by Sara Craven
‘Sunken treasure?’
He laughed. ‘Some hopes. But the ocean still remains the planet’s greatest undiscovered wilderness and it fascinates me. Nic, of course, thinks I’m nuts,’ he added. ‘But she’s not very adventurous. Her dream is a home and babies with Eddie.’
It was almost a sneer and it disturbed her.
She said lightly, ‘Well, that’s what keeps the world turning while the men are off in the wilderness.’
‘It’s probably why they go.’
Ouch, thought Dana, wincing inwardly. I walked into that.
Adam leaned forward. ‘Look, Dana, I won’t pretend life’s been ideal in recent years. Frankly, I’ve been inclined to drift in a number of ways, but that’s all changing now. I have an aim in life. A purpose that wasn’t there before. Can you understand that?’
Yes, thought Dana. The legal situation over the house has left you in a kind of limbo, but that’s ending soon, and Mannion will be yours at last.
Aloud, she said, ‘Of course. None better.’
‘Then there’s no need for awkward questions—on either side. We’re both adults and know how things can be.’
He means his love life, thought Dana, and he was clearly crediting her with a level of sophistication she did not possess. She was glad when his steak and chips and her Caesar salad were delivered.
The food was good, but Dana declined a dessert and put a firm hand over her glass when Adam tried to refill it.
‘I have to work this afternoon,’ she told him. ‘We both do.’
‘Ah,’ he said. ‘And I was hoping to persuade you to play truant on this lovely afternoon. Enjoy the wine here and maybe open another bottle at my flat.’ He reached across the table, his fingers stroking hers. ‘It’s only a short cab ride away and I’m sure we could both find adequate excuses for being absent from our desks.’
‘You perhaps,’ said Dana. ‘But I have appointments which I cannot miss.’ She paused, her smile regretful. ‘However tempting the offer.’
‘You really want to spend the rest of your life doing upmarket property deals?’
‘Not entirely,’ she said. ‘But, for now, it pays well and I like it. Two good reasons for hanging in there.’
‘Whereas I can’t wait to make a complete break and move on.’ Adam spoke with sudden harsh intensity. ‘Be my own boss again, instead of existing at Zac’s beck and call.’
‘You mean when Serafina—Mrs Latimer—finally hands over Mannion.’
‘Yes,’ he said. ‘I can hardly wait.’
And nor, thought Dana, can I.
He paused. ‘So I really can’t persuade you to jump ship for a few hours.’
‘Not this time.’ She lowered her eyes demurely. ‘I just have—too much to lose.’
‘Then, when the time comes,’ he said softly, ‘I’ll have to make sure it’s worth it.’
I’m a foregone conclusion, thought Dana, observing his satisfied air as he asked for the bill, and irked by it.
As she had been by his assumption that she would agree to the wine and sex on offer at his flat.
However, he wouldn’t find she was the easy conquest he was probably accustomed to, she decided as she scribbled her mobile number on the back of a business card.
He merely kissed her cheek in parting, but the smouldering look he gave her, combined with the caress of his thumb against the palm of her hand, was anything but chaste.
All in all, she had a lot to think about as she walked back to the office.
It seemed she wasn’t the only one who’d changed, and it occurred to her that if she and Adam had been meeting for the first time, she might well have concluded they had very little in common.
But that was negative thinking. They simply had to get to know each other all over again, that was all.
Besides, the way he’d spoken suggested that he’d sown his wild oats and was looking to settle down, and as that was what she wanted to hear, maybe she should scrub today’s events and hope for better in future.
One encouraging aspect was Adam’s clear desire to cut free from Belisandro International in general and Zac in particular.
And he can expect my full support on both counts, she told herself stormily, her footsteps quickening along with the beat of her heart.
* * *
‘You and Adam?’ Nicola was wide-eyed. ‘When did this begin?’
‘A fortnight ago.’ Dana paused. ‘He hasn’t mentioned it?’
