Читать книгу The Abby Green Modern Collection - Эбби Грин - Страница 17

OVER the following days the packages started to arrive. Velvet boxes that held stunning jewels. Usually with a note, nothing endearing, something curt like: For tonight or This’ll go with something black. Maggie stopped being stunned and saying thank you because Caleb didn’t seem to like it. He told her he expected her to wear them…much like she’d wear a designer dress. As if he were just kitting her out. And with each piece, whether it was a bracelet or a necklace or earrings, she felt cheaper and cheaper. More and more humiliated.

As much as she tried, she just found it so hard to put on all those jewels and parade around like some gilded lily. It made her uncomfortable…uneasy. Went against all her moral and political sensibilities. If he were giving them to her from a place of genuine pleasure, in her, then that would be different. But that fantasy belonged in a world that didn’t exist.

She had to realise, now that she was sharing his bed…this was his usual modus operandi. She was no different and she’d be a fool to dream otherwise. On the fifth day, after the fourth night in his bed, when she received a priceless diamond bracelet, it finally drove her from the apartment, the sense of rising panic too much. She walked…for hours, for miles. And eventually ducked into an old cinema in an effort to block out the thoughts that hounded her brain like whirling dervishes.

‘Where the hell have you been?’

Maggie tried not to quail at the anger stamped into Caleb’s features, but she could feel an old familiar panic rise up.

Caleb is not Tom…

She closed the front door behind her. ‘I went to the cinema, Caleb. You can’t lock me in here every day—’

‘Oh, can’t I?’ he said threateningly as he advanced on her. The colour leached from her face, stopping him in his tracks. Her eyes were huge. He forced himself to calm down. She was back. She was here. Had he really thought she’d try and leave once the contract was signed? But he had…for a moment.

He thrust a hand through his hair. ‘Maggie, look…Of course I can’t lock you in here. I got back and you were gone…I don’t know, I guess I thought…’He shook his head. ‘It doesn’t matter. Just call me next time…’

Maggie couldn’t believe it, slowly allowing herself to calm again. He actually looked…almost shaken. Had he really thought she’d run away? As if! She had no doubt that if she had even tried anything like that, he’d have reneged on the agreement, contract or no.

‘I don’t actually have your mobile number,’ she said dryly.

‘Well, let’s remedy that now.’ He took her bag with proprietary ease and fished out her phone. She looked on, bemused, as he punched in his number and handed it back.

‘You don’t need mine?’

He looked addled. ‘Yes, I do.’

He handed her his phone and she put in her number and handed it back. Somehow, she felt a twitch at the corner of her mouth. Was it hysteria? Who cared? Suddenly a lightness was bubbling up and she couldn’t hold it in. Caleb caught her rapidly contorting face and frowned for a second. ‘What—?’

She couldn’t stop it; laughter bubbled out and she gasped with the effort to control it. ‘I’m sorry…it’s…just…a bit…’

‘After the fact?’ he asked with a twitch on his mouth too. He watched as she tried to control herself, felt her lightness reach out to touch him. She gasped in big breaths and wiped at the tears that had sprung from her eyes. He reached out a finger and trailed it over one cheek, saying almost wonderingly, ‘You’re even more beautiful when you laugh…You should do it more often.’

Her belly quivered at his touch, then she hiccuped, ‘Well, I haven’t had much cause lately.’

Or ever…

Something dark crossed Caleb’s face and she could see him close up again. No! she wanted to say. Stay with me. He dropped his finger; she felt bereft. She controlled herself again. They were still standing just inside the door.

‘I’ve put on some chicken…how does that sound?’

‘You cook?’ she asked inanely.

His mouth quirked. ‘Apparently quite well.’

She shrugged, trying not to look too impressed, finding herself inordinately relieved to be eating in. They’d eaten out every other night so far, each restaurant more glittering and exclusive than the last, and Maggie was tired. ‘The proof will be in the eating,’ she quipped quickly, not wanting him to see her relief.

‘Ouch.’ He winced and started to head back towards the kitchen. ‘Not all of us were trained by chefs; some of us had to learn the hard way.’

She followed him into the sparkling, brand new kitchen, curious. ‘So where did you learn, then?’

