by C. C. Gibbs
‘I hope we have a deal,’ he said into the thick silence.
After that heart-grabbing smile, Joanna wondered if any woman ever said no. But feeling guilty for her shameful response to his smile, her voice was overly brisk when she spoke. ‘I have a question.’
‘Ask anything,’ Dominic politely said, having seen similar female responses since he was fourteen. He ignored the breath-held expectation in the room; that too was common.
‘Did you send us any clients?’
‘Not directly, no.’
‘Indirectly?’
His shoulder lifted in the smallest of shrugs. ‘I know a lot of people. I personally own a great number of companies. But you and Katherine did excellent work. I’m more than happy to continue recommending your firm.’
Thanks to his cool composure, she’d regained her equilibrium. ‘I don’t know if that’s necessary,’ she said.
‘It can’t hurt.’ He smiled. ‘Unless you don’t like making money?’
She was silent for a moment. ‘Why would you do that?’
‘Why not? You’re first rate.’
‘And you know that because …?’
He made a sound somewhere close to a sigh. ‘Because I saw that I’d been paying way the hell too many taxes on my North Sea wind farm. I’m not averse to paying my share. I make enough. But those taxes were bloody high. So thank you.’
‘That was yours? Windjammer Acquisitions?’
He dipped his head.
‘It was Kate who noticed the discrepancy.’
‘Don’t be modest. You would have too.’
Joanna smiled. ‘True.’
‘So are we good?’ he murmured, holding her gaze.
She nodded. ‘Very well.’
Dominic put out his hand. ‘Shake on it?’
Her hand was dwarfed by his, she thought. And if she didn’t like Kate so much, she’d be envious of her future. Dominic Knight was absolutely stunning.
And willing to make her rich.
Don’t forget that.
‘I hope you like chocolate,’ he smoothly said, sitting back, recognizing that glazed look in a woman’s eyes, careful to keep the conversation businesslike. ‘I know Katherine does. Truffles in particular.’ He couldn’t help but smile at the memory of her eating truffles at the Ritz Carlton bar in Hong Kong their first night together. ‘Have you noticed?’ he quickly said and caught the waiter’s eye.
‘I have. Although you’d be hard pressed to find a woman who doesn’t like chocolate.’
‘Good,’ he said, as the waiter put dessert plates with a rich chocolate mousse before them. ‘And the cheese trolley here is excellent.’ He smiled. ‘Would you like to see it?’
‘No thank you.’
‘Coffee? Cappuccino? More champagne?’
‘Coffee.’
‘One coffee, one cappuccino, Eduardo.’ He pushed his dessert plate away and relaxed in his chair. ‘I’m very grateful for your cooperation, Ms Thorpe. I can’t thank you enough.’
‘You’re welcome. Thank you as well for your generosity.’ She smiled for the first time. ‘Would you like your name on the business?’
‘You’re not serious?’
‘Of course not.’
He laughed. ‘So you have a sense of humour after all.’
‘And you’re not a complete prick.’
‘Depends who you talk to. But as long as you don’t think so, I’m satisfied. And should you ever need further capital, don’t hesitate to contact me. I’ll tell Max to remember your name. He’s my gate keeper.’ He nodded at the dessert she was eating. ‘How is that?’
She waved her fork at her nearly empty plate.
‘Would you like another?’
‘Why not?’
Before he raised his hand, a waiter appeared. ‘We’ll have another,’ Dominic said, pointing. ‘And bring me a port, Taylor 1966.’ He glanced at Joanna. ‘Could I interest you in a port? I’m celebrating.’
‘Yes, as matter of fact. I have reason to celebrate too. And now since we’ve shaken on our deal and you can’t back out—’
‘You don’t know that,’ Dominic interposed, his voice suddenly cool.
‘I do. You want this more than I do.’ Joanna met his blank gaze and smiled. ‘You’d do anything for Kate, wouldn’t you?’
He didn’t immediately answer. ‘Probably,’ he finally said. ‘What do you want?’
‘Do people always want something?’
‘Of course.’ There was a brutal edge to his voice. ‘What is it? I’m sure I can accommodate you.’
