‘We weren’t formally introduced at the time, but you’d just met my father in your mother’s hospital room and you were rather preoccupied with escorting him out. Does that jog your memory?’
Mark paused, hands on hips, and looked at her. So they had met before, but …?
The hospital. Her father. Those violet-grey eyes set in a heart-shaped face.
The same eyes that had stared up at him in horror and shock after he’d punched that slimy photographer.
‘Get out,’ he said, cold ice reeling in his stomach, fighting the fire in his blood. ‘I want you out of my house.’
‘Just give me a minute,’ she whispered in a hoarse, trembling voice. ‘What happened that day had nothing to do with me. My father is completely out of my life. Believe me, I am only here for one reason. To do my job. As a writer.’
‘Believe you? Why should I believe a single word you say? How do I know you’re not here spying for your paparazzi father? No.’ He shook his head, turning his back on her. ‘Whoever is paying you to come here to my home has made a very grave mistake. And if you ever come near me or my family again my lawyers will be called in. Not to mention the police. So you need to leave. Right now.’
‘Oh, I’ll go.’ She nodded. ‘But I have no intention of leaving until we’ve cleared up some of these facts you’re so fond of. Just for the record. Because I want to make something very, very clear,’ she hissed through clenched teeth as she crammed every piece of clothing she could find from the soaked luggage into her handbag and vanity case.
‘My parents were divorced when I was ten years old. I hadn’t seen my father, the famous Mario Collazo—’ she thumped the cape several times as she stuffed it farther down into the bag ‘—for eighteen years, until he turned up out of the blue at the clinic that morning. He’d begged my mother to give him a chance to make amends for his past mistakes and to rebuild some sort of relationship with me. And like a naive fool—’ her voice softened ‘—no, make that a lovely, caring and heartbroken naive fool, she took the time to talk to him and actually believed him.’
Lexi shook her head and sniffed.
‘She spent years sending me birthday and Christmas presents pretending that my dad still loved me. She mailed him photos and school reports every single year. And this year she’d also let him know that I was waiting for hospital treatment and asked him to come and see us when he was in London. And what did he do?’
Lexi threw her bag onto the patio floor in disgust and pressed a balled fist to each hip, well aware that she was being a drama queen but not caring a bit.
‘He abused her confidence. He took advantage of a caring woman who wanted her daughter to have a relationship with her father. And she never even suspected for one moment that he’d set me up in that particular clinic on that particular day because he already knew that Crystal Leighton was going to be there.’
She lifted her chin.
‘And I fell for his story just the same as she did. So if you want someone to blame for being gullible I’m right here, but I am not taking responsibility for what happened.’
Mark glared at her. Lexi glared back.
‘Finished yet?’ His voice was ice, clashing with the intense fire in his eyes. The same fire she had seen once before. It had terrified her then, but she wasn’t finished yet.
‘Nowhere close. My mum is a wonderful dress designer and wardrobe mistress. It took her years to rebuild her career after my dad left us with nothing. Her only crime—her fault—was being too trusting, too eager to believe he’d changed. There was no way she could have predicted he was using her. Oh, and for the record, neither of us got one penny of the money he got from selling those photos. So don’t you dare judge her. Because that is the truth—if you’re ready to accept it.’
‘And what about you?’ he asked, in a voice as cold as ice. ‘What’s your excuse for lying to me from the moment you arrived at the villa? You could have told me who you were right from the start. Why didn’t you? Or are you the one who’s unable to accept the truth?’
‘Why didn’t I? But I did tell you the truth. I stopped being Alexis Collazo when I was sixteen years old. Oh, yes. I changed my name on the first day that I legally could. I hated the fact that my father had left my mother and me for another woman and her daughter. I despised him then and I think even less of him now. As far as I’m concerned that man and his new family have nothing to do with my life, and even less to do with my future.’