As she watched, he seemed to know what he was doing, tossing a salad with fluid ease. It would be just like the man to be able to do everything perfectly.

‘My mother can’t cook to save her life, or my father, and in lean times, when Dad became bankrupt and when Mother left to tout for her next rich ticket, I had to cook for them or we’d all have gone hungry.’

Maggie gasped, ‘But you were only a child!’

He shrugged negligently. ‘Once my mother married again in Brazil, we had a housekeeper, but I still used to cook for Dad in England. I enjoyed it, even if I was one of the only boys doing home economics when I went to school there in my teens.’

She shook her head; something flipped over in her at this more human side to him. ‘Wow, that was pretty brave! I remember the ribbing we used to give the boys in our school.’

She thought of his words then and remembered something that Michael Murphy had said that day of the funeral. ‘You said your dad became bankrupt…was…is that why you don’t go after your enemies with total ruthlessness?’

He looked up, his eyes narrowed sharply on hers. She flushed—what was she doing? They’d been actually getting along.

He wouldn’t let her escape, lifting a brow.

‘What I mean is…Mr Murphy said something about you not being known for being…so merciless,’ she finished lamely.

He stopped what he was doing and leant both hands on the counter top. ‘And yet I was merciless to you and your family…?’

She nodded miserably, desperately wishing she hadn’t opened her mouth.

‘I only fight back when provoked beyond reason…and you and your stepfather did that, Maggie. You can spare me the armchair psychoanalysis.’

He had retreated back behind the cool front. She backed away from the door. ‘I’ll just have a quick shower.’

He looked at the empty doorway for a long time. For a few moments there, they’d shared a lightness he rarely encountered with anyone. And then, with that one comment…she’d actually pinpointed something that was so fundamental about the way he lived, did business, something that no one else had ever picked up on. Not the broadsheets, tabloids, reporters…and they had done their best over the years to figure out the Cameron phenomenon. The way he’d built his fortune from next to nothing, first in Rio and London, then encompassing the world. All by the age of thirty-six.

The truth was, the way he conducted his business life was inextricably bound up with his past experiences. Seeing his father comprehensively ruined, become a shell of a man, only to be deserted by his tempestuous wife as soon as the money was gone, had left deep wounds. Somewhere deep down, he’d vowed that would never happen to him. His hands had curled to fists and he just noticed them now, consciously un-curling them. He willed the dark memories away. Maggie was just trying to push his buttons…and he wouldn’t let her.

‘What can I do?’ Maggie’s chin was tilted, her voice almost defiant as she spoke from the doorway. She was determined not to let Caleb see how his shut-down had affected her. His face was still grim. He flicked her a glance, taking in the damp hair that coiled down past her shoulders, a soft V-neck cashmere sweater that clung to her curves. Couldn’t help but notice the shadow of something—was it hurt?—that lit her eyes an intense green. Distracted by that and how it made him feel, he listed off abstractedly, ‘Set the table, get some cutlery, glasses…’

‘Yes, sir,’ she muttered under her breath and started opening cupboards. She would not let him see how hurt she was but it was still there, just under her skin like a wound. What had she expected, after all? She shook her head at herself and stretched up to look for plates.

Suddenly she felt her waist grabbed and she was whirled around and into Caleb’s chest so fast that the breath left her body. He brought two hands around her face, caressing her jaw. Immediately she could feel her body responding, sinking, craving…She looked up helplessly.

‘Maggie…just…don’t try to figure me out. I don’t need that. All I need is you…’ he looked to her mouth ‘…this.’

He bent his head and met her lips with his, kissing, drawing in her full bottom lip, tugging and teasing before sliding his tongue in to delve deep and stroke hers. Her arms moved around his waist and clung, hands moving unconsciously over his shirt. She guessed it was an apology of sorts. But he was also saying that he didn’t need anything from her, not her opinions, not her thoughts, not her concern…certainly not her heart. And, while he kissed her, she could forget that…but when he stopped, she knew the pain would filter through. So, in an effort to avoid that, she kissed him back, hoping, wishing that he’d never stop. She craved the contact that would obliterate her churning thoughts.

He pulled back. Looking down, he could see Maggie’s eyes still closed and her lips full and pouting. He groaned. She opened her eyes. They looked slumberous. She looked down to his mouth.

