Lucy Gordon - The Monte Carlo Proposal

‘All those,’ he said. ‘Shirts and trousers, clinging gowns-short and long-bikinis-whatever. We’ve got to cover this from every angle.’

Choosing clothes with him was fun, because he found it fun. He watched for ages while I paraded for him, with never a sign of boredom.

After the casual shop we went to another one for dresses. Then another shop for lingerie, another for shoes, and far, far more of everything than I could possibly need for this trip.

‘How long are we going to be on the boat?’ I asked as he signed things.

‘As long as I can make it last,’ he said, finishing with a flourish.

‘But it can’t be more than a few days, can it?’

‘Trying to escape me already?’ he asked, with a grin that made him gorgeous.

‘No way! It’s just that you’re buying me more than I’ll need.’

‘Of course,’ he said, slightly shocked. ‘We can’t be economical. Think of my reputation. When parcels start arriving on The Hawk everyone must be able to see that you have ten times what you actually need. And another thing,’ he added, trying to look stern, ‘I expect you to do a lot of sunbathing by the pool. If I see you in the same bikini twice, you’re in dead trouble, lady.’

I liked this man.

He told the shops to deliver everything to The Hawk at once.

‘All except this,’ he said, indicating the very smart blue dress I was wearing. ‘It’s just right for lunching at the Hotel de Paris.’

‘You can’t get into that restaurant without a reservation,’ I warned him.

It was a slip, but he didn’t seem to notice.

‘I have a reservation,’ he said. ‘I called them before we left the boat.’

Of course. I should have known that he would have done.

So we went there and had lunch high up, looking down at Monte Carlo. I could just make out The Hawk and something else that didn’t please me at all.

‘ The Silverado is still there,’ I said in disgust.

‘Forget Vanner. I won’t let him get to you.’

Who cared about Vanner anyway? Who cared about anything except the grilled turbot they were serving and the perfect wine? And the man sitting opposite me. Who cared about anything but him?

He was looking at me with one raised eyebrow.

‘Tell me something,’ he said. ‘Why were you working for Vanner? I don’t suppose he paid more than peanuts, and he didn’t treat you well. You must have been desperate.’

‘I do freelance work in department stores, demonstrating goods,’ I said, sticking to the truth as far as possible. ‘A job fell through and I took the first thing that was offered-being a waitress on The Silverado . There wasn’t time to check it out. When I realised how much more than a waitress I was supposed to be, we were already out at sea.’

‘And that’s the whole story?’

‘What else could there be?’

‘I suppose you could tell me how come a young woman who knows so much about good living needs to work as a demonstrator or a waitress.’

‘You don’t know how much I know,’ I said uneasily.

‘I’ve watched you choosing good clothes like an expert. You’re used to money, and you’re familiar with Monte Carlo-otherwise you’d never have known that you need a reservation for this place.’

So he had noticed my slip after all!

‘All right, all right,’ I said. ‘Daddy was a millionaire, and I was brought up in the lap of luxury. But we fell on hard times.’

He surveyed my wryly. ‘So you’re not going to reveal anything?’

‘Nope. I told you, the less you know about me the better. I have no past, no life outside this moment.’

‘Well, you can’t blame me for trying to guess.’

‘Don’t waste the effort. Whatever you’re thinking about me is wrong.’

‘You don’t know what I’m thinking about you.’

‘Maybe not. But whatever it is, it’s wrong. I’m not like-what you think.’

‘I think you’re one crazy lady.’

‘OK, you’ve got that bit right,’ I conceded.

‘And I’ll get the rest right too,’ he said in a teasing voice. ‘Because I want to know all about you. And I’m going to.’

I shrugged. ‘If you think you can.’

Inside, I was vowing that there were things about my life that he would never know-not if I could prevent it.

‘Woman of mystery, eh?’

‘The less you can find out, the less others can find out,’ I said. ‘And that’s how you need it. Now, why don’t you tell me about myself? My official self, that is. What’s our story?’

His eyes gleamed. ‘It’s no use changing the subject.’

‘Yes, it is,’ I said at once. ‘Changing the subject is the best diversionary tactic ever created, and, considering how often you’ve used it yourself, you must know that.’

‘How do you know I use it myself?’

‘Because you’re up to every trick.’

‘How do you know I’m up to every trick?’

‘Are you saying that Bully Jack isn’t?’

‘Will you leave Bully Jack out of this? He doesn’t exist. He’s a fantasy figure that the PR boys have invented. He’s good for the company image, but that’s all.’

‘Do you mean,’ I asked indignantly, ‘that you don’t crush everyone beneath your feet? That you don’t smash rivals with a ruthless mailed fist?’

He made a wry, apologetic face. ‘Sorry.’

‘Well, I was never so disappointed!’

He smiled and I caught my breath.

‘Are you really?’ he said.

And suddenly I didn’t know what to say.

Della’s story

S UDDENLYone corner of Jack’s mouth quirked in a crooked smile.

‘What?’ I challenged.

‘Do you realise we’ve known each other less than twenty-four hours?’

‘I don’t believe it. But, yes, it’s true. It was only last night that we met, outside the casino. What were you doing there all alone?’

‘Escaping. We’d all been out together, but I wanted some time to myself. So I changed my cufflinks and got away while they weren’t looking.’

‘You changed your cufflinks?’ I echoed, wondering if I’d heard right.

‘Sure. You noticed them, remember? You said the silver plate was wearing off.’

‘Well, they looked really odd-so cheap and tacky.’

‘That’s why I wore them. They belonged to Grandpa Nick, and he always swore that they brought him luck. I suppose they did, in a kind of way. He started the family firm.’

‘He founded the great Bullen empire?’

‘Lord, no! He wasn’t into founding empires. He enjoyed laughing too much. He was a wicked old so-and-so.’

He gave a reminiscent grin that said everything about his love for his grandfather. It made me like him enormously. And when I say like I mean like. This was nothing to do with the sensations that had been giving me such a hard time almost since the very moment I’d met Jack. It was a warm, friendly feeling, as if I really knew him and we were part of the same family.

And in a sense we were-the family of people who adored their grandfathers-because I felt the same about mine.

‘All he had was a small grocery shop,’ Jack resumed. ‘My father went to work for him and then shunted him aside. Grandpa went into early retirement and, since my mother was dead, I got to spend a lot of time with him. He became my favourite person, and I think I was his, even more than his son. He admired my father’s abilities, but he was scared of him. I was a bit nervous myself.’

He fell silent while the waiter brought the next course and the next wine. When we were alone again I said, ‘Go on. Don’t stop there.’

‘Grandpa Nick and I were like a couple of kids, fooling around together. He never really grew up. I wish I could describe him properly.’