by Joanna Rees
‘You’re not cross, are you?’ Romy asked, standing up and touching Nico’s cheek.
He’d lost weight recently and looked tanned and healthy. He stared into her eyes.
‘I just don’t want you to get hurt. That’s all,’ he said.
‘What would I do without you?’ she said.
Nico put his arm around her shoulder and walked towards the sliding doors. ‘Look, the sun is coming out,’ he said. ‘I can’t tell you how much I’ve been looking forward to this week. I’ve missed you, you know.’
Below them the engines started rumbling and the water churned, as the power-yacht started pulling away. They were going to zip round the coast to Nice, where Martin, Chris and Anna, some of Nico’s other friends, would be joining them for the last few days.
Nico smiled, but then his expression clouded over.
‘What?’ she asked.
But just then she heard shouting. She turned to look towards the port and saw a speedboat racing towards them.
They both watched as the stylish red boat, with its shiny hull and wooden deck, drew up alongside them. Alfonso Scolari was standing up at the steering wheel, his hair wet with spray.
‘Hi!’ he called, waving to Romy and grinning wildly.
‘Oh my God,’ Romy said, laughing and blushing at the same time. ‘That’s him. He’s here.’
‘I guess he’ll have to come on board,’ Nico said.
He walked back inside to talk to the captain and Romy laughed, urging Alfonso to stay back. He zoomed off in a wide arc, then returned and the crew helped him come-to alongside the yacht. Throwing a rope to one of the deckhands, Alfonso hopped up on the back platform as if he were stepping onto a kerb, not out of a 200,000-dollar speedboat. He was wearing a loose cotton shirt and khaki shorts with soft leather loafers.
‘Have you seen the papers?’ Romy asked, as he bounded up the stairs two at a time and joined her on the deck.
‘Yes. Isn’t it wonderful?’ Alfonso beamed. ‘My father has read about us. They are willing to accept me back.’
Romy blew out a frustrated breath. This guy was unstoppable. ‘Great, well, I’m pleased for you, but—’
‘So we have to go there today.’
‘Go where?’
‘To my parents’ place. In Tuscany.’ Alfonso said it as if they’d already discussed it.
Romy stared at him, aghast. ‘I can’t just come with you to Tuscany. I’m kind of busy.’
She noticed Nico standing protectively by her side.
‘I don’t know what you’re involved in here, but if you come with me, Romy, I’ll pay for ten holidays for you and your friend,’ Alfonso said, beaming a wide smile at them both.
‘It’s not about the money,’ Romy protested. She could afford her own holidays. Besides, hadn’t he noticed the boat they were on? Anyway, this was her holiday.
‘One day in Tuscany. One day – that’s all. Then I will bring you back. Once I have made peace with my father.’
He put his hands in a prayer position and looked at Romy and then, sensing a chink, Alfonso appealed directly to Nico.
‘Romy tells me that you are simply friends. Is that the truth? I would not dishonour you, my friend?’
Romy saw Nico blush at Alfonso’s Shakespearean declaration. She stepped in.
‘I don’t think this can work. I mean . . . I don’t know anything about you,’ Romy spluttered, staring wildly at Alfonso and then at Nico.
‘You can learn it all on the way. I will drive you from the airport. I have the plane waiting. It will give us a couple of hours. You’ll have plenty of time to find out everything there is to know about me.’
Romy laughed at his outrageous suggestion. ‘And then what? I pose as your girlfriend, and you bring me back?’
‘Exactly,’ Alfonso said. Then he clapped his hands together. ‘It’s settled then.’
Then he clutched Nico’s arms and kissed both of his cheeks. ‘You are a true gentleman. I shall bring her back unharmed,’ he said. Then he turned to Romy. His eyes made something stir inside her, as they had done the first time she’d met him. ‘And you, darling, are my life-saver.’
CHAPTER NINETEEN
March 1999
Thea was already late for the reception. In the chintzy suite of Vienna’s grandest hotel she quickly checked her make-up, before growling in frustration. Grabbing a pin, she wound her hair up into a chignon and fastened it tight. Then she turned around, making sure her pale-yellow dress was done up at the back.
