Читать книгу The Greek Tycoon's Secret Child - Cathy Williams - Страница 8

‘DUNNO know why you bother wasting your time on that rubbish.’

Mattie glanced across the room to Frankie. He was sprawled on the chair in front of the television, his feet propped up on the coffee-table he had dragged over, and he was staring at her in a way that she was all too familiar with.

So she ignored him and returned to the books in front of her. ‘Told you, love, there’s no way you’ve got the brains to do anything in any company anywhere. Left school at sixteen, or you forgotten already?’

He was on the beer. For that she was grateful. If he had been on the whisky, he would be targeting his comments with a lot more venom. And he would be gone in a little while. It was Saturday, after all. Not a night for a man like Frankie to stay in. Not when his mates would be down at the local, eyes glued to whatever sport happened to be showing on the massive overhead screen that The Lamb and Eagle proudly sported.

‘That doesn’t mean I can’t do this,’ Mattie said quietly, knowing that there was no point going down this road but doing it anyway.

‘Sure it does. Big shots in companies ain’t looking for a girl like you, Mats. Pretty you might be but let’s not forget the background.’ He gave a cruel little chuckle and her fingers tightened on the pen she was holding. ‘Anyway, what time you off tonight, then?’

‘Does it matter? You won’t be here anyway.’

‘True, true. Go and fetch us another beer, would you, Mats?’

‘You’ll be drinking at the pub, Frankie.’

‘Oh not another of your little preachy sermons. Don’t think I can stand it. Any wonder I want to clear out of this place whenever you’re around? A right little Miss Prim and Proper you’ve become ever since you started filling your head with ideas about high-flying jobs in marketing. You should ’ave just stuck it out as secretary in that poxy little company you were at before.’

Pushed to the limit, Mattie snapped shut the book she had been studying and fixed him with a cold stare.

‘But I couldn’t, could I, Frankie? And we both know why!’

He staggered to his feet, raked his fingers through his hair and headed towards the kitchen with a thunderous scowl on his face. But this time she wasn’t going to let him get away with his jibe.

Three nights ago it had felt damned good to yell at someone and she was going to do that now. This time at the right person instead of at a perfect stranger who had happened to rub her up the wrong way. A perfect stranger who had, unsurprisingly, not reappeared at her exciting little workplace, even though she had caught herself watching out for him, and then berating herself for letting him get under her skin when she had figured him out for what he was.

‘Well?’ Mattie went to the kitchen door and leaned against the frame, her eyes stormy, watching as Frankie helped himself to another lager, which he proceeded to drink straight from the can.

‘I can’t be bothered to argue this one with you, Mats. Why don’t you just head back to those books of yours and carry on pretending you can get somewhere in life?’

‘No! I want to have this one out, Frankie. I’m sick to death of all your slurs and insults. I couldn’t stick it out in that job because the money wasn’t enough to keep us both!’ She had tiptoed round this long enough.

‘I suppose you blame me for the accident!’

‘I don’t blame you for anything! But that was nearly two years ago! So isn’t it about time you just woke up to the fact that you will never become a professional footballer? It’s over, Frankie! You need to get your head around that and—’

‘Know what, Mats? I don’t need to stand here and listen to all of this! I’m off.’

She felt tears of frustration prick the backs of her eyes, but she stayed where she was, blocking the doorway.

‘You need to get a job, Frankie.’

He slammed the half-empty beer can on the kitchen table and lager shot out of the top over the table-top.

‘An office job, Mats? Think I should get myself decked out in a cheap suit and see if anyone wants me?’

‘It doesn’t have to be an office job.’

‘Well, then, maybe a job like yours, then, eh?’

‘That job happens to pay five times what I was getting as a secretary and a hundred times more than I was getting working at that restaurant.’

‘So you could take time off and study those books of yours. As if you’ll ever be able to do anything in any company.’

‘Well, it didn’t last long, did it? I had to jack that in so that I could get something better paid to pay the bills you have no intention of paying because you won’t get a job!’

‘Know what? If you feel that way, why don’t you just clear off, Mats?’ His blue eyes met hers and he looked away.

‘Maybe I will,’ she said, turning away, only half hearing him as he apologised. Again. Told her he needed her. Again. Slammed his way out of the house. Again.