‘You can be frightening, can’t you? But I survived an alcoholic father. I don’t frighten easily.’
‘I had parents who shouldn’t have had children. We could compare notes. But that doesn’t answer my question. What do you want?’
‘Kate’s happiness.’
‘I can guarantee you that,’ he said, crisply. ‘And?’ In his world there was always something more.
‘And what if she wants to go back to work after the baby’s born? Will you allow it?’
‘Surely you know Katherine does as she pleases,’ he said, his expression unreadable.
‘With you – I’m not too sure. I’d hate to think she was giving up her career to please you.’
‘If Katherine wants to go back to work, I’ll take care of the baby. I won’t have my child raised by hired help and indifferent strangers.’ A muscle twitched along his jaw line. ‘Does that erase your concerns?’
She abruptly sat back. ‘You’d do that?’ she said in disbelief.
His faint smile displaced the grim set of his mouth. ‘You don’t think I can feed and diaper a baby?’
‘No.’
‘Then you’d be surprised. And before that frown turns into a scowl, let me make it clear – I don’t have children. But I helped raise my sister’s first two. I was sixteen, I didn’t mind taking orders from her and it turned out her babies liked me and I liked them.’
‘My word,’ Joanna softly exclaimed.
‘Does that shoot my bad ass image all to hell?’
‘Absolutely.’
‘Good. So don’t worry, Ms Thorpe, I’ll take good care of Katherine and our child. You can count on it.’ He leaned forward slightly to emphasize his point. ‘I just need you to help me get Katherine home.’
‘I’ll do my best.’
‘Then you have my deepest gratitude,’ he said, sitting back and bestowing another of his dazzling smiles on her. ‘Ah – here’s our port.’
The rest of lunch turned out to be pleasantly congenial but then Dominic was on his best behaviour, out to charm Ms Thorpe, careful not to put a foot wrong.
He could charm with the best of them if he chose.
He often did for less substantive reasons.
It was no hardship today when he was getting exactly what he wanted. Katherine’s exit from London.
CHAPTER 6
Dominic had dinner served in his library rather than in the cavernous dining room at Eaton Place.
‘You have to eat something, Katherine,’ he gently said, pushing away his appetizer of prawns and noodles, a faint frown creasing his brow. ‘Would you like me to feed you?’
She sat up in her chair, took a deep breath. ‘Sorry, I’m really lazy.’
‘You should be resting.’ Rising from his chair, he walked around the small table set near the windows overlooking the garden, and lifted Katherine from her chair, settling her down with her in his lap. ‘If you don’t like prawns, try the lasagna. I had Nana send her recipe.’
Her eyes flared wide. ‘You called her?’
‘We didn’t talk long. I just wanted to know how to make it. You told me it’s your favourite.’
‘You didn’t mention the baby, did you?’
Reaching for the lasagna, he half turned to meet her gaze. ‘Why would I do that?’ He drew the dish closer. ‘Tell her when you’re ready.’
Kate exhaled.
He smiled, spooned out a portion onto a
plate. ‘You know as far as Nana’s concerned, you can do no wrong.’
‘Still … small-town gossip being what it is.’
‘As if Nana gives a shit about gossip. Come on, baby, relax. See if Quinn did justice to Nana’s recipe. Whenever you tell her about the baby, she’s going to be pleased.’ He picked up a fork, and scooped up some pasta. ‘Open up now. There you go. What do you think?’
‘Hmmfff,’ she said, chewing and smiling.
‘It is good. I had some in the kitchen.’
Dominic fed Kate the lasagna then he coaxed her into eating half a bowl of peaches and cream. And when she finally shook her head, no, he said, ‘Thanks, baby. You did well. Don’t forget you’re eating for two now. You have to make some adjustments to your pizza and candy-bar menu.’ He smiled ‘I’m amazed you’re so healthy.’
‘We don’t all have chefs.’
‘You do now. So get with the programme.’
She grinned. ‘And if I don’t?’
‘Maybe we’ll have to put up a chart and give you stickers when you eat right.’
‘Or you could give me orgasms when I eat right.’
He laughed. ‘Even better. There’s a win/win.’
