Читать книгу The Lady's Man - Stephanie Howard - Страница 9

CHAPTER TWO

‘FOR a piece of blatant, barefaced dishonesty I would say that really takes the cake!’

The presentation was over, all the photographs had been taken and Caterina and Matthew were back at the Palazzo Verde, confronting one another across the desk in her private office.

At least Caterina, white with fury, was confronting Matthew, her hands tight fists as she glared at him across the desktop, wishing she could pluck his arrogant head from his shoulders, bury it at the bottom of some dark and spidery hole and never have to look at his hateful face again.

Matthew, for his part, was having no such violent fantasies. As he sat in the tan leather armchair opposite her he was feeling thoroughly pleased with the way things had turned out. And he was aware—though he really wasn’t looking that way on purpose—that his air of quiet satisfaction was simply driving Caterina crazy.

‘Dishonest?’ he queried, not quite managing to suppress a smile. ‘What on earth makes you come to that conclusion?’

‘Secolo Designs of Geneva! That’s what makes me come to it! That was a pretty shameless bluff!’

‘Bluff? Why do you call it a bluff? It’s the name of one of my companies.’

‘Oh, yes! I know!’ Her blue eyes sparked angrily. ‘How clever, and how convenient for you to pull that out of the bag! Did you invent it specially for the occasion?’

It had been the shabbiest trick. Only someone like Matthew Allenby could have stooped so low as to pull a stunt like this. Caterina shuddered, remembering how her blood had turned to powder when she had read out the name of the winning company and seen Matthew rising to his feet.

Just for a moment she hadn’t believed it. She’d blinked. Thought she must be dreaming. But no, there he’d been, mounting the steps up to the stage, coming towards her with a smug, triumphant smile to accept the contract for the Bardi extension. It hadn’t been a dream, after all. It had been a waking nightmare!

After that, she’d had to endure the torture of a photo-call. She’d had to stand there shaking his hand before a battery of press photographers, a smile pinned to her face, going through the motions of pretending to be delighted that this perfectly monstrous man had just walked off with her precious contract.

It had been ghastly. Utterly ghastly. Her flesh had crawled just to think of it. And as soon as it was over she had taken him to one side and demanded that he see her in her office back at the palace immediately. Before this thing went any further, she wanted a few explanations.

Needless to say, he had kept her waiting. She’d been wearing out the carpet for at least fifteen minutes, pacing backwards and forwards, steam coming out of her ears, before he had deigned to poke his arrogant head round her office door.

‘Sorry,’ he’d offered, clearly not sorry in the slightest, ‘but I got tied up with a bunch of reporters. They wanted to know how I felt about winning the contract.’ He’d smiled into her black face. ‘I told them I was over the moon.’

Caterina had known, of course, that he would enjoy rubbing her nose in it. For his triumph wasn’t just triumph at winning the contract, it was also triumph at having so roundly trumped her. He knew how she felt about him and he was loving every sordid minute of this.

He said now in response to her accusation, ‘It’s not my fault you didn’t know Secolo was one of my companies—and has been, as a matter of fact, for the past two years. You see, it wasn’t just invented for the purpose of hoodwinking you.’

And from the slight edge of admonishment in his tone as he said that Caterina deduced that she was actually supposed to believe that he was totally incapable of such deceit. Hah! she thought scathingly. He must think I was born yesterday!

‘If you’d done a bit of checking up,’ he added, ‘you could easily have found out.’

That had occurred to Caterina too, but there had been no cause to check up on the various contestants who’d entered designs for the competition. The designs, after all, had been judged solely on merit. Any additional information just hadn’t been deemed necessary.

All the same, she observed now, bitterly, ‘I very much wish I had checked up.’

‘You mean you would have voted differently if you’d known?’ He made a pretence of looking quite shocked at this notion. ‘For someone with your high moral standards, surely that would have been unthinkable?’

Caterina eyed him. Let him mock her and make fun of her if he liked—they both knew that he didn’t suffer from moral scruples!—but it did genuinely trouble her that when she’d asked herself certain questions earlier she hadn’t been at all sure of her answers. Could she really have voted knowingly for Matthew Allenby? Could she posssibly have done otherwise given that his design was by far the best?

