by Zee Monodee
A feminist? He hadn’t pegged her down as one of them die-hards who would deny a man the paternity of his child.
“I see,” he said, more to make polite conversation than to actually provide an opinion.
His words seemed to anger her, making her bristle, and she put her cup back on the saucer with a clang.
“No, you don’t see. You know nothing about me.”
Anger. Or embarrassment? He also disliked the way her claws had come out to attack in that last vehement statement.
“Listen, if you’d gotten pregnant by one of the good guys, you’d think it was his business to know, so he could do the right thing by you.”
She glared at him.
“So, my guess is, he’s either married or taken.”
“Who asked for your guess?”
“Married, then.”
“He was single when we got together.”
She seemed to realize then what she’d said, and she shut her mouth tight. He stifled the urge to smile. How easy it proved to rile her. He remained silent, letting her wallow in her discomfort.
“Anyway, it was only one night,” she said.
“That’s all it takes.”
“True.”
Her reply came out hushed, and she lowered her head again.
“So, who’s the sad arse?”
He didn’t think he wanted to know, but somehow, the question had popped out. He wasn’t one to have conversations—an ex-girlfriend had once even told him he uttered less than five hundred words a day. That he was engaging in such chitchat with Jane astounded him. It happened to made him edgier, too, which would make him sound like a right bastard.
He also rarely apologized, and had already said sorry twice earlier. Where did this unusual rapport with a woman come from, and where did it leave him with this woman?
Jane glanced up at him again. He tried to compose his face into a casual expression, one that suggested two friends were chatting to one another. Just a notch beyond his usual board room neutral face. He must have succeeded, for she sighed, and her shoulders slumped.
“His name is Jeremy Wickham.”
All right, he was no literary genius, but most English men knew that name and what it meant for having had Pride and Prejudice, in one form or the other, forced down their throats at some point in his life.
“Wickham? You fell for a bloke named Wickham?”
“Yes, Darcy. Stop being so high and mighty and keep your ‘I told you so’ to yourself, okay?”
What cheeky repartee. While he had been expecting a comeback, he hadn’t anticipated the scope of this one. He threw his head back and laughed like he hadn’t in a long time. She had guts, this girl. Might be why she could put up with the likes of Umberto.
The thought of the man who had fathered him brought a dark, dank cloud of disgust over him, chasing away the mirth.
“What’s a girl like you doing working for a cad like Umberto Rinaldi?”
Jane seemed surprised by his question and gave him a quizzical look. “Just doing the job I studied to do.”
He clenched his jaw, teeth grinding. His forearms on the table, he leaned forward. “Does the job involve luring his unsuspecting victims, as well?”
She remained silent. He had almost expected her to ask what he was talking about, but she had understood him, all right.
“He takes responsibility for his actions.”
Michael huffed. “Yeah, like hell he does.”
She threw her hands up. “What do you want me to say? I told him I’d have no part in his complicated love life, but does he listen? No.”
She really heard herself talk and believed that rubbish?
“Love life? You’ve got to be joking. The likes of him don’t know how to love.”
“Open to discussion.”
“Like hell.”
“What is it you have to say?”
She’d brought the topic where he’d wanted to bring it. “Olivia Rinaldi. Ring any bells?”
“Your mother.”
“Right. And the latest on that lout’s conquest list.”
She brought her hand up to pinch the bridge of her nose, and then her eyes flew open on a little sigh. “What is it you want me to do here? I’m just doing my job, okay?”
Was she? He doubted that. His PA didn’t dally around picking up the pieces of his love life.
You don’t have a love life, mate.
Beside the point. He didn’t pay his PA to arrange dates and gifts and what else nonsense for him.
“Here’s what I suggest.” He settled back in his chair. “From now on, you’ll make sure every attempt he makes to contact my mother ends in failure.”
She pressed her back into the booth and crossed her arms in front of her chest. “And, pray tell, Mr. Mastermind, how I will achieve that?”
So she’d hit him with sass, eh? He shrugged. “How do I know? Any way you care to. Just do it.”
Silence grew between them. Jane’s gaze locked with his, and their eyes settled in a clash of wills. Somewhere along the way, she blinked, but he didn’t drop his gaze until she’d closed her eyes for a second.
Bringing her hands to her temples, she stared straight at him. “In other words, you’re telling me to sabotage Umberto’s every attempt to contact your mother.”
“That’s right.”
“And if he sidesteps me?”
He chuckled. “You really think he can do that?”
She gave a small, contrived smile. “I guess you’re right.”
She then paused, letting the hum and drone of the conversation in the room surround them.
“What if I don’t agree to this?” she said.
He winced inwardly. That’s what he hoped it wouldn’t come to. He didn’t want to employ hostile tactics, but they were talking about his mother here. He couldn’t let her get hurt again. She wouldn’t survive another mental break down and emerge unscathed. If she ever managed to emerge at all …
He picked up his coffee and took a sip, his gaze never leaving her. After putting the cup back in its saucer, he crossed his arms in front of him on the table.
