Читать книгу A Devilishly Dark Deal - Maggie Cox, Maggie Cox - Страница 7

THEY called them casas antigas in Portugal … manor-houses and stately homes. Grace’s eyes widened more and more the further Marco’s chauffeur Miguel drove them up the long sweeping drive that had met them the moment he’d pressed the remote device in the car to open the ornate electronic gates at the entrance. As they drove past the colonnade of tall trees lining the way she caught sight of the palatial colonial-style house they were heading towards, with its marble pillars glistening in the afternoon sunshine. She stared in near disbelief, murmuring, ‘My God …’ beneath her breath.

Inevitably she thought of the ramshackle building that housed the orphanage back in Africa, and was struck dumb by the heartbreaking comparison to the dazzling vision of nineteenth-century architecture she was gazing at now. Did Marco Aguilar live here all by himself? she wondered. Just the thought seemed preposterous.

The smiling chauffeur in his smartly pressed black trousers and pristine white shirt opened the Jaguar door at her side to let her out, and as Grace stepped down onto the gravel drive the scent of heady bougainvillaea mingled with the heat of the day to saturate her senses. Lifting her sunglasses up onto her head, she glanced back at the house and with a jolt of surprise saw Marco, standing on one of the wide curving upper steps, waiting. ‘Olá!’ He raised a hand, acknowledging her with a brief wave.

He wore khaki-coloured chinos and a white T-shirt that highlighted his athletic, muscular torso, and his stance was much more at ease than when she’d seen him yesterday. Her trepidation at speaking with him again eased slightly … but only slightly.

When she reached the level just below where he stood, he held out his hand to warmly enfold her palm in his. He smiled. ‘We meet again.’

His touch submerged Grace in a shockwave of heated sensation that rendered her unable to reply immediately.

This is terrible, she thought, panicking. How am I supposed to sound at all competent and professional and say what I want to say if I’m completely thrown off-balance by a simple handshake?

‘Thanks for sending the car for me,’ she managed. ‘This is such a beautiful house.’ Quickly retrieving her hand, she tried hard to make her smile relaxed to disguise her unexpectedly strong reaction to his touch.

‘I agree. It is. Why don’t you come inside and see it properly?’ he invited.

If Grace had felt overwhelmed at the imposing façade of Marco’s house, then she was rendered almost speechless by the opulence and beauty of the interior. A sea of marble floor and high intricate ceilings greeted her over and over again as her host led her through various reception rooms to what appeared to be a much less ostentatious and intimate drawing room. Elegant couches and armchairs encircled a large hand-knotted Persian rug in various exquisite shades of red, ochre and gold, whilst open French doors revealed a wide balcony overlooking landscaped gardens stretching right down to the sea. This time it was the bewitching fragrance of honeysuckle drifting into the room that fell like soft summer rain onto Grace’s already captivated senses. She was utterly enchanted.

‘Do you want to sit outside on the balcony? I trust you are wearing suncream on that delicate pale skin of yours?’

‘I’m well protected—and, yes … I would very much like to sit outside.’

Settling herself beneath a generously sized green and gold parasol in a comfortable rattan chair, Grace glanced out over the lush landscaped gardens in front of her and sighed. ‘What an amazing view … your own private paradise on earth. I hope you regularly get to share it with your friends. It would be a crime not to. I bet you must really love living here?’

As he dropped down into a chair opposite her at the mosaic tiled table a myriad of differing emotions seemed to register on her host’s handsome face and she didn’t see one that reflected pleasure.

‘Unfortunately I probably don’t appreciate it as much as I should, seeing as I am not here very often,’ he said.

‘But you do originally come from here don’t you …? From the Algarve I mean?’ The impetuous question was out before she could check it, and straight away she saw that Marco was irked by it.

‘Now you are sounding like one of those too-inquisitive reporters again. By the way … where did you hear that I’d grown up in an orphanage?’

Swallowing hard, Grace sensed hot colour suffuse her. ‘I didn’t hear it directly … I mean … the person who said it wasn’t talking to me. I just happened to overhear a conversation he was having with someone else in a café I was sitting in.’

‘So it was a local man?’

‘Yes. He sounded very admiring about what you’d achieved … he wasn’t being disrespectful in any way.’

‘And when you heard that I was due to visit the Algarve, and that I was an orphan, you thought you would take the opportunity to petition my help for your orphans in Africa?’

‘Yes … I’m sure you’d have done the same in my position.’

‘Are you?’