They both knew that the end of their relationship had already arrived, had arrived quite some time ago, as it happened. But Mattie knew how hard it was to say goodbye to history, to memories of them both as teenagers, when they had had high hopes of going places. Just as she knew that the only glue keeping them together, as far as she was concerned anyway, was pity.

His star had been so promising, and then when the accident happened she had just felt so damned sorry for him, too sorry to take the final step and walk away even though she could see how he had changed, how they both had.

He was enraged and bitter at what fate had done to him but even those spells of anguish, of opening up to her, communicating, had dwindled away. She realised that they hadn’t really communicated in months.

Not, she thought as she tidied away her books and began getting dressed to leave the house, since he had broken down and sobbed like a baby on her shoulder over eight months ago. When yet again she had allowed herself to feel sorry for him, to struggle on with him, knowing that he needed her.

She had, after all, known him for such a long time.

In a way, the nightclub was just the right job for her, quite aside from the fantastic earnings.

There was no time to think about her own problems when she was busy scuttling around the tables, catching up with the other girls now and again so that they could share a giggle about their customers.

But their argument tonight had been different. Had had an edge to it that they had both felt.

Two hours later her mind was still harking back to it, when she looked up and there he was, the man, the stranger, sitting on his own at the back of the room, and her heart gave a sudden, illogical leap of pleasure which disappeared as fast as it had come.

How long had he been sitting there?

And now that she had spotted him, she became acutely conscious of her every movement until finally she had no choice but to walk towards him, even though he wasn’t seated in her patch.

‘What are you doing here?’

‘I told you I would return,’ he asked with the same slightly amused, lazy drawl that sent a shiver up her spine. ‘Missed me?’

‘Of course I haven’t missed you, and I also thought I’d made my position clear. I’m not for sale along with the drinks and the food.’ And, since there was no more to be said on the subject, she knew that she should just spin round on her heel and walk away, leaving him ample time to get the message once and for all. But she didn’t. She hesitated.

‘Why don’t we leave here and go somewhere a little more civilised for some coffee? I know a particularly good coffee bar that’s open all hours.’

‘A coffee bar that’s open all hours? Oh, please! And where would that be? On another planet?’

‘Actually, in a hotel that caters for men like me. Not, I might add, the lying pervert you categorised me as but a workaholic who keeps highly irregular hours.’ He raised one eyebrow, leaned back into his chair and proceeded to watch her very intently.

‘I don’t think so. Thanks all the same.’

‘You look exhausted.’

Three words that made her stop in her tracks, brought back the flood of memories of what had taken place between her and Frankie. Right now, there wasn’t a nook or cranny in her life that wasn’t exhausting. How had he spotted that when no one else had?

‘There are one or two reasons why that’s totally out of the question,’ Mattie said tartly. ‘And if you choose to disregard the ones I’ve already given you, then here are a couple more. I’ve only been here for an hour and a half and this is my job. Sorry.’

‘It occurred to me,’ Dominic said, sweeping past her little speech as if it was of no consequence, ‘that I don’t even know your name. What is it?’

‘Look. I have to go. Jackie will hit the roof if she thinks I’m muscling in on her customers.’

‘Why do you work in a place like this?’

‘I already told you. Now, goodbye.’

‘I’ll meet you at the exit in half an hour.’ He stood up, finished his drink and looked down at her. ‘Right?’

‘I’m not going anywhere with you! How much does it take to get through that thick skull of yours?’

‘I’ll sort it out with your boss.’

Mattie gave a short, dry laugh. ‘Oh, right. And how do you propose to do that? Put a gun to his head, by any chance?’

‘I’ve always found that strong-arm tactics never work.’ His dark eyes locked with hers and he felt that sudden surge of unexplained excitement once again. The same excitement that had coursed through him whenever she crossed his mind. Which she had done with puzzling regularity over the past few days.

Why? Logic told him that if all he wanted was a safe and enjoyable antidote to Rosalind, then he could find that anywhere. He certainly didn’t need to pursue a woman who had made her feelings patently clear from the word go. But logic was no match for what he could only put down to the thrill of a challenge, and challenge, he had grudgingly admitted, was certainly what she was.

Hence his reason for returning to the nightclub.

‘Leave it to me.’

