Ally Blake - Taming the Rebel Tycoon

‘It can be done,’ Richard insisted quietly. ‘In fact the arrangements are already in place.’

Feeling like death, lacking the will to walk away, Tina listened dully to the argument.

‘There must be some other way,’ the woman insisted shrilly. ‘You’re not short of money; couldn’t you—?’

‘That was my first thought, but money isn’t necessarily the answer. I don’t know for sure what I’m up against, and by the time I do know it’ll be too late.’

‘But Richard—’ It was a wail.

‘It’s no use, Helen, I simply can’t afford to chance doing it any other way…’

Helen…Helen O’Connell. So it was his future wife he was talking to.

‘It’s only too easy to be held to ransom and drained dry. But once I’m in a position of strength, my money can be used to greater effect.’

‘But it’s so…so drastic.’

‘I’ve given it a lot of thought and I’m satisfied that it’s by far the safest option.’

‘What do you suppose will happen when—?’

‘There’s bound to be a backlash of course,’ he broke in a trifle curtly, ‘but I’ll deal with that as and when it happens.’

‘Well, I think you’re making a dreadful mistake.’ Then, with a flare of hope, ‘You could always fight it through the courts.’

‘I considered that, of course, but it might take years and, as things stand at present, there’s no guarantee I’d win.’

‘But have you considered the ethics of it?’

‘You mean two wrongs don’t make a right?’ he suggested a shade grimly. ‘Oh, yes, I’ve considered all that. But I’ll do whatever it takes. As far as I’m concerned, the end justifies the means. I’ve far too much to lose to think of playing Sir Galahad…’

Standing, shivering and miserable, outside the living-room door, Tina was chilled anew by the icy ruthlessness in his voice.

This was a side of him that she hadn’t yet seen. But perhaps, as a successful businessman, he needed to have a ruthless streak.

Though his future wife didn’t seem to care for it. Sounding close to breaking-point, she cried, ‘Well, I still think you’re wrong. There has to be a better way…’ Then, with a touch of venom, ‘Unless, of course, it’s really what you want…’

As she heard the doorknob rattle beneath fumbling fingers, terrified of being caught eavesdropping, Tina turned to run.

Knowing she would never make it across the hall and up the stairs without being seen, she fled into the neighbouring study just as the living-room door opened and closed.

Through the window, which overlooked the courtyard, she could see a bright red open-topped sports car standing by the main entrance, sun ricocheting from its polished bonnet.

A few seconds later the front door opened and a tall, slim, dark-haired woman came hurrying out with Richard at her heels.

While he had remained calm and implacable, the argument—whatever it had been about—had clearly upset Helen O’Connell and she was in tears.

His face showing concern now, he made an obvious attempt to reason with her.

When, beside herself, she refused to listen, he took her arm. She pulled it free. He tried again to detain her but, with sudden unbridled fury, she turned and slapped his face.

Then, jumping into the car, she started the ignition, stamped her foot down and, with a reckless burst of acceleration, roared across the cobbles, through the archway and over the bridge.

Richard stood for a moment, his hand to his cheek, staring after her.

When he turned to make his way back inside, afraid that he might see her watching, Tina hurriedly moved away from the window.

She was heading for the door when, unwilling to chance running into him in the hall in case he guessed what she had seen and heard, she hesitated. It might be safest to stay where she was until the coast was clear.

The next second found her wondering if that was the right decision. He’d obviously been working in here when his visitor had arrived and a file had been tossed down and left on his desk.

Suppose he came straight back to the study?

Knowing she was trapped, she waited in an agony of suspense, listening for his approaching footsteps, wondering how best to explain her presence there.

When several minutes had dragged past without her hearing a sound, realising that he wasn’t coming straight back, she heaved a sigh of relief.

If she used the phone on the desk to ring for a taxi and arranged to meet it at the top of the drive rather than let it come through into the courtyard, she might be able to leave without anyone knowing.

It would mean going without her mobile, but that was a small price to pay.

She was just reaching for the receiver when, without warning, the door opened, making her gasp.

A second later Richard walked in, looking coolly elegant in well-cut fawn trousers and a short-sleeved olive-green silk shirt open at the neck.

‘So there you are,’ he said, his taut expression clearing. ‘When you weren’t upstairs I started to wonder where you’d got to. How’s the ankle this morning? It looks as if the swelling’s gone down…’

Appearing relaxed and easy now, he came over and, tilting her chin, kissed her mouth.

A lover’s kiss.

For a split second she stood as though turned to stone, then, on a reflex action, she jerked her head sharply away.

His dark level brows drawing together in a frown, he queried, ‘What’s the matter?’

Momentarily unable to speak, she shook her head.

‘Something must be.’

‘I couldn’t find my phone,’ she said in a rush, ‘and I wanted to call a taxi.’

‘Why do you want a taxi?’ he asked evenly.

‘Because I’m leaving.’

His tawny eyes narrowed. ‘What’s happened to make you want to leave?’

‘Nothing,’ she lied desperately. ‘I just think it’s time I went. So, if you don’t mind—’

‘Oh, but I do.’ Suddenly he was looming over her. ‘After all we’ve shared, I mind very much that you want to walk out without any explanation.’

Gritting her teeth, she said boldly, ‘I don’t have to give an explanation. Surely the fact that I want to leave is enough. Now, if you’ll please let me have my mobile back.’

When he merely looked at her, she reminded him, ‘You kept it last night after you’d called Mullins—’

‘In that case it must be in my pocket…’

Shaking her head, she began, ‘It isn’t—’

He raised a dark brow. ‘How do you know?’

Seeing her flush guiltily, he observed, ‘So you’ve been going through my pockets?’

‘I’m sorry,’ she said jerkily. ‘I should have asked you, I know, but I’m afraid I acted on impulse…’ The explanation petered out.

‘And did you find anything interesting?’ he queried with smooth mockery.

Nettled by his tone, she flashed back, ‘Only a torch that lit.’

‘Really?’ he drawled. ‘Then there must have been a loose connection.’

When he said nothing further, deciding to let it go, she gritted her teeth and returned to the point. ‘So please can I have my mobile?’

‘If it isn’t in my pocket, I’m afraid…’ With an elegant gesture of apology, he spread his hands, palms upward.

‘I don’t believe you don’t know where it is.’

‘And I don’t believe that you suddenly want to leave Anders for no good reason.’

Realising that she was fighting a losing battle, she said shortly, ‘Whatever you believe, you can’t prevent me from going.’

‘Don’t be too sure about that.’

Suddenly scared, she brushed past him, catching the edge of the file that was lying on his desk, knocking it to the floor and spreading the contents.

Even as she stepped over the papers and headed for the door, part of her mind registered the fact that several of them bore a stylized logo.