Читать книгу New Arrivals: One Secret Child: Mistress, Mother...Wife? / Wealthy Australian, Secret Son / Her Prince's Secret Son - Margaret Way - Страница 10

STUDYING the sunlit view of the Thames from his Westminster apartment window, Dante suddenly moved impatiently away, jettisoning his mobile onto the bed. He’d just flown back from a business trip to New York, was feeling fuzzy-headed and tired, and yet the conversation he’d just had with a business friend of his had definitely acted like a triple dose of strong black coffee injected straight into his bloodstream.

The Mirabelle Hotel… It was a name he’d never forgotten. Even after five years. The family who owned it were apparently in dire straits financially, and had been forced to consider a buyout from the commercial hotel chain that his friend Eddie was on the board of. The place was situated in a prime location in central London, and as far as Eddie was concerned it should have been a done deal. But he’d just heard that the owners had quite unbelievably rejected the offer. They had some old-fashioned notion that the business had to stay in the family, come what may.

Eddie had verbalised his astonishment at the number of people who let their hearts rule their head in business. ‘Will they ever learn? How about it, Dante?’ he’d asked. ‘Fancy giving it a shot? I don’t doubt the place is a potential goldmine.’

He had ended the call after agreeing to meet with his friend for a drink later, but Eddie’s parting remark had set Dante’s mind racing. That incredible night he’d stayed at that particular hotel had changed his life. A veritable angel had motivated him to want to do some good in the world instead of just simply taking what he believed his hard work entitled him to. Not only had his aims become less ruthless and driven, but he had discovered a much more exciting avenue, and a way of doing business that far exceeded what he had achieved before in terms of personal satisfaction. It would definitely have had his mother cheering him from the sidelines if she’d lived to see the changes he’d made.

Although he was on the board of several blue chip companies, and still in mergers and acquisitions, Dante had sold off most of his businesses and now specialised in helping family-run concerns make their businesses more viable. He’d also reverted to his mother’s surname, instead of the British one he’d adopted when he’d first started out in business here. Once again he was Dante Romano, and he had to admit it felt good to be much more authentic. Friends like Eddie still called him Dan, but that was okay. It was a fair enough shortening of Dante.

The Mirabelle Hotel…

Dante flopped down onto the king-sized bed with its opulent aubergine counterpane and picked up his phone. What had happened to the titian-haired beauty he’d spent the night with? Anna Bailey. The memory of her slid into his mind like the diaphanous caress of sensuous silk. Closing his eyes, he could almost taste her. He could even recall her perfume…something musky, with hints of orange and patchouli in it. It had been in her long flowing hair, and there had been traces on her milk-and-honey skin too.

His reflection deepening, Dante arrestingly recalled the sumptuously erotic, quivering pink mouth that he’d ached to plunder from almost the first moment he’d encountered it. The experience had been an utter revelation…as though it couldn’t have been more right or perfect. For an endless-seeming moment he’d been dizzy with longing for her—his lovely lady of the night, who’d reached out to rescue him when all he could see ahead was blinding darkness.

His eyelids snapped open. Of all the businesses he could hear about that were in trouble…why the Mirabelle? One thing was certain—he couldn’t let such an uncanny opportunity pass him by without at least checking it out…

She’d had another sleepless night. Duvet and pillow flung in frustration on the floor during the night. Her bed had become a taunting enemy instead of the safe, comforting haven she craved. And when she’d finally got up, Anna had uncharacteristically snapped at Tia as well.

As soon as she’d seen the child’s luminous blue-grey eyes sparkle with tears across from her at the breakfast table, she’d immediately wanted to kick herself. Drawing the little girl urgently onto her lap, she’d kissed and hugged her and told her about a hundred times how sorry she was. Mummy didn’t mean to shout. She was just a little bit stressed, she’d explained.

‘What does distressed mean? ‘ Tia had questioned, absently, playing with a long curling tendril of Anna’s unbound auburn hair.

Perhaps her daughter had unwittingly stumbled upon the truth of what she was feeling? She was distressed.

‘I’ll explain when you come home from school, darling,’ she’d hedged, praying the child would forget to ask. It wasn’t something a four-year-old should be remotely acquainted with, to Anna’s mind. Childhood should be joyful and carefree… even if her own had been a million miles away from such an idyll.

The Cathcarts had told Anna that they’d turned down the offer of a buyout from the big hotel chain. So when she’d entered the office the following morning to discover that her employers were considering a fresh offer—this one from an independent source who had been told about them by one of the delegation from the hotel chain—her insides had mimicked the nail-biting ascent and descent of a frantic rollercoaster ride for the second time. Once more the possibility of losing her job and home loomed worryingly large.