Leave it to him! Well, why not? He didn’t know Harry and he obviously had no idea how strict nightclub bosses were when it came to their girls not skipping off work.

‘Sure.’ She shot him a caustic grin. ‘If you can pull that one off, then I’ll come with you to your coffee bar, by all means. But, since I don’t see that happening, I’ll just bid you goodnight and tell you that it’s no use your coming back here because the next time you won’t even get a conversation out of me.’

It was a little disconcerting to feel a tug of regret at the thought of that, but Mattie was nothing if not practical. Her life was just too full of problems for her to take another one on board in the shape of a man, probably married, because good-looking, well-spoken men like that were never single, who was after a little no-strings-attached fling with a pretty young thing.

She would make sure not to look in his direction again.

What she hadn’t bargained on was Harry calling her over ten minutes later as she was on her way back for a refill of champagne for a table of men who had already had far too much to drink.

‘I what?’ Mattie stammered, after he had said what he had to say.

‘Can take the rest of the evening off.’

‘I’ve just got here, Harry.’

‘Jacks won’t mind covering your patch. She needs to catch up on some lost earnings.’

‘How did he do it?’ Mattie glanced around her, seeking him out in the darkness and through the crowds, then finally returning her narrowed eyes to Harry’s flushed face. ‘Well?’ she demanded. Then a thought crossed her mind. ‘He didn’t…he isn’t…some kind of dangerous thug, is he, Harry? He didn’t threaten you, did he?’ She thought back to her throw-away remark about guns and heads.

‘Threaten me? Harry Alfonso Roberto Sidwell?’ He rocked on the balls of his feet for a few seconds, straightened the lapels of his jacket and gave her a superior look. ‘No one has ever dared do such a thing, Matilda Hayes, and don’t you forget it! No. Just said he wanted to talk to you, that this seemed the only time you could snatch. Gave me his card. Told me that if I ever needed any advice, just ask for him.’

‘Advice? Advice about what?’ She felt as if the ground had unexpectedly opened up from under her feet. ‘Relationships? Is he some kind of counsellor or something?’

‘Harry Sidwell has never needed advice on relationships! He’s in finance, Mats. Powerful man. Even I’ve heard of him and you know how much distance there is between the underbelly of life here and the Olympic heights of some of those money men.’ He chuckled at his own sense of humour but Mattie’s head was reeling with shock.

‘You’re giving me the night off because some man asked you to and handed over a business card? And what about my tips, Harry? I can’t afford to take the time off! You know how much I need the money!’

‘I’ll cover you, Mats. Give you roughly the amount you usually pull in on a Friday. Don’t say I’m not fair.’

‘I can’t—’

‘You deserve a night off, Mattie. Reliable as clock-work, you are. Never let me down. When was the last time you went out for enjoyment? Eh? When you’re not at college or poring over textbooks, you’re here. And you’d be doing me a favour, love.’

‘How’s that, Harry?’

‘Thinking of expanding business, Mats. Might need that business card sooner than you think.’ He grinned craftily, and Mattie felt her options closing in.

‘He’s after one thing, Harry. Thanks very much!’

‘You’re safe with that one.’

‘I wouldn’t be safe with anybody who comes here, and you know it!’

‘You’re safe with that one, Mats. I wouldn’t be giving you the evening off otherwise. He’s a big cheese. He wouldn’t make a nuisance of himself because he’s too high-profile. Would never risk a scandal. If he says he wants to talk, then that’s all he’ll do. Unless…’

‘Unless what?’

‘Unless you decide otherwise…’

‘Fat chance.’

‘Then what’s the problem? Free evening? Enjoy yourself. Now, you go change, darling. Busy, busy, busy here tonight. No time to stop and have a prolonged chat.’

But she didn’t like the feeling of being manipulated. Even if it did feel good to have an evening to herself. No books, no nightclub. No Frankie.

If she got to the door and discovered that he had changed his mind, all the better. She’d play truant and skip one evening’s work and find herself some twenty-four-hour place where she could just sit and be at peace with her thoughts. Going back to the house was not an option, even though Frankie wouldn’t be there. Just being within those four walls was enough to make her feel suffocated.

But he was there. Waiting. Just as he had promised. Tall, impossibly handsome and looking at her with an expression she couldn’t read, which made her feel more apprehensive rather than less. Apprehensive and somehow…alert. Alive.