‘I think,’ she said, frowning, coming to a decision, ‘that I would have had no choice but to resign from the panel of judges.’ It sounded rather extreme, but what else could she have done?

‘I see.’

Matthew seemed to contemplate her answer for a moment. Was he offended Caterina wondered, to know the strength of her antipathy? With anyone else she would have avoided such callous bluntness. But not with Matthew Allenby. She didn’t care if he was offended. And anyway, as she well knew, he could take it.

Which was one of the reasons why it was almost a pleasure to clash with him. When you were mad with Matthew Allenby you didn’t have to hold back. You could just say what you were thinking and go straight for the jugular.

He continued to watch her in silence for a moment. Then he pointed out, ‘But you didn’t resign over the Tad UK entry... and I think you knew my connection with that company?’

Caterina could not deny it. ‘Yes, I knew it was one of yours.’ Then she looked at him and smiled. ‘But there was no dilemma with that one. I wouldn’t have voted for that design whoever’s it had been.’ And her smile turned unrepentantly malicious as she added, ‘You must have been having an off-day when you did that one.’

‘It wasn’t that bad. It had one or two good features.’ Then, seeing her expression turn openly disdainful at this apparent display of self-justification, Matthew smiled and informed her, ‘I had no hand in it, however. It was the work of one of our new trainees. Not bad at all, I thought, for a beginner.’

Caterina was careful not to let her expression alter. So she was to be denied even the small pleasure of having thwarted him on that one! Damn, she was thinking. He was as slippery as an eel!

She leaned back in her chair and narrowed her eyes at him. He was totally maddening. Irritating beyond reason. What she really ought to do was wind up this meeting and spare herself the displeasure of another moment of his company. But she felt disinclined to do that. There was something about him. Something that seemed to stir in her a strange and fierce compulsion. The irritation and antipathy that he aroused in her was so acute, it was like an itch that simply had to be scratched.

And, besides, she hadn’t finished with him yet. Not by a long shot.

She told him, her tone accusing, ‘I really think you should have told me that you’d entered a design for the competition. Surely that’s what any normal person would have done?’

Matthew eyed her and smiled. ‘I had my reasons for keeping silent. After all, I wouldn’t have wanted people accusing me of seeking favours by making my interest in the contest known. I am close to the Duke, after all, and you are his sister. People might have thought I was seeking special consideration.’

Yes, that was possible. People might have thought that. Though it hadn’t even crossed Caterina’s mind until this moment. For it was actually a totally ludicrous notion. Pigs would fly before she would give Matthew Allenby ‘special consideration’, and these days virtually any associate of her brother’s would be liable to receive exceedingly short shrift from her. It was sad, but true. Their once close relationship really had sunk that low since the bust-up over Orazio.

She laughed a harsh laugh now. ‘How little they know!’

‘How little indeed.’

Matthew knew what she’d been thinking. At least, he knew she’d been thinking about Orazio. And, hearing that harsh laugh, it suddenly struck him that perhaps he’d been wrong when he’d made the assumption that she was completely over that sad affair. For at the heart of that laugh he had sensed real pain.

What she needed, he reflected, was a new affair to take her mind off it. And he wouldn’t mind in the slightest providing the therapy himself.

Out loud he returned to the earlier point he’d been making. ‘By making known my interest in the contest I would simply have been putting you in an uncomfortable position. And I would never have forgiven myself,’ he added as though he really meant it, ‘if you’d felt obliged to resign from the judging panel.’

Such kind consideration. He was making her heart weep. Caterina delivered him a look as cynical as his sentiments. ‘I had no idea you possessed such an altruistic streak.’

‘I tend to keep it well hidden. My modesty demands it.’

‘Modesty as well?’ Her eyebrows lifted.

He smiled. ‘Naturally I try to keep that hidden as well.’

‘Without too much difficulty, I imagine.’ She flicked him a dry look. ‘I must say this is really most revealing. All these fine qualities I would never have guessed at in a million years.’

‘Really?’ The dark eyes were fixed on her. ‘How very ungenerous of you.’

‘Not ungenerous, just realistic.’

She looked right back at him, at the arrogantly handsome face, so full of secrets, at the dark grey eyes with their menacing allure that, if you weren’t careful, would suck you in and seduce you. He was many things—a cheat, a scoundrel and a social climber, as well as a dangerous male force to be reckoned with—but alas he was none of the fine things he was claiming.