She reached up and slid her finger over his bottom lip. ‘Like maybe now? I haven’t seen you all day …’
He dragged in a breath. ‘The wedding planner will be here any minute.’
Wrapping her arms around his neck, she looked up and whispered, ‘Can’t she wait? It won’t take long.’
He sighed. ‘Don’t do this, baby.’ Easing one of her hands from around his neck, he turned it, kissed her palm, then folded her fingers and held them lightly.’ If you give Mrs Hastings ten minutes, I’ll give you whatever you want the rest of the night.’ He smiled. ‘That’s a good deal.’
She groaned, slowly undraped her other arm from his neck and sat back. ‘OK, but I need a kiss at least.’
He dropped her hand. ‘Just a kiss. That’s it.’
‘Don’t you trust me?’ She looked up at him with wide-eyed innocence that couldn’t have been improved upon by rosy-cheeked cherubs.
He smiled. ‘Not when you look at me like that.’ Dipping his head, he kissed her like you’d kiss an elderly aunt – no hands, on the cheek, short and sweet. Then he swept her from his lap, set her on her feet, and rose from the chair. ‘Come on, baby,’ he cajoled, brushing his fingertips down her arm. ‘Don’t pout. Ten minutes and I’m yours.’
‘I’m grumpy, tired, and feeling really, really horny,’ she muttered. ‘So I’ll pout if I want.’
Good thing he’d already warned Mrs Hastings that Katherine might be moody. ‘Maybe we can make it less than ten minutes,’ he said, sliding his fingers through hers. ‘You just have to OK a few things with the wedding planner. Then look at some bridal gown drawings so the designer can get started.’
‘Or you could pick out the gown while I’m talking to the wedding planner. That would hurry things along.’ She suddenly smiled. ‘I won’t embarrass you. I promise.’
‘No way you can embarrass me, baby. Never. I just want to get this train out of the station.’
‘You’re way too nice.’ She squeezed his hand. ‘Thanks.’
‘It’s easy to be nice to you.’ He drew her close. ‘You’re my world.’
‘Oh God, I’m going to cry again.’
‘Hey, hey, it’s good.’ He dropped a kiss on the bridge of her nose. ‘Nothing to cry about.’ He smiled. ‘You don’t have time anyway.’
She sucked in a breath, sniffed, exhaled. ‘So changing the subject to something less tear-worthy … will the designer be shocked when you ask for an adjustable waistline?’
‘Nah. They’re paid not to be shocked.’
‘Something simple then. No train, no veil, nothing I can trip over.’
‘We’ll check it out together. Fast.’
She feigned surprise. ‘Really. I get a vote?’
‘Within a narrow range, baby. I don’t want my bride showing up in those damn army green slacks and a white blouse.’
‘They don’t fit anymore.’
‘Good.’ Releasing Kate’s hand, he buttoned his shirt collar, snugged up the knot on his loosened tie, fastened the buttons on his suit jacket, then took her hand again and smiled. ‘Let’s do this.’
*
In a corner of the large, Adam Brothers-style drawing room, two women were seated side by side on one of a pair of facing sofas upholstered in blue striped silk. Since Belgravia hadn’t been developed until the second half of the nineteenth century, the house hadn’t been designed by the Adam brothers. But it was faithful to their neoclassic model: from the sky blue curved walls to the Grecian pilasters, painted ceiling medallions, and pastel carpet – the décor, one of elegant lightness, hallmark of an Adam’s interior.
Martin was arranging a large silver tray with a tea service on a table between the sofas when Dominic and Kate entered the room.
‘Thank you for coming,’ Dominic said as they approached the women. ‘I apologize for the late hour. We won’t take too much of your time.’ He introduced Katherine to Mrs Hastings, and she in turn introduced the young woman seated beside her. Martin poured tea and sherry for the women, tea for Kate and a whisky for Dominic, before serving colourful, frosted tea cakes to everyone. That accomplished he quietly withdrew.
‘Since it’s after hours, if we might get right down to business,’ Mrs Hastings said briskly the moment the door closed on Martin, signalling her dislike of evening appointments. ‘I have found a small chapel nearby.’ She looked at Dominic, one hand at her throat in a calculated gesture, her three-strand pearl necklace a badge of class. ‘They had various hours available so I reserved them all. For the next month, you said.’