‘How did you pull that off?’ was the first thing she asked, glaring.

Like an angry cat, he thought. An angry cat that he had got it into his head he wanted to tame. An angry cat that would jump six feet into the air if he so much as touched her, even if the touch was strictly polite. He pushed open the door and stood back so that she could brush past him.

‘Didn’t Harry tell you?’ Dominic asked curiously, making sure not to invade her space.

‘He said you gave him your business card. He said you were someone important in the City.’ Mattie regarded him levelly, with hostile suspicion. ‘I don’t care how important you are, you know the ground rules.’

‘But not your name.’

‘Sorry?’

‘I know the ground rules, but I still don’t know your name.’

‘Matilda.’

‘Matilda. You don’t look like a Matilda,’ he said in an amused voice, and her back stiffened.

‘No. And what do I look like? Something a little fluffier? A Candy, perhaps? Maybe fluffier still?’

‘Are you always on the defensive? Matilda?’

‘Mattie,’ Mattie muttered. ‘Everyone calls me Mattie. I hate the name Matilda.’ She blushed at this unnecessary volunteering of information, even though it was hardly a state secret.

‘Why?’

She shrugged, as he knew she would, just as he knew that she hated having let slip the innocuous detail because it was of a personal nature.

‘Well, Mattie,’ he stretched out one arm to hail a taxi, and as it slowed down to pull up to them he said with deadly seriousness, ‘we’re going to have to get in a cab together to go to this hotel…’

‘Hotel? Oh, no. No, no.’ She began backing away and Dominic clicked his tongue in impatience.

‘I said hotel. I didn’t say hotel room. We’re going to a hotel in Covent Garden that I often use when I’m working late. There’s a bar downstairs and it’s guaranteed to be full.’ But her big green eyes were still watching him warily, and he had to fight the urge to just reach out and smooth her ruffled feathers.

He, who had never had to try when it came to the opposite sex, could scarcely believe that he was now willing, at some ungodly time of the evening, to bide his time.

‘Now, are you going to come with me or not? If not, then you can rest assured that you won’t see me again. If you do decide to come, then you’ll just have to swallow your misgivings and climb into this taxi with me. Make your mind up.’

He saw the debate flitting across her face and wondered what he would do if she walked away. Wondered what had brought him to this juncture in the first place.

Fate? A certain boredom with the women he was used to? A need to erase Rosalind by having an affair with someone dramatically different from her in every possible way? Something else? No, nothing else, he told himself.

But whatever the outcome of her internal debate, he wasn’t going to chase after her. He had already behaved out of character as far as she was concerned, and he wasn’t going to do it again.

‘OK.’ Mattie shrugged and, when she reached out to open the door, found that he was there before her, opening it for her. It was a gesture to which she wasn’t accustomed. Frankie was not an opening-car-doors-for-women kind of man.

Still, she made sure to wriggle up to the furthest side of the seat when he stooped to join her, and was immediately glad of it because, even at this distance, she still felt chokingly aware of him.

‘I don’t know your name,’ she said, as the taxi pulled away.

He noticed the way she was huddled against the door, as if scared that he might do something unexpected at any given moment, and he, in turn, made sure to keep a safe distance between them.

‘Dominic Drecos.’

‘Dominic Drecos,’ Mattie repeated, thinking hard. ‘And you’re something important in the City, are you?’

‘Something important, yes.’ She didn’t sound overly impressed with that and he found himself giving in to a childish desire to expand. ‘I deal in corporate finance. We handle mergers and acquisitions. In addition, I speculate in property. Buy to renovate to sell.’

‘Right.’ She turned to gaze out of the window. In this part of London, it was never dark. Too many lights and billboards. It was a rolling scenery she was familiar with, but for some reason she found it easier to stare at the images moving past than at the man sitting on the seat next to her.

He was the first man she had had a proper conversation with in a very long time. She attended her courses during the day but did none of the student socialising that most of the others did and talking to the customers at the nightclub was strictly out of the question. There had just been Frankie. And she and Frankie no longer conversed on any meaningful level.

‘So you don’t live here, then, I take it?’ She reluctantly looked at him and, for one crazy moment, wondered what he looked like underneath the expensive suit and that crisp striped shirt he was wearing under it. Then she blinked and she was back in the taxi, a nightclub waitress with a boyfriend, sitting next to someone important in the City.