‘I judge what I see, and what I see,’ she told him, ‘rather contradicts those unlikely claims you’re making.’

‘Which only goes to show how deceptive appearances can be. But never mind,’ he smiled. ‘Once we’re working together, you’ll have plenty of opportunity to explore below the surface.’

Up until that point, though he’d irritated her beyond reason, Caterina had been quite enjoying their verbal fencing. So many of the men she encountered were so timid in her company, afraid to put a foot wrong, reluctant to contradict her. And she grew tired of it. At times it could be downright wearying being surrounded by people who agreed with you all the time.

And at least Matthew Allenby never did that. Even when he wasn’t actually fighting with her he wasn’t necessarily agreeing with her either. And, though she hated to admit that there might be anything she actually liked about him, she did in fact rather enjoy that side of him. Arguing with him gave her a buzz. A strictly intellectual buzz, of course!

But that last comment had definitely not been to her liking—that cool, breezy reference to their working together. For that was something she simply couldn’t let happen.

Couldn’t and wouldn’t. She must find a way out of this dilemma. That was something she had realised very quickly. The Bardi extension was her pet project. She’d poured months of dedication and energy into it and she’d been looking forward to working alongside the winner and seeing the whole thing come to life. But there was no way she could work alongside Matthew Allenby, so a solution had to be found that somehow eased him out.

And in the course of the past hour or so two solutions had occurred to her—one quite civilised, the other rather more brutal. She would try the first one first and see if she could avoid spilling blood.

Speaking calmly and keeping her tone as matter-of-fact as she could manage, Caterina enquired, ‘Do you really think we’ll be working together?’

Matthew looked surprised. ‘I had certainly assumed we would be. You’re in charge of this project, aren’t you? And I understood from the brief that you planned to be heavily involved in its execution.’

She shrugged. ‘Yes, I do.’

‘Then we’ll be working together.’ And he smiled a maddening smile, clearly relishing this prospect.

Caterina dropped her eyes, trying to gather her thoughts calmly. She must handle this with great delicacy or it would blow up in her face. One whiff of her true motives and he’d refuse to play ball.

She told him, ‘The problem is you’re a very busy man. I know you’re involved in several projects just for my brother alone—including now,’ she added with what she hoped was a benevolent smile, ‘the organisation of the garden party. All these things take up time and, as you know, the Bardi extension’s rather urgent... I fear it might be putting just a little too much pressure on you to expect you to work on it as well...’

Was she striking the right note? She tried to judge as he sat watching her, his long, supple frame leaning casually against the chair-back, the strong tanned fingers lightly clasping the arms, his eyes fixed on her face, an impenetrable smile on his lips.

He said, ‘You’re quite right. I do have a lot on my plate.’

Inwardly, Caterina sighed a small sigh of relief. Well, at least he hadn’t instantly shot her down in flames. That mild response even suggested that she might be on the right track. She crossed her fingers mentally and carried on.

‘You’ve already done the important part by producing the winning design... Its implementation... well, that requires less talent...and you have so many companies, so many talented people working for you...’ She swallowed and finally spat out the conclusion she’d been working towards. ‘I can’t help feeling it would take the pressure off you if you were to appoint one of your employees to do the actual donkey work.’

Matthew watched her for a moment, saying nothing, seeming to give some thought to her proposal.

‘That’s certainly the way I sometimes do things,’ he confessed.

‘It makes sense.’ Reassured, Caterina hurried on. ‘I mean, you can’t be expected to do everything yourself. That would just be crazy. After all, you’re only human.’ She forced a sympathetic smile. ‘You can only stretch yourself so far. And this isn’t such a terribly important project, after all. I’m sure you have far more important ones to claim your time. So it really would be more sensible to hand this one over to someone else.’

‘I suppose there might be a kind of logic in that.’

As he nodded, Caterina congratulated herself. I’ve done it! she was thinking. And she smiled to herself, feeling a huge lift of elation.

‘Well,’ she said, relief pouring through her—for it looked as though she’d got her way without having to spill blood. ‘I’m very glad we’re in agreement about that.’