She looked more closely at the mirror, adding a touch more powder to her skin. She looked tired, she knew, but tonight’s gala dinner for the European heads of the major publishing and media companies was her final chance to meet some valuable contacts, as well as the opportunity to get the last piece in the jigsaw that she needed to complete her report.
This time she knew she really was going to impress her father and make the Maddox Inc. board sit up and take notice. She was so close, she could almost taste the victory that she knew she’d feel when Brett realized how hard she’d worked. And how much she’d achieved. Enough, Thea hoped, to be considered for her own place on the board. One she knew she fully deserved.
For nearly four years she’d slogged her guts out. Ever since Brett had exposed her at the Culture Bulletin meeting, Thea had been determined to beat him. If his plan had been to scare Thea off, then he’d severely underestimated her.
At first Griffin Maddox had been furious when he’d heard about Thea posing as Tina Jones in London. Brett’s version of events was that he’d caught her out quite by chance, when he’d requested photographs of all of Maddox Inc.’s staff for some private project of his. He hadn’t elaborated on what the project involved, but Thea suspected that it had been exclusively to do with female employees. And there, in the Culture Bulletin’s staff line-up, Brett had spotted Thea. A different haircut. A suit. But Brett had seen straight through that . . . or so he’d said.
Had Brett had some kind of tip-off? Thea still wondered. Had the lawyer she’d used to help change her identity blown her cover? But she’d never know, and now it hardly mattered.
After that awful incident in London, Thea had flown straight to Crofters to confront her father. He’d heard her out, at her insistence, about why she’d done it. To prove that she could stand on her own two feet. To prove that she was every inch Brett’s match. Without his interference she’d have done it too, without Brett spiking her feature the way he had.
Face-to-face, Griffin Maddox’s fury quickly dissipated into something Thea hadn’t witnessed for a long time: pride.
Then he had give her his verdict. She was fired. From the Culture Bulletin at least. After the way she’d spoken to Brett in front of the staff, he had no choice. But he wasn’t kicking her out of Maddox Inc. altogether, which is what Brett had wanted. Instead he’d surprised her. He’d given Thea an altogether different role.
She’d moved to New York, where she’d been a junior on her father’s troubleshooting marketing team, before being seconded to the European team, where Thea had relished her chance to shine. She knew that to secure the future of Maddox Inc. they needed to focus their energies on the predicted boom in digital and cable companies in mainland Europe.
And now, after all her time here in Europe, thoroughly researching and squaring up the Maddox alliances, Thea was sure her expansion plans would be a breath of fresh air to her father. He’d had a tough year, what with the Dow Jones crash last August, from which he was only just recovering, and then all this ongoing business with his friend, Bill Clinton, and that dreadful Lewinsky girl.
Not to mention Storm, who grew more demanding by the day and was exhausting her father with yet another revamp of Maddox Tower and the renovation of a fifty-acre estate in The Hamptons. Thea had followed the press on the recent divorce settlement payout to Jocelyn Wildenstein, a friend of Storm’s, who’d been awarded 100 million dollars and thirteen million dollars a year for the next thirteen years – a verdict th
at Storm had celebrated with alarming glee. Thea had fantasized for so long about her father leaving Storm, but after the Wildenstein case she could see how potentially dangerous that could be. Besides, her father still seemed to adore Storm, despite the fact that she looked dangerously similar to the ‘Bride of Wildenstein’ herself these days. There’d been a photo of Storm and her father in the New York Times last week that had made Thea’s jaw drop.
She turned now as the telephone rang next to the hotel bed, quickly fastening her dangling jade earrings, which she’d bought in Switzerland. The Germans she’d met so far were fastidious about punctuality and it was probably Reicke in the lobby, expecting her.
Reicke Schlinker was the head of the media company Maddox Inc. were about to buy, on Thea’s recommendation. The deal would be announced in the next few months, and Thea was delighted when he’d accepted the Maddox offer in principle this morning. She smiled to herself, amused and flattered by his obvious attentiveness. She couldn’t deny that they’d been flirting and it had done her ego the world of good. She felt sad that this would be their last night together.
