Читать книгу Too Tough To Tame - Annette Broadrick - Страница 10

T he phone was answered on the first ring.

“Chakaris.”

Kelly blinked in surprise. The man answered his own phone? She shrugged and said, “This is Kelly MacLeod, returning your call.” She couldn’t help adding, “Can’t you afford to pay for someone to answer your phone?”

There was a pause. She could swear she heard a noise that sounded like a chuckle, which she found odd. He didn’t strike her as a man with much of a sense of humor.

“Ah, yes. Ms. MacLeod. Thank you for getting back with me so promptly. The number I left on your machine is my private number. I thought it would save time.”

“Save time for what? I take it you wish to discuss the painting?”

“Among other things,” he said smoothly. “Would you consider having dinner with me one evening this week?”

He must be kidding. “I don’t see why, Mr. Chakaris. If you’re interested in buying the painting, I’m sorry. It’s not for sale.”

“Now, that’s interesting,” he replied. “Although I have no interest in buying it, there are a few things I’d like to discuss with you. If dinner isn’t convenient, perhaps we could meet for lunch.”

She frowned. Why was he insisting on meeting with her? She was curious—very curious. Well, why not. She’d show him she wasn’t afraid of him. “When?”

As though there had never been a doubt that she would meet with him, he said smoothly, “Tomorrow, perhaps?”

She did a mental check for possible scheduling conflicts before she replied. “All right.”

“Good. I’ll send my car for you at twelve-thirty.”

“But—” she began, only to hear a dial tone.

She put the phone down and stood there, thinking she probably should have refused.

Don’t kid yourself. You’ve wanted to meet him…it’s probably one of the reasons you allowed yourself to be talked into putting the painting on display.

Now there was a bit of nonsense if she’d ever heard one. Kelly checked her watch. She was being ridiculous and had better things to do than analyze her feelings where Dominic Chakaris was concerned.

She would meet him, hear what he had to say and afterward would put him and her painting of him in the past where they belonged.

With a quick shrug, she went upstairs to her mother’s bedroom to begin sorting through the last of her mother’s possessions.

The next morning Kelly forced herself out of bed, convinced she hadn’t slept the night before. She remembered waking up and looking at the clock several times and having trouble going back to sleep.

Part of it was due to her sorting through her mother’s things. As much as she had prepared herself, she’d been unnerved by how many memories of her mother had surged back in the course of the afternoon. The slight scent of her mother’s favorite perfume lingered in the closet, causing Kelly to feel that her mother was actually there with her.

She’d come across familiar pieces of clothing and had been reminded of the shopping trips she and her mother had shared.

Kelly had found photographs taken of her from the time she was born, all carefully labeled, dated and placed in a leather-bound album.

Her parents looked so happy together, so proud of her, that she could not stop the tears that trickled down her cheeks.

Handling her mother’s things reminded Kelly of her loss. Within a four-year period she’d lost both parents. She had watched her mother grieve for her husband, never fully recovering from the loss.

Kelly had developed a hatred for the mammoth corporation that had destroyed her father’s health and eventually caused the loss of her mother. Until a few months ago, the greedy corporation and the people behind it had been faceless. Then she had discovered that Dominic Chakaris was the person behind the scenes, playing puppet master with people’s lives.

She should have known news of the portrait would eventually reach him.

While she was in the shower, Kelly thought about possible reasons he wanted to meet her. From everything she had learned about the man, she was sure he would take the opportunity to lambaste her for her audacity. He might try to intimidate her into removing the portrait from the show. She decided to launch a preemptive strike.

As soon as she was dressed, she called the gallery. When the manager answered, she said, “Andre, this is Kelly MacLeod.”

“Ah, Kelly. I’m glad you called. We’ve sold two of your paintings since I last spoke with you. We could have sold more if there weren’t so many on loan from your clients.” He told her which ones and the amount he’d received for them.

“I believe it’s time to close my show, don’t you?”

“You’ve done so well, I thought you would want to continue to display your talent in order to gain new clients.”

“That’s very sweet, Andre, but the truth is, I have a waiting list of women who want their portraits done. Some have managed to get their husbands to agree to a family portrait. If I took no other commissions I’d still be busy for the next couple of years.”

He sighed. “Then of course I’ll do as you wish. I’ve enjoyed working with you once again. I hope we can do another show for you when you’re ready.”

“Of course. I wouldn’t have been able to make it this far without your support. The commissions from my first showing after Dad died were a godsend.”

She made arrangements to have the paintings delivered to her the following week and hung up, figuratively brushing her hands for having taken that step.

