The Valentine Affair

by Lyons, Mary

  ‘Oh, really...?’ he murmured, his lips twitching as if enjoying a private joke. ‘I wonder why?’

  ‘That’s why,’ she retorted curtly, handing him her card. ‘And kindly don’t throw it on the floor this time.’

  ‘Well, well...!’ he drawled, after swiftly scanning the small white card in his hand. ‘Who would have guessed that tiresome little girl, Alexandra Rothstein, would eventually grow up to become beautiful Ms Alex Pemberton, who apparently works for the London Chronicle? Incidentally, why the change of name? Are you now a married woman?’

  ‘Certainly not!’ she snapped, before quickly deciding to try to remain as calm as possible for the next few minutes. Especially since it was more than likely that Leo would soon become very angry indeed.

  ‘You may have forgotten that my father, Johnny Pemberton—the international racing driver—was Gina’s first husband,’ she explained. ‘He was killed in a race just before I was born. So, although Gina dumped me on her mother when I was only a few weeks old, and my grandmother subsequently had me christened as Alexandra Rothstein, I’m really—’

  ‘Thank you!’ Leo drawled scathingly. ‘I think we can do without a long discussion of your family tree.’ He put down his glass on the desk. ‘So, what are you trying to tell me? That you’re the editor’s secretary?’

  ‘Isn’t that just typical?’ she exclaimed in disgust. ‘Why do so many men automatically assume that a woman is only capable of being a glorified typist?’

  ‘Oops—sorry!’ His lips twitched with amusement. ‘I can’t seem to keep up with all the politically correct titles these days. Would calling you a “personal assistant” be more acceptable? After all, no one’s likely to believe that you’re some kind of reporter,’ he added with a condescending smile, which she found deeply irritating.

  ‘Oh, really...? Why not?’

  Leo shrugged, his green eyes glinting with suppressed laughter as they roamed over her figure. ‘My dear girl,’ he drawled. ‘You don’t exactly look like a representative of the gutter press! Certainly not those I’ve had the misfortune to meet.’

  ‘Oh, right!’ She grinned maliciously up at him. ‘You mean that because I’m not wearing a grubby raincoat, lurking in a doorway, or brandishing a notebook and tape recorder I can’t possibly be a reporter?’

  ‘Well...’

  ‘Get a life, Leo!’ she exclaimed with a snort of derision. ‘You may find it difficult to believe—especially working in an ancient time capsule like this old Victorian building—but we are just about to hit the twenty-first century. In recent times there have been at least two female editors of national newspapers. And believe me,’ Alex added with a grim laugh, ‘neither of them would have been seen dead in a grubby old raincoat!’

  ‘Are you trying to tell me that you really are a genuine, bona fide journalist?’

  ‘Ding dong! Give the man a prize for coming up with the right answer—at last!’ she drawled in a close imitation of his own scathing tone of voice as she opened her handbag to show him her press card.

  There was a long silence following her words. All trace of amusement had been wiped from his face, which now looked as if it was carved from a piece of cold marble; his hard green eyes stared at her with a grim, deep intensity she found distinctly unnerving. It felt as if he was trying to mentally bore his way into her head, the tension mounting second by second until Alex could almost feel it thudding like a sledge-hammer against her skull.

  She had no idea how long they’d been locked in mental conflict when the spell was finally broken by the harsh sound of Leo swearing violently beneath his breath. Swiftly rising from his perch on the edge of his desk, he strode across the room towards the drinks cupboard.

  ‘It’s obviously time I had a stiff drink,’ he rasped harshly, slowly turning around to face her. ‘Well, Alex, it seems that I’ve been guilty of making a serious error. Because it’s now clear that this is very far from being just a friendly family visit. Right?’

  ‘Oh, come on!’ She gave him a cold, wintry smile. ‘Both you and your parents have happily ignored my existence for the past eight years. So where you got the idea that I came here to your office simply to play a game of Happy Families, I’ve no idea.’

  ‘Is this some sort of crazy revenge for what happened all those years ago?’ he demanded incredulously.

  ‘No, of course it isn’t,’ she assured him swiftly, suddenly startled to discover that she was, in fact, almost telling the truth.