Folding his arms, Marco looked to be pondering the assumption—not without a hint of sardonic humour, Grace noted.

‘Perhaps I would and perhaps I wouldn’t. Anyway, I think we should talk a little more in depth about what you came here for … get down to the details, hmm?’

‘Of course.’ Relieved that her admission about hearing a chance remark hadn’t prejudiced him against talking to her some more, she lifted her gaze and forced herself to look straight back into the compelling hooded dark eyes. ‘But I just want you to know that this isn’t the sort of thing I do every day … spontaneously railroading someone like you into giving their help, I mean. When I’m working at the charity’s office in London I have to be completely professional and adhere to strict rules. We either do a blanket mailshot of people likely to make donations, or once in a while I might get the chance to ring somebody who’s known for being charitable and talk to them personally.’

‘If you’re being honest, then that makes a very welcome change.’

Marco considered her so intently for a moment that Grace all but forgot to breathe.

‘Honesty I can deal with. Subterfuge is apt to make me angry.’

‘I’m not a liar, Mr Aguilar, and neither am I trying to fool you in any way.’

‘I believe you, Grace. I believe you are exactly who you say you are, and also the reason why you accosted me yesterday. Did you not think that I would check? So … That aside, tell me some more about this cause that makes you risk being apprehended to get to me—I would very much like to hear how you got involved in the first place. Why don’t you start by telling me about that?’

She shouldn’t have been surprised that he’d checked up on her, but all the same she was.

Immensely relieved that she had nothing to hide, Grace told him about finishing her studies at university and still being unsure about what career she wanted to take up. Then she told him about a conversation she’d had with a friend of her parents whose son had been giving up his post at a children’s charity in London to travel a bit and see the world. That family friend had suggested she apply for the post. As luck had had it, she’d done well at the interview and got the job. Grace had been there for a couple of years when the opportunity had arisen for her to go out to Africa and visit one of the many orphanages the charity was endeavouring to assist. She had visited several times since, but that first visit had changed her life, she told Marco, feeling a renewed rush of the zeal that gripped her to personally try and do something about the heartrending plight of the children she’d witnessed.

As she finished speaking, with hope travelling to the highest peaks one minute as she believed she might elicit Marco’s help, then plummeting down the slopes of anxiety the next in fear that he might refuse her, Grace heard nothing but the sound of her own quickened breath as she waited for his response.

The sun’s burning heat seemed to intensify just then—even beneath the wide umbrella that provided shade for them. A slippery trickle of sweat ran down between her breasts inside the silky white camisole she wore, and unthinkingly she touched her fingertips to the spot to wipe it away. When she glanced up again she saw an expression in Marco’s eyes that was so akin to naked desire that she froze, her heartbeat slowing to a deep, heavy thud inside her chest and a carnal longing so acute invading her that the power of it made her feel quite faint …

Her soft voice had died away to silence, but more than a little transfixed Marco found himself helplessly staring at the sight of Grace’s slender fingers moving to the neckline of her camisole. Diverted from her explanation about how she’d become involved with the charity, he’d already tracked the little bead of sweat that had slithered down from the base of her throat, and when he saw her dip her fingers inside the plain white silk underneath the small embroidered buttons to deal with it he was gripped by an all-consuming lust so blazing that it turned him instantly hard. His desire was fuelled even further by his conviction that her action had been totally innocent and unconscious.

Grace Faulkner was already making his heart race faster than it had done with any other woman whose company he’d shared in a long, long time, and he realised that he wasn’t in a hurry for her to leave him any time soon.

‘Would you like something to drink?’ he asked, getting abruptly to his feet. At his guest’s hesitant nod, he started to move back towards the open French doors. ‘What will it be? A glass of wine? Lemonade or some fruit juice, perhaps?’

‘A glass of lemonade would be perfect … thank you.’

‘I will go and find my housekeeper.’

When he returned from the kitchen, where he’d arranged for their drinks to be brought out to them by Inês—a local woman he had hired as housekeeper and cook—Marco returned to the balcony, feeling a little more in control of the fierce attraction his pretty guest had unwittingly provoked. Yet his pulse still raced at the sight of her sitting quietly beneath the parasol. With her pale blonde hair lying softly against her shoulders, even her profile was angelic. He privately confessed he would do almost anything to get her to stay with him for the rest of the afternoon.

Her smile was shy and a little reticent as he sat down again. He had the sense that when she wasn’t championing a cause she was the quiet, reflective sort. He liked that. It would be a refreshing change from the women he usually dated … all spiky demands and too-high expectations of where a relationship with him might lead.

