‘As impartial as any dictator is ever likely to be…’ Jude muttered under her breath, forcing Cesar to lean towards her words. Which he didn’t but somehow he could guess its tone.
‘But I can’t help wondering whether a conspiracy of sorts was involved…’
‘A conspiracy of sorts? What on earth are you talking about?’
‘How am I to know that you two didn’t contrive a convenient meeting with Fernando? You would have known his name and, even if you didn’t know his pedigree, it wouldn’t have been hard to guess that he had money. My brother in a nightclub is an open book. I should know. I’ve had the unhappy pleasure of being with him in one once. A few minutes on the internet and you could have sourced his background in under ten seconds.’
‘I can’t believe you’re telling me this, Cesar!’ But she could. At least, she could believe it of the man standing in front of her like an implacable rock, his face harshly condemnatory.
‘Why?’ he demanded in a silky voice. ‘Why can’t you believe it?’
‘Because you should know that I’m not that type of person! We’ve been through this.’
‘So we have, but think about it—how much do I really know about you? How much do I really know you?’
Jude felt cut to the quick by that remark. Did he mean it? Surely, after all they had shared, he knew that she would be incapable of such a horror? Her back stiffened as she adopted a defensive pose. No, she was not, absolutely not, going to justify herself to him! But the thought of seeing him walk away with the worst things in his mind made her want to weep.
‘If you really think that about me, Cesar, then what can I say?’
It wasn’t what he wanted to hear. The truth was, he didn’t know what he wanted to hear.
‘So true. What can you say?’
‘You put so much importance on money, Cesar. You can’t understand that, at the end of the day, it doesn’t really mean very much. Yes, it can get you the company helicopter and the designer car, but those aren’t things of any value.’
‘Still going for the altruistic line, Jude? I might have believed you once, but in the light of what’s unfolded, you’ll have to excuse a certain amount of cynicism on my part.’
‘Why? Why do I have to excuse it? You think the worst of me. You think that I would do anything for a bit of money.’
‘Everyone has their price.’
‘That’s a horrible thing to say.’
‘Is it? And here I was thinking that I was being utterly realistic.’ He looked down at the glowering face and smiled grimly. ‘What a shame.’
‘What is?’
‘Shame that you don’t agree with me, because if everybody has a price then you would discover that I could be a very generous lover…and we made such good lovers, didn’t we, Jude?’
He reached out and touched her face.
Jude froze. For a while, all she felt was the perfection of his skin against hers, reminding her that she had given her soul to the devil. She wanted to curve into his touch, hold his hand and lead him to her bed.
She pulled away sharply, her breathing uneven and painful, and placed her hand firmly on the door knob. She couldn’t actually open the door as he was still leaning against it, but he stepped aside and she pulled it open quickly, shaking.
‘How long do you plan on staying?’ she asked tightly.
‘Why? Would you want to take evasive measures?’
‘Can you blame me?’
‘Maybe not.’ Cesar shrugged. He had said what he wanted to say. More. Too much. And some of it had left a sour taste in his mouth.
‘Just…’ she looked up at him, her eyes clear and steady despite the fact that her thoughts were all over the place ‘…don’t let whatever you think about me affect your decision about Freddy’s trust fund. Or your opinion of Imogen.’
‘Still fighting the fight?’
‘Still hoping that there’s a place inside you that I can appeal to, some bit of you that isn’t totally jaded.’
Cesar flushed darkly. He didn’t like the picture she had conjured up but, in all fairness, he could hardly blame her. However, that was not something he intended to impart, so he gave her a curt nod and left through the open door, straight to his brother’s car.
From the doorway, she watched as the car revved and then swung neatly round, doing the fastest three-point manoeuvre she had ever seen in her life. When she closed the door, she felt drained. The day had started badly with Freddy’s call and it had gone downhill since, picking up speed with Cesar’s appearance on the scene.
Now, she was shattered. The nagging headache which she had managed to keep at bay was returning with a vengeance. She needed and wanted nothing so much as to have a hot bath and climb into her bed, but then what would she do once there? Stare up at the ceiling in the darkness and think about him? Think about what he had said? He surely couldn’t have meant it…could he? Could he really think that she had plotted and connived with Imogen to cheat someone out of his money?
He would meet Imogen and realise that he had been wrong, and in fact some small part of her sensed that everything he had said had been an overreaction to the bombshell that had been laid at his door.
He had lashed out but he had lashed out at her and that really hurt because, even if she never saw him again, and it was unlikely that would happen, he had been left with the wrong impression.
Which made her think of all those long days lying ahead, days in which he would play no part, a life in which he would have no say.
He had been cruel and blinkered and cold and she tried very hard to resurrect some good, healthy dislike but she couldn’t. She couldn’t resurrect anything but the way he had made her feel when his fingers had touched her skin.
CHAPTER SEVEN
WITHIN A FORTNIGHT, both Imogen and the baby were out of the hospital. Little Maria was already beginning to gain weight and Freddy, the proud father, was fast-tracking his jazz club venture, which had now received Cesar’s financial backing thanks to the release of a fair amount of the trust fund.