Later, she heard the doorbell and realized that she’d spent the entire morning in her mother’s bedroom without paying attention to the time. She glanced down at her casual clothes and shrugged. She wasn’t out to impress the man. If he was offended, too bad.

Nick paced back and forth in front of his desk, checking his watch every few minutes. Ms. MacLeod should be arriving soon and he needed to decide how he would deal with her.

“You’re pacing like an expectant father or a nervous bridegroom,” Craig said, walking into the office. “Here are the reports you requested, by the way.” He placed a bundle of bound papers on the desk. “Maybe they’ll help to occupy your mind.”

Nick stared at Craig in disgust. “Has anyone ever told you that you have an overactive imagination? What makes you think this has anything to do with her? We have several large acquisitions hanging fire at the moment.” He nodded toward the papers. “You should know that as well as I.”

Craig folded his arms. “Uh-huh. I’ve known you for years, Nick. You treat the buying and selling done by this company as casually as if you were playing with Monopoly money. The only topic on which I’ve seen you this nervous is Kelly MacLeod.”

Nick walked behind his desk and sat down. “Right,” he said rolling his eyes. “Let’s see what we have here,” he added, pulling the papers toward him.

The chauffeur, who introduced himself as Ben Jackson, was professionally polite as he escorted her to the limousine parked in front of her home. After opening the back door, he helped her inside.

Kelly looked around the spacious interior. The back area was almost as large as some rooms she’d seen. She settled back into the luxurious leather and wondered which restaurant Mr. Chakaris had chosen for this meeting. She wouldn’t be surprised if he owned a few.

When the limo stopped some time later Kelly was surprised to see that they were in front of one of the towering office buildings in the business district. She didn’t recognize the name on the building. Perhaps it had a restaurant of which she hadn’t heard.

The driver came around and opened her door, offering his hand. Once she stepped out of the limo, he escorted her to the doorman and said, “Ms. MacLeod is here to see Mr. Chakaris.”

“Of course,” the man replied, his uniform giving him an added measure of dignity. Once inside the cavernous lobby, the doorman handed her off to a man who stood by one of the banks of elevators.

“Ms. MacLeod?” he said with a charming smile. He held out his hand, “I’m Craig Bonner. I’m employed by DCA Industries, Dominic Chakaris’s company. It’s a pleasure to meet you. I’ve been impressed with your work for some time.” She took his hand and shook it, noticing his firm grip. So Chakaris owned the building. That was the logo she’d seen outside. Why wasn’t she surprised?

Craig motioned for her to step into one of the elevators. Kelly had no reason to dislike Mr. Bonner just because he worked for Chakaris and she smiled as she thanked him.

Once the door closed, he pushed one of the buttons before he stepped back to stand beside her.

She looked around. The elevator was spacious and well lit. She wondered if there was a private club in the building. The reclusive Mr. Chakaris would probably prefer a bit of privacy when he dined out, which she would prefer as well. The last thing she needed was to find a comment in tomorrow’s gossip columns about having been seen with him.

The doors slid open and her escort ushered her into a large marble foyer. On its walls were three paintings that deserved to be in a museum. In addition, there were several marble busts displayed on Greek columns artistically placed around the area. An ornate flower arrangement in the center of a gleaming table decorated one end of the room. A receptionist sat behind a massive desk at the other end.

Quite an impressive office, she thought. No doubt built with money he’d made cheating rightful owners out of their businesses. Before she could speak she heard a quiet click in the wall opposite the elevator. She turned, and saw tall double doors opening.

“Ms. MacLeod, I’m glad you could meet with me.” The man she had spent several weeks painting walked through the doors. He wasn’t smiling. She didn’t think she’d ever seen that particular phenomenon now that she thought about it.

She would admit, if only to herself, that if this man were anyone other than the man behind the loss of her family, she would have been drawn to him.

He advanced toward her and held out his hand. “Dominic Chakaris.”

She reluctantly accepted the hand he offered. As soon as his fingers touched hers she knew she’d made a mistake. The physical contact made her aware of him in a very unsettling way.

She pulled her hand from his. The polite response was to thank him for inviting her but she could not look him in the eye and lie. Instead, she nodded and said, “Mr. Chakaris.”

Chakaris glanced around and saw his assistant. “Thanks, Craig,” he said as though surprised to find the man still there.

“I’m glad to be of service,” Craig replied. He sounded amused, as though at some private joke. Was she missing something here?

Chakaris made a slight—and she was certain mocking—bow toward her and said, “We’ll be eating in my private dining room. I thought you might be more comfortable here than in a public restaurant.”

