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a stretch, which left Andrea, my second in command, and our part-time secretary. At seven and a half months pregnant and seasick even when on land, Andrea was going nowhere.

      As if conjured by my thoughts, she waddled in a second later and stopped in surprise when she saw me. ‘Oh, I thought you’d have left for the day.’

      ‘No, I’ve been on the phone with Mr Mortimer.’

      She rolled her eyes and fanned herself with a paper napkin. ‘Oh, jeez, is he still going on about the extra crew?’

      Among other things. ‘Yep.’

      ‘And?’ She shuffled over and dropped heavily into the nearest chair.

      ‘I’m going to see if any of the other leasing companies can spare any crew members.’

      Andrea grimaced. ‘Not to be a pessimist but you don’t have a hope in hell of that happening. They were super pissed when Giannopolous Boats chose you to join in the investment consortium on this yacht deal. They won’t be in a hurry to help you out.’

      Just what I’d feared. I forced a shrug. ‘Then come five p.m. I’ll be calling Mortimer back to tell him to look elsewhere.’

      Andrea rubbed one hand over her belly and continued to fan herself with the other. I was about to offer to crank up the AC when she looked up. ‘What’s the most important thing he’s asking for that we haven’t been able to provide him, apart from the unnecessary crew?’

      ‘From the sounds of it, he’s looking to buy a boat, and this client he’s expecting to wow the pants off of is a boat fanatic. He wants someone on hand 24/7 to spout statistics should he need it.’

      She stared at me as her eyes brightened. ‘Pregnancy brain might be affecting me but aren’t I looking at the person who learned every nook and cranny of Giannopolous’s business so you could land a spot on the consortium?’

      I shook my head. ‘Yeah, but it’s not going to work—’

      Andrea started to lean forward, winced and sat back again. Her hand shifted to rub the side of her stomach. ‘Okay, no need to kick me quite so hard, mon petit coeur,’ she murmured to her baby. After a moment, she looked up. ‘Leonie, think about it. You’re exactly what this client needs. Are you really going to lose this commission or sale over one extra person?’

      I frowned. ‘He hasn’t even stepped aboard yet and he’s already a giant pain in my arse.’

      ‘So what? You’ve dealt with worse and come out smiling.’

      ‘Not like him, Andrea.’ Not with that voice and that take-charge manner that had always been a weakness for me. They said opposites attracted. But I wasn’t shy and retiring one little bit. Besides stubborn, Grandma Agnes had also referred to me as a charging heifer once or twice. Unattractive but accurate. So Gideon Mortimer should be the last person to make my lady parts quiver. But quiver they did. I’d ignored my reaction but its effect lingered for a little longer than I wanted it to.

      ‘Well, I looked him up on the internet on my break. He’s effing loaded, Leonie. And not just him. His family are seriously influential. Like, related-to-royalty-from-the-year-dot type of influential. He’s a mathematical genius or something. His IQ is through the roof. Don’t ask me what it is, I don’t remember. Did I mention he’s loaded?’

      My mouth twitched in a reluctant smile. ‘Yes, you did. Still doesn’t change the fact that I can’t conjure up crew I don’t have.’

      ‘No, but you can offer yourself.’

      ‘What?’

      ‘For the service he needs,’ she stressed.

      I pulled my overactive brain from images of me servicing Gideon Mortimer in the most basic of ways to a much more professional arena. ‘It’s not just that. I can’t leave you to man the office for three weeks.’

      ‘Sure you can. Laurent loses a little more of his mind every time I walk out the door. I thought I was bad, but he’s been getting progressively worse as the birth gets closer. He finishes with the market at midday. He’d love nothing more than to spend the rest of the afternoon here keeping me company. Plus, if you do get the rental commission or—please, God—the sale, that would solve a few money issues for us.’

      I mulled it over for a minute. If I sold the boat I would be able to do much more than that. I could make Andrea a partner, a plan I’d been mulling over as part of my expansion. ‘Are you sure?’

      She nodded eagerly. ‘Absolutely.’ She struggled to her feet and headed towards the back of the office. ‘I need to pee. Don’t overthink it, Leonie. Just call him back and say yes.’

       Don’t overthink it.

      I took a deep breath and reached for the phone. ‘Hello, can I speak to Gideon Mortimer, please?’

      He answered immediately, ‘You’re calling me with a yes, I hope?’

      I ground my teeth for a single second. Any more and I risked a cracked molar. ‘Yes. On the crew front, you’ll have the additional staff you need. On one condition.’

      ‘I hate conditions.’

      ‘And I detest games, Mr Mortimer.’

      ‘All games or just specific ones?’ he drawled, amused.

      ‘For the sake of our potential business relationship, let’s stick to all games,’ I responded tightly.

      ‘Shame,’ he murmured. ‘What’s this condition?’

      ‘That you let me have full control of the crew and rotate them the way I see fit without any interference.’ The last thing I needed was any unreasonable demands on my crew.

      ‘I accept your condition. But before we move forward I also need your reassurance that you will be as flexible as you claim you can be.’

      For some absurd reason my breath caught, my imagination latching on to sexual positions and breathless fucking. Exhaling slowly, I reined myself in. ‘Yes. Fine.’

      ‘No, I need a little more than that,’ he insisted, his tone half amused, half irritated, if such a thing was possible. ‘So say the words, Miss Branson. Tell me you can accommodate my wishes.’

      I crossed my fingers and prayed my response would hold true a day, or even a week from now. That I wouldn’t be tempted to throw Gideon Mortimer overboard before he’d bought my boat. ‘I can accommodate your reasonable wishes.’

      ‘Good. I arrive at seven tomorrow morning.’

      The line went dead.

      I stepped into my shower two hours later with a sigh of relief. My apartment on the Rue Jean Jaurès in Cannes was large and spacious and beautifully decorated. It was a little on the extravagant side, but I was determined to make a statement straight off the bat. I meant business and I wanted anyone who paid attention to know it. The sea view alone was worth the five figures I paid in monthly rent.

      But if I had to pick my favourite thing about my apartment, it was the luxurious power shower and sauna. With multiple jets and settings that delivered everything from rainforest mist to candlelit steam, it’d been love at first viewing.

      For the first four months after I started Branson Sales & Leasing I’d lived on bread and cheese just so I could pay the rent. I could afford a more well-rounded meal in the best Michelin-starred establishment these days, but, while I thoroughly enjoyed those solo treats or client-wooing power lunches, my apartment was my sanctuary.

      A place to forget men like Gideon Mortimer, with their endless bank accounts and lofty demands and pussy-tingling voices.

      I braced my hands on the tiles and willed my irritation away. Two seconds after I’d hung up, I’d realised he hadn’t told me which airport he’d be flying into. His assistant had informed me when I called back that Gideon had left for the day and she

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