‘I’m on probation,’ Freddy had told Jude sheepishly, ‘and I can’t say I blame him. After all, I have spent a goodish amount of my adult life squandering my money, so he’s going to be careful, really.’
Whatever Jude’s personal feelings about Cesar, she was very happy for Freddy. Maybe Cesar had found himself cornered but, whatever the reason, he had cut his brother some slack and, better than that, had been thrown into the novel situation of having to defer to Freddy on his expertise when it came to the practicalities of opening a club. It was doing Freddy’s sense of self-worth a power of good.
And today was the Big Day. A little sooner than expected, and a lot smaller than Freddy’s extended family might have wanted, but still happening. A register office affair in Marylebone, followed by a lavish lunch at one of the top restaurants, which had closed its doors to the public for the day. The honeymoon, Imogen had told her, was to be put on hold for a few months but, radiant with her newborn, she didn’t seem to mind in the slightest. Nor did she seem in the least bit critical of her brother-in-law-to-be. He was, she had told Jude, very charming and she couldn’t understand why there had been all this fuss about him in the first place.
Jude had refrained from pointing out that, yes, sharks might not bare their teeth all the time but that didn’t mean that they weren’t capable of inflicting grievous bodily harm. She should know.
It was all now one Big Happy Family. Winners all round. Except, of course, for her.
She gazed at her reflection in the mirror. She looked like someone recovering from a bad bout of flu. Hollow eyes, face a little too thin, anxious expression.
In a little under two hours she would be standing in that register office, and it would be the first time in nearly three weeks since she had seen Cesar, although the passing of time had done little to soften the blow of his final departure from her life. Every cruel word he had said had been imprinted on her mind with such force t
hat she relived the moment even in her sleep.
She had chosen her outfit carefully. It was a loose jade-green woollen dress, just reaching her knees, and with an attractive empire line that gave it a youthful appearance. A sensible buy, all things considered. She had even bought herself a fancy coat, something in which she would never have thought to invest, but she felt that she might need courage when it came to meeting Cesar and what better to give courage than an image-boosting outfit?
Now all she had to do was apply sufficient make-up to deal with the worried face.
By the time her taxi arrived she looked a great deal better than she felt. The dress lived up to the expectations she had had when she had bought it two days previously, as did the high black shoes and the fancy coat. Her black bag was a little too oversized to be labelled anything other than useful, but what was she to do? She still had her hundred and one things to stuff in.
The worst of it all, she thought, was that she had to meet Cesar. She couldn’t go along and hope to get lost in the crowd. She had to meet him and, for the sake of her sanity, she had to talk to him.
She looked at that little, perfectly innocuous piece of plastic on her dressing table and felt the same shiver of fear as she had when she had bought it two days ago.
It had not occurred to her at any point that she might be pregnant. She still wasn’t too sure when the notion had begun to form in her head that her period was overdue. Even then, she had uneasily put that down to stress. Wasn’t that supposed to affect the body in mysterious ways?
In fact, she was still telling herself that she had absolutely nothing to worry about when those dark blue lines informed her that, yes, she had something to worry about. A great deal to worry about.
Since then she had done nothing but oblige. She had worried.
She had also replayed Cesar’s last conversation with her, in which he had accused her of conspiring with Imogen to con Freddy out of his money, some hideous joint venture, which she was certain Cesar couldn’t possibly believe.
She told herself repeatedly that he had overreacted because he had been enraged by what he had seen as a case of deliberate deception, that people often said things in the heat of the moment which they didn’t mean. Not really.
But it was down to capability, wasn’t it? He might not really believe that she had conspired to do anything with anyone. In fact, he might have zoomed off in his car, come to his senses and realised that the idea was ridiculous, but at the back of her mind she wondered feverishly whether he thought that she was capable of manipulating someone else for her own personal gain.
If he thought that, then how was he going to react when she broke the news to him that she was pregnant?
She had told him, when they had made love, that she was protected. She hadn’t exactly explained that she had believed herself protected thanks to the ancient and apparently wholly unreliable method known as the rhythm method. He had probably assumed that she was on the contraceptive pill, although why he would assume that she didn’t have a clue, considering she had told him just how long it had been since she had slept with anyone. But assume it he must have or else he would have taken charge of contraception himself.
Cesar wasn’t looking for commitment, let alone an unwanted pregnancy. In fact, when it came to women, Cesar wasn’t looking for anything beyond sex.
The ride to the register office was a nightmare. There was an awful lot of traffic, giving her ample time to stare vacantly out of the window and turn over in her mind the various hideous scenarios that could be awaiting her.
She almost wished that she had made an appointment to see him in his office although, at the time, she had wondered whether he would have even taken her call.
She had opted for today because she had known that he would be there and would have to see her, have to talk to her. Somewhere quiet after the reception was over. At any rate, it didn’t make a difference where the conversation happened, she told herself now as her stomach churned away. There was no suitable place.
The guest list had been narrowed down to twenty-five people. Some relatives from Spain, close family, and then friends. A trip was planned for later in the year to visit the rest of the family, when Maria was a little older and more able to handle the change of environment.
