Читать книгу One Summer Night: An Indecent Proposition / Beholden to the Throne / Hers For One Night Only? - Carol Marinelli, Carol Marinelli - Страница 14

‘CHARLOTTE, please …’

Just when her heart could surely not be more torn, she answered the phone to the sobs of her mother. ‘When are you coming to get me?’

Charlotte closed her eyes. ‘I’m at work, Mum.’

‘You said you’d never leave me.’

‘I’m sorry about this.’ A nurse came on the line. ‘We have a residents’ phone …’

‘Mum’s got my number in her diary.’ Charlotte closed her eyes. ‘Is she okay?’

‘She’s taking a little while to orientate, but most of the time she’s fine. It’s just every now and then she gets into a panic. It often happens with temporary residents. She’ll settle in in a couple of days.’

And then it would be time to take her home. Charlotte thought of the battle that lay ahead, of the increased confusion that awaited, of the impossibility of it all, but she could not think of that now. Getting through the morning was proving a difficult enough task, let alone looking to the future.

‘Can you put her back on to speak with me, please?’

Charlotte spoke with her mother for a few moments, reassuring Amanda that she was at work and that her stay at the home was only temporary, but the call depleted her already shot nerves.

Shaky hands applied lip gloss and she put drops in her swollen eyes. Charlotte was nervous and embarrassed to be facing Nico, but more than that dreaded that she might see Zander, and wondered how on earth she should react to him if she did. But surely he had checked out, Charlotte consoled herself. After all, he had said his piece to his brother, had made it clear that he would not be selling the land and wanted nothing to do with him whatsoever. What reason could he have to be here? She attempted to reassure herself, trying to ignore the fact that he practically owned the south of Xanos and had every reason to stay for a few days at the very least.

Somehow she had to tell Nico that she was not able to stay any longer on Xanos, that she had to get home. But how could she possibly assert herself after what had just taken place? Of all the stupid things to do with Zander, of all the blind, stupid things. Nico was hardly going to accept demands from her now when by her own actions she had suddenly become extremely dispensable.

Damn you, Zander!

It was a relief to be angry.

A welcome change from guilt and remorse and shame. In fact, so angry was Charlotte that as she stepped out of the lift and headed across the foyer to the restaurant, to the table where Nico waited, instead of burning in a blush when she saw Zander sitting on the other side of the restaurant, looking up from the paper he was reading and sipping on coffee as if he did not have a care, instead of looking hurriedly away, she positively glowered at him. Her anger forced her to hold her head high as she crossed the room and joined her boss.

Nico had ordered two coffees—a milky one for Charlotte and a short black for himself. He gave a very tight smile as she approached. ‘Well,’ Nico said as she took a seat at the table. ‘This is awkward.’ He was as direct as ever and so honest with the circumstances that it made her smile, even made her laugh just a little as Nico rolled his eyes, but her smile soon faded. ‘You should have told me you had spoken with Zander—you should have informed me that you had met him.’

‘I know,’ Charlotte said. ‘I tried.’

‘I know that you tried to call, and that you found out my father was ill.’ Nico stirred sugar into his coffee, but even as she entered into the most difficult of conversations, her shoulder was burning, for she could feel Zander watching them. ‘But, still, you should have said when you spoke with Constantine.’ She was shamed by the pity in Nico’s eyes now when he looked at her. ‘I could have warned you what he is like.’

‘You knew?’ She was determined not to cry, not in front of Nico and certainly not with Zander close by, but, damn it, it was hard to sit there and have it confirmed just how easily she had been used. ‘You knew that his intentions were not good?’

‘When you rang and said that the owner was coming, that Zander …’ Nico grimaced for it had been a painful realisation for him too. ‘I went and got the house deeds, saw his signature and, call it twin intuition, I knew there was trouble brewing. I knew that Zander knew who I was, that he was coming to confront me.’

‘I believed him when he said it would be a surprise.’

‘You listen only to me now,’ Nico warned. ‘Your loyalty is only to me.’

And she nodded, because it had to be now, because Zander had let her down so badly. All their time together had been a sham of his making.