‘Your parents said that an interested investor wants to help them improve profitability and modernise. Can you explain exactly what this means?’ Anna had asked concernedly as she left the owners’ office to walk with Jason to his.

‘Don’t look so worried, Anna. It’s good news. Major investment is just what the Mirabelle needs. What we’re hoping is that this guy will be interested enough to invest a large chunk of his own money in the business to help turn it around. He’ll be the majority shareholder, but he won’t own it outright. I’ve been checking out his record and it’s quite impressive, to put it mildly. His interests are truly international, but his main concern is helping family-run businesses become more profitable. If we accept an offer from him to invest, it means that we stay running the hotel under his guidance and expertise. We’ll have the chance to really take things to another level…even in the recession.’

Jason opened the door for Anna to precede him as they took their coffee into his cramped, cluttered office. Pushing some papers aside on a desk that scarcely had a corner free of paper debris, he left his mug of coffee on a stained cork coaster. An air of bubbling excitement underlaid his usually level tone.

‘When he goes into a business with a view to helping it perform better,’ he continued, ‘he takes a good hard look at how it’s being run and then advises on the changes that will make it more efficient and profitable. He particularly specialises in helping to resolve any conflicts that might be preventing people from working successfully together.’

Anna’s brow creased. ‘There aren’t any conflicts amongst us, though, are there? Unless you mean Luigi’s tendency to lord it over the others in the kitchen… They do get a bit fed up with him from time to time, but aren’t all head chefs a bit like that? Egotistic and dramatic, I mean.’

‘Generally I think that we all get on great. But that doesn’t mean there isn’t room for improvement.’ As he paced the floor, it appeared as if Jason’s enthusiasm was hard to contain. ‘Unaired resentments can fester… we all know that. And this guy is a real people person. We thoroughly checked him out before inviting him over for a meeting. Apparently one of the first things he does is to interview everyone to discover how they feel about their job. He passionately believes that their attitude contributes to how well they work, and he has a unique reputation for getting staff and management to work more successfully together. The best thing of all is that the family get to stay doing what they love. We don’t have to just sell up and go. Who knows? If the hotel starts to make a real profit, we might eventually be able to buy it back completely. The staff will remain too of course. It means you won’t have to search for another job, Anna, isn’t that great? Having someone like this Dante Romano guy invest his money in the hotel and take a look at how we can improve things could be the best opportunity we’ve had in ages!’

‘And what’s the pay-off for this man? I mean…what’s in it for him besides making a profit? I doubt that he’s going to do all this out of the goodness of his heart.’

She couldn’t help it, but Anna wasn’t entirely convinced. It all sounded too good to be true. Perhaps her nature wasn’t as trusting as it could be, but then bruising experience had taught her to be alert to the glossily wrapped Christmas present that contained nothing but an empty shoebox.

The earnest dark-haired young man before her in the charcoal-grey suit that was showing signs of fraying at the edges of its cuffs abruptly stopped pacing.

‘Of course there’s a pay-off for him, Anna. He’s a businessman! But his interest in helping us sounds perfectly genuine. I know you’re only being protective of Mum and Dad but they’re experienced hoteliers, don’t forget. They won’t agree to anything that remotely smacks of a scam or a rip-off. Yes, this guy might become the main shareholder—but he won’t be running the business. we will. Plus, his policy is to take a longer-term view of situations, so he won’t be in a hurry to just look at what he can get out of the business and then head for the hills.’

‘You sound as though you believe this is the answer to all your family’s prayers, Jason.’

It did indeed seem the ideal solution in terms of enabling them all to stay put, but Anna would rather hunt for another job and flat elsewhere if it meant that Grant and Anita wouldn’t be out of pocket and the couple would have the means to start a good life again somewhere else. What if it really was in their best interests for them to sell the Mirabelle to a big commercial hotel giant?

‘Nothing’s been decided yet, Anna.’ Compounding her guilt at being sceptical, Jason sounded subdued. ‘But Romano is coming for lunch, and after he’s eaten we’ll have a proper meeting to thrash things out. Hopefully we’ll be able to report back on what’s been decided later on that afternoon. Would you mind going to talk to Luigi, to make sure he’s got everything he needs to impress our visitor with his menu?’

‘Of course.’