Matthew smiled a slow smile, holding her eyes with his own as he did so. ‘You know...’ he said, letting his gaze wash over her, touching her face, her neck, her shoulders, then moving down to the soft swell of her breasts in a way that was so unexpectedly yet so openly sensual that Caterina, totally thrown, found herself just sitting there, as though he had taken a hammer and nailed her to the chair.

‘You know, when you calm down a bit, when you relax, when you smile, you really are quite extraordinarily attractive,’ he told her. ‘I was thinking that this afternoon, when you were on stage at the reception. You seemed totally relaxed and you looked quite beautiful.’

‘Oh?’

Caterina forced the monosyllable between stiff lips. What she really wanted to do was tell him quite frankly that she had no wish to hear his opinion on such matters. But two things were stopping her, one she could control and one she could not.

The first was a reluctance to upset this sudden mellow mood of his. She had got what she wanted and she would be mad now to blow it just for the pleasure of putting him in his place.

But the second thing that was stopping her was the strangest sensation of somehow being mesmerised by the force of those dark eyes, a sensation somehow both pleasurable and quite intolerable at the same time. And it gripped her like a vice. She could not shake it off.

The grey eyes smiled. ‘I hope you’re going to be like this this evening. Then we can really enjoy our dinner together.’

Caterina blinked. She had almost forgotten about the dinner. She was expected to partner him, as winner of the contest, to the celebratory dinner at the Town Hall this evening. That fact flicked her back to reality, for she’d been dreading the dinner, and that feeling of being mesmerised abruptly vanished. Though she kept her expression sweet. She must not antagonise him. And, anyway, the prospect of dinner no longer seemed so ghastly. It would, after all, be the last unpleasant chore that she would be required to perform with him.

With a smile she put to him, ‘Perhaps we can discuss at the dinner tonight who you might like to replace you on the job? You might even want to make an announcement to the other guests at some point?’

And she sat back in her seat. The whole thing was virtually sewn up.

But Matthew’s expression had changed. ‘An announcement?’ he was saying. Then he shook his head. ‘You’ve got it wrong, I’m afraid. There’ll be no one replacing me. I intend to do the job myself.’

‘But you said—’ Suddenly Caterina was sitting up very stiffly in her seat. ‘Wh-what do you mean?’ she stuttered. ‘You just said you would!’

‘I said no such thing.’ His expression had hardened again. ‘All I said was that your suggestion contained a kind of logic. But it’s always been my intention to see this project through personally.’ He smiled a harsh smile. ‘Sorry to disappoint you.’

So he had tricked her. Caterina glared at him, quite speechless for a moment. He had known all along why she was trying to edge him out—not out of concern for his heavy workload at all, but because she couldn’t stand the prospect of working with him.

And he refused to play ball. Well, that was to be expected. But the matter wasn’t settled yet, even though he seemed to think it was. She’d tried the soft approach first; now it was time to get tough.

She fixed him with a direct look. ‘I think you’re making a big mistake.’

‘A mistake?’

‘It wouldn’t work.’

He feigned innocence. ‘Why on earth not?’

‘You really need to ask?’ Caterina grimaced as she elaborated, ‘We’re not even capable of conducting a civil conversation. How on earth could we possibly contemplate working together?’

‘It might be hard, I confess.’ He smiled. ‘Think of it as a challenge.’

Caterina did not smile back. ‘There are challenges and challenges. And this one, I’m afraid, just doesn’t appeal to me. No, you and I will not be working together.’

One dark eyebrow lifted. ‘I’m sorry to hear that.’ He regarded her narrowly for a moment then put to her, ‘I take it this means you’ll be handing over to someone else?’

‘No, it doesn’t mean that. This project is my baby. I wouldn’t dream of handing it over to someone else.’

‘In that case, you’ve lost me.’ The dark eyes regarded her unblinkingly and it was impossible to tell what was going on in his head. ‘If neither of us is planning to hand over to someone else, surely that means we’ll be working together?’

‘No, it doesn’t. You see, whether you like it or not, you won’t be doing the Bardi job.’

‘Won’t I?’ His tone was low but had a definite edge to it. ‘You’re going to have to explain why. I’m afraid that makes no sense to me.’

As she faced him, Caterina’s heart was thumping inside her. And now that the moment had come she found herself hesitating. It was harder than she’d thought, playing the heavy.

