Undying Love

by Carole Mortimer

  And now it all belonged to Rick Dalmont. ‘I’ll have to leave,’ she said dully.

  ‘Er—’

  ‘Yes?’ Her tone was sharp at her brother’s hesitation, sensing there was more to come.

  Henry looked anxious. ‘Part of the deal was that you would stay on for at least a transition period.’

  ‘And how long is that?’ she frowned.

  ‘Six months,’ he revealed reluctantly.

  Shanna rose slowly to her feet. ‘No, Henry,’ she told him coldly. ‘You had no right to sign a deal like that without consulting me. Or were you asked not to?’ she realised sharply.

  Henry looked sheepish. ‘I knew you’d never go for it—’

  ‘You knew?’ she accused.

  ‘All right, both Rick and I knew.’

  ‘Then you were both right,’ she snapped. ‘I could never work for him.’

  ‘But I’ve signed the contracts now!’

  ‘But I haven’t,’ she pointed out stiffly. ‘You knew I would never agree to it, Henry,’ she shook her head. ‘And your signature can’t commit me to anyone.’

  ‘You’re contracted to Fashion Lady, regardless of who owns it.’

  ‘Then I resign,’ she snapped.

  ‘Your contract requires three months’ notice,’ he reminded her.

  ‘I rescind all right to the money owed me,’ Shanna told him. ‘Just give me my references.’

  ‘I can’t do that,’ Henry shook his head. ‘I’m no longer your employer. And if you leave now Rick would sue you and me for breach of contract.’

  ‘Then let him!’ Her eyes flashed in challenge.

  ‘Shanna, I signed my part of the bargain in good faith.’ Henry’s voice lowered pleadingly. ‘One breach of the contract could ruin the whole deal.’

  She glared at her brother. ‘Then it will have to ruin it!’

  ‘And the Chronicle could go under!’

  She frowned, searching her brother’s face, seeing the lines of worry there, the strain he had been hiding from her. ‘That bad?’ she said softly.

  ‘That bad,’ he nodded grimly.

  ‘Rick Dalmont wouldn’t call off the whole deal just because I won’t work for him!’

  ‘He will,’ Henry said with certainty.

  ‘He—will?’

  Her brother nodded. ‘He refused to even consider signing the contract until you were included in it.’

  ‘God,’ she said shakily.

  ‘It’s normal practice for senior staff to stay on after such a negotiation,’ Henry pushed his point as he sensed her confusion.

  ‘Nothing about Rick Dalmont is normal,’ she flashed. ‘You know why he’s done this, Henry. I won’t go out with him, so he’s forcing me to relate to him from a work point of view.’

  ‘That’s rubbish,’ he dismissed abruptly. ‘I told you, we’ve been discussing the deal for months.’

  ‘And when did I enter into it?’

  ‘About—Well, I—’ Henry broke off, frowning.

  ‘About two weeks ago, right? Before that I’m sure he had no interest in the staff of Fashion Lady,’ she scorned. ‘That he didn’t give a damn if they stayed or went.’

  ‘That isn’t true,’ her brother blustered. ‘The future of the staff of Fashion Lady has always been high on my list of priorities.’

  ‘Your priorities, Henry,’ she pounced triumphantly. ‘Rick Dalmont doesn’t give a damn about the little people who get in his way. He told me so himself.’

  ‘No one at Fashion Lady is in his way.’

  ‘I will be. His being my boss won’t make the slightest difference to how I feel about him personally. I don’t like him, nothing will change that.’

  ‘You don’t have to like him, just work for him.’

  ‘That isn’t what he wants, and you know it,’ Shanna sighed. ‘Henry, how could you do this to me?’ she groaned. ‘You’ve seen the way he follows me, the way he never stops looking at me. I’ll be handing in my notice—I have to, Henry,’ she insisted as he went to protest. ‘But don’t worry, I’ll give him his three months. With any luck he’ll leave the acquisition of Fashion Lady to one of his hirelings.’

  But she knew he wouldn’t, knew this was just the opportunity Rick Dalmont had been waiting for. She wasn’t conceited enough to think he had bought Fashion Lady just to get a hold over her, but she felt sure he would lose no opportunity in using it as such. She would have to be very careful of Ricardo Dalmont in future; he didn’t play by any rules she knew, in fact he didn’t play at all!