‘What did he tell you?’ Nico asked. ‘Did he speak about our parents?’

‘No.’ She raked her mind back over their conversations, realised just how much he had avoided talking about himself. ‘He gave nothing away.’

‘He must have revealed something?’ Nico urged. ‘You met him on Saturday. Surely you spoke, not just …’ He held his tongue and she was grateful, for they had not just tumbled into bed.

‘We spoke a lot.’

‘Did he say anything about our mother?’

‘Nothing, just that he had never met her.’

‘Charlotte?’

‘That was it. He said that his time here on Xanos was not all happy.’ And even if Zander had betrayed her in the vilest of ways, still she could not do the same to him, could not tell Nico about the markets and the thieving, about the taverna and the memories he had shared. She was sure, quite sure, Nico didn’t need to know that. Already Constantine had said they knew the father was a brute. ‘Nico, he told me nothing. He was using me to get information, not the other way around, and I told him nothing. Despite the mistakes I have made over the weekend, I was not indiscreet about you.’

He accepted that, and for that she was grateful. ‘I need you to stay on in Xanos—perhaps into next week. I want you to look into the licensing for the club he is talking about building, just get some research together, and I have a lead on my mother. I need you to ring around, perhaps fly out to the mainland and visit a few homes.’ He looked up. ‘I trust that is not a problem.’

So badly she wanted to say that it was the most terrible problem, that she needed to get back to her mother, that travel was impossible, but the reality was that right now she needed a job, needed to pay for the bill that would come in for the nursing home, needed the wages that Nico paid. Cold reality beckoned in a way that it never had before. She needed this job, needed to work even if that might mean her mother had to live permanently in the home. It would be far easier to sit and weep now, but instead she forced her voice to be casual, even managed to look Nico in the eye as she spoke. ‘Of course it’s not.’

‘And I want that land,’ Nico said. ‘I am not moving my wife and child from Xanos at his bidding. If he accepts my offer, you are to get it immediately in writing.’

‘I am to deal with him?’ That she could not handle.

‘Of course.’ Nico frowned. ‘Though you will deal with him rather more professionally this time, I hope.’ And he asked her again. ‘Is that a problem?’

She knew what Nico was doing, knew that even if he was giving her a chance to redeem herself, he also saw her as a link to his brother. If she had had any energy left, she would have argued her case, but instead Charlotte sat there, knew when she was beaten.

‘No, it won’t be a problem.’

Nico stood. ‘Charlotte, I’m trusting you to do the right thing.’ She nodded, and closed her eyes. In a rare move, Nico put a hand on her shoulder and gave it a small squeeze, for he was more disappointed than angry. Perhaps even a little guilty, for his private life had now impacted badly on her and, yes, he did want her to find out some more. ‘All will be fine.’

Zander sat, watching his brother’s hand on her shoulder, watching her back to him, watching the man he hated most give Charlotte comfort. He knew she needed comfort because of him, and it caused something to stir inside as he recalled his words, recalled the gasp that had come from her lips and the shock on her face.

His richly blended coffee tasted like acid as it slid down his throat. There was a burn in his stomach and a clench in his scalp as his brother walked past, as Nico had the gall to give him a brief nod.

He did not want a polite greeting, did not want to foster anything with him. Yet the eyes that had looked in his direction felt like his own, the face, the walk—it was like looking in the mirror, except different. Looking at a reflection that was a better version of himself.

He looked over to where Charlotte remained and usually Zander did not entertain guilt, considered it a wasted emotion, an expensive emotion—but he could see her rigid posture. She turned her head and smiled as Nico said goodbye to her, and then he watched her shoulders drop, just a fraction, but he could see the internal collapse, see her hand tremble as she picked up her coffee, see her try to right herself, to sit up straight again, and then, when it didn’t work, he watched as she stood to leave. He could see her eyes avoiding him as she walked across the restaurant. ‘Charlotte.’ He called her name, and of course she ignored him. He caught her wrist as she brushed past. ‘Join me.’