‘Don’t stop…’ There was something desperate in her voice.

Reaching up on tiptoe, she brought Caleb’s head down again; she couldn’t reach, she was so much smaller and her mouth hovered inches away, like a succulent fruit. When she said again, ‘Please…don’t stop,’ it lit a flame of desire so strong that he couldn’t resist and he lifted her up, sitting her on the island in the kitchen.

Coming between her legs, he cupped her face again, kissing her long and deeply. He could feel her hands resting on his chest, then the fingers move to open the buttons of his shirt, slipping inside to caress his skin. It made a tremor of intense longing surge through him.

He pulled up her sweater, taking it off completely, and her breasts were bare, pert and pink with arousal; he cupped one and ran a thumb over and back over the peak. Her head fell back with the sensation and then he took it into his hot mouth, rolling it, sucking. Maggie was gasping, her hair damp against her back. When he lifted his head finally, she tried to open his shirt the rest of the way but her hands were shaking too much. Caleb’s hands took hers away. ‘Let me…’

He opened his shirt and Maggie felt the ache growing between her legs. She wriggled on the island and Caleb threw his shirt aside, pulling her against him and running his hands over her back, his mouth on her neck, her shoulder. Her blood was thumping, pumping out of control. She wanted him…now. She wasn’t aware that she’d even said the words out loud until she heard, ‘Really? You want me here? Now?’

She couldn’t believe they were still in the kitchen, that she’d been so bold, that she’d begged him to kiss her, take her, but it was too late. And she knew she was blocking out something…some hurt.

Coward.

She nodded jerkily, glad to see that, despite his cool, rational words, he was breathing fast too, his eyes dark and pupils dilated. His hand went to her jeans and she lifted her hips so he could pull them off.

Her eyes followed his hands as they undid his belt and it snaked through the loops on his trousers just below his taut stomach. She breathed in, her stomach tight with desire, slid off the island and opened the button on his trousers herself, pressing kisses to his chest, finding a nipple, biting gently.

His hand captured her head and she heard a whistle of breath escape through his teeth. ‘Maggie, Maggie, what are you doing to me?’

He stilled her hand and picked her up, carrying her into the bedroom. He placed her down on the bed and stripped off his trousers and briefs. Then he pulled her panties down, over her hips and off. Invaded by a wanton, hitherto unexplored need, she instinctively arched her back, her hips rising to meet him as he spread her legs with his thigh. He leant back for a second and, getting protection, rolled it on, then he pressed down, close over her whole body and thrust in, so completely and deeply that she cried out. The spiral of ecstasy finally obliterated all coherent, troubling thoughts. Just as she’d wished and hoped for.

‘More wine?’

Maggie shook her head and placed a hand over her glass. She was still finding it hard to meet Caleb’s eyes. An hour after dinner had been ready, they were eating.

And all because…all because…

Maggie wished the ground would just open up and let her disappear. She had begged him to kiss her, not to stop. She had practically ripped his clothes off him. She had initiated an act of lovemaking that had combusted around them like a white-hot flame. She’d been half naked in the kitchen. An awful mortification twisted her insides.

He’d taken her hard and fast and so totally that she still felt dizzy. And she knew it had been motivated purely by her desire to avoid being faced with his indifference to her feelings—feelings she wasn’t ready to acknowledge. That was a route to self-destruction if ever there was one.

‘Maggie?’

Reluctantly, she forced herself to meet his gaze.

‘Do you want to tell me what’s causing that pained expression on your face? Or will I just assume it was my cooking?’

Her gaze slipped away, then back. Of course he’d be used to his mistresses taking the initiative; they’d no doubt be far more experienced than her in the ways of lovemaking to keep a man like Caleb happy. In contrast to her inner agitation, he seemed to think nothing out of the ordinary had just happened. She forced a bland, cool look and smiled. ‘Nothing, and your chicken was…delicious.’

It had been sublime, cooked to perfection. And would have been even better had they eaten it when it had been ready. That thought made her cringe inwardly again.

‘Flattery?’ he mocked with a raised brow. ‘Trying to throw me off the scent of something, Maggie?’

She couldn’t be that transparent, could she? She could feel a red tide ascending.

‘Your blushes make you as easy to read as a book.’

