightaway. I can’t say that I wasn’t confused or a little jealous when he answered her call, and then even more annoyed when I heard her say, ‘Hugh, your girlfriend’s at reception.’

  I immediately felt my face light up, my cheeks burning as I caught sight of my red face in the mirror behind the reception desk. The lump in my throat was harder than ever as I struggled to swallow. I had no idea how to react to this and yet I couldn’t bring myself to correct her. I was about to speak when my phone rang.

  ‘Are you going to answer that?’ she snapped.

  I felt myself float back down to reality and realised that it was Hugh.

  ‘Hey, beautiful. I’ve told reception to leave you a key, so come up. I’m packing to leave,’ he said with a smile in his voice.

  ‘I’ll just wait downstairs for you,’ I replied in an instant reflex to the knot forming in my stomach.

  ‘No. I’m going to be a while, get the key and come up. I’ll introduce you to everyone when I’m finished, but I don’t want you to have to wait.’ He hung up before I had the chance to respond.

  I was tempted to just wait downstairs and risk the media attention because what I feared more than being caught out publicly was being alone in a room with him . . . well, with any man, really. What I realised in an instant was that I barely knew Hugh and even though I felt a level of comfort in his presence I also felt a surge of panic at the thought of being trapped behind closed doors with him. Thinking rationally about my fears, I had to acknowledge that I wasn’t sure I would be able to resist his advances.

  When I turned around the woman was gone, so I steadied myself and made my way to the concierge, who listened to my name and then immediately treated me like royalty. The hotel manager came straight over and gave me my key card in person.

  ‘Enjoy your stay, Ms Reilly,’ he said with a smile and slight bow. ‘Mr Montgomery is a very valuable client, so if there is anything you need please contact me directly, any time, day or night.’ Not wanting to give him the wrong impression I began to tell him I wouldn’t be staying, but I stopped when a staff member appeared from a well-hidden back room and said, ‘Mr Montgomery is expecting you.’

  This had to be one of the most embarrassing moments of my life. I was so blind to the world around me and could only follow silently as the hotel manager walked me to the elevators and pressed the button for the twenty-third floor.

  I stepped into the elevator apprehensively, fiddling with the ring on my finger as the doors closed and the elevator swiftly moved me closer and closer to Hugh. My heart began to pound in my ears and my throat became dry; I was so nervous I couldn’t swallow.

  The doors opened and I just stood there, unable to move. I felt sick and I didn’t want to be there—I wanted to run as far and as fast as I could. Instead, my heart took a step forward and my feet followed.

  I walked towards the door of the suite and, forgetting I had the key, I knocked. Moments later Hugh opened the door, dressed casually in a pair of Calvin Klein jeans and an unbuttoned baby-blue business shirt revealing his tanned skin. As he leaned in to kiss my cheek I drank in the smell of his cologne, something from that moment I would always connect with him. I couldn’t put my finger on it but something—the freshness of his crisp business shirt or maybe the cologne—began to drive me crazy. I felt a wave of desire wash over me. I forced myself to pull away and walked into the room, clutching my bag so tightly that the buckle started to cut into me.

  As I walked in he pulled me close and kissed me again on the cheek, ramping up my desire from a low flame to a roaring fire as I was hit with his intoxicating smell again. He guided me into the suite with his hand on the small of my back, the electricity in his touch shooting through my spine so violently that I jumped forward to get away from his hand. With every touch I could feel the invisible connection between us growing.

  I placed my bag on the floor near a chair and looked around the suite in awe. The view of the city was incredible. I walked straight towards the window and, despite my fear of heights, looked down at the
little people below going about their daily routines, completely oblivious to the figure standing at the window above them. As I watched them I prayed that I wasn’t making a terrible decision; I knew I was playing with fire but I couldn’t stop myself. I was quickly becoming addicted to the magnetic pull I felt around him.