‘Join you!’ She could not believe his audacity. It was way too soon to attempt professional. Surely she would be given a day’s grace at the very least before she had to deal with him. ‘Nico is still here. If you have business to discuss I can arrange—’

‘I do not want to speak with him.’

‘Then I can get Paulo …’ She was having great trouble talking, could feel his fingers scalding her wrist. She wanted to slap him, to pick up his coffee and toss it in his lap, to hand back even an ounce of the hurt that he had landed her with, but Nico had spelt out the rules. Nico, she realised in that hopeless moment as she stood there, was using her too for she was, for now, the link to Zander, the pawn, the plaything that might make him linger, the trinket Zander wanted, perhaps for a while. She stood and remembered, remembered his cruel words, how he had sneered that her legs had been wrapped around him. And she didn’t just hear his words, she saw the vision too, was back there in the passionate moments, remembering how deeply he had kissed her, how much he had ravished her, how pliant her body had been in arms, how good the bastard was, and it took everything she possessed just to stand there as his words were delivered.

‘I don’t want to speak with Paulo. I discuss business with you.’

‘But you don’t want to discuss business.’ ‘Of course I do. There are some questions I have about his future use of the land—and about the maintenance of the jetty.’ He smiled and it lacerated. He lied and it killed her that he did.

‘I’m a PA,’ Charlotte said. ‘It’s not my job—’ ‘I choose who I liaise with. If you choose not to, then go and tell your boss that you refuse to speak with me.’ He let go of her wrist then, for he knew she could not run. He snapped his fingers at a passing waiter and told him to organise a meeting room now, and it was said with such authority that the waiter immediately put down the plate he was carrying and Charlotte stood trembling, waiting as a room was hastily arranged. All she knew was that she did not want to be alone with him, did not trust him. Neither did she trust herself, for as they were led through the foyer her legs were like liquid.

They passed the bar where they had so recently sat together, where he had pressed his leg into her. How he must have inwardly been laughing. She glanced at the restaurant and the balcony beyond, where he had so skilfully seduced her. They turned to the function rooms, and into one of them. The slam of the door behind her told her why she was so very afraid, for she was back in his space, back alone with him, and for all he had done, still there was want.

Want as he turned to face her, want as he walked over to where she stood, her shoulders back against the door, want as she tried to be free of him, want for the man she had thought she had met.

‘What I said about us to Nico—’

‘Cannot be erased by an apology,’ Charlotte cut in, for she must keep her head, must remember that it had all been a ruse, a lie, that she knew nothing about the man who stood before her now. ‘You were right with what you said this morning—we never met. You’re not the man I thought I knew, so let’s just deal with the paperwork. I don’t need to hear your feigned apology.’

‘Why would I apologise?’ She could not believe his audacity. ‘I was offering you a job—a far better one than you have, working for him.’

‘You really think that I’d ever work for you?’ She could not, could not, believe what she was hearing. ‘After what you did, you really think that I’d consider—?’

‘I would pay you more than Nico does.’

‘It’s not about money.’

‘What, then?’ Zander asked. ‘You prefer to be his mistress? To share him with his wife?’

She did slap him then, professional or not. A morning’s worth of hurt leapt down her arm and was delivered by her palm and slammed into his cheek. He did not even flinch, he just stood there, then gave her a black smile as, stunned by her own actions, by the venom of her thoughts, she shrank against the door. This was what he had made her.

‘I work for Nico,’ she said through pale lips, ‘because he is a wonderful boss. Because he has integrity, because I trust him, because he has never, and would never, expect what you clearly would from me. I could never work for you and I will never, ever sleep with you again.’

‘You did not object last night.’

‘Last night you seduced me.’ She could see it so clearly now. ‘Last night you set out to—’

‘Ah, po po po …’ He spoke in Greek, and she knew enough of the language to get his meaning, and it burned that he could tut, tut, tut away the night they had shared, could be so condescending about something that had been so wondrous. She felt as if she were back on the hillside with him, but with clarity now, could hear the birds calling, for war had already been declared, he just hadn’t thought to tell her.