“Jane, I’m sure you know, half the business Vista Standard Bank handles comes straight from my clients.” He paused for effect. “As their lawyer, it wouldn’t be hard for me to tell them to take their accounts elsewhere. In this shaky economic climate, nobody can afford to lose their job, and banks cannot afford to lose any client, let alone most of them. You’ll be out of a job, and I can make it very hard for you to find employment at that level and with so many privileges again.”
She paled, and her lips tightened. But she didn’t flinch or gasp, and for that, he gave her credit. This girl had balls.
“I’ve never wanted it to come to this, Jane. Business is business, which is why I never did anything against Umberto in the professional world. But he just made things personal, and I will stop at nothing to bring him down if I have to.”
“You’re threatening to bring me down.”
“I don’t want it to come to that, but I will if I have to. Think about it, Jane. Deflect a few calls, invent a few excuses. It doesn’t take more than that.”
She stared at him for a long time, her narrowed gaze traveling over him before coming back to rest on his face. He wondered what was going on in her head, but like any good legal negotiator knew, you should never betray what was going on in your mind. So he simply settled back and took small sips of his coffee.
As the seconds ticked by, perusal turned to disbelief and finally to something remarkably like spite on her features. Her lips pursed to a tight line, stretching the skin over her cheekbones and making her bone structure appear formidable as the soft shadows in their secluded corner played upon her face.
“You’re a bloody arse, you know that?” she bit out.
He acknowledged her comment with a small smile. He had her where he wanted. She wouldn’t have been so vehement if she hadn’t thought herself cornered.
“Excuse
me, my dears.”
Tabitha’s singsong voice broke through.
They both glanced at the woman who stood close to their table. How long had she been there listening to them? The least of their concerns right then, though. Also, not the first time he’d been called an arse. He’d been labelled far worse, actually.
Putting on a proper, casual expression to greet Tabitha, he glimpsed Jane sitting up straighter and pasting a smile on her face.
The older woman came to his side, her hand settling on his shoulder. She faced Jane. “Have you managed to eat anything, dear? Michael told me about your condition.”
He caught Jane’s almost imperceptible wince, and she bit her lip before smiling even wider at Tabitha. She was flustered; that was obvious. His fault, true, but he was curious to see if she could get herself out of this tricky setup. Jane Smithers intrigued him, and the more he could find about her, the better. Seeing her in different social situations would shed a lot of light on her true personality.
“The food was lovely. Thank you for your consideration.”
Her voice, with its gentle, lilting note so unlike when she’d been speaking to him, resembled that of a proper debutante addressing her hosts for lunch at the country club. He frowned. Only actual grooming in the best—and most expensive—finishing schools of the kind found in Switzerland ensured that kind of poised decorum.
Did Jane have such background? Then why was she working as a PA?
“It’s a pleasure, dear. Michael was very worried, if I may add ...”
Tabitha had let the sentence hang. Nothing but a ploy to extract a juicy titbit of gossip.
“Was he, now?” Jane’s gaze travelled to him.
He clenched his jaw in reply. So she wanted to play now, didn’t she? What did she think? That she’d make him feel embarrassed by discussing his emotional side with their host? She was in for a surprise then, because feelings and he didn’t mix.
She settled back in the booth and lifted her head once more in Tabitha’s direction, with a soft smile on her lips. “It really isn’t like him to be so concerned, is it?”
The older woman laughed. “You have that right, dah-ling. Oh, how impolite of me. I am Tabitha, my dear. We haven’t been introduced.”
Jane held her hand out. “Jane Smithers. Pleasure to finally meet the woman behind this renowned eatery.”
Tabitha clasped Jane’s hand in both of hers. “Oh, you are …”
Jane nodded.
Michael frowned. He seemed to have missed something here. What, though?
“So, I guess congratulations are in order,” Tabitha continued. Her pointed gaze landed on Michael.
Here it comes—the wave meant to drown everyone. The best way out would be to not fight it.
“Thank you, luv.”
Jane’s face paled, and her mouth opened before she caught herself and closed it.
The older woman patted his shoulder. “You must be really happy at this wonderful news.”
Time to aim for the kill and be done with it.
“Of course.” He reached up to clasp her hand. “Now, Tabby darling, it’s still rather early, and nobody really knows about it.”
“Oh, my lips are sealed. Don’t worry.” She turned to Jane and squeezed her hand. “This is such wonderful news. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I must see to my other patrons.”
“It’s okay, darling. We know you’re much in demand here.” He smiled at Tabitha, and she blushed.
Tension hung heavy in the air while they both waited for her to walk out of earshot.
“You let her believe I’m expecting your baby?” Jane finally exploded in a low hiss as she leant towards him, anger painting her cheekbones with a dark stain.
“Did I?”
He didn’t think so … Best he relieve her of any ammunition for this argument before she started firing on all cylinders again, though. Jane had proved she had a combative spirit any seasoned general would envy.
“Believe me, she’d have pried for every detail and wouldn’t have left you until she knew the whole story. If she thought this is the truth, then the little white lie can’t hurt.” He nodded towards the hostess pulpit. “What would you prefer? That I hush this up later, or for the dah-ling brigade to fall on you to learn of our association and the unfortunate circumstances that led you onto this boat?”