‘Why do you say that?’

‘Well, if you did, then why would you go to a hotel when you happened to be working late?’

‘I have an apartment in Chelsea. But this particular hotel does very late suppers and occasionally we might come across here to wind up a deal and eat at the same time.’

‘We?’

‘My people.’

‘Your people.’

‘Accountants, lawyers, whoever happens to be needed. Sometimes, I come here on my own to have a late meal and finish business without the distraction of telephones and fax machines.’ No point telling her that he had been responsible for buying and renovating this particular building and, as a stipulation, had a penthouse suite on the top floor which he sometimes used if he simply couldn’t be bothered to get George to drive him back to his own apartment. That little titbit would have her running for cover.

And he was discovering that the last thing he wanted was to have her running for cover.

For someone who had always had total control over every aspect of his life, this in itself puzzled the hell out of him. It also energised him in equal measure.

‘And what about your wife? Does she enjoy your late suppers at expensive hotels when you’re working late with your people?’ Whether he was married or not was immaterial to her. She had no intention of doing anything with him. But she still found that she was curious.

Was he married?

‘If I were married, I wouldn’t be here.’ There was a flat coolness to his voice that made her want to retract the question. ‘Don’t you find it impossible to work somewhere where your opinion of your customers is so low?’

She was spared the difficulty of finding an answer to that one by the taxi slowing down in front of an elegant building sandwiched between an expensive men’s clothing shop and a furniture shop that sported chic, very modern, unpriced handmade furniture.

But somehow she got the feeling that the question would be repeated the minute they were on their own.

In the meantime, she would take some time to get her thoughts together and try to still the fluttery feeling in the pit of her stomach that definitely should not be there.

‘Not the sort of place for a girl in jeans,’ she whispered with a nervous laugh as they walked into the foyer. Stark colours, one or two abstract paintings on the walls, plants that seemed to make a statement.

And he had been right. There were people even in the foyer, even at this hour of the night. Expensive, sophisticated, arty-looking people.

The man behind the desk smiled at him, which just made Mattie feel even more nervous. She clenched her fists in the pockets of her jacket and trudged alongside him as he strode towards some stairs and down into the basement bar.

What was she doing here? she wondered a little wildly.

‘People come here dressed in anything they choose,’ Dominic murmured down to her. ‘No need to feel out of place.’

‘I wasn’t feeling out of place.’

‘No?’ He paused to raise one eyebrow at her, and she smiled reluctantly.

‘Well, a little.’

It was the smile, he thought. Something about it gave the lie to her air of cynicism, revealed a wealth of vulnerability and spoke volumes about the wit, the humour, the intelligence lying there just below the surface. Waiting.

Waiting, he thought, for me to unearth it.

‘Grab a table,’ he said. ‘I’ll get drinks. What will you have?’

‘Not champagne. I see enough of that at work to be immune to its charm. Not that I’ve ever been a champagne girl anyway,’ she added quickly, just in case he thought that she was going to take advantage of his wealth to order herself the most expensive drink on the menu. ‘I’ll have some coffee, please. Decaffeinated, if they do it.’

‘They do everything here.’

Mattie took a seat at one of the smooth circular granite tables. The chairs were oddly shaped, very comfortable even though they didn’t look it, and, as in the foyer, there were people here. A whole world of night birds, exotic, young night birds, drinking and having a good time.

‘So,’ he deposited her cup on the table and sat down, ‘feeling a little less…rattled?’

‘I wasn’t rattled,’ Mattie returned with vigour. ‘I was angry because you manipulated me into leaving with you.’

‘You could have said no and walked away. No one forced you to get into the taxi and come here.’ He crossed his legs and proceeded to look at her with such thoroughness that she felt a steady blush invade her face until she was taking refuge in the cup of coffee and wishing she had ordered something a little more substantial.

‘And you never answered my question. Why do you work in a place where the customers obviously repulse you?’

‘They don’t repulse me. Some of them are really quite nice. Or at least they seem to be.’

‘You just dislike the sort of men you think frequent those places.’

‘Wouldn’t you?’ Mattie shrugged, determined not to let him see how nervously aware of him he made her feel.