But it wasn’t anyone from the lobby; it was Sarah, Thea’s assistant, calling from the office in New York.
‘I’m glad I didn’t miss you,’ Sarah said, her Brooklyn accent a blast of familiarity. ‘How’s it going?’
Thea smiled. ‘It’s exhausting, but this is the final day, then I’ll be home.’
She pulled aside the thick brocade curtain and looked through the window. In the evening light the lights along the river twinkled romantically. Once again she wondered where home was these days. Her rented apartment in New York? The cold, unloved space that she’d hardly spent two consecutive nights in? She must start putting down some roots, Thea decided. Another item for her long list of resolutions for the new millennium.
‘What are you doing for your birthday at the weekend?’ Sarah asked.
Thea came away from the window and caught sight of herself in the mirror. After what Brett had done to her in Switzerland, she hadn’t celebrated her birthday once in seven long years. And now she was going to be twenty-eight. It seemed so old, all of a sudden. She wondered what all those girls from school would be doing now. Would they have big careers like her? Or be settling down to get married and have children?
‘I guess I’ll be on a plane,’ Thea replied. ‘I can’t really think about too much else before I’ve finished my report.’
‘That’s why I’m glad I caught you. You know you asked me ages ago to see if I could find some of your old friends from Little Elms?’
Thea’s heart leapt. Michael . . .
She’d been so busy, she’d almost forgotten that she’d asked Sarah to investigate.
Now she gripped the phone with both hands, as Sarah continued. ‘Well, I’ve found one of them.’
Reicke was waiting for Thea in the crowded lobby.
‘You look very beautiful this evening, Thea,’ he said, kissing her hand and looking up at her with his blue eyes. He wasn’t wearing his glasses, she noticed.
‘Thank you,’ she said, smiling back, thinking that he looked great in his impeccable tuxedo. He had sandy-blond hair and freckles, which made him look healthily tanned, and she noticed a few people looking at them together, as they arrived at the top of the grand carpeted stairway and Reicke held her arm as they walked down into the crowded reception, the hubbub of voices and the clink of champagne glasses loud in her ears.
‘It feels weird that you’re my new boss,’ Reicke whispered to her and she laughed, enjoying the secret they were sharing.
Usually she excelled at handling events like tonight. She’d taught herself tricks for learning and remembering people’s names and knew how to start conversations with even the most difficult of businessmen. But as she became embroiled in yet another conversation about whether the turn of the millennium would precipitate a global technology meltdown, rather than simply give the company line about everything Maddox Inc. had done to protect their databases, Thea found herself tuning out and thinking instead about what Sarah had told her just now on the phone.
Because she’d found Johnny Faraday, the groom from Little Elms and the person Thea associated most with her childhood – apart from Michael, of course. According to Sarah, he was working as a manager in a famous South African horse stud. Thea’s mind was reeling at how much his life had changed. Somehow, to her, he would forever be in the stables in Little Elms in her mind.
Did he even remember her? she wondered. Would he want to hear from her? How kind had life been to him since Little Elms? Did he still remember all the times they’d had together, just as Thea did?
Thea didn’t know. But one thing she did know was that she’d spent so long wondering about her past that finally, after all this time, maybe this was a sign that she should do something about it. How often during this business trip had she been frustrated that people weren’t quick enough to take action? Well, it was time to start being decisive herself, she thought. About her past and all the unanswered questions she couldn’t lay to rest. And maybe, just maybe, Johnny might know where Michael was.
Her Michael. The boy with the hazel eyes and blond hair. She glanced across at Reicke. Was that why she found him so attractive? she suddenly realized. Because he reminded her of Michael?
A crackle of feedback rang out from the podium, where an elderly man in a dinner jacket was shuffling notes, ready to speak.
She sipped her champagne and turned the other way, towards the stage, moving to stand next to an older, grey-haired man.