“What?” She glared at him. “She’s a virtual stranger, and you think she won’t inform the dah-ling brigade before the hour is out? I know how they work; they live for gossip! You’re out of your mind. Why did you have to let her believe what you did? And what’s next? Alerting the media?”
She was on a roll now, wasn’t she? Who knew the seemingly quiet and coolly competent PA from an hour ago would pack so much punch inside that tall, sculptural body of hers?
“It’s easier to get the likes of her off your back when you tell them what they want to hear. Tabitha is an expert at wheedling secrets out of people. Rest assured she’s also very good at keeping them.”
She rolled her eyes to the heavens. “And you know that how?”
He ground his teeth. “Because there are secrets she knows that she’s never divulged.”
Like the real reasons his mother had been in a sanatorium twice.
Why was it she could stir him up so easily? He refused to think of his mother being sick usually, but with Jane, he was willing to face these demons.
She placed her forearms on the table, and the speed with which she collapsed onto her arms sent fear sneaking along his spine. What had he done wrong this time?
“Jane? What’s the matter?”
She didn’t look up straightaway, but when she did, her eyes were dark and mere slits in her face. “Just bugger off, will you?”
He, however, heard the quiver in her tone, as if she were on the point of crying. Never one to deal easily with a woman in tears, he knew he had to try to make things right before the dam burst. He reached for her hand, his large palm closing over her cold fingers. “Anything I can do?”
“You can get lost.” She spoke between stilted breaths.
“Bloody hell. You’re not going to be sick again, are you?” He couldn’t deal with that once more.
Jane peered up at him for a long moment. Relief flooded him when her eyes softened and also when she made no move to extract her fingers from his grasp. Could she not have noticed he still held her fingers? He almost expected her to slap him. She’d shown that kind of red-hot streak up until now.
“I’ll be fine,” she stated.
Her deep inhales probably meant she was working on steadying her breathing. She pulled herself back up. Her gaze fell to his hand on hers before traveling to his face again.
“Why’d you have to do that?”
Her voice now sounded strangely subdued.
“Do what?”
“Make it seem like I’m expecting your baby. That’s not okay.”
Her tone spoke of someone with a beaten spirit, and this forlorn note settled a veil over them, ensconcing them in a private sanctum where answers he wanted to give her swirled around him, wanting, needing to settle down.
Wait a minute. Answers he wanted to give her? He never answered to anyone. Why start with her? He also had questions of his own. How would she fare if the tables were turned?
And add to it his conversation with his mother earlier that day … Fuel for the embers she had poked to combust into full-on flames?
“Why not?” he asked.
She blinked, then gave a hushed whisper. “Because it’s plain wrong.”
“Why?” He paused, debating whether to ask the question or not. In the end, he did—he wouldn’t get another opportunity like this to probe with this query and get a true answer. “Would it be so bad to expect my baby?”
“I … I don’t know, Michael. I don’t even know you.”
That’s taking the easy the way out, Jane.
But maybe he had scared her with the intensity in his previous words. Deliberately infus
ing a teasing undertone in his voice, he prodded further.
“What if it were the case? Just imagine if you were really expecting my child. Would it be so bad?”
He couldn’t let it drop. Sadly, she was now caught in the cross-hairs of his latest obsession.
She blinked, hard. Uncertainty shadowed her features, as if she were asking herself what he was getting at. That was a good question, though. What exactly was his point here? He couldn’t allow his mother’s words to rattle him so much. Nothing made him question his stand. Today was not the day he’d start to do so.
He’d also better let her off the hook. Jane owed him nothing in this particular discussion …
“I guess I better take you back to your office.” He pulled his hand back, thus bringing a close to their meeting.
He stood and waited for her to get up. She took a few seconds, as if to gather her bearings again, but didn’t pursue their previous line of conversation, nor did she object to him bringing their encounter to a close.
On the way out, they paused by the door to say good-bye to Tabitha. Exiting the restaurant, they waited on the red carpet under the scarlet awning that led to the front door.
When the valet brought his car, he helped her get in, held her elbow all the time. The least he could do, and frankly, what any man owed a pregnant woman. To keep her safe.
All through this time, the last words of their conversation kept replaying in his mind.
Get over it, mate, he told himself. Go back to your real life.
But what if she were expecting his child? Jane, or any other woman, for that matter. What would that be like?
Shaking his head, he slid behind the wheel, gunning the car into the London traffic again.
***
Connie Burton knew a good thing when she saw one. She had a flair for sniffing out scoops, and right now, she had the feeling she had stumbled upon something major.
Huddled in the seat of her beat-up Ford Fiesta on the outskirts of Tabitha’s Cove, she hadn’t missed the sight of Michael Rinaldi with an unknown woman going into the eatery.
So Nitro Mike, as his nickname went, had someone in his life. The man was known to be as explosive and unpredictable as nitro-glycerine in the world of corporate law. In his private life, rumours abounded as to how he didn’t have blood but liquid nitrogen flowing in his veins. And after a drought of many, many months, one of the most eligible bachelors in London appeared to be on the road to soon becoming a very taken man.