‘Our drinks will be along shortly,’ he told her.

‘Mr Aguilar …’ she began.

He raised an eyebrow. ‘Marco,’ he corrected gently.

Her incandescent summer-blue gaze slid away for a moment. He saw her take down a deeper breath, as if to centre herself.

‘I was wondering if you’d made a decision about whether you might be able to help the children or not?’

He took a few moments to marshal his thoughts. He hadn’t embellished the truth when he’d told Grace at their first meeting that there were many charities he supported, and there were quite a few children’s charities amongst them. Yet none of them was directly helping orphaned children. The subject was apt to bring back memories of a childhood that he had striven hard not just to forget but to hide from the world at large. Perhaps he had subconsciously aimed to dissociate himself from that quarter entirely in case it brought forth more intrusive and uncomfortable questions from the media about his past?

‘I have no doubt that your children’s cause is one that a wealthy man like me ought to readily support, Grace, and while I am definitely not averse to making a donation, having listened and talked to you, I would like a bit more time to reflect on what level of help I can give. If you leave the details with me I will look over them at my leisure and get back to you. Is that all right with you?’

‘Of course … and it’s fantastic that you’ve decided to help us. It’s just that …’

She leaned forward and he saw conflict in her eyes—maybe at trying to press him to take action sooner rather than later, which warred with her innate impulse to be polite. Even so, he wasn’t above using whatever weapon he could from his personal armoury to get what he wanted. His success in business hadn’t come about without a propensity to be single-mindedly ruthless from time to time. Pretty little Grace wanted something from him, and likewise he wanted something from her, he realised. He didn’t doubt there had to be a way of gratifying both needs.

‘It’s just that I don’t want to take up any more of your time than necessary,’ she said in a rush. ‘I know you must be an extremely busy man.’

‘Are you in a hurry to leave?’

‘Not at all, but …’

‘Yes?’

‘I really don’t want to offend you, or perhaps bring back hurtful memories of your past, but I just want to paint a picture for you if I may? Can you imagine what it must be like not only to have to contend with being be an orphan, with no mother or father to love you and take care of you, but also to live in a dirty shack without even the most basic amenities that most of us take for granted? I don’t mean to be pushy, I really don’t, but the sooner we can alleviate their dreadful living conditions and put up a new more sanitary building, the better. For that we desperately need financial help. So when you say you’ll look over the details at your leisure … do you have any idea how long that might take?’

Inside his chest, Marco’s heart was thundering. No, he didn’t have to imagine what it was like to grow up without a mother or father to take care of him … not when he’d personally experienced it, growing up in a children’s home where there had been about five or six children to every carer. The sense of emotional deprivation it had left him with would be with him for ever, and no amount of money, career success or comfortable living would alleviate his underlying feelings of being isolated from the rest of the world and certainly not as deserving of love as other people.

But at least the building he had lived in had been safe and hygienic. He abhorred the idea of innocent children having to contend with the dreadful conditions Grace had emphatically outlined to him, so he would be writing her a cheque so that they could have their new building. But he wouldn’t be hurried.

‘Whilst I am a compassionate man, Grace, I am first and foremost a businessman, who is meticulous about looking over the details of every transaction I make. I’m afraid you are going to have to be a little more patient if you want my help.’

‘It’s hard to be patient when you personally know the children who are suffering,’ she murmured, her cheeks turning a delicate rose. ‘You’ve checked out that I am who I say I am, and that the charity I represent is absolutely legitimate, so why delay? I can assure you every penny of the money you give us will be accounted for, and you’ll get a receipt for everything.’

‘I am pleased to hear it, but if you knew how many worthy charities petition me for financial aid you would perhaps understand why I must take the appropriate time to discern who receives it and when.’ He paused to bestow upon her a more concentrated glance. ‘You’re studying me as if you cannot understand my caution in writing you a cheque straight away? Maybe you think that because I clearly have the money I shouldn’t hesitate to give it to your charity? Perhaps you believe that I should feel guilty about having so much? If that is so, then you should know that I worked hard from a very young age to have the success I have now. One thing is for sure … I did not grow up with a silver spoon in my mouth, and neither was good fortune handed to me on a plate.’

The woman sitting opposite him at the table bit down heavily on her plump lower lip and her glance suddenly became fixated on the mosaic-tiled tabletop. When she next looked up her lovely blue eyes were glistening, Marco saw.

