Lee Wilkinson - First-Class Seduction

‘You can save the platitudes!’ she snapped.

Unruffled, he observed, ‘It may seem a trite remark, but that doesn’t prevent it being the truth, Bel.’

At the end of her tether, she starred to close the door.

Holding it with his foot, he said, ‘I’ll drop by tomorrow and take you out to lunch.’

‘You needn’t bother,’ she told him sharply, too harassed to be gracious. ‘I don’t want to see you again.’

He spoke soothingly, as though to a child. ‘Perhaps after a good night’s sleep you’ll have changed your mind.’

‘No way!’

Smiling a little at her vehemence, he bent his dark head and kissed her lips. ‘We’ll see, shall we?’

A moment later he was ascending the steps with that easy masculine grace which seemed to characterise all his movements.

Though light, his kiss had had its usual earth-shattering effect, and she found she was trembling as she closed the door and leaned against it while she listened to his car drive away.

After a moment, knees still shaky, Bel made her way to the nearest chair and sank into it.

Andrew Storm had proved himself to be a determined man, and even if she kept the door locked tomorrow and refused to answer he could, and probably would, lay seige to the place…

Hands clenched into fists, she strove for calm. For the moment at least she was safe in her own home, and if he did lay siege to the place she’d just have to move in with her father for a while…

Her father… She groaned aloud. Somehow she had to tell him what had happened…No, she couldn’t bring herself to tell him everything; he’d be too shocked and ashamed…

But she must tell him something. And quickly. If he tried to get in touch with her at the Bentincks’…Galvanised into action, Bel picked up the receiver and dialled her father’s number.

He answered almost immediately, as if he’d been sitting over the phone, and she knew he had when he said, disappointment edging his voice, ‘Oh, I thought it might be Ellen.’

‘Then you haven’t heard from her?’

‘No, not yet. But you shouldn’t be worrying about business matters while you’re with Roderick.’

‘I’m not with Roderick,’ she broke in abruptly. ‘I’m back in town.’

‘Back in town? What on earth for? Surely you’re not—?’

‘I’m back in town because Roderick and I have split up. He has his ring back and our engagement’s over.’

‘Over?’ Her father sounded thunderstruck. ‘Are you sure it’s not just a storm in a teacup?’

‘Quite sure.’

‘What on earth did you quarrel about?’

‘Please, Dad…’ Suddenly she was close to tears, ‘I’d rather not talk about it.’

‘Very well,’ he said slowly. ‘But is there anything I can do? You sound terribly upset.’

‘Yes, I am,’ she admitted. ‘But there’s nothing anyone can do. I just need some time to collect myself. A breathing space.’

‘Then go away for a while. Leave all the hassle behind you. You’ve more than earned a break…’

She hadn’t had a proper holiday since joining the firm, working all out to consolidate her career, and this year her father had several times urged her to take one. But Roderick had been already committed to an allmale sailing trip in the West Indies, and she had felt little inclination to go away alone…

Now the thought of getting right away was a welcome one. Even more welcome than her father realised.

‘Why not go to Rome?’ he was suggesting. ‘The flat is empty—’ a pleasant second-floor flat was kept for any Grant Filey staff visiting the Rome offices, which were only a short walk away ‘—so you could see all the things you didn’t have a chance to see last time…’

She liked the idea. Her first visit to Rome, after being appointed European Marketing Director, had been a brief one, and there had been no opportunity to do any sightseeing.

‘Enjoy the ambience—’ her father was into his stride ‘—and find yourself a spot of la dolce vita. Make it a real holiday…’

Recalling the other dark cloud that hung on the horizon, Bel demurred, ‘I don’t like the idea of being away with the threat of a take-over looming.’

‘If I thought your being in London would make a scrap of difference I’d ask you to stay. But, as it won’t, I’d feel happier if you went. So for goodness’ sake go and practise your Italian.’

‘I think I just might.’ ‘Now you’re talking!’

‘I’ll try to get a flight out today.’ All at once she couldn’t wait to get away.

‘Being Saturday, the flights might be full, so if you don’t manage it we’ll have dinner together tonight. Ring me at the office. I’m going in for a couple of hours. There’s something I need to discuss with Harmen…’

After phoning several airlines, Bel was about to give up when she was lucky enough to find a single seat on a plane leaving for Rome that very afternoon.

Having no car, she rang for a taxi and, while she waited for it to arrive, demonstrated her state of mind by hauling out a large suitcase and throwing things into it with a disregard for order that would have horrified the old Bel.

Just as a knock signalled the arrival of her taxi, the phone rang. For a second she hesitated, wondering whether to ignore it. But it was probably her father. Snatching it up, she said, ‘Dad?’

‘No, it’s me.’

‘Ellen! Thank goodness! Where are you?’

‘I’m still in Paris.’

‘Where are you staying?’

‘Hotel Colbert…it’s not far from the ChampsÉlysées. I’m having the most marvellous time—’

‘Have you been in touch with Dad?’ Bel broke in.

‘Not for a day or two.’

‘He needs to talk to you—’ Another knock cut through her words.

‘I’ll give him a ring,’ Ellen promised carelessly. ‘But I must tell you about Jean-Claude. He’s six feet tall and drop-dead handsome, with silvery blond hair and blue eyes. Honestly, Bel, he has to be the most gorgeous man I’ve ever met, as well as having the sort of manners you only read about…’

‘Look, I’m sorry,’ Bel apologised, ‘but I can’t talk now.’

‘He’s invited me to his villa at Épernay—’

There was a louder knocking and a shout of, ‘Taxi!’

‘I’m sorry,’ Bel repeated, ‘but I have to go. I’ve a taxi waiting to take me to the airport.’

‘Where are you off to?’

‘Rome.’

‘Oh, business…’ Ellen said flatly.

‘No, this time it’s a holiday. And I really must fly. You won’t forget to ring Dad? If he’s not at home he’ll be in the office.’

‘No, I won’t forget. How long are you—?’

As well as being a scatterbrain, Ellen was an inveterate talker. Hardening her heart, Bel replaced the receiver and hurried to open the door.

Less than two hours later she was on the Saturday afternoon flight to Leonardo da Vinci Airport, hoping against hope that she might be leaving at least some of her troubles behind.

HEAVY-EYED after a restless night, Bel sat on the flower-filled balcony and ignored her breakfast while she gazed across the sunny piazza.

Somewhere close at hand a dog barked, and, above Rome’s background noise of traffic, Sunday church bells from all over the city called the faithful to mass, making what Bel, after her first visit, had described to Roderick as a melodious cacophony of sound.

At the thought of her former fiancé she had to bite her lip to stop the tears welling up. Poor Roderick. He dadn’t deserved to be hurt and humiliated in that way.

Not even the fact that she’d drunk too much could excuse the stupidity and wantonness of her behaviour, and it was the realisation of what he and his parents must think of her that hurt most. There was one thing to be devoutly thankful for, though: she had successfully escaped Andrew Storm.