Читать книгу Master Of El Corazon - Сандра Мартон, Sandra Marton - Страница 10

CHAPTER FOUR

PABLO drove her to her interview with Felix Romero in an ancient, brilliantly polished Cadillac limousine. There would be, he warned, three separate interviews to endure, although only one would take place today.

‘Señorita Linda is away, but when she returns she will insist on questioning you, too,’ he said as they bounced over a dusty dirt road, ‘even though the decision of your employment is not actually hers to make. Whether or not you get the job is up to Senor Romero—and to Señor Conor, of course.’

‘Who?’

‘Señor Conor Martinez.’ Pablo looked into the rearview mirror. ‘He is—how would say?—he is the true master of El Corazon.’

‘But I thought—’

‘Someone had to take charge when Señor Romero’s health began to fail.’

Arden sank back against the seat. ‘Alejandro never mentioned any of this,’ she said glumly. ‘I suppose you’re going to tell me this Senor Martinez is as difficult as Senor Romero.’

‘Some would say he is even more so,’ Pablo admitted after a pause. His eyes met Arden’s in the mirror. ‘Senor Conor is of the old school. He demands obedience and perfection.’

Arden could see him in her mind’s eye, a tall, white-haired Spaniard, his face marked by age and discipline, until suddenly another image swept that one aside, that of a tall, handsome man with green eyes, an unsmiling mouth, and the certain belief that he could never be wrong.

‘You mean,’ she said, her words touched with bitterness, ‘he sets himself up as judge, jury, and executioner.’

The chauffeur chuckled. ‘An interesting description, sefiorita.’

And, without question, an accurate one. Arden closed her eyes. Wonderful. Just wonderful. She was about to sign on for a job that would make her a servant, answerable to not one man but two, a pair of elderly Spanish grandees who had no idea the world was moving swiftly into the twenty-first century.

Why had she let Alejandro talk her into this? Anything would be better than—

‘We are arrived, señorita.’

Arden opened her eyes and sat forward just as a pair of massive iron gates swung open to an electronic signal. The Cadillac slowed and began moving up the long driveway, and a little shudder went through her.

Alejandro had described El Corazon as magnificent; it was a word she’d heard often from her mother while she was growing up.

‘I’m going to be working for the Baileys,’ Evelyn would say, and then she’d sigh dramatically. ‘Their house is just magnificent!’

After a while, Arden had known what ‘magnificent’ meant. It was a synonym for grandiose and overdone, a way of saying that a house was far too big to be a home, had cost more money than anything should, and would surely impress the life out of anyone who saw it.

But none of that described El Corazon.

She leaned forward and stared out the window. El Corazon—The Heart—had seemed a romantic name, but this house was hardly romantic. Seen from a distance, it was large and imposing, larger, probably, than any of Greenfield’s pricey mansions. A flower-banked path bisected a wide lawn that looked as if it were carpeted with dark green velvet; it led to wide white steps and a porch whose graceful colonnades drew the eye upward to the house itself with its black trim and Spanish tile roof.

Arden sank back in her seat. What was she doing here? It was too late to tell Pablo to turn the car around, she would have to go through with the first interview, but at its conclusion she would politely thank Felix Romero for his time, then ask Pablo to drive her back to the city. And then she’d swallow what little was left of her pride, go to the Embassy, and beg for help.

Anything would be better than going to work as a servant in a house like this.

Romero was waiting for her in the library. He was a wizened old man with a full mane of white hair, gnarled hands that were tightly clasped around the ivory head of a walking stick despite the fact that he was seated in a wheelchair, and an expression sour enough to make a lemon seem sweet. After a brief few questions, he fixed Arden with a rheumy stare.

‘I am told that I am not an easy man to work for,’ he said brusquely. ‘I have a short temper, and I do not suffer fools lightly.’

Arden thought of telling him it didn’t matter because she wouldn’t take this job if he offered it to her, but she decided to be polite.

‘So I’ve heard,’ she said pleasantly.

‘If I ask you to work for me, I will expect you to rise early, to keep abreast of world affairs so we may discuss them, and to choose your companions wisely.’

‘If I were to decide to work for you, I would rise early because I have always done so, I would discuss with you whatever topics the both of us agreed were of interest, and I would choose my companions by my own standards, which I assure you are every bit as stringent as yours.’