‘I’m so sorry. I had no right to rant at you about the situation. I get too passionate, that’s the trouble. You’ve been nothing but hospitable and gracious, giving up your time to talk to me like this, offering your help, and now I’ve been unforgivably rude and presumptuous.’

‘I don’t believe for one moment that you meant to be discourteous. However, I am beginning to realise that underneath that angelic exterior I see before me there is a veritable wildcat.’

‘Only when I see injustice and pain.’

‘Ah … God knows there is enough of that in the world to keep you busy for the rest of your life, no? But, tell me, was that the only reason you came to the Algarve, Grace? To see if you could petition my help for your charity?’

Tucking a strand of drifting fair hair behind her ear, she released a long, slow breath. ‘No, it wasn’t. I truly only thought of asking your help when I overheard that conversation in the café. I’m here because I’m having a bit of a break from work, since you ask. I’m afraid I returned from Africa feeling rather exhausted and a little low after my last visit there. The sights I’ve seen haunt me. Anyway, my parents have a holiday home here and they suggested I come out for a rest.’

‘So you are, in effect, on holiday?’

Her big blue eyes visibly widened, as if she was taken aback by the mere idea. ‘I suppose I am. Although the truth is I’m not very good at relaxing. After being in Africa and seeing the children at the orphanage I can’t stop thinking about them and constantly wondering what else I can do to help.’

‘So when you learned that I would be in the area for a meeting you were determined to try and talk to me?’

‘Yes … I was.’

Helplessly, perhaps inevitably, Marco found himself warming to his refreshingly candid guest even more. ‘Clearly your desire to assist those less fortunate than yourself drove you to risk something you perhaps would not ordinarily do. You must be possessed of an exceptionally kind heart, Grace.’

‘You make it sound like it’s something unusual. There are some wonderful people who work for the charity who are equally committed and devoted.’

Inês appeared through the elegant French doors with a tray of drinks. The plump Portuguese woman’s smile was positively beatific when Grace warmly thanked her for the tall glass of lemonade, and right then Marco thought it would take a stone-hearted soul indeed not to respond similarly to this young woman’s generous warm nature.

When the housekeeper had left them alone again, he took a long cool sip of his drink then leant back in his chair. ‘I told you that I unexpectedly find myself with a free afternoon today? I think I would very much like you to spend the rest of it with me. We will start by going out to lunch.’

Grace was sure that most women finding themselves in her position right now with the arresting Marco Aguilar sitting opposite and declaring they would go out to lunch, would silently jump for joy at having such good fortune. But Grace didn’t jump for joy. The situation was just too unreal to be believable, and she didn’t feel anywhere near equipped to go out to lunch with such a man. Especially when she’d probably just offended him with her passionate outburst and more or less telling him he should help the charity.

He was a successful and wealthy man, yes. But she’d learned that he knew personally what it was like to be deprived and go without—emotionally at least—having been brought up an orphan himself. Why he wanted to be with her for even a minute longer bewildered her. And if she did agree to go to lunch with him, what could she talk about? Save helping the orphans and maybe complimenting him again on his beautiful house?

Before leaving home she’d led a more or less uneventful life. In fact, Grace hadn’t felt as if she’d really experienced life at all until she’d stolen her freedom and permanently left home after returning from university. God knew she loved her parents … was grateful for all that they’d done for her … but in truth there were times when their protectiveness all but suffocated her. They were always so afraid she’d make the wrong choices, always wanting to protect her from the possibility of making mistakes.

That was why she’d never felt able to tell them that she’d once briefly dated a man who had hit her in a drunken rage and tried to rape her. He’d never got the chance to hurt her a second time, but the psychological wounds he’d left her with had not easily nor quickly abated. Though she would never regret her decision to break free, that experience had made her wary of getting involved with anyone again. Even a so-called simple date seemed fraught with danger now.

‘It’s very kind of you to offer to take me to lunch, but … don’t you have someone else you’d rather go with?’

Looking honestly bewildered, her companion shook his head—as if not quite believing what he’d just heard. ‘In answer to that strange question I will only say that I would rather go to lunch with you, Grace. I wouldn’t have suggested it otherwise.’

‘But you hardly know me—and I hardly know you.’ Tearing her glance free from Marco’s disturbingly frank examination, she stared out at the sublime vista of shimmering verdant green that stretched out like an infinite plateau in front of them. It might as well have been a vast ocean and she a small rudderless boat lost in the middle of it, she thought. That was how vulnerable and afraid she suddenly felt.

‘And how will we get to know each other if we don’t spend some time together?’