When the taxi eventually pulled up outside the building, Jude could already see the guests congregated on the steps. At the top of the steps was Cesar, talking to Imogen, one hand in his pocket, his coat lifted by the breeze.
Jude got out of the taxi and took a deep breath before walking the gauntlet from the pavement to the entrance, noticing that, while Cesar briefly broke off his conversation to glance in her direction, he very quickly returned to what he was saying to Imogen, making it clear that while he had noted her presence, he was indifferent to it.
So time, she thought wretchedly, hadn’t diminished his bitterness towards her.
He had made his peace with his brother, accepted Imogen as his soon-to-be sister-in-law, and yet the olive branch was visibly not being waved in her direction.
She was the last to arrive and offered her apologies to Imogen, while smiling down at a bundled-up little Maria, who was beginning to fret, waving her fists around, her tiny face puckered into a cross frown.
‘I’ve only just fed her,’ Imogen confided, ‘but she’s already hungry again. She eats like…well, like Freddy…’ Imogen laughed. ‘Are you okay? You look a little drawn, Jude.’ This in hushed whispers as they headed indoors, out of the bright but cold sun.
‘Just working really hard,’ Jude said in a strained voice. Her eyes darted towards Cesar’s back. ‘You know how it is…’ She hadn’t breathed a word of what had happened between herself and Cesar, and Imogen, thankfully, had been too busy to ask questions.
‘We’ll have to go out soon,’ Imogen promised. ‘When my life gets a bit less frantic. I feel pretty strong now, but it’s amazing how a little thing of just six and a half pounds can turn an adult into a zombie.’
‘Well, you look very glamorous for a zombie,’ Jude said truthfully, smiling. Radiant, in fact.
And for the next forty-five minutes or so she was spared the agony of dwelling on her situation. The service was short but heartfelt and the couple looked deliriously happy. In fact, even an ingrained cynic like Cesar would have been hard-pressed to think that they were anything but truly in love.
Jude wasn’t going to put that to the test, though, by meeting his eyes. Indeed, she kept hers well averted from his dark, striking face, although, as she signed the registry book, she was all too aware of him standing next to her like a block of implacable, unforgiving granite.
She wasn’t entirely sure when she would draw him to one side and, like a coward, she kept her distance for as long as she could and as much as was physically possible, given that they were both seated opposite one another at the same table.
She twittered away with seemingly endless enthusiasm to one of their cousins, a nineteen-year-old boy who was heavily into football, something about which she knew precious little but was learning fast by asking all the right questions and displaying all the right interest.
Every so often her eyes would slide of their own accord to Cesar’s dark, unbearably handsome face as he engaged the people around him.
She could barely appreciate the wonderful meal, which seemed to stretch on for eternity, course after course after course, and then the toast, a short, witty few words given by Cesar in which no reference was made to Imogen’s far from illustrious background or the suspicions that had driven him to assume the worst of their relationship. The man was a consummate actor, Jude thought acidly, charming the crowd in the same way that he had charmed her out from behind that wall which she had erected around her emotions and behind which she wished she was still firmly secure. His own wall was obviously made of far sterner stuff.
It was nearly five by the time the meal was cleared away, at which point her stomach was doing a very merry jig.
She
had barely uttered a word to Cesar but, as he glanced at his watch, a sure prelude for him leaving, she followed him to the restaurant door and tentatively placed her hand on his arm.
In the process of slipping on his coat, he turned to her and looked from her face to her offending hand and then back to her face.
‘Cesar…hi…’ She licked her lips nervously, traipsing along behind him as he left the restaurant. ‘How are you?’
‘As you can see, never better. Is there something you wanted?’
‘You’re not still angry with me, are you?’
‘Why would I still be angry with you?’ Dark, hard eyes clashed with hers. ‘You over-estimate your importance, Jude.’ Naturally he had known that he would be seeing her but it was still a bad moment for Cesar. She looked more fragile than he remembered, which made him think of her vulnerability when she had lain in his arms. It was a thought he did not want to entertain and he slashed it before it could take root by recalling her deception. He had been taken in by that honest, transparent face and her blazing outspokenness. Never let it be said that he wasn’t a man who didn’t learn from his mistakes.
He felt duly fortified by that thought and stared down at her icily.
‘I…Cesar…we need to…to talk…’
‘Do we?’ He looked at his watch, just as he had in the restaurant, reminding her that he was probably off to do something. It was Saturday evening and she didn’t imagine that he would be spending it alone. In fact, that was something Jude had studiously avoided thinking about. Another woman in his arms was just too much to bear.
‘I know you’ve probably got something to do…somewhere to go…’ She invited disclosure.
‘Nothing and nowhere that you need know about.’ He signalled to his driver, who magically appeared as if out of thin air. In fact, Cesar was looking forward to a meal on his own at an Italian restaurant close to where he lived and an evening in front of his computer, downloading emails and reading three reports. This despite the fact that he had been invited to several company affairs which, he knew, might have improved his ongoing foul mood but which had seemed impossibly tedious. Too tedious to attend.
The Notorious Gabriel DiazRuthless Tycoon, Inexperienced Mistress Page 27
