Carole Mortimer - The Devils Price

‘I see a friend,’ she murmured to Josie, slowly standing up, knowing Josie’s eyes widened as she saw the identity of that ‘friend’. ‘I won’t be a minute,’ she said vaguely, hurrying over to Michael before she changed her mind. ‘Hello,’ she greeted almost nervously as she stood in front of the frowning boy.

Michael seemed disturbed by her approach, looking about him self-consciously, his hands thrust into the back pockets of his denims. ‘Hello,’ he finally returned defiantly, almost aggressively.

‘Would you like to join a friend and me for lunch?’ she offered lightly, wishing now that she had just minded her own business and left him to his own devices; he obviously didn’t welcome her attention. ‘There’s a vacant seat at our table.’ In fact the coffee-shop had filled up in the last half an hour, and the spare seat at the table she and Josie shared was one of the few remaining.

He glanced over to where Josie was watching them curiously, shaking his head. ‘I wouldn’t want to intrude.’

‘You wouldn’t be,’ she assured him, still uncertain about whether or not he remembered her specifically; he was at an age when he would feel aggressively embarrassed about any woman approaching him.

‘But you’ve almost finished,’ he shrugged dismissively.

‘I’d love another cup of coffee while you eat.’ She smiled encouragingly.

He seemed to hesitate, and then he nodded. ‘Just while you have another cup of coffee,’ he agreed grudgingly.

Cynara held back her smile as he made it sound as if he were doing her a favour. She could see Josie was a little disconcerted to have her employer’s son join them for lunch, and Cynara’s smile pleaded for the other woman’s understanding.

‘Hello, Michael,’ Josie greeted calmly as he sat down with them. ‘The chicken is good,’ she encouraged in a friendly tone.

He looked at her coolly. ‘I dislike chicken.’

Josie gave Cynara a look that seemed to say ‘oh well, I tried,’ before making her excuses to leave. ‘I have to get to work,’ she stood up. ‘I hope you enjoy your lunch, Michael,’ she added good-naturedly.

‘Thank you,’ he muttered.

Josie gave Cynara another shrug before going to join Diane at the main desk, obviously relieved to leave Cynara to it.

Michael ordered his meal with the air of a boy used to doing so, his tone dismissive. ‘I saw your photograph on the billboard outside the lounge,’ he met Cynara’s gaze coolly. ‘I recognised you instantly.’

‘I see,’ she nodded, not knowing what else to say.

‘Did my father know you would be here?’

Cynara flushed. ‘I wouldn’t know.’ This was the first time she had ever been cross-examined by a ten-year-old—even if that ten-year-old were bordering on thirty!

‘You mean you haven’t spoken to him yet?’ Michael scorned disbelievingly.

‘No,’ her reply was sharp.

His expression was sceptical. ‘I find that hard to believe.’

‘Michael—–’

‘Are you and my father having an affair?’

Cynara gasped her surprise at such a question being asked by this young boy. ‘No,’ she answered tautly.

‘Why not?’ he frowned. ‘You had an affair with him before, didn’t you?’

‘Michael—–’

‘I know you did, because he asked my mother for a divorce because of you.’

‘Michael, no! That isn’t—’

‘Grandfather told me all about you.’ The green eyes were as glacial as his father’s could be.

Cynara frowned. ‘And just exactly what did he tell you?’ she asked tightly, shocked and dismayed that Nicholas Buchanan had disliked her so much he had relayed his resentment to this young boy.

‘Does it matter?’ Michael dismissed. ‘The fact that you’re here now is enough.’

‘What do you mean?’ Dark brows met over puzzled velvet brown eyes.

‘Don’t tell me you didn’t know of Grandfather’s death,’ he scorned. ‘Or the fact that the whole Buchanan empire is now my father’s.’

Cynara had gone very pale. Once she realised Michael was well aware of who she was she hadn’t expected politeness, but this—–! Just exactly what had Nicholas Buchanan told his grandson about her?

‘Your father was always a rich man,’ she dismissed with a casualness she was far from feeling.

‘Not rich enough for you then apparently,’ Michael said contemptuously. ‘But he has it all now.’

‘Not all, Michael.’ She looked at him glacially. ‘He obviously has a son who possesses no manners whatsoever, a stupid little boy who has no idea what he’s talking about!’ She spoke to wound because she had been hurt herself, and she knew she had succeeded in humiliating him when she saw the pained colour stain the young boy’s cheeks.

He stood up noisily. ‘I know exactly what you are,’ he told her insultingly, his voice raised. ‘You’re no good, and—and if you ever come near my father again I’ll kill you!’ He turned and almost ran from the room, hoping she wouldn’t see the tears in his eyes.

Cynara swallowed hard, uncomfortably aware that she was the cynosure of all eyes, looking up with a shrug that seemed to say ‘kids!’ Michael was frightened, she realised that, knew that he was warning her off his father because he feared her past involvement with him. He needn’t have worried, Zack would probably cut her dead if they did happen to meet while he was staying here, had no reason to want to ever see her again, a fact he had made more than plain the last time they had spoken.

She didn’t leave the coffee-shop straight away, refused to look guilty, ordering herself another coffee when she explained to the waitress that Michael had changed his mind about the hamburger. She didn’t usually take so much caffeine into her system in the morning, and liked to rest in the afternoon for the evening’s show, but after meeting Michael, knowing that Zack was staying at the hotel, she doubted she would be able to rest anyway.

When she finally did get up to leave she knew it was with the intention of not letting Diane James think she could make a fool out of her just because her boyfriend had a roving eye!

She marched over to the reception. ‘You lied to me about Zack Buchanan,’ she snapped.

Blonde brows arched haughtily. ‘I did no such thing,’ Diane drawled.

‘You told me he wasn’t staying here,’ she reminded accusingly.

‘I said he wasn’t registered,’ the other woman said coldly. ‘And he isn’t. Neither Mr Buchanan nor his children ever register,’ she announced triumphantly.

Cynara felt the colour drain from her face. ‘Ch-children?’ she repeated dazedly; Michael had been an only child when she knew Zack five years ago!

‘His son and daughter,’ Diane nodded coldly.

‘Er—–’ She moistened suddenly dry lips. ‘How old is his daughter?’

‘How would I know?’ Diane dismissed uninterestedly. ‘All young children look the same to me.’

‘Kelly is about three,’ Josie rushed over to tell her, frowning at how pale Cynara was. ‘Is there anything wrong?’ she asked anxiously.

‘Er—no,’ she recovered with an effort from the shock of knowing Zack had another child. ‘I didn’t realise Zack—Mr Buchanan, had—had remarried.’ God, she had to pull herself together, she was making an idiot of herself. Why shouldn’t Zack have remarried after his divorce from Joanne, have had other children. She had made it plain she wanted no part of his life.

‘He hasn’t,’ Josie still frowned.

She moistened her lips again. ‘Kelly is Joanne’s child?’ she croaked, wondering if the shock could be making her voice fade in this way.

‘If that was his wife’s name, yes,’ Josie looked puzzled. ‘Look, are you sure you’re okay?’