‘Quite frankly,’ she said, ‘I’d hoped to avoid this sort of unpleasantness—’

‘Unpleasantness?’ He continued to watch her.

‘What kind of unpleasantness are you talking about?’

Caterina swallowed hard. Damn and blast him, she was thinking. Why did he have to cross my path in the first place? But she couldn’t back down now, even though what she had to do came far from naturally. She simply had to get him off the job.

She swallowed again. ‘The sort of unpleasantness, I’m afraid, that could ruin your career and have you thrown out of San Rinaldo. You see,’ she hurried on before her nerve deserted her, ‘I know things about you... things you wouldn’t want made public...and I’m prepared to use them against you unless you withdraw from this job.’

There, she had said it, and as she stopped speaking her blood was pounding. Breathing carefully, she watched him, waiting for his response.

She did not have long to wait. He began to rise to his feet. In a voice like sandpaper he said, ‘So, that’s what this is all about? Well, I think I’ve heard enough.’ He flicked her a look as hard as granite. ‘But you’re wasting your time. I won’t be withdrawing.’

‘Oh, yes, you will. You’ll have no choice in the matter once my brother gets to hear the things I know. And that’s what I’m going to do. I’m going to tell him everything. Unless,’ she stressed again, ‘you drop out of the Bardi job. If you’re prepared to do that, I won’t say a thing.’

Matthew said nothing for a moment, then he fixed her with a stony look. ‘Blackmail’s an ugly thing, you know. It doesn’t really suit you.’ Then, as she looked away, fighting a blush—for he was right, this didn’t suit her—he added in a tone grown suddenly heavy with contempt. ‘No doubt this is one of the unsavoury little tricks you learned in the course of your association with Orazio?’

It was like a slap across the face. Caterina’s sense of unease vanished. She looked back at him now, seeing only the hated face of the man who had been responsible, with his lies and his slanders, for all the emotional hurt she’d recently suffered.

Her heart filled with bitterness. Why should she feel uneasy about employing a bit of blackmail on a man like Matthew Allenby—a man who, in spite of the high moral tone he was taking, was far from being a stranger to such methods himself? Why, his hands were as black as the blackest corners of his soul!

She told him, her tone cutting, ‘No, I didn’t learn it from Orazio. I’m simply using the sorts of tactics that I feel sure you’re familiar with.’

‘Well, they won’t work, I’m afraid. Face facts. You’re a novice.’ The dark eyes flayed her. ‘I’m way out of your league.’

Quite possibly he was, but he was still not as invulnerable as he believed. As he started to turn away, she angrily informed his back, ‘I’m not bluffing, you know. I know all about you. And I have evidence in my possession. Real, tangible evidence. I shall expose you for the cheat and the charlatan that you are.’

Matthew was almost at the door when she finished the sentence. Unhurriedly, he turned round and looked into her face and his eyes were a pair of steel hooks tearing into her.

‘You know,’ he informed her, ‘you’re making a big mistake. I’m really not the best man to pick a fight with. People who pick fights with me invariably end up regretting it. And I guarantee,’ he added in a tone like a whiplash, ‘that you will be no exception to the rule.’

Never before had Caterina seen such a look in a man’s eyes. A look without mercy. Black and menacing. But instead of feeling scared, or outraged, or angry, what she felt was a sudden flare of reckless excitement and a trickle of anticipation like cool fingers down her spine. She was going to thoroughly enjoy the fight ahead.

Matthew continued to watch her, then, with a quick, cynical smile, he inclined his head briefly in his usual parody of a salute.

‘Goodbye for now, Lady Caterina. Until dinner this evening.’

Then he turned and strode swiftly from the room.

There was only one thing for it after that encounter with Matthew Allenby—a nice long bubble bath laced with oil of patchouli to help restore her frayed and tattered nerves.

‘Help!’ she’d told Anna, her personal maid, when she’d returned to her private quarters still seething with anger. ‘Be an angel and run a bath for me. I think I’m going to explode!’

And that was where she was now, up to her chin in scented bubbles, listening to Anna happily singing to herself next door as she got Caterina’s things ready for the dinner this evening. Though she was only listening with half an ear. Most of her attention was focused on trying to sort out the hopeless jumble in her head. Her brain felt as though it had been attacked by an electric blender.