‘That’s ridiculous,’ Mark sniped back at her, quick as a flash. ‘You can’t escape the fact that your family was involved.’
‘You’re right.’ She nodded. ‘I’ve had to live under the shadow of what my father did for the last five months. Even though I had nothing to do with it. That makes me so angry. And most of all I hate the fact that he abused my mother’s generous, trusting spirit and used me as an excuse to get into that hospital. If you want to go after someone, go after him.’
‘So you didn’t benefit at all?’
‘We got nothing—apart from the media circus when your lawyers turned up and hit us with a gagging order. Are you starting to get the picture? Good. So don’t presume to judge me or my family without getting your facts straight. Because we deserve better than that.’
Mark pushed both hands deep into his trouser pockets. ‘That’s for me to judge,’ he replied.
Lexi hoisted the suitcases upright, flung on her shoulder bag and glanced quickly around the patio before shuffling into her sandals.
‘I’m finished here. If you find anything I’ve left behind feel free to throw it into the pool if it makes you feel better. Don’t worry about the cases—I’ll see myself out. Standard social politeness not required.’
‘Anything to get you out of my house,’ Mark replied, grabbing a suitcase in each hand as if they weighed nothing. ‘Rest assured that if we should ever run into each other again, unlikely though that may be, I shall not try my best to be polite.’
‘Then we understand each other perfectly,’ replied Lexi. ‘As far as I’m concerned, the sooner I can be back in London, the better. Best of luck writing the biography—but here’s a tip.’
She hoisted her bag higher onto her shoulder and nudged her sunglasses farther up her nose.
‘Perfectly happy people with perfect families living perfect lives in perfect homes don’t make interesting reading. I had no idea you were my client when I came here today, but I was actually foolish enough to hope you’d be fair and listen to the truth. I even thought we might work together on this project. But it seems I was wrong about that. You won’t listen to the truth if it doesn’t suit you. Apparently you’re just as cold, unreasonable, stubborn and controlling as the tabloids claim. I feel sorry for you.’
And with that she grabbed the vanity bag and tottered across the patio. She was already down the steps before Mark could reply.
Mark stood frozen on the patio and watched the infuriating girl teeter her way across the crazy paving, the flimsy silk dress barely covering her bottom. How dared she accuse him of being cold and stubborn? That was his father’s speciality, not his. It just showed how wrong she was. How could she expect him to believe her story and put aside what he had seen with his own eyes? Mario Collazo being comforted by his daughter on the floor after Mark had knocked him down. Those were the facts.
He had recognised who she was the second she’d taken off her sunglasses. How could he forget the girl with the palest of grey eyes, filled with tears, looking up at him with such terror?
He had frightened her that morning, and in a way he regretted that. He wanted no part of his father’s arrogant, bullying tactics. But at that moment he had allowed anger and rage to overwhelm him. Justifiably. It had still shocked him that he was capable of uncontrolled physical violence. He’d worked long and hard to make himself a different man from his father and his brother.
Edmund wouldn’t have wasted a moment’s thought before knocking any photographer to the floor and boasting about it la
ter.
But he was not his older brother, the golden boy, his parents’ pride and joy, who had died falling from a polo pony when he was twenty-five.
And he didn’t want to be. Never had.
Mark wrapped his fingers around the handles of the wet luggage, his chest heaving, and watched the small figure in the ridiculous outfit struggle with the door handle on the car before lowering herself onto the seat with an audible wince as her bottom connected with the hot plastic. Seconds later her legs swung inside and the door closed.
So what if she was telling the truth? What if she had been used by her father that day, and was just as innocent a victim as his mother had been? What if her turning up at the villa really was a total coincidence?
Then fate had just kicked them both in the teeth. And he had handed that monster an extra set of boots.