  Dragging my gaze away from the window and back to the reality in front of me, I looked around the suite: television on, open suitcases, business suits neatly stacked on top of each other on the bed and things everywhere. A wave of relief flooded through me as I saw that Hugh was indeed packing; it hadn’t just been a ploy to get me up to his room. I turned my attention back to the window and once again got lost in the sights. Within moments I sensed him standing right behind me, so close that I could feel his body pressed to mine. I instinctively moved my head to the left. The warmth of his breath on my neck sent delightful tingles down my spine, and the electrifying touch of his fingers running down my bare arm gave me goose bumps.

  I stood for a second, fighting the urge to turn around and look at him, then reality kicked in and I moved away. He seemed to sense how nervous I was and didn’t push it, instead returning to his packing and offering me a cup of coffee. I declined in a small voice, barely able to breathe. Long minutes passed in silence as I sat in an armchair and pretended to focus on the television while he continued to pack suits.

  Out of the corner of my eye I saw him drop something in his suitcase and then walk towards me. I felt like everything was in slow motion as I looked straight into his deep dark-brown eyes. I saw the hunger there, and I felt the electricity in the air and my heart stopped as he leaned down and placed the palm of his hand over my jaw, and before I knew it he was kissing me. It was like an explosion of fear, nerves, pain, happiness, butterflies, pure passion and desire as his lips pressed on mine and his tongue explored my mouth with intense yearning. My eyes were closed, amplifying the feelings as I felt a smile spread across his face. He continued to kiss me in the same rushed passion until my right hand reached up and pushed against his chest, forcing him to take a step back.

  As my hand dropped he grabbed it, pulled me out of the chair and placed his hand around my waist and in an instant he tried to kiss me again. This time I wasn’t going to cave in. I ducked out under his free arm and he spun me around with a hard grasp of my hand and tried once more to kiss me. It was as though we were dancing a familiar dance that I had never learned the steps to; it felt so safe and yet dangerous. I moved my head to the right and he caught my neck, nuzzling into the small crevice between my neck and my shoulder. I allowed myself to close my eyes and drink in the moment before I took a step back.

  Before I knew it I was yelling at him. ‘Why did you have to go and do that?!’

  He looked at me, his normally warm eyes overtaken by a deep, dark, cold stare that made me want to close the gap between us and melt into his arms. I regretted the words instantly; I knew it wasn’t right but I wanted to be back in that moment.

  ‘I could see how nervous you were and all I wanted to do was make you more comfortable,’ he said. ‘I’ve been dying to kiss you since I met you that first night—and I’m not going to apologise for it!’

  Before I had the chance to respond, his phone rang. He didn’t move his gaze from me, nor did he budge an inch. Eventually I said, ‘Well, aren’t you going to get that?’

  He looked at me intensely, before snatching his phone from the table and yelling, ‘What?’ to the innocent person on the other end of the phone, still not taking his eyes off me.

  As he spoke I grabbed my bag, and with it I felt instantly protected.

  He hung up the phone, and finished packing in silence. Before I knew it we were in the elevator heading down to the foyer, and neither of us had said a word. Something had shifted between us. I hadn’t wanted to piss him off but I knew that if I hadn’t taken control of the situation I would have lost myself in his presence. I needed to try to pull things back on to a professional level, even though it was killing me inside.

  We barely spoke two words to each other except for when he introduced me to his clients. I could feel his fury, but no one else seemed to notice it.

  When I left him I felt as though I had screwed everything up. I didn’t know if I was ever going to hear from him again and it scared me more than I cared to admit. I cried the entire way back to the office, unable to believe what had happened—I felt like I had destroyed everything, and the thing that confused me the most was that I couldn’t understand why it hurt so much.

  #FourthConfession

  #COAMMPlaylist:

  ‘It Must Have Been Love’

  Roxette

  While I continued to fight my growing feelings for Hugh I also knew that it was only a matter of time until I was consumed by them. One question burned in my mind: had I lost my chance?