As much as she hadn’t wanted to be seen with the man, she found the idea of having a private meal with him far from comfortable. She fought not to sound ungracious when she replied. “Whatever’s convenient for you.”

He motioned toward the open door and she stepped briskly forward, not wishing to have him touch her again.

His corner office overlooked Manhattan and she had to admit the view was spectacular. Two walls were mostly glass. Fine-grained wood covered the other two walls. The same type of wood had been used for his desk. Her artist’s eye couldn’t help but admire the craftsmanship.

While she took in the size and luxury of the room, Dominic walked over to another door and motioned her to enter.

The dining area was smaller than his office but equally well furnished. A table set for two awaited them. Expensive china, crystal water goblets and sterling silverware gleamed in the light.

“I’ve ordered our meal ahead of time. I hope you’ll approve of my choice.” He pulled out one of the chairs for her and once she was seated, sat across from her. “Would you care for wine with lunch?” he asked.

She shook her head. “I prefer iced tea, if it’s available.”

“Certainly.” He must have pushed some hidden button because a tall, slender man opened a nearby door.

“Yes, sir?”

“You may serve us now, Dimitrios. We’ll have iced tea.”

The man nodded and left the room, leaving them alone once again. Kelly had been in many social situations in her life, but she couldn’t remember one where she’d felt so awkward.

Dominic picked up his water glass and held it out to her. “I’d like to make a toast. May this be the beginning of a beautiful friendship.”

Kelly had reached for her glass—not so much to join him in his toast, but because her mouth was so dry—when he spoke. Thank goodness she hadn’t taken a sip. Otherwise, his audacity would have caused her to spray water over everything.

She lifted an eyebrow and said, “A friendship, Mr. Chakaris? I hardly think so. I’m afraid I don’t know your reason for insisting on having this meeting. I’ve instructed the gallery to remove your portrait, which was the only thing I could think of to explain it.”

He paused with the glass halfway to his mouth. “I’m hoping you can satisfy my curiosity as to why I became a subject for your artistic endeavors.” He sipped from the glass, his gaze steady.

“Consider it an aberration. I’d lost my mother and was dealing with a lot of emotional stuff. Call it therapy if you will.”

Chakaris looked startled by her explanation. Before he could comment, Dimitrios entered carrying a tray of food. After setting their plates and tea in front of each of them, he asked, “Will there be anything else, sir?”

Chakaris scanned the table quickly before saying, “I believe we have everything. Thank you.”

Except an appetite, Kelly thought ruefully. She’d had some misguided notion that she would be able to answer his questions in a calm, unemotional manner. Instead, her stomach felt tied in knots and she could feel one of her tension headaches coming on.

After a moment she picked up her fork and took careful bites of her food, which tasted like ambrosia, melting in her mouth. Before she knew it, she had finished her lunch.

She’d been relieved that he’d chosen not to continue their discussion while they ate. Once they were drinking their coffee, Chakaris said, “Shall we go into my office? I’m intrigued to learn why you chose me to—er—help you deal with your grief.” He rose and politely pulled her chair out.

Kelly walked into the office and stood in the middle of the room, cupping her elbows in her hands. Instead of walking to his desk, Dominic strode to the other side of the room where there was a grouping of leather chairs and a sofa.

He motioned to one of the chairs. “Please have a seat, Ms. MacLeod. I’d like to know why you painted that damned portrait.”

Kelly dropped her arms and with a slight lift of her chin walked over to the chair and sat down. Only then did he take the other chair.

“What if I told you my reasons are private. Would you respect that?” she asked quietly.

He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he looked at her as though working out a puzzle. Finally, he replied softly. “You apparently felt no similar need to protect my privacy.”

He had a good point, she silently admitted. She wondered what to tell him. Stalling for time, Kelly said, “You should be flattered. After all, some women find you very attractive.”

He waved the remark away as though swatting a fly. “Don’t patronize me, Ms. MacLeod.”

Kelly was reminded of her response to Hal. Perhaps there was some truth in her adversary’s challenge.

Before she could decide how to respond, he said, “I’d appreciate hearing the truth.”

The truth. The truth had many facets. She wondered why she was stalling. This man’s ruthless determination to get whatever he wanted was legendary and he wanted the truth. She had no need to protect his feelings…if he had any.

Kelly squared her shoulders and looked him in the eye. “All right. Here’s the truth for you, Mr. Chakaris. I painted your picture in an effort to exorcise my anger at your methods of making money. My father’s death four years ago was the direct result of your ruthless business practices. My mother was never the same once he was gone. Thanks to you, I’ve lost both of them. So the portrait was an effort to deal with some of my anger and hatred of you.”