But what alternative did he have? He knew what the response would be if his father or even his sister found out that he’d been sharing precious family memories and private records with the daughter of the stalker who’d destroyed his mother’s last day alive. It would be far better to forget about this fearless girl with the grey eyes and creamy skin who’d challenged him from the moment she arrived. A girl whose only crime was having the misfortune to be the daughter of a slimeball like Mario Collazo. And she had defended her mother from an attack on her reputation. In anybody else that loyalty was something he would admire.
Oh, hell!
He’d spent the last seven years of his life trying to prove that he could take his brother’s place, and then his father’s as head of Belmont Investments. He took risks for a living and he liked it. And now this girl turned up out of the blue and accused him of being cold and unreasonable and unwilling to listen to the truth because it didn’t agree with his pre-established version of the facts.
Mark dropped both suitcases on the patio. Perfect families living perfect lives. Was that what she really thought the Belmont family was like? Perfect?
Hardly.
He looked up. The hire car hadn’t moved an inch. How did she do it? How did she make him feel so angry and unsettled?
And about to make a potentially very dangerous decision.
Lexi collapsed back against the driver’s seat and was about to throw her luggage onto the passenger seat when something moved inside the car. She froze, and for one fraction of a millisecond considered screaming and running back to Mark as fast as her legs could carry her.
But that would make her wimp of the week.
Hardly daring to investigate further, Lexi slowly looked sideways and blinked through her blurred vision in disbelief at the two white faces with pink ears staring back at her.
One of the kittens yawned widely, displaying the cutest little pink tongue, stretching his body out into a long curve before closing his eyes and settling down to more sleep on the sun-warmed passenger seat. The other ball of white fluff washed his face with his paw, then curled back into a matching position.
A low chuckle started deep inside her chest and rambled around for a few seconds before emerging as slightly manic strangled laughter, which soon evolved into full-blown sobbing.
Lexi closed her eyes, slumped back against the headrest and gave in to the moment. She could feel the tears running down her cheeks as the deep sobs ripped through her body, making her gasp for air. This was not fair. This was totally not fair.
Swallowing down her tears through a painful throat, Lexi slowly cracked open her eyes and took a firm hold of the steering wheel with both hands, curling her fingers tightly around the hot plastic as if it was a lifeline to reality.
It took a moment to realise that with all the sniffing she had not heard the gentle crunch of Mark’s footsteps on the gravel driveway.
She stared straight ahead at the olive and lemon trees as he slowly strolled over to the side of the car, then leant his long tanned forearms on the open driver’s window and peered inside without saying a word.
They stayed like that for a few seconds, until the silence got too much for Lexi.
‘There are cats. In my car. I wasn’t expecting cats in my car.’ She sniffed, and then flicked down the sun visor and peered at herself in the vanity mirror.
‘And look at this.’ She released the steering wheel and pointed at her eyes. ‘It took me an hour to put this make-up on at the airport. And now it’s totally wrecked. Just like the rest of me.’
She slapped her hands down twice on the dashboard, startling the cats, who sat up and yawned at her in complaint. ‘Now do you understand why I never mention my dad when I’m working? Just the mention of his name makes me all …’ She waved her arms towards the windscreen and waggled her fingers about for a few seconds before dropping them into her lap.
‘I noticed,’ he murmured, in a calm voice tinged with just enough attention to imply that he was trying to be nice but struggling. ‘And, by the way, allow me to introduce Snowy One and Snowy Two. They live here. And they tend to snuggle on warm car cushions, towels, bedding, anywhere soft and comfy. You might want to think about that when you’re working outside.’
Her head slowly turned towards him so that their faces were only inches apart. And his eyes really were sky blue.
‘Working?’ she squeaked. ‘Here?’
He nodded.
‘I don’t understand. A minute ago you couldn’t wait to see the back of me.’
‘I changed my mind.’
‘Just like that?’
He nodded again.
‘Have you considered the possibility that I might not want to work with you? Our last conversation was a little fraught. And I don’t like being called a liar.’
‘I thought about what you said.’ His upper lip twitched to one side. ‘And I came to the conclusion that you might have a point.’
