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‘The car’s over here.’ She looked across the dark road to where a magnificent Bentley was waiting regally in the shadows, the man he had called Swinton sitting in the driving seat. ‘Shall we...?’ He took her arm again as they crossed the street and she forced herself to display no reaction to his touch even as her mouth dried with a mixture of fear and excitement. What on earth had she got herself into? He was right out of her league in every way. And that kiss!
‘Now, Miss Grant.’ As she seated herself in the spacious interior he slid in beside her, tapping on the glass that separated them from Swinton and indicating to him to drive on when he turned round. ‘A couple of things we need to get straight before I take you for a meal.’
‘You needn’t take me for a meal,’ she protested quickly, ‘I really don’t—’
‘The first thing.’ It was just as though she hadn’t spoken, and she subsided against the soft leather, her senses reeling as she caught a whiff of deliciously expensive aftershave. ‘I shall call you Fabia and you will call me Alex. OK?’
‘OK.’ Her voice was weak and she heard it with a trace of anger sharpening her mind. Don’t go all soft and pathetic now, Fabia, she told herself tightly. You’re going to need all your wits about you tonight. ‘And the other thing?’ she said more loudly, her voice firm. Sexual magnetism was wasted on her!
‘The other thing is that, in spite of having every reason for the contrary, I am not your enemy, Fabia. Got it?’ The sound of her name on his lips caused her heart to pound crazily but she kept her face bland as she nodded quietly, not trusting herself to speak. ‘I don’t know what prompted you to act as you did and I won’t pretend I like it—’ the deep voice harshened a little ‘—but I’m not here tonight for revenge so you can relax a little.’ He glanced down at her hands bunched in two tight fists in her lap, and as she caught his glance hot colour raced across her cheekbones in humiliating awareness of how easily he read her mind. She hated him, she really did!
‘What are you here for, then?’ she asked stiffly. ‘There must be hundreds of women all too ready to fall into your lap, Mr—Alex.’
‘Undoubtedly,’ he agreed laconically. ‘Unfortunately wealth is a powerful aphrodisiac to certain women, Fabia, which can prove...irritating at times.’
‘Can it?’ she asked cynically, her gaze resting on the classic profile as he stared straight ahead. She doubted if he had ever needed any help in that area in his life.
‘It can.’ He glanced at her, catching her wide blue eyes with his sharp gaze. ‘Now correct me if I’m wrong but I rather suspect that, although you may have many failings, that is not one of them?’ His voice was full of mocking amusement.
She nodded slowly. ‘I’ve nothing against money and what it can buy, it’s only the love of money that I find repellent.’
‘Quite.’ The light brown gaze intensified. ‘You are quite right in your assumption that I was born into wealth, as it happens—extreme wealth. However, I was not spoiled.’ She lowered her eyes but not before he had seen the disbelieving gleam in their dark blue depths. ‘You don’t believe me?’
‘No, I don’t,’ she answered frankly. ‘You probably wouldn’t know what a normal childhood was, so how can you say for sure that you weren’t spoiled? And your lifestyle now is so outrageous, I don’t think—’
‘Outrageous?’ He looked at her keenly. ‘Do you really believe everything you read in the sordid little tabloids? I would have thought a woman of your intelligence would have kept an open mind on such sensationalism, but maybe that was before?’
‘Before?’ Her voice expressed her puzzlement. ‘Before what?’
‘Before whoever hurt you so badly left.’ As the hot colour flared under her high cheekbones he turned away to look out of the window. ‘I’m not ashamed of my wealth, Fabia,’ he continued quickly before she had a chance to speak. ‘I make it work for me and I use it wisely, but because of the amount I have any anonymity is merely a pipe-dream.’
‘Oh, come on,’ she said sceptically. ‘Do you really expect me to believe that all those fabulous parties and different women for each day of the week are a figment of the Press’s imagination? And you love every minute.’ Her voice was bitter now. ‘You know you do.’
‘I don’t expect you to believe anything,’ he said quietly. ‘It’s not important anyway. I was merely trying to give you a little background information in view of what I intend to ask you later. One thing.’ He paused and looked at her hard. ‘I was not spoilt as a child, not at all. I don’t know if you are aware of it but my parents were killed when I was three months old and I inherited everything. I was brought up by my paternal grandmother, who is a quite exceptional old lady. If you met her you would understand.’ He moved to the edge of his seat as the car drew to a smooth halt. ‘We’ve arrived—shall we...?’
‘Please.’ She caught hold of his coat-sleeve as he opened the door and he turned in surprise. ‘Stop the cat-and-mouse game. What do you want from me?’
‘All in good time.’ He climbed out of the car and moved round to open her door, helping her out into the busy London street carefully. ‘Give us a couple of hours, Swinton.’ Swinton nodded blandly and the big car nosed gently into the traffic again to the usual blaring of horns from impatient city traffic.
The restaurant was quietly elegant and discreetly lit, full of secluded alcoves and attentive waiters who greeted Alex with an almost reverential respect that he seemed quite oblivious to. But he would be, wouldn’t he? Fabia thought bitterly; he was used to this every day of his life. ‘Your usual table, Mr Cade?’ The manager appeared from nowhere, almost touching his forelock as he escorted them to a small table, out of sight of the general diners, already set for two with a large bowl of hothouse orchids gracing the snow-white linen cloth. Fabia sat down gingerly, hardly daring to breathe.
‘An aperitif?’ Alex looked across at her, the manager standing to attention by his side, and she suddenly rebelled against the ostentation, the ostentation that had trapped and degraded her all those years ago.
‘No, thank you.’ She smiled sweetly up at the waiter hovering at the manager’s elbow. ‘Could I have a glass of water, please?’
‘A glass of water?’ The young waiter was open-mouthed but the manager stepped in smoothly, his voice expressionless and his face bland.
‘Certainly, miss. And your usual champagne cocktail, Mr Cade?’
Alex hadn’t taken his eyes off her during the little exchange and now he smiled slowly, his face enigmatically intent. ‘I think I’ll join Miss Grant, Xavier. Could I have ice and lemon in mine, please?’
‘Er—yes, Mr Cade, certainly.’ From the delighted expression on the waiter’s face Fabia assumed it wasn’t often the young lad had seen his prestigious superior at a loss for words but it was happening now. Xavier opened his mouth to speak, closed it again and then backed away silently, clicking his fingers at the waiter who set a gold menu-card in front of them before quickly following his boss.
Fabia opened her menu silently, a pink flush on her cheeks, and glanced down the contents with a feeling of apprehension. French. She might have known. She glanced up to find Alex’s eyes still fixed on her. ‘Would you like me to order for you? There are some dishes that are always exceptional here.’ He was giving her an easy get-out but she didn’t take it, her eyes steady on his as she stared into their tawny depths. He knew. He knew she couldn’t speak French.
‘Yes, please, this is all double Dutch to me.’ There was a slightly defiant tilt to her chin as she spoke and he smiled that slow deep smile again, his eyes warm as they flickered over her beautiful face. She was feeling distinctly under-dressed for her surroundings, which didn’t help, the pencil-slim black skirt and heavy gold blouse that had been just right for the office lamentably out of place next to the exclusive creations most of the women were wearing. Still, no one could see her here. She relaxed slightly. And it was his fault! If he was embarrassed by her it was his fault.
Alex didn’t seem at all embarrassed, leaning back in his chair with his hands on the table, his dark face implacable and his eyes alive with laughter. ‘Did you enjoy that?’