A sudden pain gripped her. Thank God he thought he had her so well sized up that every time she blushed it meant the opposite to what she was really feeling. But the pain struck sharp. She got up to clear away the plates. When she came back in, he grabbed her wrist and pulled her down into his lap.

‘What?’ Why did she have to sound so breathless? And why was her body coming to vibrant life so easily? Traitor.

‘I’ve got a surprise for you…You didn’t spot anything outside when you came back?’

Maggie shook her head. Where was this going?

‘I wanted to show you earlier, but then you were so late…and we got distracted.’

He felt Maggie tense against his body. She was such a mass of contradictions. Making love to him with an intensity and passion he’d never encountered, only to spend the next hour avoiding his eyes. He was used to having to firmly extricate himself from cloying embraces after making love and with Maggie…she was the complete opposite, couldn’t wait to get away from him. And, for the first time, he actually felt a little…piqued.

But then she was nothing but a heartless, mercenary…he wanted to say bitch, but it felt wrong. He couldn’t actually say the word, even in his head. In an effort to avoid thinking about it, he stood abruptly, taking Maggie with him. Her serious eyes were focused on his face; he could feel a responding heat unfurl just under her look.

‘Come downstairs; I’ll show you.’

He took her hand and led her out of the apartment. Down the lift, to the door and out into the rapidly darkening night. They were on the street.

‘Well?’ he asked a little impatiently after a few minutes’ silence.

Maggie looked up and down, more and more bemused. ‘Caleb, I don’t know what you want me to—’ She stopped suddenly and he felt her hand tighten on his. ‘My car…my car is gone…It was just here…’ She pulled free and stepped closer to the road. ‘Where…? I mean, I parked it just here. I know I did.’ She could feel panic start to rise and turned to face him. ‘Maybe it’s been towed. I paid the meter earlier, though; no one could possibly want to take it—’

‘Maggie, stop.’ Caleb came and turned her back round to face the cars parked on the street. He brought his arms around her body and pointed at a gleaming brand-new Mini Cooper, sitting in exactly the same spot as her car had been.

‘No…my one was old, remember?’ she said, slightly bitterly in light of his recent opinion on why she might own a car like it.

‘I got it towed away, Maggie. It was an accident waiting to happen, believe me. This is your new car.’ He dangled a key in front of her face.

What? Just like that?

‘But…I…Where…what did you do with mine?’

‘It’s probably the size of a tin can by now.’

As Maggie was still held in the circle of his arms, her back to him, she couldn’t stop the wobble in her lip. She felt inexplicably as though Caleb had just pulled her soul out, wrung it dry and handed it back. She knew it was just a car, but it had been hers, the first thing she’d bought. A symbol of her independence from Tom. She’d taught her mother how to drive in it. And now, without so much as a by your leave, Caleb had thrown it away.

She bit down furiously on her lip to stop the tremble. There was no way he could know how much this hurt her—he’d probably think she was just acting again. He was still dangling the key. She picked it out of his hand—still hadn’t said anything, couldn’t trust herself. He let her go and she walked over. It was so silly, she knew, to be this upset. And she was angry. She blinked her eyes, ignored the ache in her heart, took a deep breath and turned around with a huge smile on her face. ‘It’s beautiful. Sorry, I was just stunned…I’ve never…I mean it’s been so long since anyone gave me a gift so generous…’

The anger and pain galvanised her actions; she came back and reached up to kiss him and pouted prettily. ‘I presume it’ll be mine after the two months are up? After all, I do need a car…’ here she trailed a finger down his front and the gesture jarred uncomfortably with him ‘…and the jewels too…?’

She looked up coquettishly from under long lashes and could see the hoped for reaction set in, the hardening of his jaw, that harsh glitter in his eyes. She was acting true to the form he expected. And it made her sick inside. But also, bizarrely, for some reason, protected.

‘Of course.’ As much as he detested her behaviour, he could feel a sense of relief flood through him. Had he actually for one moment thought that she was anything other than this? What a fool! It somehow helped to justify giving her priceless gems, even the car.

It was no less than he’d given any other mistress.