  * * *

  Everything seemed normal when she went in to work on Monday morning; no high-powered executive was waiting for her to tell her of her new employer. Gloria, her secretary, sat in her normal place behind her desk, handing over the mail and messages that had already come in.

  But Shanna knew that she was different, that inside she was a seething mass of emotions. If Rick Dalmont thought he was going to breeze in here and take her by surprise as the new owner of the magazine then he was going to be out of luck; she intended greeting him as coolly as ever. And she didn’t intend that he should have the upper hand in anything.

  ‘Gloria,’ she buzzed through to her secretary, ‘get Mr Dalmont of Dalmont Industries for me. He’s at the Excellence, I believe.’

  ‘Rick Dalmont?’

  ‘That’s the one, Gloria,’ she said lightly, releasing the intercom button. Gloria was a good secretary, and had worked for the previous editor too, but even her usually unruffled demeanour had been unnerved by the mention of Rick Dalmont. He would have that effect on most women, and as most of the staff at Fashion Lady were women she envisaged more than a little hero-worship once it was known he was the new boss.

  ‘Mr Dalmont, Shanna,’ Gloria announced a few minutes later.

  She picked up the blue telephone on her desk that matched the blue and white décor of her executive office. The cover of Fashion Lady was always in blue and white, and for the most part so was Shanna’s office. Blue was a colour she tended to avoid away from work.

  ‘Mr Dalmont?’

  ‘Shanna,’ he returned throatily.

  ‘I believe we should meet, Mr Dalmont.’ Her tone was briskly businesslike as she imagined his mocking humour at the other end of the telephone.

  ‘You’ve spoken to Henry?’ he drawled.

  She could now visualise the look of satisfaction on his smug face. ‘I’ve spoken to him,’ she acknowledged. ‘Would twelve o’clock in my office be convenient?’

  ‘Are you inviting me out to lunch, Shanna?’ he taunted.

  Her mouth tightened, the gleam of revenge in her eyes making them glow deeply green. ‘I’m inviting you to my office at twelve o’clock,’ she told him stiffly.

  ‘I’ll be there.’ He rang off abruptly.

  And so would she. She could sense his feeling of triumph even over the telephone, and she was determined he wouldn’t know any more such feelings where she was concerned. He had won this round, and she would see that Henry didn’t have to go back on his word as a business man because of her, but Ricardo Dalmont wouldn’t win any more rounds over her. She was going to be one step ahead of him from now on. Ignoring him hadn’t worked, being polite to him hadn’t either, she would have to try and make sure she stayed that one step ahead of him in future.

  She had warned Gloria to buzz through to her office when Rick Dalmont arrived, and it was exactly twelve o’clock when the single buzz alerted her. She moved smoothly to her feet, ethereally thin in the black dress, her black hair caught in at her nape, her eyes like twin jewels above her high cheekbones.

  Rick Dalmont’s eyes widened appreciatively as she went out to greet him, those same dark eyes narrowing at her formality.

  ‘Please come in, Mr Dalmont,’ she invited coolly, vaguely irritated by the way Gloria couldn’t seem to stop staring at the man. Admittedly he looked very handsome in a fitted iron-grey three-piece suit and snowy white shirt, but he was only a mere man after all. She didn’t notice the po
wer that emanated from the force of his body, or the shrewdness in the dark eyes, the determination on the sensuous mouth. She should have noticed all those things about him, but she didn’t, was blind to it all. Perhaps if she had noticed…

  She opened her office door for him to enter, standing back as silence fell over the seven people waiting inside the room, all of them looking at Rick Dalmont with open curiosity. Rick’s reaction to this unexpected meeting with Fashion Lady’s heads of department was harder to discern, and a hard mask fell over his face as he raised dark brows at her in acknowledgment of the first round going to her.

  ‘We’ll discuss this over lunch,’ he told her softly, a smile to his lips, only the flare of anger in his dark eyes telling her it would be far from a pleasant conversation.

