The Multi-Millionaire's Virgin Mistress

By: Cathy Williams

‘Duty calls!’

Megan snapped back to the present, to see Jessica Ambles grinning at her.

‘All the parents are waiting outside for us to tell them what absolute darlings their poppets have been all term!’

‘Most of them have been. Although I can think of a few…’

‘With Dominic Park taking first prize in that category?’

Megan laughed. ‘But at least he waved his arms tonight without knocking anyone over. Although I did notice that Lucy the donkey kept her distance. Amazing what a spot of blackmail can do. I told him he could watch my next football match.’ She linked her arm through her colleague’s and together they headed out to the main hall, leaving behind a backstage disaster zone of discarded props and costumes, all to be cleared away the following afternoon, when the school would be empty.

The main hall was a majestic space that was used for all the school’s theatrical performances and for full assemblies. A magnificent Christmas tree, donated by one of the parents, stood in the corner, brightly lit with twinkling lights and festooned with decorations—many from the school reserves but a fair few also donated by parents. Elsewhere, along one side, were tables groaning with the delicacies and also bottles of wine—red and white.

The place was buzzing with parents and their offspring, who had changed back into their school gear, and numerous doting relatives. In between the teachers mingled, and enjoyed the thought that term was over and they would be having a three-week break from the little darlings.

Megan was not returning to Scotland for the holidays. Her parents had decided to take themselves off to the sunshine, and her sisters were vanishing to the in-laws’. Playing the abandonment card had been a source of great family mirth, but really she was quite pleased to be staying put in London. There was a lot going on, and Charlotte would be staying down as well. They had already put up their tree in the little house they shared in Shepherd’s Bush, and had great plans for a Christmas lunch to which the dispossessed had been cordially invited. Provided they arrived bearing food or drink.

A surprising number of people had seemed happy to be included in the ‘dispossessed’ category, and so far the numbers were up to fifteen—which would be a logistical nightmare, because the sitting room was small—but a crush of bodies had never fazed Megan. The more the merrier, as far as she was concerned.

She heard Dominic before she actually spotted him. As was often the case with him, he was stridently informing one of his classmates what Father Christmas was bringing him. He seemed utterly convinced that the requested shed-load of presents would all be delivered, and Megan wondered whether he had threatened the poor guy with a prison sentence should his demands not be met.

She was smiling when she approached his mother, curious to see what she looked like. Matching parents to kids was an interesting game played by most teachers, and this time the mental picture connected perfectly with the real thing.

Dominic Park’s mother looked like a lawyer. She was tall, even wearing smart, black patent leather flats, with a regal bearing. Dark hair was pulled back into an elegant chignon, and her blue eyes were clever and cool. Despite the informality of the occasion, she was wearing an immaculate dove-grey suit, with a pashmina loosely draped around her shoulders.

She was introduced via Dominic, who announced, without preamble, that this was Miss Reynolds and she had promised she would take him to watch her play football.

‘You must be Dominic’s mum.’ Megan’s smile was met with an expression that attempted to appear friendly and interested but somehow didn’t quite manage to make it. This was a woman, Megan thought, who probably distributed her smiles like gold dust—or maybe she had forgotten how to smile at all, because it wasn’t called for in a career that saw her putting people into prison, if her son was to be believed.

‘Correct, Miss Reynolds, and I must say that I was very disappointed when Nanny told me today that Dominic would be playing a tree. Not terribly challenging, is it?’

She had an amazing accent that matched her regal bearing perfectly.

‘We like to think of the Nativity Play as a fun production, Mrs Park, rather than a competition.’ She smiled down at Dominic, who was scowling at some sushi in a napkin. She took it from him. ‘And you made a marvellous tree. Very convincing.’

‘When will you be playing football?’ he demanded.

‘Ah…Timetable still to be set!’

‘But you won’t forget, will you?’ he insisted. ‘Because my mummy’s a—’

‘Yes, yes, yes…I think I’ve got the message on that one, Dominic.’ Megan smiled at his mother. ‘I’ve been told that I shall be flung into prison without a Get Out Of Jail Free card if I don’t let him watch one of my matches….’

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