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'I'm sorry, sir, but as a temporary worker I don't do overtime. I finish at six and I'm leaving now.'
As Beth watched, the woman's face turned scarlet.
'Don't worry, I won't be!' the woman yelled, and slammed down the phone. Catching sight of Beth, she said angrily, 'If you have come to see Mr Giordanni, he's in there.' She indicated the door with a wildly waving hand. 'With some other chauvinist pig like himself from America. Please yourself if you want to wait, but I'm out of here and I won't be back. The man is a tyrant.' Picking up her purse, she pressed a button on the telephone communication console and left.
Another bad omen, Beth thought glumly, as the other woman slammed the door behind her. So, now what? She eyed the closed door of the inner sanctum, and some of her courage deserted her. Dex was in, but apparently he had company. Should she just barge in, or wait?
She walked to the desk and sat down in the functional swivel seat. Perhaps if she rang through and told Dex she was here. . . She eyed the machine in front of her, not quite sure how the thing worked, then tentatively picked up the receiver and pressed a button. To her horror a voice spoke—not over the telephone, but from the intercom. . .
'As you've terrified the secretary into leaving, there's nothing more to do here. These notes will have to wait until the morning. So how about you and I have a night on the town.'
Beth, not recognising the voice, replaced the telephone receiver, but the speaker continued.
'Remember those two models last time? I have Deirdre's phone number. What do you say?'
Beth stared aghast at the buttons in front of her. Which one switched the damn thing off? She didn't like the way the conversation was going, and she wished she didn't have to listen to it.
'Sorry, Bob, but unfortunately I have a prior engagement.'
At the sound of Dex's voice Beth's heart jumped, though his 'unfortunately' was not what she wanted to hear. But what followed was even worse.
'Some other time, maybe. But
we can have a drink together before I leave. This particular girl won't mind waiting.'
Beth's hand fell from the machine. She no longer had any wish to switch the thing off. There was something about Dexter's tone of voice, his confident assumption that she would wait for him when, by her reckoning, he was already two hours late, that made her back stiffen with outraged pride. It might be true, but he didn't have to tell his friend.
'Easy, is she?'
'Surprisingly, no. Beth is amazingly resistant to my charms, and clever with it,' Dexter said with a wry laugh. 'Which is one of the reasons I got engaged to her last week.'
The 'clever' part she didn't like. But Dex was defending her, and now he would tell his friend the other reason for their engagement was that he loved her, Beth thought, relaxing slightly. But she could not have been more wrong. . .
'My God, I don't believe it; one of the world's best-known misogynists and you're engaged to be married. Did you actually buy the woman a ring?'
'Yes, yes, I did.'
Dex sounded oddly defensive to Beth's ears, but at least he had confirmed they were engaged. The bark of laughter from the other man did nothing to reassure her.
'But I thought after the games your ex-wife, Caroline, played on you, the money she grabbed, you vowed never to marry again.'
Ex-wife. . . The words rang in Beth's head. Dex had never once mentioned he had been married before. Her lovely face went pale, and she pushed the chair back— she really must make her presence known. Eavesdropping on a private conversation was despicable, and it was not like her at all—even if it had been an accident. But she froze at Dex's next words.
'Who said anything about marriage? It might never come to that. Suffice it to say, the girl was going out with Paul Morris and I saw a chance to put a stop to that, and took it.'
'Ah, now I see. Your sister Anna is still nuts about Morris, is she?'
'Yes. Personally I can't fathom what she sees in the man, but she wants him, and you know me—I'll do anything to make sure Anna gets what she wants. Apparently, after a year together, Morris decided he was too old for Anna and told her she deserved someone younger, someone who could give her the family she craves. . . Which is ironic under the circumstances. But, anyway, they had an almighty row and he left Italy and returned to England.
'When I came over here on business last month, Anna came with me. She was determined to make it up with Morris. Unbeknown to me, she called his apartment and found out from his housekeeper where he was dining one night. Of course Anna persuaded me to take her out to dinner at the same restaurant. I never did get to eat that night. As soon as we arrived, Anna espied Morris with another woman, a younger woman than her. Knowing Anna's temper, you can guess what happened next. My first thought was to go after Morris, but Anna made me promise I wouldn't interfere, not so much as speak to the man.'
Beth's stomach churned. She felt sick; she had to get out. But she could not make herself move; the masculine-voiced conversation held her in masochistic fascination.
'So, how did you meet the girl if she was with Morris?' Bob asked.
'Pure coincidence—fate, if you like. You know Brice—we've done business with him before—he's after a new contract. A week or so after the restaurant fiasco, I had a meeting with him the same day his firm was throwing a party. A young couple arrived and did an impromptu dance—not very well, I might add—and the girl ended up flat on the floor.'
Beth heard the chuckles and the clink of glasses. They were drinking and laughing at her. What more evidence did she need of her own stupidity?