  She did, naturally, still feel a hard lump of resentment over the way his family had treated her. But, having at last forced herself to confront Leo, it all now seemed relatively unimportant, somehow. She was no longer that unhappy, gauche teenager, terrified of saying or doing the wrong thing in public and almost dying from embarrassment and shame at his family’s reaction to her weird appearance.

  ‘I’ve come here to see you today because I need your help,’ she told him firmly. ‘To be honest, I don’t have happy memories of that summer holiday eight years ago. But I’d like to believe that we can forget what happened in the past. I was delighted to hear about your engagement, and I sincerely hope that you and Fiona will be very happy together.’

  He gazed at her stony-faced for a moment, before shrugging his broad shoulders and strolling across the thick pile carpet to the fireplace.

  ‘Thank you for your...er...good wishes,’ he murmured smoothly, leaning casually against the mantelpiece. ‘And, of course, you’re quite right. It’s always pointless to look back at the past. However much one might wish to rectify matters, there’s no going back, is there?’

  And that, Alex told herself grimly, is all the apology you’re ever likely to get!

  ‘I think you mentioned that you needed my help,’ Leo was saying. ‘What’s the problem?’

  ‘It isn’t exactly a problem, as such. More the fact that I need your assistance with two feature articles I’m writing for my newspaper.’

  He frowned. ‘I’ve never thought of the Chronicle as a paper particularly interested in financial affairs. However,’ he added with a shrug, ‘I’ll certainly do what I can to assist you.’

  ‘Well...I’m not actually writing about finance,’ she told him, before taking a deep breath and explaining exactly why she needed his cooperation.

  ‘There’s no need to worry about the style or content of the articles,’ she concluded nervously in the heavy, ominous silence which had greeted her explanation. Leo continued to regard her with a totally blank expression on his tanned face. ‘It may be immodest to say so, but I am a good writer. And I intend to concentrate far more on the traditional class aspects of an engagement rather than the various personalities concerned. Besides which,’ she added quickly, ‘don’t forget that there are two other couples involved. So, only a third of the article will be about you and Fiona.’

  ‘Is that it?’ he queried blandly as she finally came to a halt.

  ‘Er...yes, I think I’ve just about covered everything.’

  ‘You certainly have!’ he muttered in a strangled voice.

  A brief second later, to her complete astonishment, she saw him throw back his dark head and give a great bellow of laughter. ‘Oh, Lord!’ he groaned, clutching the mantelpiece for support as his tall body was shaken by heavy gusts of mirth. ‘I haven’t had such a good laugh in years!’

  ‘I’m glad you think it’s so funny,’ she snapped.

  ‘F-funny...?’ he gasped, producing a large white linen handkerchief and wiping the tears of laughter from his eyes. ‘Never make the mistake of underselling yourself, Alex. Believe me—the whole idea of such a crazy project is totally hilarious!’

  ‘So, I can count on both your and Fiona’s help?’ she asked, almost unable to believe that it had been so easy to gain his help and cooperation.

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous!’ he retorted, the laughter draining swiftly from his face. ‘Goodness knows, I like a good joke. But if you seriously think that I, or my...er...fiancee, would have anything
to do with that ghastly, down-market rag you work for—let alone cooperate with what sounds like a thoroughly nauseating and obnoxious article—you must be out of your tiny mind!’

  ‘Oh, come on, Leo. I really do need your help,’ she begged.

  ‘Forget it!’ he snapped curtly, before glancing once more down at the thin gold watch on his wrist. ‘If I don’t get a move on, I’m going to be late for my lunch appointment. It’s definitely been interesting to meet you again,’ he added, walking towards his desk. ‘Maybe we can get together some other time?’

  Alex gave a heavy sigh at his brisk dismissal. ‘I hope you’re going to remember that I did at least try to ask you nicely.’

  ‘Hmm...?’ he muttered, clearly absorbed by his business affairs as he checked through some files in his briefcase.

  Gazing at his dark head as he concentrated on the papers in front of him, she took a deep breath and tried to summon up all her courage. What she was going to have to do next was nothing less than a crude blackmail attempt in order to force Leo’s hand.

  She could never, of course, actually bring herself to carry out such a dreadful course of action. However, it was desperately important that he should believe her capable of doing such an awful thing. So why she should suddenly find herself hoping that he wouldn’t believe her, she had absolutely no idea.