You’re just giving into her mercenary little heart. It’s what she wanted all along…and more…

He furiously reasoned with himself—her car, if it had been hers, which he seriously doubted, had been a liability…and, as for the jewels…he wanted to adorn her luminous skin in fiery rubies and flashing emeralds. It was purely for his pleasure alone. Their collective worth was chicken-feed to him. He took her hand and led her back inside. Maggie shut out the image of the sparkly new car that she would have traded any day of the week to have her own again.

She took the car for a drive the next day, on a visit to her mother. When they came out of the house a few hours later, her mother sounded suspicious.

‘He’s a very generous employer, giving you a car just like that…’

Maggie tried to avoid the scrutiny of her mother’s gaze. ‘Yes, well, the other thing was a rattle trap and you were the one always telling me to get rid of it.’

‘I know, but I also know how much you loved it.’

‘Yes, well…’ Maggie said airily. ‘As Caleb’s assistant now, I have to look a certain way, maintain a certain…image.’

Her mother had that all too familiar worried frown again. ‘Maggie…are you sure everything is all right? I remember that you and Caleb had that—’

Maggie cut her off rapidly. ‘Mum, that was dinner—once. I’m not in his league—don’t worry.’

She leant in to kiss her. She longed to give in and lean on her mother…but years of being the support had ingrained her sense of responsibility too deep.

‘And what about your painting?’

Maggie pulled back. ‘That’ll just have to wait for a few weeks.’

She didn’t look convinced but let Maggie sit in the small car before saying innocently, ‘I’ve invited Caleb for lunch next week, to say thank you for being so kind—I’m still so embarrassed that Tom tried his best to ruin him.’

Maggie looked up wildly. Caleb here? At the house? With her mother gushing about how wonderful he was?

‘He’s far too busy. He can’t possibly make time—’ She went cold. ‘Hang on a second, did you say invited?’

‘Yes, dear. I asked Michael Murphy to call him and extend the invitation; he said yes immediately. You’ll come too, of course.’

Her words were still reverberating in Maggie’s head as she arrived back at the apartment. Disaster. Her mother was likely to give everything away with just a few words. Yet she knew if she tried to dissuade Caleb from going, he’d suspect something immediately and be even more determined to go. No doubt he was wondering what on earth Tom’s widow wanted with him. Maggie would have to watch her mother like a hawk and just make sure she said nothing incriminating. Her head was throbbing.

The phone was ringing as she got in, but stopped before she could reach it. She knew it was Caleb, could feel his impatience as, sure enough, her mobile started to shrill.

‘Where were you?’

‘Out…I went for a drive; is that okay?’

He grunted.

She had to check, to confirm for herself. ‘I believe my mother has asked you for lunch…?’

Please say no, laugh, say you won’t be able to go…

‘Yes and I’m looking forward to it…I’m even intrigued, you could say. I was calling to say I’ll be back at eight.’

Maggie felt sick as the phone went dead.

That night and for the next few days they seemed to settle into an uneasy truce. Uneasy because Maggie had to guard her tongue all the time. Especially when Caleb was relaxed and charming. Which, she hated to admit, was more often than not. Unless something from the past reared its ugly head. Then he shut down. By day she stocked up on some art supplies, explored the outdoor terrace of the apartment, even tried to do a little painting, and by night…by night, she and Caleb entered another realm, where no words were spoken, no words were blessedly needed as he took her to height after height of pleasure.

As the day of the lunch approached, Maggie was hoping against hope that Caleb had forgotten about it, but her wishes were dashed when he emerged from the shower on the Sunday morning.

‘What time is lunch?’

He’d remembered.

Maggie sat up in the bed, pulling the sheet up, still absurdly shy in front of Caleb, even though just minutes before he’d wrought a response from her that still had her pulse beating fast. She willed down the tell-tale heat with monumental effort.

‘One o’clock.’

As if she didn’t already know that his mind was as sharp as a sword. She fled into the bathroom so she wouldn’t have to watch him dress and, when she emerged, she could hear him whistling merrily in the kitchen. As if he didn’t have a care in the world. She envied him his cool ability to ride roughshod over people’s lives and ignored the traitorous tingle in her body and the voice that whispered to her how much she enjoyed certain aspects of being with him.

On the way out of the city she asked him to stop by a newsagents so she could get some papers. He looked at her with a strange expression.

‘What?’

‘Nothing…’ He lifted his brows innocently.