‘I guessed there was someone,’ Nicola admitted. ‘Because there always is.’ She gave Dana an anxious look. ‘You do realise that, don’t you?’
‘We’re keeping it casual,’ Dana assured her.
Or I am, at least, she thought wryly. Because she was being subjected to constant pressure from Adam to allow their relationship to move to intimacy. And though he was undoubtedly intrigued by her equally constant resistance, she could sense that it was beginning to irritate him too.
But she had no intention of changing her mind—not until he gave her some real evidence of commitment.
And maybe his invitation to accompany him to the Belisandro International party the following week was a hopeful sign, while the news that Nicola and Eddie were also to be guests was a definite bonus.
She’d known the Belisandro Pan-European conference was being held in London, because Adam had been complaining about the extra work involved, and the aggravating attention to detail that Zac required.
‘All the male delegates’ wives and girlfriends are receiving bracelets, and the women’s partners get cufflinks—gold, of course,’ he’d informed her. ‘To be presented at the party by Signor Ottaviano, Big Daddy himself, back in full fighting trim after his op.’ He snorted. ‘Let’s see how Wonder Boy likes playing second fiddle again.’
To her surprise, Dana had found herself wincing at his comments. After all, his own company had gone bust, and while he might only be a cog in the Belisandro PR machine, he’d walked into a job with a salary sufficient to support a frankly lavish lifestyle. Which he now seemed poised to jettison.
Presumably he’d been head-hunted for a position that would lift him into the millionaire bracket, so at least there’d be funds to restore Mannion to past glories.
‘And wear that black thing you had for Nic’s engagement party,’ he’d added. ‘I want to show you off.’
‘Not possible, I’m afraid,’ she returned coolly. ‘I had it cleaned and sent it to a charity shop.’
‘What the hell for?’ He frowned. ‘You looked stunning in it.’
She shrugged. ‘It was a one occasion dress. Now it’s someone else’s turn to stun.’
And she could never have worn it again. Not when it would remind her of the brush of a man’s mouth against her bared skin. The wrong man...
Besides, at this party, she did not want to attract attention—especially from the wrong man. And if she could have come up with a valid excuse, she would not be going at all.
She decided to stick to basic black, finding in a boutique a silky crepe dress with a demurely scooped neck, elbow-length sleeves and mid-calf skirt, so far from making a statement that it was positively reticent.
Adam, of course, told her that she looked gorgeous, a ritual that she suspected would be maintained even if she had a bag over her head.
They shared a cab with Nicola and Eddie to the Hotel Capital Imperiale where the conference had been taking place. The party was in the first-floor ballroom, reached by a wide marble staircase and lit by opulent chandeliers, with music supplied by a jazz quartet from a corner rostrum.
‘The food’s in the next room,’ said Adam. ‘Mass catering on the grand scale.’
His derisory tone earned him a sharp look from his sister as she took a glass of champagne from the tray proffered by a hoverin
g waiter.
‘Good,’ she said. ‘Because I’ve been dieting all week to get into this blasted frock, and now I could eat a roasted ox—whole.’
Eddie slid an arm round her waist. ‘Let’s see if we can find one,’ he began but was interrupted by a tall thin girl with glasses who came darting out of the crowd.
‘Adam—at last. We have a problem.’
Adam detached his sleeve from her grasp. ‘Carol, this is a party. Can’t whatever it is wait until tomorrow?’
‘No,’ she said. ‘Because it’s about tonight. The gifts for the WAGs haven’t been delivered and Signor Belisandro is expecting to make the presentation. It’s one of the reasons he came over from Italy. Tell me that you did confirm time and date with the suppliers?’
Adam’s mouth tightened. ‘Yes, of course.’ He added coldly, ‘Do you want to check?’
‘We’ll have to. The hotel manager’s arranged a room and a computer so we can find out what’s gone wrong. Until we do, the party’s over for both of us.’