Dominic turned to Kate. ‘I thought someplace close would easier. Is that all right with you?’ He glanced at her plate. ‘Martin didn’t give you any of the chocolate cakes. I had them made for you.’
‘I’m fine,’ Kate said, blushing.
‘You sure?’ They might have been alone for all the notice he gave their guests. He smiled and his voice softened. ‘There’s truffle filling in them.’
‘Please, Dominic.’ Her voice trembled. Dominic might be indifferent to their audience, but she was fully aware of the starchy wedding planner’s shocked expression.
He finally became aware of Kate’s unease. ‘Maybe later,’ he casually said, leaning over and kissing her cheek. ‘So do we have your approval on the chapel?’
‘You decide. Really,’ Kate murmured, her cheeks bright red, looking as though she’d rather be anywhere else but here. ‘None of this matters to me. We could get married in a closet in our underwear for all I care.’ She wasn’t big on ceremony.
‘In that case, my only concern is privacy, Mrs Hastings.’ Dominic turned his bland gaze on the slender, grey-haired woman with pursed lips sitting ramrod straight opposite them. ‘No reporters, no paparazzi.’
‘We’ll do our best, Mr Knight,’ Mrs Hastings said, swallowing her distaste for Dominic Knight’s casualness. Americans had no sense of decorum. He spoke affectionately to his fiancée as though she and Abigail were invisible. ‘With the reception here, as you stipulated,’ she added, forcing a smile because Mr Knight was equally casual about her fees.
‘Yes. It would better ensure privacy. You can discuss the menu with my chef at your convenience. If Katherine has any requests we’ll let you know. Our wine cellar is adequate, I think, decorative details and flowers at the chapel and here are under your purview and anything else – licences, if we need any consular help, that sort of thing I’d like you to handle. As for a guest list, why don’t you plan for fifty and we—’
‘Fifty?’ Kate said in a tightly suppressed yell.
‘Or fewer,’ Dominic added with a smile for Kate. ‘You decide.’
‘I thought maybe just us.’
‘And Nana. And Melanie and her family.’ He dipped his head. ‘What about your roommate, Meg? She might like to com
e with one of her – er – friends. And Nana might want her bridge group here.’
‘Oh God, did she say that?’ Kate could see Jan Vogel’s pursed lips already.
‘No, but you have to at least consider it,’ Dominic quietly said. ‘The ladies have been playing bridge and sharing their lives for fifty years. Look, none of this has to be decided right now.’ He took Kate’s hand in his. ‘Does it?’ he said, looking to Mrs Hastings for confirmation.
The wedding planner knew what was required of her. ‘Not at all,’ she said, trying not to choke on her words. Did he think she was a magician, that a wedding just happened?
‘Good. Problem solved,’ Dominic pleasantly said. ‘Now why don’t we look at some dress designs?’
Mrs Hastings had supplied a long list of the designer’s important clients along with her bona fides. But regardless of her credentials, Abigail Strahan looked like an avantgarde art student. She had a wide pink streak in her sleek blonde hair, wore a short black T-shirt dress, black-and-white striped tights and high-heeled Victorian boots in purple leather.
Kate had immediately liked her and her warm open smile. ‘I need something loose,’ she said as Abigail placed a folder on the table between them.
‘We’re having a baby,’ Dominic interjected with a smile.
‘I saw that,’ Abigail said. ‘Congratulations.’
Mrs Hastings’ mouth pursed so tightly her lips went white. Kate didn’t notice because she was leaning forward as the designer spread out her watercolour drawings. Dominic noticed, but saw the wedding planner immediately moderate her expression to a more acceptable half smile. Smart woman. He didn’t care whether she approved or disapproved of his life so long as she carried out his orders; the most vital part being complete confidentiality. Prior to the ceremony, neither Gora, the Mafioso who’d threatened Katherine, his soon-to-be divorced wife’s greedy family, nor the world at large were to know of their plans.
Mrs Hastings appeared fully capable of discretion.
‘I like your dress.’ Abigail gestured at Kate’s embroidered tunic. ‘It’s perfect with your pale skin and coppery hair.’