‘Oh. In that case I’m surprised it took you so long.’
Mark stared back at her with those wonderful blue eyes, and for the first time she noticed that he had the kind of positively indecent long dark eyelashes of which any mascara model would be envious.
They were so close that she could see the way the small muscles in his cheeks and jaw flexed with the suppressed tension that held his shoulders so tight, like a coiled spring.
Mark Belmont was a powder keg ready to blow, and like a fool her gentle heart actually dared to feel sorry for him. Until she remembered that he had been doing all the judging and, until now, she had been doing all the explaining.
‘I’m never going to apologise, you know,’ she whispered. ‘Can you get past that?’
‘Strange,’ he replied, and the crease in his brow deepened. ‘I was just about to say just the same thing. Can you get past that?’
‘I don’t know,’ she replied, and took a breath before chewing on her lower lip.
Time to make her mind up. Stay and do the work or cut her losses and go. Right now.
She felt Mark’s eyes scan her face, as though he were looking for some secret passage into her thoughts.
Her fingers tapped on the dashboard, but his gaze never left her face, and she could hear his breathing grow faster and faster. He was nervous, but did not want to show it. And she needed this job so badly.
‘Okay,’ she whispered, her eyes locked on his. ‘I am going to give you another chance.’
He exhaled low and slow, and Lexi could feel his breath on her neck as the creases at the corners of his eyes warmed, distracting her for a second with the sweet heat of it. Time to get control, girl!
‘Here’s what’s going to happen,’ she continued, before Mark had a chance to answer. ‘First I’m going to drag what’s left of my luggage back inside your lovely villa and find a nice bedroom to sleep in. With a sea view. And then we’re going to write your mother’s biography to celebrate her life. And when we’re finished, and it’s totally and absolutely awesome and amazing, and you’re standing at the book launch with your family all around you, then you’re going to say that you couldn’t possibly have created this best-seller wi
thout the help of Lexi Sloane. And that will be the end of it. No more recriminations and no more blame. Just a simple thank-you. And then we get on with our respective lives. Do you think you can do that, Mr Belmont?’
‘Miss Sloane …’
‘Yes?’ she muttered, wondering what conditions and arguments he was going to wrap around her proposal.
‘My cat has just peed on your shoe.’
She looked down just as Snowy One shook his left leg and then clawed his way back onto the car seat without the slightest whiff of contrition.
‘Can I take that as a yes?’ she huffed.
‘Absolutely.’
CHAPTER FOUR
MARK woke just as the morning sunlight hit that one perfect angle where it was able to slant around the edge of the blackout blind and shine a laser beam straight onto his pillow.
He groaned and blinked several times, turning to glance at the wristwatch he wore 24/7. It was set to tell the time in each of the main financial markets as well as local time on Paxos. And at that moment they were all screaming the same thing. He had slept for a grand total of four hours since forcing himself into bed at dawn.
By 9:00 a.m. on a normal weekday Mark would already have showered, dressed, had breakfast and coffee and been at his desk for three hours. Insomnia had been his faithful companion for years—he’d hoped that being back on Paxos would help him to catch up on his sleep.
Wrong again.
Pushing himself up on the bed, which was a total wreck, Mark reached across to his bedside table for his glasses and tablet computer and quickly checked through the emails his PA had filtered for him. London was an hour behind Paxos, but the financial markets waited for no man and his team started early and worked late. They earned the huge salaries he paid them to make Belmont Investments one of the most respected London financial houses.
Ten minutes later he’d sent replies to emails that needed his personal attention and forwarded others to the heads of department to action.
Then he turned to the real nightmare. The restructuring plans which would secure the long-term stability and profitability of the company. It was going to be tough convincing his father that these difficult measures needed to be taken, and they had already been delayed for months following his mother’s death and his father’s illness.
My Greek Island Fling Page 5