Damn Matthew Allenby! Damn him to infinity! What had she ever done to deserve this blight on her life?

She lay back, letting her hair trail in the water, and gazed up at the painted and gilded ceiling with its pictures of water nymphs and seashells and dolphins. In a way, she felt appalled by the stance she’d been forced to take with him, threatening to ruin him and have him kicked out of San Rinaldo. She must have sounded like some heavy in a second-rate gangster movie! But what alternative did she have? She simply could not work with him. And anyway, after what he’d done to her, he deserved every nasty thing she could fling at him.

She sighed. In the beginning, of course, she hadn’t realised he was such a viper. She’d known little about him, other than that he worked for her brother, and their paths had crossed only on brief and rare occasions so that the two of them had remained virtual strangers. He had really only become of interest to her when Orazio had opened her eyes.

Orazio. Her gaze still fixed on one of the water nymphs, she paused in her thoughts and let her mind settle on Orazio.

She had thought she was in love with him, but now she suspected she never had been. She had got over him far too quickly for it to have been love. But she had been fond of him. He had been fun and a decent and caring person, and he definitely hadn’t deserved to be treated as he had been.

The whole disaster had happened, of course, because of what he knew about Matthew Allenby. For he had a friend, he had told her, who had once worked for Matthew and who had told him all about the way he went about his business. Bribes, intimidation, secret handouts, blackmail. These were the methods by which he had got where he was. And, of course, by the careful courting of those with influence and power.

‘Your brother can’t possibly realise what kind of man he’s got tied up with. For God’s sake warn him,’ Orazio had advised her just a short while after they’d started seeing each other.

And she had. She’d gone to Damiano and told him everything and her brother’s response had been very clear and simple. ‘Accusations without proof are worthless,’ he’d told her. ‘Show me some evidence and then we can start talking.’

And so Orazio had set about gathering together what they needed—files and letters and tapes and photographs—and they had planned that, as soon as he’d gathered enough, Caterina would present the whole lot to Damiano. She’d gone along with this plan not out of any malice towards Matthew Allenby, for at that stage she’d had nothing personal against him, but because she loved and wanted to protect her brother.

But neither she nor Orazio had realised they were playing with dynamite.

The first hint of the shambles that lay ahead had been when Damiano, who didn’t normally interfere in her private life, had started expressing disapproval of Orazio—not saying anything specific, just that he considered him unsuitable—and brother and sister had exchanged sharp words on the subject. But Caterina had not been prepared for the avalanche that was to follow.

It had happened quite out of the blue. Damiano had called her to his office and proceeded to regale her with a list of accusations against Orazio.

‘He’s a crook,’ he’d told her, ‘a two-bit crook and a lowlife, and I can’t allow you to continue to see him.’

Caterina had been outraged. She’d refused to listen. How dared he make these false accusations?

‘I know the real reason!’ she’d stormed at him. ‘It’s because he’s a commoner! Well, I won’t stop seeing him and you can’t make me!’ Then she’d added, just out of bravado, because she was so damned mad at him, for really there had been no such intention in her head, ‘I might even marry him if I decide it suits me!’

That had been when Damiano had, almost literally, exploded. ‘Take my word for it,’ he’d warned her, ‘that that will never happen!’ And there and then he had ordered her to break off the romance immediately or he would cut her off without a penny.

He’d meant it, too. But that hadn’t stopped Caterina, as she’d swung out of his office in tears of helpless rage, retorting defiantly, ‘I don’t care! I won’t stop seeing him!’

For she could be as hard-headed as Damiano and, besides, it was a matter of principle. She would not be dictated to in this fashion.

And she would have stuck to her guns if Orazio hadn’t talked her out of it and insisted on making a discreet withdrawal.

‘I can’t let you make this sacrifice,’ he’d told her. ‘I’d never be able to live with myself if I did.’

Besides, he’d no longer had a job nor much hope of finding another one. Word was already being circulated that he was persona non grata—Damiano hadn’t wasted any time there—and it really hadn’t looked as though there was much of a future for him in San Rinaldo. So within a week he’d been gone, in spite of Caterina’s pleas that he stay on and at least fight to redeem his good name. ‘I’d rather sacrifice my good name than bring you embarrassment,’ he’d told her. And that had been the end of the romance.