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Plucking the card out of her waistband, she stared at the black and gold inscription and the private number etched into it.
Rebel wanted to rip it into a dozen pieces and scatter them to the four winds. But deep in her heart she recognised the foolhardiness of doing so.
She might not understand why her father had chosen to help himself to money that didn’t belong to him and then pass it on to her. Their last few rows had been awful enough for her to imagine he was done with her as long as she chose to keep competing. For him to have followed her career closely enough to know when she needed help at once lifted her heart and plunged it into despair. Not in a million years would she have wanted him to help in this way.
Jerkily, she searched for her phone and dialled as she hurried away from Draco’s building. The moment the line connected, she rushed to speak. ‘Contessa, have the cheques we paid out to the tournament organisers cleared?’
Her manager snorted. ‘Well, hello to you too. And the answer to your question is yes, the cheques cleared this morning, so did the money we paid for your travel, accommodation and equipment. We only need an extra fifteen thousand for incidentals, but I’m sure your remaining sponsors will front you that. I was going to pop round to your flat tonight with a bottle of champagne to celebrate. I know you don’t like to drink during training, but I thought a sip or two wouldn’t hurt...’ Her voice trailed off for a moment. ‘Rebel? Is something wrong?’
Rebel exhaled shakily, her vision hazing as she fought panic. ‘And there’s no way we can get any of it back?’
‘Get it back? Why would we want to do that?’ her manager demanded, her voice rising.
‘I...I just...it doesn’t matter.’
‘Obviously it does. Tell me what’s happened.’
Unwilling to drag Contessa into her problems until she confirmed the depth of the trouble she was in, she forced lightness into her voice. ‘Ignore me. Just last-minute nerves. You can come over, but can we give the champagne a miss, though?’
‘Of course...are you sure you’re okay?’ the older woman pressed.
‘I’m sure. Talk to you later.’
She hung up and immediately dialled her father’s number, already suspecting it wouldn’t go through. When the mechanical voice urged her to leave a message, Rebel cleared her throat. ‘Dad, it’s me...again.’ She paused, a new fear chilling her heart. Draco Angelis wasn’t above having her father’s phone traced. Until she got answers for herself, Rebel didn’t want to lead the man who made her spine tingle with dread and other unwanted emotions straight to her father. ‘Call me. Please. I need to talk to you.’
Feeling helpless for the first time in a very long time, she hung up. Plugging her earphones in, she ramped up the volume and hurried to the Tube, all the while willing her focus away from the card she’d tucked back into her waistband, hoping against hope she wouldn’t be forced to use it.
CHAPTER FOUR
DRACO READ THE bullet points in the report for the second time and closed the file. He spared a thought as to why his CFO hadn’t bothered to cover his tracks, then dismissed the useless thought. The why didn’t matter.
The inescapable fact was that a crime had been committed. By Daniels and his daughter.
Draco didn’t doubt for a second that she was neck deep in this theft. Her guilt had been written all over her face, despite her trying hard to hide it. Her racing pulse had condemned her just as definitely, no matter how much her smart mouth had tried to distract him.
A muscle ticced in his jaw as he remembered the velvet softness of that mouth...the smoothness of her skin. Arabella Daniels didn’t use just her mouth to distract. She used her whole body. The need to remind his body hours later of that potent tactic irritated Draco as his car raced through the wet, lamplit streets towards the Chelsea address his investigators had supplied him with.
Another bout of irritation welled inside him.
He’d known Arabella wouldn’t honour the deadline he’d given her. Six o’clock had come and gone three hours ago, and, despite the conclusive, almost cynical evidence of theft he held in his hands, the daughter of his CFO had remained silent.
Closing the electronic file, he opened a thick manila envelope that held a completely different set of problems. While Draco was satisfied that months of hard work were poised on the edge of finally reaping rewards, he couldn’t believe the seemingly inescapable strings Olivio Nardozzi had attached to the contract in his hand.
But he hadn’t come this far to lose.
Carla Nardozzi, champion figure skater, number one in the world, was a prize every sports agent wanted. Hard-working, charismatic, almost virginally shy, she would be the jewel in his agency’s crown...if her father weren’t leveraging an unthinkable condition to signing his daughter with the Angel International Group—