As if to prompt her into making a decision, pangs of genuine hunger registered inside Grace. She’d been so keyed up about meeting with Marco again that she hadn’t been able even to contemplate eating breakfast. What harm could it do simply to have lunch with him? In fact it would seem ill-mannered not to in light of him agreeing to help the charity.

She proffered an uncertain smile. ‘All right, then. I accept your offer … thank you.’

Already extracting his mobile phone from a back pocket, her host flashed a disarming grin. A grin that could melt a girl’s insides at fifty paces … ‘I know the perfect restaurant,’ he said.

Another worrying thought seized her—one that she was nervous of drawing attention to. ‘Is it the kind of place where you have to dress up?’ she asked.

Marco’s glance made a leisurely reconnaissance of her face, neck and shoulders. Her blood started to heat the second she drew his gaze. ‘You don’t have to worry about that when you’re with me, meu querida. Besides … your beauty would grace any establishment. It matters not what you are wearing.’ His smile became even more seductive. ‘However … what you have on is extremely becoming.’

‘Even if I’m not up to the standard of your usual guests?’ she quipped daringly.

‘I am sorry I said what I said to you yesterday about your clothes. It was not the behaviour of a gentleman.’

‘But now that you’ve apologised I promise I won’t hold it against you.’

Even as he frowned thoughtfully at this response, Grace’s lips were forming an unrepentantly teasing grin …

Marco’s chauffeur drove them to a three-storeyed restaurant that overlooked the ocean. As they walked up the winding path to the entrance a small group of staff were waiting to greet them—just as if the handsome businessman was someone whose presence lit up their day. They apologised profusely that the manager was away attending his daughter’s wedding and couldn’t be there to welcome Marco and his guest personally.

Her companion had a friendly word with all of them, Grace noticed, acting as if he had all the time in the world to spare. As she watched him effortlessly interact, she reflected on how different he seemed from the way the press depicted him. She hadn’t read a great deal about him, but what she’d read definitely painted him as some kind of playboy, intent on enjoying the fruits his wealth and status had brought him to the maximum. But now, with the palm of his hand pressed lightly against her back, a more immediate realisation troubled her. The thin top she wore ensured that her spine was sizzling beneath his touch, just as though his fingertips had stroked over her naked skin.

A strange sense of How on earth is this happening to me assailed her as two of the attentive young waiters led them up the stairs onto the roof terrace.

The ambience was surprisingly intimate for what was quite a large space. As they were escorted to what was clearly the best table in the house, with a prime view of the matchless sunlit ocean, an equal fuss was made of both of them. Already in her mind Grace was calling it the Marco effect. Even if he hadn’t been as well-known as he was, she didn’t doubt he would draw attention—just like a sudden flash of dazzlingly bright light in a darkened room.

Having ordered their drinks, they were now on their own again—apart from the inquisitive glances of nearby diners, sneaking a look at her impossibly handsome companion every now and then that was …

Lowering the leather-bound menu he’d been given, Marco frowned. ‘The emphasis is on seafood here. I should have asked if you were okay with that … If not, I am sure the chef can prepare something you would like more.’

Having glanced at the extensive menu herself, Grace realised again how ravenous she was. ‘I love fish … in fact, I prefer it to meat. This restaurant was a good choice,’ she reassured him.

‘I bask in the light of your approval.’

‘I wasn’t being condescending. I’m just grateful that you brought me here. Look at the view—it’s absolutely fantastic!’

‘You don’t need to feel grateful or deserving, Grace. The fact is I wanted your company. I want to get to know you better. Tell me … is there a boyfriend at home?’

She thought he was teasing her, and half expected to see his sculpted lips shape a gently mocking smile, but when she glanced back at him Marco’s expression was quite deadly serious. ‘I’ve been too busy to have a boyfriend,’ she told him. Even though she tried not to let it, inevitably some defensiveness crept into her tone. Her fingers restlessly unfolded the starched linen napkin in front of her on the table, then folded it back again into its perfectly formed square.

‘So there is no man to take you out to dinner or to the movies?’

It wasn’t just this man’s looks that were compelling—his deep, rich voice had its fair share of magic in it too. So much so that Grace was all but mesmerised by the sound of it. ‘I have some good friends. If I want to go out to dinner or to a movie I go with them.’

She heard his quiet intake of breath and was transfixed by the indisputably intimate tenor of his beautiful dark eyes. ‘And what about those other needs that a woman might want a man for?’ he asked softly.