Her Best Worst Mistake by Sarah Mayberry Page A

entitlement
that came from knowing that mummy and daddy had lots of money and
important friends in high places.
    She hoped—
    A big, fat tear slid down her face and plopped onto
her hand. She stared at it, utterly baffled. Where on earth had
that come from...? She didn’t care what Martin St Clair thought of
her.
    Did she?
    The answer came from somewhere well
hidden and barricaded inside her: yes .
    She closed her eyes and leaned her head back against
the rear wall of the elevator.
    She was such an idiot .
    The elevator announced its arrival on the ground
floor and she pushed away from the wall and stepped out into the
echoing foyer. She started toward the entrance, then pivoted on her
heel and walked back to the lift. She left the bottle of schnapps
front and centre on the floor of the elevator car.
    At least she’d have the satisfaction of knowing she’d
had the last word between them.
    That was something. Not much, but something.

Chapter Four
    Martin walked around his desk and resumed his seat.
He pulled the contract he’d been working on toward himself and
resumed reading, determined not to be rattled by Violet’s visit.
Determined not to give her the satisfaction of affecting his
equilibrium.
    He read the same paragraph three times before he
swore and threw the contract across the room. Its many pages hit
the wall with a pronounced thud before sliding down the panelling
to the carpet. He pushed his chair back and strode to the window.
Four stories below, a slim, slight figure crossed the road. He
didn’t need to see the red hair to know it was Violet—the
distinctive sway to her hips and the way she held her shoulders and
head gave her away. Within seconds she’d walked out of sight, her
step brisk and efficient. Putting as much distance between her and
him as she possibly could.
    He had no idea why she’d come here. As for that stunt
she’d pulled at the end... It was so typical of Violet it made him
grind his teeth. She was like a peacock, constantly displaying her
wares, always needing to be the centre of attention.
    Or so it seemed to him.
    Typical, also, that she hadn’t been wearing a bra. If
ever he’d been in any doubt about what was beneath her
usually-plunging necklines, he knew now. Soft pink nipples, small,
perky breasts, creamy skin.
    Knowledge he’d prefer not to have, thank you very
much.
    He ran his hand through his hair, then went to
collect the contract. He threw it in his briefcase, along with a
couple of other files, then shrugged into his overcoat. He turned
off the lights in his office and made his way to the elevator. It
arrived with a cheery ping, stainless steel doors sliding open. He
took a step forward, then stopped in his tracks.
    A tall, frosted bottle sat in the centre of the
elevator car, the artificial lighting glinting off the large
illustration of a peach on its label.
    He shook his head as he stepped into the elevator and
punched the button for the ground floor.
    Of course Violet had to have the final word. God
forbid she walk away from any fight without at least trying to do
so. When he arrived at the ground floor, he stepped out into the
foyer and headed straight for the exit.
    Let someone else find the bottle. The cleaners, some
early bird tomorrow morning. He didn’t want Violet’s guilt gift in
his home.
    He stepped out into the icy darkness, pulling his
coat up around his ears. The sky overhead was dark with cloud, a
sure sign that the weather bureau’s prediction of snow was on the
money.
    I think what’s happened between you and E sucks.
Yes, I thought you were bad for each other, but that doesn’t mean I
think you’re a bad person or that I don’t want you to be happy.
    He’d been about to walk to his car, but he stopped
and let his breath hiss out between his teeth.
    Bloody Violet.
    Turning on his heel, he swiped his access card to get
back into the building and crossed to the lift. Naturally, it took
an age for the elevator car to travel from the top of