Adam swore under his breath, then turned to Dana. ‘My sweet, I’m really sorry. Stick with Nic and Eddie for half an hour while I look into this foul-up—if there is one.’
She forced a smile. ‘Of course.’ And added, ‘Good luck.’
‘He’ll need it,’ Nicola said caustically as he disappeared with Carol. ‘If I’m any judge, it’ll take more than half an hour and a lot of fast talking to get out of this one.’
Dana stared at her. ‘You think it’s his fault?’
‘I’d put money on it. Adam prefers the big picture, the grand gesture. He sees details like delivery dates to be the province of lesser mortals. Which is probably why Carol got promoted and he didn’t.’
It also explains why he’s so keen to change jobs, thought Dana as they made their way to the buffet.
Nicola gave a sigh of bliss when she saw the carvery offering sizzling hot joints of beef, ham and turkey on one side of the room, and the cold table on the other, with every kind of seafood and a mouthwatering display of exotic salads.
Her companions tucked into the meat with gusto, while Dana, beginning to wish herself a hundred miles away, confined herself to a modest helping of lobster and rice.
Nicola’s prediction proved to be correct, and over an hour went by with no sign of Adam. And being without him was making her feel oddly vulnerable.
‘I think I’ll just slip away,’ she told her companions, remaining firm in the face of their protests.
She was crossing the huge foyer to the cloakroom to find her wrap, when she heard her name. She turned to see Zac emerging from a lift and paused reluctantly.
As he reached her, he said, ‘I hope you are not leaving.’
‘Yes, I am. When Adam invited me here tonight, he was not expecting to spend the evening working.’
‘I regret your mutual disappointment, but if he had carried out the task assigned to him, it would not have happened,’ he said. ‘Also your invitation came from me. If you remember, I promised we would meet again.’
She stared at him. ‘You—promised?’
‘In my note,’ he said. ‘You did receive it?’
‘Yes,’ she said thickly. ‘But I didn’t realise it was from you.’
‘Ah,’ he said lightly. ‘Another disappointment. But you cannot go yet. There is someone who wishes to meet you.’
‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘However, if you don’t mind, I’ll stick to my original plan and find a cab.’
‘But I do mind, Dana mia.’ He took her hand. ‘Because I wish you to stay. Besides, my father does not care to be kept waiting.’
His father...
‘That’s unfortunate.’ She tried unavailingly to free herself.
‘Or for having his wishes thwarted.’
She glared at him. ‘It must run in the family.’
His grin mocked her. ‘I congratulate you on your perception, mia bella.’
‘And I am not beautiful,’ she snapped back.
‘Not perhaps in that dull dress,’ Zac agreed softly. ‘But without it—Madonna!’
To her fury, Dana found she was not only speechless but blushing to the roots of her hair as she was conducted into the lift, and carried swiftly and silently straight up to the top floor.
CHAPTER EIGHT
HER IMMEDIATE THOUGHT was that if she had merely seen Ottaviano Belisandro in the street, she would have known instantly whose father he was.
Her second, that she could also see with total clarity how Zac himself would look at that age, his dark hair silvery grey, the lines of his face more deeply incised, but still a man to be reckoned with, his vigour undiminished. And wondered how she could be so sure. Or why it should matter.
She was surprised to find no entourage gathered in the room. No telephones ringing, no buzz of conversation or hum of technology.
But the fact that he was alone as he rose to greet her emphasised, in some contradictory way, the aura of effortless power which surrounded him. And which he had passed on to his son.
‘Papà,’ Zac said. ‘Allow me to introduce Miss Dana Grantham.’
‘This is a pleasure for me.’ His voice was more heavily accented than his son’s. His handshake was firm and his gaze frankly searching as he waved her to the chair on the other side of an ornate marble fireplace. ‘Please to sit, signorina.’
Dana obeyed reluctantly, conscious that Zac had stationed himself behind her, his hand on the back of her chair. Near enough to touch, but not doing so, she realised, her body tensing in nervous awareness.