‘I can read, you know. And I do like to keep up with current affairs. I’m sorry if your usual…’ The word stuck in her craw.

‘Girlfriends?’ he supplied with a quirk on his lips.

‘Mistresses…are more intellectually challenged.’

He lifted a hand and ticked off on his fingers. ‘Actually, the last one was a human rights lawyer; the one before that was a hedge fund manager; the one before that—’

‘Okay, okay, I get the point. So I’m your dumbest mistress—’

He’d parked the car and leant over suddenly, thinking of how dry and sterile and boring those women had been. ‘Dumb? That’s not a word I’d use to describe you, Maggie.’ And he was suddenly surprised to know that he really meant it. In the last few days he’d had more stimulating conversations with her than he’d had with anyone in a long time. And he was uncomfortably aware of how much he’d come to look forward to walking in that door every day…as much as he might deny it to himself.

When he looked at her the way he was now, with that heated expression in his eyes, Maggie just wanted to drown in the blue depths. She willed herself back to sanity and felt for the door handle, not even able to break away, much as she wanted to. Finally she found it and practically fell out of the car, fled into the shop…and then came back.

‘Sorry, I should have asked, did you want anything?’

Caleb just shook his head and watched her leave. That something was niggling him again. Like a constant barely-there buzzing in his head, he couldn’t put his finger on it, it was so elusive. And he had to acknowledge the dark part of him that didn’t want to investigate what it was.

By the time they reached the house he’d put it from his mind. Maggie turned around to face him in the car when they pulled in, something urgent in her movements.

‘My mother thinks I’m working for you as an assistant, so please don’t disabuse her of that, and Caleb…’

He faced her properly, momentarily stunned by the serious expression on her face, the unmistakable protective light in her eyes. He’d seen it before, in Monte Carlo.

‘If you do or say anything to upset her…the deal will be off—we’ll cope somehow, but I will walk away and you can have the house.’

‘How on earth could I upset your mother, Maggie?’

‘She had nothing to do with anything, Caleb, nothing. Just remember it’s me you’re punishing, not her.’

And she got out of the car.

For a second Caleb sat there. Punishing her? As he watched her walk to the door, the soft folds of the dress she wore flowing round her hips and legs, as he felt the familiar surge of desire that wasn’t abating one tiny bit, the thought that she felt he was punishing her was not a comfortable one. And he didn’t know why. Because that was what he’d set out to do all along, wasn’t it?

He stepped out, meeting Maggie at the door just as it opened. He almost didn’t recognise the woman who stood there. She certainly looked different from how he remembered her—as almost grey, fading into the background. This woman looked…vibrant. Although he could see something in her eyes, some light that had been diminished, and there was a distinct wariness, a jumpiness there. He could see traces of the beauty she’d once been. A different beauty from Maggie’s, but there all the same. Maggie was hugging her and re-introducing them, as they’d met in London. He could feel the waves of warning emanate from her tightly held body and suddenly wanted to reassure her. He fought down the urge, telling himself he must be getting soft.

Maggie’s mother showed them into the front room, the same one that he’d been in before, where he’d seen Maggie again for the first time since they met in London. When they had drinks in their hands, she sat nervously on the edge of a chair.

‘Mr Cameron—’

He smiled urbanely. ‘Caleb, please.’

She smiled. ‘Very well, Caleb. I just wanted to say…thank you so much for being so generous. I don’t know how we can ever repay you. You have no idea how much this house meant, means to us…me and Maggie.’ She took Maggie’s hand beside her. ‘After my beloved Brendan died, it was all I had to remind me of him…’

‘Mrs Holland, I had no intention of making you suffer. Once Maggie explained the situation to me, I couldn’t have taken your house too…’

‘But…I know what this house is worth, Mr Cameron—’

Caleb could see tears come into her eyes. Then, he just knew. Maggie had told him the truth. This woman had had nothing to do with Tom’s plans.

‘Mrs Holland, I’m making full use of Maggie while I’m here in Dublin. When I leave, I’ll be more than satisfied to leave the house to you. Believe me, it’s enough.’

He looked at Maggie. She was burning up and he could see the pulse thumping erratically against her neck. She finally managed to get out a strangled, ‘Mum…shouldn’t we check the lunch?’