‘A young girl like you, Fräulein, should be out having fun,’ the man said after a moment to her, his English heavy with an Italian accent. ‘These events tend to be very dry,’ he added, turning and pulling a face, making her smile. ‘You’re with the German party, I believe?’
Thea shook her head, her attention caught by Reicke, who was looking over in her direction and waving. It wasn’t the first time on this trip that someone had assumed she was German.
‘I am amazed by how many people have turned up,’ the man continued, ‘but it’s all for show. This unity,’ the man added confidentially, ‘this new-found belief in the euro, it’s all because the Americans are on the prowl.’
‘Oh?’ Thea whispered, looking at the stage, where the Austrian Trade Minister had been introduced and was about to make his speech.
‘Their desire is to make everything homogeneous. Americanized. Centralized. But that way there will be no character left. No national identity. I, for one, would fight with everything I had to stop Scolari being bought out by the Yanks.’
‘I am very enlightened by your views, Signor,’ Thea said, graciously bowing her head. That’s why she vaguely recognized him. He was Roberto Scolari.
And now she felt it all slotting into place. Scolari’s son was Alfonso Scolari, the F1 racing driver, who was now dating Romy Valentine seriously. Thea hadn’t believed it when she’d heard from Andy Bellson at the Culture Bulletin in London that Romy Valentine had refused three interviews with his paper. The word in-house was that the girl was a total princess, but Thea suspected the vendetta was to do with the Culture Bulletin piece that Brett had sabotaged, which had clearly put the supermodel’s nose out of joint.
‘I’m afraid I did not catch your name?’ Scolari said.
‘My name is Theadora Maddox. From Maddox Inc.’ She smiled sweetly, watching the old man try to recover his composure.
‘Miss Maddox . . . I . . . I . . . ’ he stumbled.
Scolari. Of course, she thought.
They would be perfect for her expansion plans.
Thea drank far too much champagne at the reception and, after the dinner, she got dragged onto the dance-floor. She danced to a few numbers, but was all too aware of the attention she was garnering, being one of the only women in the room. She knew she ought to retire gracefully, before she made a fool out of herself, and as the music changed to a slow Phil Collins number, she snuck off before she got ask
ed to dance.
Reicke caught her just as she was getting into the lift. His bow tie was undone and his hair was more dishevelled than before and she found herself laughing at him, as he grinned at her and leant comically against the elevator door, to stop it closing.
‘How about a nightcap?’ he asked.
‘No, I can’t,’ she said. ‘I need to sleep.’
‘Please. Just one,’ Reicke said. ‘I won’t see you again for ages.’
‘OK,’ she relented. ‘Just one.’
He inserted his room card into a reader on the panel on the wall and took her to the penthouse floor. She caught sight of herself in the tinted mirrors of the lift as she stood next to him, holding her clutchbag. What am I doing? she thought, as she caught Reicke’s eye. He grinned at her.
The penthouse was enormous. A thick cream carpet led into a sitting room with ornate silk armchairs and a dining room off it, with a fancy eighteenth-century wooden table with gold chairs. A very expensive-looking antique grandfather clock struck midnight now, the figurines inside shifting around in a scene from Mozart’s Marriage of Figaro. ‘Wow,’ Thea said, admiring it.
‘Isn’t it great,’ he said, coming to stand next to her and unbuttoning the top of his shirt. She caught a blast of his musky aftershave and felt a shimmer of desire. ‘There was some kind of mix-up and they gave me the presidential suite.’
‘You kept that quiet,’ Thea teased him.
‘I did. Until now.’
Thea followed him into the dark kitchen and, for a moment, felt her palms sweating, as she remembered the kitchen in Maddox Tower years ago, where Brett had first grabbed her. In the past few years, whenever she’d got anywhere near a physical situation with a man, something inside her had always shut down. She couldn’t stop images of Brett rising up to ruin everything – like now – images of that sauna in Switzerland. Almost seven years ago to this day.
Thea took a breath, forcing the thoughts away, as Reicke turned on the light and peered inside the fridge.