  She moved forward hastily, and silence fell over the room where conversation had begun to buzz as Rick’s identity was realised. Her body moved gracefully beneath the black dress, the heels on her sandals adding to her height. ‘I’m sure you all know Mr Ricardo Dalmont,’ she introduced unnecessarily, knowing that they all realised who he was. ‘What you aren’t yet aware of is that he is now our new boss.’ She turned to him with a challenging smile, the conversation behind her increasing to a roar as the information was absorbed and disbelieved. Like her, her heads of staff had had no idea a takeover was in the offing. Henry had certainly played this close to the ground, and she didn’t need two guesses at whose instigation that had been.

  Rick met her challenge with an arrogant inclination of his head. ‘Mrs Logan has been—premature in her announcement,’ he drawled reproachfully. ‘I had meant to talk to you all when Mr Blythe was present. But as I was here to take Mrs Logan out to lunch she thought I should have a few words with you before we leave.’ It was his turn to give Shanna a challenging look, triumphantly so.

  Shanna was so angry that she didn’t hear a word he said over the next few minutes, but she could see by the pleased expressions on her colleagues’ faces that they liked what he was saying. He might think he had just trapped her into having lunch with him, but he was wrong, no one forced her to do anything she didn’t want to do. And she didn’t want to have lunch with Rick Dalmont.

  ‘So I can assure you all that I will make as little change in the format of Fashion Lady as I can,’ he concluded. ‘I look forward to working with you, ladies—and gentleman,’ he acknowledged the single male head of department in the room with the six ladies. ‘A little discrimination in reverse?’ he mocked.

  Joe Deane gave an appreciative laugh. ‘I have no complaints.’

  ‘I don’t think I would either.’ Rick looked at the women with open appreciation.

  ‘If you’ve quite finished?’ Shanna said icily. ‘We still have a magazine to run,’ she reminded him curtly.

  Rick’s eyes narrowed dangerously before he turned to smile at the others. ‘I’m sorry I kept you so long,’ he told them smoothly. ‘I’m sure I’ll meet you all later, individually, in the week.’

  Shanna could have cringed at some of the open smiles of encouragement on some of the faces of the women she could have sworn were hardbitten career women. Was no woman immune to this man’s rakish charm!

  ‘That was not only unethical,’ a cold voice of gravel and honey told her softly. ‘It was also unprofessional,’ Rick bit out tautly; the two of them were completely alone now, and the tension between them was almost unbearable.

  ‘Unprofessional?’ she echoed quietly. ‘You don’t call buying this magazine without even informing the editor unprofessional or unethical?’ she demanded angrily.

  He shrugged broad shoulders. ‘It isn’t required of me to tell you anything.’

  ‘Not even when I’m included in the deal?’ she snapped.

  ‘As editor of the magazine, of course,’ he drawled.

  ‘Of course!’

  Again he shrugged. ‘It’s normal practice—’

  ‘For senior members of staff to stay on after such a negotiation,’ she finished dryly. ‘You coached Henry very well, Mr Dalmont, he used exactly the same argument.’

  ‘Did it work?’ He leant casually back against her desk.

  ‘No!’ she told him curtly, holding out an envelope to him. ‘I’m giving you three months’ notice.’

  He took the envelope, putting it away in the breast pocket of his jacket. ‘Can you train your replacement in that time?’ he enquired coolly.

  Shanna bit back her chagrin with effort; he hadn’t even tried to talk her out of leaving, damn him. ‘I’m sure I can,’ she confirmed waspishly.

  He nodded. ‘I think so too.’

  ‘You don’t seem—surprised,’ she couldn’t prevent the words spilling out of her mouth.

  ‘I’m not,’ he shrugged. ‘You’re an independent lady, you don’t like being manoeuvred.’

  ‘You’ve learnt that much about me at least!’ she snapped.

  Rick moved closer, his aftershave tangy and pleasant to the senses, as was the good tobacco in the cheroots he smoked, their aroma clinging to his clothing. ‘I’d like to learn a lot more about you—if you would let me.’

  Her eyes flashed deeply green. ‘No!’ she took a step away from him. ‘I’ve already told you, I’m not interested. Just leave me alone, Rick.’

  ‘Rick,’ he repeated softly. ‘I think that’s the first time you’ve ever called me that.’ He touched her cheek with gentle fingers. ‘It makes a pleasant change after the cold “Mr Dalmont” I’ve been used to from you.’