‘Funnily enough, I feel exactly the same as you do. I just happened to find myself there at the request of my clients.’

‘Oh, and you weren’t enjoying…having a look around?’

‘Not particularly. Until, that is, I saw you.’

There was something shockingly direct about the statement, something that made her body stir slickly into life. She couldn’t think of a thing to say and nor did he seem in any hurry to break the silence that thickened around them.

‘I…I… As I said, I work there because the money is very good… I…’

Dominic watched as she lowered her eyes and busied herself with the cup, staring at it for a few seconds, toying with the handle before raising it to her lips. She was probably as experienced as they came, but she was making him feel like a big, bad wolf all of a sudden and he didn’t like the feeling.

‘Why don’t you get a day job?’ he asked, allowing the change of subject even though he wanted to ask her how she could possibly do what she did and still shy away like a frightened rabbit when a man paid her a compliment. He hadn’t even tried to touch her, for heaven’s sake!

‘Why is it that you aren’t married?’ She tilted her chin up and looked him squarely in the face, leaving him in no doubt as to her intention. If he felt at liberty to quiz her about her private life then she felt at liberty to do the same to him.

‘Should I be?’ Dominic hedged. Personal confidences had never figured high on his conversational agenda. Had never figured at all, in point of fact. He felt his face darken slightly and he knocked back the remainder of his drink in one long swallow.

‘Well, you’re not too old, you’re…you’re…’ Her vantage point was quickly relinquished as Mattie saw the road she was heading down. A list of all his credentials, and when she looked at him there was a wicked gleam in his eyes that did something else to her wall of cynicism that had been so carefully erected over the years.

‘I’m all ears,’ he encouraged.

‘Obviously rich. Being something big in the City, as you are.’

‘Anything else?’

‘Yes. Arrogant. Manipulative. Oh, not forgetting, with an ego as big as a tanker.’

‘Mmm. Doesn’t sound a list of qualities any woman would positively search for.’

Their eyes tangled and Mattie was the first to look away. The conversation was getting dangerous. Some little voice was telling her that.

‘Which just shows that you probably haven’t met the right one,’ she said quickly. ‘So how did you discover this place?’ she asked, making no attempt to hide the change of subject.

‘Oh, I bought the building, renovated it and then sold it on.’ He watched her digest this information whilst his mind began to drift off into images of that exotically beautiful face glowing with the film of passion, her body unclothed, writhing in a lover’s embrace. His embrace.

He cleared his throat, sat up straighter. ‘As I mentioned, that’s a part of what I do.’

She found she wanted to hear more. Wanted to find out more about him. It wouldn’t do. Time to rectify a situation before it became too dangerous.

‘Sounds very important. So…how did you manage to just land up doing that? It must cost an absolute fortune to go into the property business. Mustn’t it? Especially in London.’

‘I studied economics at university,’ Dominic said abruptly. ‘Went into finance before I got into the property side.’

‘You must have made a great deal of money in finance in that case. To enable you to have the capital to play with.’ Mattie pretended to muse on the conundrum of this.

Dominic gave her a long, narrowed look which she met with widely innocent eyes. ‘I’ve always had a fair amount of money at my disposal.’

‘Ah.’ Of course he would have. He was a man born into money. It sat on his shoulders like an invisible cloak. And she had wanted him to say it. Out loud. So that she could remind herself of yet another reason why she should get out of this place and fast, before his sexy face and ability to listen and smooth-talking charm got the better of her caution.

‘So…what did your parents do?’

‘Is this really relevant?’

‘It is to me.’

‘My father is in shipping.’

‘Builds them, you mean?’

‘You know exactly what I mean.’

‘My mum was a cleaner. She died ten years ago. My dad was a carpenter, except not many people seem to want handmade things these days. He lives in Bournemouth now. He still makes bits and pieces for himself, but his full-time job is supervisor at a furniture factory.’ Mattie stood up and smiled politely.

She felt disproportionately hurt at the fact that she would never see him again, but she had had to do it. Had to make him see the one difference between them that would always be there.

‘Well, thanks for the coffee. No, please, I can get a taxi home myself.’ She just couldn’t face the underground just now. And before he could say another word she was hurrying out of the door, up the stairs and through the chic foyer that looked as though it had stepped straight out of a magazine.