Carrying what remained of her half-drunk coffee to the door, Anna flashed him a smile to make up for her less than enthusiastic response earlier, but her stomach still churned at the prospect of the unknown changes that lay ahead for them all. She paused to glance back at the Cathcarts’ preoccupied son, guessing that he probably saw the chance of working with this Romano chap as something that would enhance his reputation and ability—assets that were sometimes overshadowed by his much more confident and experienced father.

‘I just want you to know that I’ll do everything I can to help you and your parents, Jason. I love this hotel too, and I know it’s been a very worrying time for all of you.’

‘Thanks, Anna…I’ve always known I can count on you.’

The memories crashed in on Dante the instant he walked through the glass-panelled entrance into the cosily old-fashioned lobby, with its chintz armchairs and worn brown chesterfields.

After that incredible night with Anna he’d left the hotel in the early hours of the morning to jump in a cab and catch a flight to New York. His mother’s death had plunged him into a tunnel of despair for a frighteningly long time. It had taken a good year or more for him to be able to function anywhere near normal again because, disturbingly, his work and everything he’d achieved had become utterly meaningless. Life had only started to improve when the warm memory of Anna’s tenderness and his mother’s unfailing belief that he was a much better man than the world suspected broke through the walls of his grief and his self-imposed isolation and helped him start to entertain the possibility of a very different, much more fulfilling future.

That was when Dante had decided to change his driven, selfish approach to something far more wholesome.

The Cathcarts were a delightful couple, with admirably solid values when it came to business and family. But Dante, although charmed by their unstinting hospitality and the superlative lunch, sensed that some of those solid values were a bit too entrenched in the past and needed to be brought up to date.

At lunch, his cool gaze assessed as much as it could as they talked, including the worn velvet hangings at the stately Georgian dining room windows, the tarnished silver cutlery and the slightly old-fashioned uniforms of the waiting staff. Afterwards he was invited to the Cathcarts’ office to discuss the nuts and bolts of an investment.

As the fragrant, elegant Anita Cathcart poured him some coffee—at Dante’s nod adding cream and sugar—he sat back in the comfortable leather chair, loosened his silk tie a little and relaxed. The hotel was in an absolutely prime location and could—as Eddie had foreseen—potentially be a goldmine. Because of lack of funds and the large debt they had accrued with the bank, it was clear the Cathcarts weren’t able to make the best of their incredible asset, and that was where Dante came in.

‘We’ll get started soon, Mr Romano. We’re just waiting for our assistant manager to join us. She’s more like family than an employee, and we’d like her to be in on what we decide. She’ll be along any minute now.’

Jason, the Cathcarts’ slightly built son and manager, smiled diffidently at Dante as he sat down opposite him at the meeting table. He was clutching a pen and a spiral notebook and his hand shook a little. What was the story with him? Dante wondered. Was the manager’s role too big an ask for him, or was it just that he struggled to assert himself under his parents’ guardianship of the hotel?

‘Was she informed about the meeting?’

‘Yes…of course. It’s just that she—’

‘Then she should be here on time, like everyone else.’

His chastising glance encompassed them all, but Dante nonetheless tempered it with a trace of a smile. He heard the door behind him open and turned expectantly. A woman with hair the same hue as a bright russet apple stepped inside, bringing with her the faint but stirring scent of oranges and patchouli.

His thoughts careened to an abrupt halt…like a driver applying the emergency brake before hitting a wall. He stared in shock. Anna…dear God, she still worked here?

‘I’m so sorry I’m late,’ she breathed, porcelain skin flushing. ‘I was—’

The startled leap in her sherry-brown eyes told Dante she recognised him. His heart—which had all but stalled—pumped a little harder as he realised he’d been genuinely afraid she might have forgotten him. What a blow that would have been to his pride, when out of all the women he’d seen over the years she was the one that haunted him…

‘Mr Romano,’ Grant Cathcart was saying, ‘I’d like to introduce you to our stalwart assistant manager…Anna Bailey.’

Rising automatically to his feet, Dante extended his hand, praying hard that his voice wouldn’t desert him. Anna’s palm was fragile and slightly chilled as it slid into his. Their gazes locked as though magnetized, and though he sensed her tremble, inside he believed that he trembled more.

‘Miss Bailey…I’m very pleased to meet you,’ he heard himself announce.

‘The feeling is mutual, Mr—Mr Romano,’ she replied politely.

Her warm velvet voice bathed his senses in liquid honey. Arresting memories of their unforgettable night together came pouring back in a disturbing heated rush. Realising that his hand still covered hers, Dante reluctantly withdrew it.

‘Why don’t you come and sit down, Anna love? ‘ Anita invited. ‘There’s plenty of coffee in the pot if you’d like some.’

‘I’m fine, thanks,’ Anna murmured distractedly.