  ‘Are you still here?’ He raised his head to gaze at her with an irritated frown.

  ‘I can’t go yet, I’m afraid. Not until we’ve sorted this matter out.’

  ‘Really, Alex!’ he groaned in exasperation, shaking his dark head as he leaned back in his chair. ‘You can’t have seriously imagined that I’d agree to your crazy scheme? Why on earth would I want to have details of my private life splattered all over the gutter press? There is such a thing as a right to privacy, you know.’

  ‘Yes, I know. And I really wouldn’t do this to you, Leo—not if my career wasn’t at stake,’ she assured him earnestly. ‘However, I reckon that after what happened to me in Italy you and your family owe me something. And I’m now here to collect the payment due.’

  ‘The cost is too high,’ he snapped, before giving a stiff, uncomfortable shrug of his shoulders. ‘While I am prepared to agree that you were, indeed, treated in a shameful manner, there’s no way I’d ever agree to help you with your article.’

  ‘And you won’t change your mind?’

  ‘I’m sorry, Alex, but that is definitely my last word on the subject,’ he agreed grimly.

  ‘Well, I’m sorry, too.’ She shrugged. ‘Because, if my career is about to go down the tubes, I’m going to have to take you and your mother down with me.’

  ‘What...?’

  ‘Providing it’s a human interest story, a journalist is in a prime position to have an article printed in his or her own newspaper,’ she told him quietly, keeping a wary eye on his suddenly rigid figure as she strolled about the room. ‘And if you can add some tear-jerking aspects to the story, it can often be a real winner.’

  ‘So...?’ he growled.

  ‘So... I was thinking of writing a piece for the Chronicle’s “true-life story” page. It concerns a young girl whose father died before she was born and who was subsequently abandoned by her foolish, socialite mother. Raised in lonely isolation by her rich grandmother—who died when the girl wasn’t quite sixteen—she found herself completely alone in the world, with no one to give a toss what happened to her. Other than her trustees, of course.

  ‘But they were far too busy—looking after the huge amount of money she’d been left in her grandmother’s will—to care one way or another about the girl,’ Alex added with a brief, cynical laugh. ‘It’s a sad story, isn’t it?’

  ‘Yes,’ he agreed slowly, his brows drawn together in a deep frown.

  ‘Things could have been far worse, of course,’ she continued briskly. ‘Our young heroine certainly wasn’t either poor, homeless or the victim of abuse. Just damn lonely. So, imagine the nervous mixture of excitement and dread when she heard that one of her mother’s many ex-husbands—an ambassador, no less!—had offered to have her to stay at his holiday home in Italy for the long summer vacation. Unfortunately, I have to admit that the silly girl had become a bit bolshie by this time. And, in a foolish spirit of rebellion against an unkind world, she’d succeeded in making herself look spectacularly ugly.

  ‘Still, she was very young,’ Alex added reflectively. ‘So you’d expect grown up, sophisticated people—such as the ambassador’s current wife, and her glamorous twenty-three year-old son—to be understanding, even if they didn’t approve of her appearance. But, no! It was definitely a case of shock, horror and dismay all round. Even her stepbrother—for whom our heroine had, of course, developed an intense if fleeting teenage passion—spent a good deal of his time making fun of her to his friends.’

  ‘That’s a damned lie!’ Leo ground out. ‘I’m sorry if you felt we were making fun of you—but your paranoia is hardly my fault. Besides,’ he added angrily, ‘I was seven years older than you. Why would I bother to take any notice of a young teenager?’

  There was a long silence following his last words, which hung heavily in the air between them as they stared grimly at one another.

  Just about to open her mouth and remind him of the time when he had taken notice of her, Alex felt her courage fail her at the last minute. She simply couldn’t bear to go through the whole hideous scene, which she’d spent so many years trying to forget. And, from the slight flush colouring his cheekbones, the muscle beating wildly in his jaw as he carefully avoided her gaze, it seemed as if Leo, too, would prefer not to recall the past.

  ‘Um...well, to continue...’ Alex muttered. ‘Where was I? Oh, yes...now we come to the really, really sad part of the story. Because while her husband, the ambassador, was away for a few days, our heroine’s stepmother suddenly took leave of her senses. Accusing the girl of stealing a valuable diamond brooch, which had unaccountably gone missing, she went completely bananas—and called in the local police.

