Читать книгу Miranda Sparks’ wonderful life - Danny Osipenko - Страница 6

– Here’s my card. – With a trembling hand, I pulled a small piece of paper from my purse with all my contact information written on it. – Call me when you feel comfortable, so I can keep my promise. I am very grateful to you for believing me and redeeming my mother’s brooch. Thank you, sir!

– I couldn’t help you, Miss…» The man looked at my card in his hands. When a young woman asks for help, a man shouldn’t stay away. Thanks to you, this evening doesn’t seem so sour to me now. Here, in case you need my help again.

I took his black platinum card and ran my eyes over it.

– Mr. Moreau? Right?

– That’s right.

– It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Moreau!

– Likewise, Miss Spikes!

– I apologize for dragging you into this adventure. I’m really sorry that you had to spend so much money on such a little contrivance.

– It’s okay. It was kind of fun. It’s not every day that you get something really valuable, like this brooch.

We were standing by the champagne table, which we approached as we walked out of the auction hall. My lifeguard was eight inches taller than me, if not more. I was standing with my head held high, and my neck was starting to hurt.

The man was not only tall, but also quite good-looking, so many of the ladies present, threw intrigued looks at him. I was a little taken aback myself when I finally got a good look at my neighbor, after the tension had finally subsided in my whole body. Apparently I was so used to ignoring the people around me that now any of them became, in my eyes, impersonal.

The first time I met Mr. Moreau, all I could see was a gray-blue three-piece suit. And for some reason I thought he was, like, over the age of 50. Even after I clutched at his hand and begged for help, I still didn’t pay any attention to his appearance. Now that the invisible shroud of excitement was out of my eyes, I could finally get a good look at the man. His dark-blond hair, hazel eyes, light stubble, and straight, aristocratic nose. All in all, there was a man standing in front of me who, on my friend Miranda’s «Attractiveness» scale, could get nine points, if not all10.

– Means Henry Spikes, your father!?

– Yes, that’s right. Do you know him?

Mr. Moreau took a small sip of champagne from his own glass.

– This is inevitable if you are a major partner in a large company like Spikes & Spikes.

– The truth?

– Yes, ma’am. – The man leaned toward me a little. – And since you’re his daughter, I’ll give you some advice. Don’t ever try to stop me again. It’s not my policy to give up before I get to the end, even if the risk is great.

I didn’t like what he was saying.

– Would you like to say that I am very impulsive?

– Is it?

– I would call it determination.

Mr. Moreau grinned and placed his own glass on the table.

– So be it! At this point, ma’am, please excuse me.

– Oh!» I got a little confused. – Yes, of course. It was very nice to meet you, Mr. Moreau.

– Me too, Miss Spikes! And me!

The man looked at me again and, with a slight nod of his head, strode confidently toward the center of the banquet hall.