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‘Miss Shaw?’
Helena straightened and turned. A nurse stood in the doorway.
‘I’m sorry to interrupt,’ the woman said, her tone brisk, her face serious. ‘But could you come with me, please?’
* * *
Leo stood in the empty visitors’ room at the end of the ward and stared out of the rain-spattered window. Outside, London was gearing up for another five o’clock rush hour and the frenzy of people and traffic on the wet streets below matched his edgy, restive mood. He swayed forward, letting his forehead bump the cool glass.
Why was he still here?
It was Thursday and he should be back in Rome, presenting his report on the ShawCorp takeover to his board—a task he had, until recently, anticipated with relish.
Now, not so much.
And wasn’t that one hell of a kicker?
Seven years he’d planned this victory—seven years—and in a matter of days the taste of triumph had turned to ash in his mouth.
Footfalls echoed in the room and he straightened, pulled his hands from his pockets. Time to get some air, stretch his legs. Then he’d wait in the limo and clear his emails. The hospital’s sterile surroundings were closing in on him and, as mean-spirited as it sounded, he was in no mood for polite chitchat with the relative of a sick person.
The roar that rent the air before Leo had fully turned from the window gave him a split second to react. Even so, the fist flying towards him caught the left side of his jaw and sent a shard of pain ricocheting through his skull.
‘Bastard!’
Douglas Shaw spat the word before lunging again, but Leo was ready this time. He dodged the blow and with a swift, well-timed manoeuvre seized Shaw
’s wrist and twisted his arm up his back.
‘Calm down, you old fool,’ he grated into the man’s ear.
‘Don’t give me orders, Vincenti.’
Shaw struggled and Leo firmed his grip, inching the man’s wrist higher up his back.
In a second, Shaw’s voice went from gruff to reedy. ‘You’re breaking my arm.’
Making a noise of disgust, Leo let go with a shove, giving himself room to counter another attack if Shaw was stupid enough to try.
The older man wisely calmed down. He rubbed his arm. ‘What the hell are you doing here?’
Leo returned his hands to his pockets, adopting a casual stance that belied the tension in his muscles, his readiness to act. He studied Shaw’s hostile face—a face he had, until now, seen only in media clippings and corporate profiles. Hollows in the man’s cheeks and a grey tinge to his skin made him look older in the flesh. Strong cologne and the waft of alcohol tainted the air.
Leo suppressed a grimace. ‘I’m surprised you recognise me, Shaw. After all those declined invitations to meet I was beginning to think you had no interest in your new majority shareholder.’
‘Is that why you’re here?’ Shaw snarled the question. ‘Looking for a chance to gloat?’
Leo threw his head back and laughed. ‘Don’t flatter yourself, old man. I have better ways to spend my time.’
Shaw stepped forward, his sore arm and Leo’s superiority in the strength department clearly forgotten. ‘Maybe I should teach you another lesson—like the one I taught you seven years ago.’
Leo freed his fists, leaned his face close to Shaw’s. ‘You can try, but we both know your threats are empty. The truth is you’re a coward and a bully. I know it. Your wife knows it. And your daughter knows it.’
A deep purple suffused Shaw’s face. ‘By God, I should—’
‘Stop it! Both of you!’
A female voice sliced across the room, silencing whatever puerile threat Shaw had been about to deliver.