  ‘Luckily, our heroine only spent a few hours in the local damp, evil-looking jail before the stupid woman found the brooch where she’d left it—on a small shelf in the bathroom,’ Alex ground out angrily. ‘But can you imagine the trauma of the poor young girl, who knew she was innocent? Or the terrifying nightmares which plagued her for years after the event? And—almost the worst crime of all—never receiving even the slightest apology from the stepmother, who quickly bundled the girl back to England, as if wishing to get rid of a bad smell.’

  ‘Please, Alex! Surely there’s no need to put yourself through all this yet again?’ he protested, obviously very uncomfortable at being reminded of his family’s treatment of the girl.

  ‘Actually, I think I’m going to feel a whole lot better once I’ve put it all down on paper.’ She gave a weary shrug of her slim shoulders.

  ‘But...but surely you must remember that as soon as I returned to the villa I got you out of jail as fast as possible?’

  ‘That still doesn’t excuse what happened, does it?’ she pointed out grimly.

  There was a long pause, finally broken as Leo gave a heavy sigh, brushing a hand roughly through his dark hair. ‘I have no excuse to offer for my mother’s behaviour,’ he acknowledged tersely. ‘You...you must know how deeply I regret what happened.’

  ‘I do recall a very reluctant, stiff apology from you at the time. But that wasn’t likely to be much comfort to me, was it?’

  ‘Stiff?’ he growled. ‘That’s rich! You were as spiky as a hedgehog.’

  ‘How in hell did you expect me to act, after such an experience? No wonder I went completely to pieces later that evening!’ Alex retorted angrily, spinning around to face him and noting, once again, that he wasn’t quite able to look her straight in the eye. As if he, too, was reluctant to recall the events of that hot, stifling night in Tuscany.

  ‘It’s clearly not an edifying story,’ she continued grimly. ‘And I don’t suppose your mother will be
too thrilled to see her name in print. Especially as I understand that she’s organising a charity ball next week. Still, maybe some of her good friends will stand by her. What do you think?’

  ‘What do I think...?’ he echoed, staring at her in horror. ‘For God’s sake, Alex—you simply can’t do this!’

  ‘Oh, yes, I can...and I will.’

  ‘Not while I’ve got breath in my body!’ His harshly voiced savage response cracked across the room like a whiplash as he rose swiftly from his seat, striding rapidly across the carpet towards her.

  ‘Now, keep calm, Leo...’ she muttered, backing nervously away from the rigidly angry figure bearing down upon her. “There’s no need to lose your rag like this.’

  ‘Oh, no?’ he exploded as she felt her spine jar up against the marble mantelpiece. ‘I don’t care about myself. But, if you think that I’m going to allow some... some cheapjack journalist to ruin my mother’s life, you’ve got another think coming!’ he added with a grim snarl, firmly grasping hold of her arm.

  Alex glared up at the rigidly angry expression on his face, only too well aware of her nervous, erratic heartbeat at the close proximity of the man looming so threateningly over her. take your hands off me,’ she cried out, struggling to break free of his iron grip.

  ‘Believe me—I’d be more than happy to place them very tightly around your throat!’ he ground out menacingly through clenched teeth, swiftly pulling her wriggling figure firmly up against his hard, masculine body.

  His action having momentarily left her gasping for breath, Alex found herself staring up at his face, now only inches away from her own.

  ‘Can’t you see that what you’re intending to do is totally and utterly despicable?’ he demanded bitterly.

  ‘Yes...’ she whispered helplessly, mesmerised by the cruel glint in the angry green eyes glaring furiously down at her. ‘I know that it’s a really awful thing to do, but...’ Her voice died away as she found herself unable to tear her gaze from his.

  As they stood locked together in a strange silence, broken only by the distant rumble of City traffic and the faint hiss of the gas-fuelled log fire behind her, the expression in his eyes seemed to change. Slowly growing dark and opaque, they conveyed a message which triggered a subconscious response deep in her body. Suddenly it felt as if the blood was pounding in her head, her heart racing like a metronome out of control as his arms slowly tightened like bands of steel about her slim, trembling figure.