As Dante watched her, she moved like a sleepwalker to a seat at the opposite side of the table, next to Jason, and he didn’t miss the spark of warmth in the other man’s dark eyes as he silently acknowledged her. Was something going on there? A hot flash of jealousy hit Dante a glancing blow as he resumed his seat.

‘Well, if everybody’s ready, we’ll make a start, shall we? ‘ With a respectful glance in their visitor’s direction, Grant Cathcart organised his notes and prepared to address the meeting.

Dante Romano. No wonder she’d never been able to find him! What had instigated the name-change? she wondered. Underneath, was he still as ruthless and cutthroat as it had said in the newspaper reports she’d read when she’d been searching for him? But what did it matter when it had already been decided by the Cathcarts that he was going to be their saviour?

As well as investing a substantial amount of money in the Mirabelle, Dante Romano was taking the hotel, its owners and its staff firmly under his wing. Being satisfied that Anita and Grant were completely happy with the arrangement was one thing. Only time would tell if Anna would be equally happy. There was a very big—in fact a huge hurdle she had to cross before then.

Shaking her head, she emitted a small groan as she added chopped up red and green peppers to the stir-fry she was busy cooking for herself and Tia.

She’d half believed she was hallucinating when she’d walked into the office to find Dan, or Dante as he called himself now, sitting there. And she’d had such a jolt when his incredible winter-coloured eyes had bored into hers. In those electrifying few seconds the world could have ended, and she hadn’t been able to drag her hypnotised gaze away.

Five years ago she’d never even asked him his full name. When he’d asked her to stay with him for the night but not to expect anything more she’d agreed—and she’d promised herself she wouldn’t speculate on where he would go or what he would do when he left her, even if it ultimately meant he was going from her arms to someone else’s.

Consoling herself that she’d helped comfort him in his hour of need, and that no matter how emotionally painful it was it would have to be enough, Anna had never intended to try and track him down afterwards. But when she’d found herself pregnant with his child she’d reasoned that she owed it to him to let him know. However, discovering that the suite’s occupant Dan Masterson was a veritable ‘shark’ in the world of international business, who didn’t care who he brought down in his empire-building quest, had definitely given her pause. He might have been tender with Anna that night they’d spent together, and he might have been troubled, but could she knowingly risk inflicting such a driven ruthless man on her child?

She’d decided no, she couldn’t. Besides, she’d definitely received the impression from her one-night lover that he wasn’t interested in a relationship, so why would he be interested in the fact that he’d left his one-time-only lover pregnant? she’d reasoned.

Leading up to that night five years ago she’d been working so hard, what with all the different jobs she did at the hotel—sometimes even working double shifts back to back—and because she’d been extremely tired, she’d absent-mindedly forgotten to take one of her daily contraceptive pills. It had only dawned on Anna to check when early-morning nausea had become a worrying recurrence.

Some months after Tia had been born she’d revised her decision not to get in touch with Dan and decided to try once more to locate him. It had been as though he had vanished. The only information about him she’d been able to glean was stuff from the past. There had been nothing to indicate what he was doing nearly eighteen months after they’d met.

From the living room came the delighted chuckle of her small daughter as she knocked down the building blocks she’d had as a toddler that she’d been happily shaping into a wobbling tower for the past ten minutes or so. A wave of sadness and terror deluged her mother all at once. What would Dan—or Dante, as she should call him now—think when he found out that their passionate night together all those years ago had made him a father? How poignant that he hadn’t had the privilege of knowing his own delightful daughter. Anna had no doubt that it would have enhanced his life in a myriad different ways. But what could she have done when it had seemed as though he didn’t exist any more?

With genuine regret she squeezed her eyes shut, then quickly opened them again. Her terror came from the fact that she knew he was a very rich and influential man indeed—rich enough to invest in a major share of the hotel that was the means of her employment and her place to live. How would it reflect on Anna if Dante’s was the controlling share? What if he decided she wasn’t up to her job—or, worse still, that he wanted to try and take Tia away from her? A man as wealthy as him must have access to all kinds of power…particularly legal power.

Abruptly switching off the burner beneath the wooden-handled wok, Anna wrapped her arms protectively round her middle as she crossed the tiled kitchen floor to examine the collage of baby and toddler photographs of Tia that were framed on the wall there. Behind her, the suddenly ringing telephone made her jump.

‘Hello?’

‘Anna? It’s me—Dante. I’m still in the hotel. You rushed off rather quickly after the meeting and I think we need to talk. I believe you have a flat downstairs—can I come down and see you?’