She waited for him to respond, aware that she would never have answered with such arrogance if she hadn’t already decided she didn’t want this job. Felix Romero’s mouth twitched. It took a moment until Arden realised it was as close to a smile as he would offer.

‘It may be that you will work out,’ he said.

Arden stared at him in surprise. ‘Does that mean you’re offering me a job?’

‘Tell Pablo to go to San José and collect your things. I will give this a try.’

He would give it a try? She lifted her chin.

‘Perhaps you should ask me if I will give it a try,’ she said.

Romero’s mouth twitched again. ‘What if I suggested we both do so, Miss Miller?’

Arden hesitated. Why not? It would be just as easy to quit tomorrow as to walk off today. After a moment, she held out her hand.

‘That’s acceptable, señor.’

Romero looked at her outstretched hand, then took it into his own. His eyes met hers and he nodded.

‘Done,’ he said brusquely.

After a few weeks, Arden was glad she’d agreed to Romero’s proposal. To her surprise, the job was working out much better than she’d dreamed it could. The old man had a sharp, analytical mind and he enjoyed exercising it; sometimes, Arden thought he deliberately played devil’s advocate just to encourage discussion and philosophical argument. He had an extraordinary orchid collection and when Arden expressed an interest in it he was more than eager to teach her the names and idiosyncrasies of the various flowers.

And, perhaps most importantly, he never treated her like a servant. Her room was not in the servants’ wing but in the main part of the house, and he insisted she take her meals at his table. She knew it was childish that these things should matter to her, but they did.

Still, Felix Romero wasn’t an easy man to like. Despite his keen intellect, there was a coldness to Felix Romero as well as a streak of stubborn pride that kept his attitude as rigid as his spine. And he complained long and often about his stepdaughter and Conor Martinez.

‘The two of them will be here soon, and you will see for yourself what sort they are,’ he said stonily one morning, as he and Arden sat in the library.

‘I’m sure they’re very nice,’ Arden said.

The old man thumped his cane on the floor. ‘Do not patronise me,’ he said sharply. ‘I don’t like it!’

Arden sighed. ‘I’m only suggesting that—’

‘You are wrong, I assure you. Linda cares only for herself. She never spends time here, if she can help it.’

‘Perhaps it’s difficult for a young girl to live in such a remote location.’

‘As for Conor,’ Felix said, ignoring her comment, ‘his sole concern is to usurp as much of my power as he can.’

Arden put down the newspaper she’d been reading to him. ‘Why do you say that?’

‘You will say it, too, Miss Miller, after you have observed how he behaves.’ Felix frowned. ‘Of course, he claims he is merely trying to ease the burden of running this finca from my shoulders.’

‘Isn’t that possible?’

Romero laughed. ‘When you reach my age, you know that anything is possible. But my nephew—’

‘Your nephew?’ Arden frowned. ‘I thought—I assumed he was an older man.’

‘He is old enough to wish to wrest El Corazon from me,’ Felix said brusquely. ‘He is not an altruist, Miss Miller. I assure you, once you’ve met him, you will agree.’

Arden pushed back her chair and got to her feet. ‘Well,’ she said pleasantly, ‘I’m looking forward to meeting both Senor Martinez and Linda:

The old man smiled archly. ‘They won’t like you:

She stared at him in surprise. ‘Why not?’

‘Linda will not care for sharing the house with a woman more attractive than she could ever hope to be. As for Conor—Conor will be distrustful of anyone who might come between him and his goal.’ His brows rose. ‘Conor will surely dismiss you.’

Arden’s spirits sagged. Was she going to lose this job after such a short time?

‘And will you let him?’ she asked quickly.

Felix chuckled. ‘I hired you, Miss Miller. On my finca, my word is absolute.’

‘I hope so, señor. Working here means a great deal to me.’

‘Not to worry.’ Felix leaned forward and patted her hand. ‘Now, go and find out what’s happened to the coffee I asked for an hour ago.’

Arden bit her lip as she stepped into the hall and closed the library door after her. That would be the final straw, she thought unhappily, if she were to lose this position because of a selfish stepdaughter and a grasping nephew...

‘Brava,’ a woman’s voice said.

Arden spun around. No, she thought, it wasn’t a woman, not really. It was a girl, perhaps nineteen or twenty years of age, tall and beautiful, with a look of haughty insolence in her dark eyes, and she knew without question that this had to be Felix’s stepdaughter, Linda Vasquez.