CAROL MARINELLI - Hired - Mistress - Wanted - Mistress and Mother / His Private Mistress / The Millionaire's Secret Mistress

‘That guy,’ Dante broke in, ‘was proved innocent in a court of law.’

‘I know.’ Matilda nodded but it changed midway, her head shaking, incredulity sinking in. She certainly wasn’t a legal eagle, but you’d have to live in a cupboard not to know about some of the cases Dante Costello handled. They were Big , in italics and with a capital B. And even if that man she had read about really had been innocent, surely some of the people Dante had defended really were guilty. His job was so far removed from hers as to be unfathomable, and bewildered, she stared back at him. ‘Do you ever regret winning?’

‘No.’ Firmly he shook his head.

‘Never?’ Matilda asked, watching his lips tighten a touch, watching his eyes darken from dusk to midnight.

‘Never,’ Dante replied, his single word unequivocal. She felt a shiver, could almost see him in his robes and wig, could almost see that inscrutable face remaining unmoved, could see that full mouth curving into a sneer as he shredded seemingly irrefutable evidence. And anyone, everyone, would have left it there, would have conceded the argument, yet Matilda didn’t, green eyes crashing into his, jade waves rolling onto unmovable black granite.

‘I don’t believe you.’

‘Then you don’t know what you’re talking about.’

‘I know I don’t,’ Matilda admitted. ‘Yet I still don’t believe you.’

And that should have been it. She should have got on with her meal, he should have resumed eating, made polite small talk to fill the appalling gap, but instead he pushed her now. As she reached for her fork he reached deep inside, his words stilling her, his hand seemingly clutching her heart. ‘You’ve been proud of everything you’ve done.’

‘Not everything,’ Matilda tentatively admitted. ‘But there’s certainly nothing big league. Anyway, what’s that got to do with it?’

‘It has everything to do with it,’ Dante said assuredly. ‘We all have our dark secrets, we all have things that, given our time again, we would have done differently. The difference between Mr or Ms Average and my clients is that their personal lives, their most intimate regrets are up for public scrutiny. Words uttered in anger are played back to haunt them, a moment of recklessness a couple of years back suddenly relived for everyone to hear. It can be enough to cloud the most objective jury.’

‘But surely, if they’ve done nothing wrong,’ Matilda protested, ‘they have nothing to fear.’

‘Not if I do my job correctly,’ Dante said. ‘But not everyone’s as good as me.’ Matilda blinked at his lack of modesty, but Dante made no apology. ‘I have to believe that my clients are innocent.’

She should have left it there, Matilda knew that, knew she had no chance against him, but she refused to be a pushover and refused to be swayed from her stance. She wasn’t in the witness box after all, just an adult having an interesting conversation. There was no need to be intimidated. Taking a breath, she gave him a very tight smile. ‘Even if they’re clearly not?’

‘Ah, Matilda.’ He flashed her an equally false smile. ‘You shouldn’t believe all you read in the newspapers.’

‘I don’t,’ Matilda flared. ‘I’m just saying that there’s no smoke without fire…’ She winced at the cliché and began to make a more eloquent argument, but Dante got there first.

‘There are no moments in your life that you’d dread coming out in court?’

‘Of course not!’

‘None at all?’

‘None,’ Matilda flushed. ‘I certainly haven’t done anything illegal, well, not really.’

‘Not really?’ Nothing in his expression changed, bar a tiny rise of one eyebrow.

‘I thought we were here to talk about your garden,’ she flared, but Dante just smiled.

‘You were the one who questioned me about my work,’ Dante pointed out. ‘It’s not my fault if you don’t like the answer. So, come on, tell me, what did you do?’

‘I’ve told you,’ Matilda insisted. ‘I’ve done nothing wrong. I’m sorry if you find that disappointing or boring.’

‘I’m never disappointed,’ Dante said, his eyes burning into her, staring at her so directly it made her squirm. ‘And I know for a fact that you have your secret shame—everyone does.’

‘OK,’ Matilda breathed in indignation. ‘But if you’re expecting some dark, sordid story then you’re going to be sorely disappointed. It’s just a tiny, tiny thing that happened when I was a kid.’

‘Clearly not that tiny,’ Dante said, ‘if you can still blush just thinking about it.’

‘I’m not blushing,’ Matilda flared, but she knew it was useless, could feel the sting of heat on her cheeks. But it wasn’t the past that was making her blush, it was the present, the here and now, the presence of him, the feel of his eyes on her, the intimacy of revelation—any revelation.

‘Tell me,’ Dante said softly, dangerously, and it sounded like a dare. ‘Tell me what happened.’

‘I stole some chocolate when I was on school camp,’ Matilda admitted. ‘Everyone did,’ she went on almost immediately.

‘And you thought that you’d look an idiot if you didn’t play along?’

‘Something like that,’ Matilda murmured, blushing furiously now, but with the shame and fear she had felt at the time, reliving again the pressure she had felt at that tender age to just blend in. She was surprised at the emotion such a distant memory could evoke.

‘So, instead of standing up for yourself, you just went right along with it, even though you knew it was wrong.’

‘I guess.’

‘And that’s the sum total of your depraved past?’ Dante checked.

‘That’s it.’ Matilda nodded. ‘Sorry if I disappointed you.’

‘You didn’t.’ Dante shook his head. ‘I find you can learn a lot about a person if you listen to their childhood memories. Our responses don’t change that much…’

‘Rubbish,’ Matilda scoffed. ‘I was ten years old. If something like that happened now—’

‘You’d do exactly the same,’ Dante broke in. ‘I’m not saying that you’d steal a bar of chocolate rather than draw attention to yourself, but you certainly don’t like confrontation, do you?’

Shocked at his insight, all she could do was stare back at him.

‘In fact,’ Dante continued, ‘you’d walk to the end of the earth to avoid it, steal a chocolate bar if it meant you could blend in, stay in a bad relationship to avoid a row…’ As she opened her mouth to deny it, Dante spoke over her. ‘Or, let’s take tonight for an example, you ran to the toilet the moment you thought you had upset me.’

‘Not quite that very moment.’ Matilda rolled her eyes and gave a watery smile, realising she was beaten. ‘I lasted two at least. But does anyone actually like confrontation?’

‘I do,’ Dante said. ‘It’s the best part of my job, making people confront their hidden truths.’ He gave her the benefit of a very bewitching smile, which momentarily knocked her off guard. ‘Though I guess if that’s the worst you can come up with, you really would have no problem with being cross-examined.’

‘I’d have no worries at all,’ Matilda said confidently.

‘You clearly know your own mind.’

‘I do.’ Matilda smiled back, happy things were under control.

‘Then may I?’

‘Excuse me?’

‘Just for the sake of curiosity.’ His smile was still in place. ‘May I ask you some questions?’

‘We’re supposed to be talking about your garden.’

He handed her a rolled-up wad of paper. ‘There are the plans, you can do whatever you wish—so that takes care of that.’

‘But why?’ Matilda asked.