  The night after my hotel tousle with Hugh I sat in my bedroom, trying to stop myself from contacting him. I couldn’t help but play with my phone; I wanted to send him a message even though I knew I shouldn’t. I couldn’t bear it if he told me he never wanted to see me again but at the same time I had to know. I felt so lost and caught up in feelings I had never intended to feel—it was nothing short of excruciating. I was not entirely sure why I was fighting with myself—I had never been the type of person to shy away from my feelings, but for some reason this was different; I was completely frozen at even the thought of him.

  It took me two hours before I finally wrote a message that I didn’t delete: I really want to be able to keep this professional but you are making it so hard for me. Once I hit send I threw my phone across the bed; I didn’t want it anywhere near me, as I was petrified of his response—good, bad or indifferent. I think that instinctively I knew I was on the path of no return, no matter how hard I tried to fight it.

  The whole night I tortured myself, desperate to hear back from him but also scared of what he would say. As the hours wore on, that fear turned to anger: he had been constantly messaging me and now he wouldn’t respond to me. I knew this was irrational, but that made no difference. I think I just needed some reassurance that it wasn’t all in my head. I fell asleep with tears rolling down my cheeks, convinced I had lost my chance.

  Two days passed and I decided to force Hugh from my mind. It was incredibly hard but I had to do it; obviously he had nothing left to say, and I wasn’t about to become Pain #2.

  The next morning as I stepped out of the shower I saw two missed calls on my phone from Hugh and a message waiting. My heart jumped into my throat, and my palms began to sweat as I fumbled with my phone, trying to unlock it.

  I’m sorry, I dropped my phone in a bucket of water the other night and have only just got everyone’s numbers back. Tried to call you. Call you in a while. x

  I needed to hear his voice and to know if he was still angry with me, so I immediately tried to call him back, but he didn’t answer. For the next few hours my phone was glued to my hand.

  When he eventually called I trembled as I answered. I wasn’t sure what I wanted to say and I had no idea the type of mood he would be in; it wasn’t as if we had left things on good terms. I was on the verge of begging for forgiveness and yet I still couldn’t tell him why I reacted the way I did, why I couldn’t let him touch me.

  •

  All the pain in my childhood culminated in me heading down the path of self-destruction. My first stepfather leaving, not knowing the full truth about my biological father, the sexual abuse and my grandfather’s passing had taken their toll on me, and I was full of mixed emotions that I was not equipped to handle. All the negative experiences in my life had collided together and blocked me from making any decision that was rational or even sane. I had been suspended from school numerous times, had caused heartache and pain for anyone who came into contact with me, and even though I was suffering I would never let anyone close enough to find out why.

  With the help of a very persistent teacher I was just beginning to get my life back on track when the n
ext shattering experience occurred to completely destroy my trust in men.

  I was almost sixteen when I came down with a severe case of the flu and my parents asked my step-grandfather to look after me. My nan was at work and although I wasn’t close to my step-grandfather I thought that he would look after me through my sickness.

  I was too sick to do much and was incredibly bored, sitting at the computer talking to my aunt on instant messaging while my step-grandfather sat at the dining room table, drinking his millionth beer for the morning. It was obvious that he was drunk, but I knew that if I steered clear of him he wouldn’t try to teach me to fight again like he had so many times before. His way of teaching always left me feeling a little off as I would inevitably end up pinned to the ground when he won and he would lay on top of me with his hands pressed firmly to my wrists, laughing and taunting me as I struggled to get out of his grip.

  As I sat at the computer I began to get frustrated at being exhausted and aching all over. I began to cry, which only intensified the aching, and soon I felt like I might pass out from the pain.

  He got up from the dining table and walked over to me and then tried to massage my shoulders. Alarm bells went off in my head at his touch, telling me to get away and scream at him to stop, but the pain that wracked my body made me ignore my instincts. I tried to push my fears to the back of my mind and act rationally.

  The massage was beginning to help until I felt his hand run down the left side of my shirt and grab my breast. Gathering my willpower, I moved my arm up to stop him, but he tightened his grip and the feeling of dread spread through me so rapidly that I thought I was going to be sick. I begged him to stop but I could hear his sadistic, drunken smile in his voice as he spoke.