‘I am glad to meet at last the niece of the lady who cares for my cousin Serafina with such kindness and devotion.’ Ottaviano Belisandro resumed his seat. ‘I regret that it has not happened before. But you have never visited your aunt in Italy, signorina. Why is that?’
The truthful reply to a question she’d not expected would be, ‘Because I wouldn’t be welcome.’ So she tried polite evasion. ‘I have a demanding job, Signor Belisandro. My holidays tend to be last minute and confined to this country.’
‘Then you are missing a delight, signorina. My cousin Serafina lives very near me on the shore of Lake Como, one of the most beautiful places in the world, as you should see for yourself.’
He paused. ‘It means much to you, this work of yours?’
Yes, of course...
Again, the words hovered unspoken on her lips. Because career satisfaction wasn’t her goal and never had been. It was Mannion that mattered. It was everything to her. All she would ever care about, with no room in her life for anything—or anyone—else.
Something she wanted to shout aloud for the whole of London to hear, and, in particular, the man standing close behind her. Too close.
She needed to break the silence that seemed to be closing around her. The strange weakness that was making her tremble inside. The feeling that she was spinning into chaos. Into delusion.
Oh, God, she thought. What’s happening to me? What am I thinking? Why am I here instead of downstairs with Adam? Except he’s trapped in a meeting and I—I’m trapped here.
Her voice seemed to come from some immense distance. ‘Jarvis Stratton is one of London’s premier property agencies. It’s a privilege to work there, so I feel very fortunate.’
The truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth. Somewhere convenient to hide from doubt, fear and damaging admissions.
‘Fortunate indeed,’ agreed her inquisitor. ‘But for a young and beautiful woman there must be more. For you, signorina, are there no dreams?’
She summoned a smile from somewhere. Spoke lightly. ‘In today’s economic climate, Signor Belisandro, dreams are an expensive luxury that not all of us can afford.’
She rose. ‘Thank you for receiving me so graciously, but I’ve taken up qu
ite enough of your time. I should rejoin my friends.’
He stood up too. ‘Then my son will escort you and when I have made one phone call, I too shall come down and join the party. We will all drink a glass of wine together, no?’
No...
The word echoed crazily in her brain, just as it had done that afternoon when she’d seen Zac waiting on the terrace—like a dark cloud on her horizon.
A dark cloud fast becoming a storm that might sweep her away if she didn’t fight it. Fight for the life she had chosen.
She tried another bland, meaningless smile. ‘How kind of you, signor. But so many other people will be waiting to talk to you and to—to your son. I should be in the way. Good evening.’
Somehow, she got herself out of the room and across the corridor to the lift, with Zac, she realised, one step behind her.
As she reached for the button, his hand closed over hers. ‘Are you so determined to run away?’
‘I was trying to leave earlier when you stopped me.’ She stared at the lift doors, willing them to open of their own volition. To open and save her.
‘And now I am asking you to stay.’
‘To drink wine with your father?’ Her voice sounded breathless as if she was a nervous schoolgirl again. ‘Is that what he should be doing after a heart operation?’
‘No,’ he said. ‘To both your questions. But that does not change what I am asking, so do not pretend not to understand me. Because you know, mia bella, that I want you to stay until the party ends, and to be with me tonight.’
‘Then my answer is also no,’ she said, staring down at the crimson carpet, then at the wall. Anywhere that she could escape the way he was looking at her. Escape the memory of his mouth and the shameful, incomprehensible weakness that his lightest touch could evoke in her treacherous flesh.
She swallowed. ‘And how dare you insult me like that when you know—you must know perfectly well that I belong to Adam.’
‘Another pretence,’ he said. ‘Because you have never yet belonged to anyone. Nor are you sure enough of Adam to give yourself to him. In this, at least, you are wise.’
She did look at him then—glaring. ‘I hardly think you, of all people, should lecture me on morality.’