Charlotte had to bite on her lip for a moment to catch her voice, for she would speak her truth without breaking down and her voice rose as she forced herself to continue. ‘Last night you let me think it was about me, that it was about us, when, in fact, you had another agenda entirely.’ Her hand stung from the contact with him, her palm burnt red and she raked it through her hair to cool it, to wipe herself clean from him. He watched a moment as the blonde curtain lifted and he saw the bruise that his mouth had made, a visible reminder, proof of what had taken place; but the curtain fell and still the image remained, not of purple on pale flesh but the feel of her skin beneath his lips, how she had melted to him, how right they had been, how close he had come to sharing with another person, how she had been his. ‘You really tell me you have not slept with Nico …’

‘You have no right to ask me that!’ And she hadn’t, but her past was her own and certainly not for sharing with him. Still, she could not stay quiet, remembered now his push to the bed, and that it had not been just lust for her that had driven him. ‘Did it turn you on, thinking that I had, Zander?’ There was a warrior inside, a woman who rose, who would not let him destroy her, and she found her and moved from the door towards him, challenged him when it would have been so much easier to recoil. ‘Did you like the idea, Zander, that you were better, that you made me come harder?’ She taunted him as she reminded him because, damn, he deserved reminding about what he had done, what he had so readily destroyed. ‘Well, you were wasting your time thinking about your brother—your mind should have been on me.’

‘It was,’ Zander said. ‘I was not thinking of that.’ The admission and the passion with which it was delivered surprised even him, because her words had taken him back there and, no, triumph over his brother had not been on his mind then; instead, it had all been her.

‘It was all you were thinking of?’ Charlotte sneered.

And he closed his eyes because, yes, at first it had been.

‘Those little chats …’ How it stung. How innocent she had been to lie in bed on a grey morning in London and listen to him, to recall how he had brightened her day, yet it had all been a game to him. How easily he had played her—how readily she had let him.

‘I should have heeded the warnings.’ She was furious not just at Zander but at herself, and then she threw back at him what Paulo had told her in Greek about his tawdry reputation, that he would sell his mother to the highest bidder, and she told him too how the islanders hated him.

‘I am not here for a lecture from you.’

‘Are you going to sign?’ She just wanted out of there, she wanted away, she wanted done, or she would start crying.

‘I have not decided.’ He looked at her. ‘Perhaps we go out on my yacht to discuss things, spend some time away …’

‘Never,’ Charlotte said.

‘Never?’ Zander checked.

‘I hate you.’

‘Tut tut.’ Zander smiled. ‘What would your boss say if he knew you were speaking to me like that? I thought Nico still wanted that land.’

‘I’ll resign before I have to spend a day with you.’ She was trapped, completely trapped, and the slap she had delivered had not put out the fire inside, for it was flaring again, as it had done the whole wretched morning, building and building till it could not be contained. ‘You have no idea what you’ve done to me. Because of you, I might have to put my mother in a home.’ Which was perhaps a bit harsh, for it had been heading towards that for months now. It was hardly all his fault, but Zander had made it impossible to approach her boss at this moment, impossible to negotiate for a better arrangement, when she had let him down so badly, and the words tumbled out untamed.

‘What are you talking about?’ He sneered at the hysterical female who blamed a night of passion for every last ill, but something niggled inside Zander, something unfamiliar, for he had seen her so vibrant, so happy, and now she seemed to be choking with fury and fear almost. ‘How can I be responsible for your mother’s—?’

‘Oh, what would you care about family?’ Charlotte snapped, already regretting the words that had spilled out, wishing she could somehow sink to her knees and retrieve them, gather them up and put them in her bag and pretend they had never been said. But it was far too late for that now and the best she could do was look him briefly in the eye before walking out. She looked into black eyes that had once caressed her but were unrecognisable now. ‘You’re trying to destroy yours; I’m just trying to hold onto mine. What would you know about it?’

‘The offer is there.’ Zander would not enter a discussion on family, did not want to know of her ills. ‘I will consider signing the papers when you decide to join me.’