  She had realised her slip as soon as she said his name. But she was beginning to tire of this man’s constant pressure on her; she hadn’t slept well the night before, and she felt as jumpy as a kitten about this man as a result of that. ‘It won’t happen again,’ she told him stiffly.

  ‘Won’t it?’ he derided confidently. ‘I have a feeling it will happen a lot in future. You see, I am the new boss around here, and I like my senior employees to call me Rick. Let’s go to lunch, hmm?’ he taunted. ‘I have a lot of things to discuss with you.’

  ‘No, I—’

  ‘Concerning the magazine,’ he gave her a sideways glance.

  Shanna eyed him warily. ‘Is that all?’

  Dark brows rose mockingly. ‘I can’t promise not to throw in a few personal remarks of my own, but for the most part—yes, that’s all,’ he mocked.

  ‘A business lunch?’

  ‘Exactly,’ he agreed with satisfaction.

  She still didn’t trust this man, knew that he was capable of lying to get his own way. But for now she had to fall in with his plans, she owed him a certain amount of loyalty as the new owner of Fashion Lady. ‘I’ll just go and tell Jane I’m leaving,’ she nodded coolly.

  ‘Your assistant editor?’

  He certainly didn’t forget much, she had only briefly introduced him to Jane Meakins, her assistant editor, and yet he had remembered her. She didn’t know why that should surprise her, she doubted many things escaped Rick Dalmont’s notice. ‘I shouldn’t be long,’ she told him abruptly. ‘If you need anything I’m sure my secretary, Gloria, would be pleased to help you,’ she added with veiled sarcasm.

  ‘I won’t need anything,’ he drawled, making himself comfortable in the chair behind her desk.

  ‘Trying it out for size?’ she taunted.

  He gave her a pitying glance. ‘Editor of a women’s magazine is not something I had in mind for my future!’

  Shanna shot him an impatient look before leaving the room, wondering how one man could induce such violence in her; simply to be with him now made her want to fight or scream at him. And they were both destructive emotions. But also ones that made her feel vibrantly alive, something she hadn’t felt for a long time. And she didn’t thank Rick Dalmont for arousing such emotions now. Three months of working for him; it could be the longest three months of her life!

  He was frowning when she went back into her office several minutes later, standing up ready to leave. ‘Do you actually like the décor in this room?’ he grim
aced.

  ‘It’s very—effective.’ She shrugged into her jacket with a little help from him, moving away as she realised how close he had suddenly become.

  ‘It’s disgusting,’ he said bluntly, opening the door for her. ‘Your predecessor had abominable taste.’

  Her eyes widened as she looked at him. ‘How do you know I didn’t choose it?’

  ‘You have too much style.’ He smiled at her gasp. ‘You’re a classy lady, Shanna Logan. That’s part of your attraction for me. You have style from the tip of your head to your toes.’ He handed her into the black London taxi he had miraculously managed to flag down in the busy lunch-hour traffic. ‘The Savoy,’ he instructed the driver, getting in beside her.

  She sat back, very conscious of the length of his thigh pressed against hers as he deliberately sat as close to her as he could, although there was plenty of room on the seat the other side of him. ‘You’ll have to change your eating habits if you’re going to claim this lunch on Fashion Lady’s expenses,’ she taunted.

  His mouth twisted. ‘Dalmont Enterprises can pick up the tab for this one,’ he smiled. ‘And get the decorators into your office first thing tomorrow, will you? It must give you nightmares!’

  ‘Yes,’ she admitted reluctantly. ‘But Henry always thought it was—’

  ‘Effective,’ he echoed her description of earlier mockingly.

  ‘Yes,’ she confirmed defensively.

  Rick Dalmont was obviously known at the Savoy, from the doorman to the maître d’, and one of the best tables in the restaurant was made available to them. It obviously paid to have influence and notoriety; the only time she had brought one of the so-called stars here after an interview for the magazine she had had trouble getting a table at all.

  ‘Tell me, Mr Dalmont,’ she said once they had ordered their meal. ‘If you knew—expected me to hand in my notice, why did you make my being editor part of the deal?’ She looked at him with cool green eyes.