The Monte Carlo Proposal
Lucy Gordon
Why on earth did I agree to this crazy plan?! This multimillionaire Jack Bullen had a proposal for me–to pose as his girlfriend so he could avoid an unwanted marriage. I said yes–it was a whole lot better than going back to being a waitress. It sounded like fun–a free holiday in Monte Carlo–who'd say no?–But Jack is gorgeous! Like Pierce Brosnan. It's really hard doing all this kissing and flirting when it's all 'pretend.' I want it to be for real! And you know–I'm beginning to think he likes me, too…
We laughed together and it was like being back at the Hotel de Paris, when we’d chatted for hours and known each other better in that time than some people do in a lifetime.
The music was smoochy. He drew me close so that my head rested on his shoulder, and he dropped his own head, turning it slightly in to my neck so that his lips brushed my skin.
It was physically exciting, and added to my frustration that I couldn’t have him. But it was also strangely cosy. The warmth that swept me was contentment. I could gladly nestle against him like this forever.
Only it wasn’t going to be forever. Another week, perhaps less. Already I felt more in tune with him than was wise, but I knew I couldn’t be wise. Not with Jack. There was all the rest of my life for wisdom.
Lucy Gordon cut her writing teeth on magazine journalism, interviewing many of the world’s most interesting men, including Warren Beatty, Richard Chamberlain, Roger Moore, Sir Alec Guinness and Sir John Gielgud. She also camped out with lions in Africa, and had many other unusual experiences which have often provided the background for her books. She is married to a Venetian, whom she met while on holiday in Venice. They got engaged within two days.
Two of her books have won the Romance Writers of America RITA® award—Song of the Lorelei and His Brother’s Child in the Best Traditional Romance category.
You can visit her Web site at www.lucy-gordon.com
Books by Lucy Gordon
HARLEQUIN ROMANCE®
3780—THE ITALIAN’S BABY
3799—RINALDO’S INHERITED BRIDE* (#litres_trial_promo)
3807—GINO’S ARRANGED BRIDE* (#litres_trial_promo)
3816—HIS PRETEND WIFE
The Monte Carlo Proposal
Lucy Gordon
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
CONTENTS
CHAPTER ONE (#u0e9a30e4-c05a-5ede-b71d-27854b1d1288)
CHAPTER TWO (#u36429db5-46fa-5227-9a74-4d095f56c9e0)
CHAPTER THREE (#u99fba16e-a1ca-535d-9669-c58721f0c3aa)
CHAPTER FOUR (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER FIVE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SIX (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER EIGHT (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER NINE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER ELEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWELVE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER ONE
Della’s Story
IT WAS a great dress. No argument. Silver and slinky, low-cut in the front and high-slit at the side. It had some magic quality that made my hips and bust look bigger and my waist look smaller, and it fitted so closely that you just knew I was wearing nothing underneath. And I mean nothing. That dress was cool, sexy, provocative, sensational.
At any other time I’d have loved it. But not now. Not now I knew why that slimeball Hugh Vanner had been so eager to get it on me. It was because he wanted one, or more, of his equally slimy ‘business associates’ to get it off me.
And since it was a moot question whether they were more disgusting or he was—no way!
At this point a woman with her head screwed on would have got out—fast. But that’s not easy when you’re on a yacht. Even if it is moored in the harbour at Monte Carlo.
I’d been hired in London as a waitress, and I suppose it was naïve of me to think that ‘waitress’ meant waitress. But I was in a tight hole financially.
Usually I demonstrated goods in department stores, but one job had just finished and another had just fallen through. I couldn’t afford to go even a week without work, and the money being offered for this trip was good. So I crossed my fingers and hoped.
Fatal mistake.
Never cross your fingers. It makes it so hard to fight the creeps off.
I joined the yacht at Southampton. It was called The Silverado, and it wasn’t what most people would mean by yacht, with sails and things. This was a rich man’s version, over two hundred feet long, with thirteen staterooms, a bar, a swimming pool, a dining room that could seat twenty, and not a sail in sight. That kind of yacht.
My nose was twitching before I’d been on board for five minutes. The place shrieked too much of the wrong sort of money in the hands of the wrong sort of people who’d acquired it by the wrong sort of means.
Don’t get me wrong. I like money. But, for reasons I can’t go into now, I’m nervous about where it comes from. I’ve known life when anything I wanted could be served up on a plate, and life when I didn’t know where my next penny was coming from.
I was in one of those times now, so I stayed on board and got stuck into the job.
No. Scratch that last phrase. I stayed on board and worked hard. Better.
I didn’t meet Vanner until several hours later, and the whole grubby, sweaty mess of him came as a nasty surprise.
‘You’ll do,’ he grunted, looking me up and down. ‘I told that agency I wanted lookers. I like my guests to have a good time. Puts them in the right mood, if you know what I mean.’
I was beginning to know exactly what he meant. I was also beginning to wish I’d never come on this trip, but we were already at sea and it was too late.
‘So you’re Della Martin?’ he demanded, breathing booze fumes over me. ‘How old are you?’
‘Twenty-four.’
‘You look younger.’
I knew it, and it was the bane of my life. I’ve got a face that would be right on an eighteen-year-old, all big eyes and high cheekbones. My hair’s red, and I cut it short in an attempt to make myself look more grown-up.
Fatal mistake. I end up with the look they call gamine. Some women would be glad to have it. I thought it made me seem like a kid.
But Vanner loved it.
‘You’d be great if only you’d smile,’ he said. ‘Look cheerful. Everyone on my yacht must be cheerful.’
He was always talking about ‘my yacht’, but it wasn’t his, whatever he liked to pretend. He’d chartered it.
The trip was supposed to be a business convention, but it turned out to be Vanner cruising the Mediterranean with a gaggle of men—some with girlfriends, some alone, but none with wives.
I shared a cabin with Maggie, who was definitely a woman of the world and knew what she was there for.
‘Plenty of rich pickings,’ she told me on the first evening. ‘Enough for both of us.’
That was true, and since rich pickings were what I needed I was probably being unreasonable in backing off. I knew Maggie thought so. But she shrugged and said, ‘More for me.’
It wasn’t too bad at first. There was a bit of groping, but nothing that I couldn’t defuse with a laugh. I ignored the suggestive remarks, and one way or another I survived until we reached Monte Carlo.
Vanner was in a bad mood as soon as we arrived, and I guessed it was because of the other yacht nearby. It was called The Hawk, and it was The Silverado with knobs on—at least a hundred feet longer, probably with more staterooms and a bigger swimming pool. Anyway, it made Vanner’s yacht look piddling, and he didn’t like it.
Mind you, he perked up when he found out who was aboard.
Jack Bullen.
Bullen was a predator, a financial genius, a bruiser who operated through the money markets instead of with his fists. But the damage was just as real to the victims.
He’d started small and become one of the richest men in the country. Even his name was useful to him. Sometimes they called him ‘Jack Bullion’ because of the way his money mounted up, but mostly they called him ‘Bully Jack’, because of his methods.
He was all over the financial pages for one master stroke or another. I can’t say I normally read those pages, but I come from a family that’s deeply interested in money, especially other people’s. So I knew of him.
Bully Jack could afford to buy what he liked, do what he liked, and ignore what he didn’t like. And few people could stand up to him. That alone was enough to win Vanner’s swooning admiration and get him grovelling.
I have to admit that the sight of Vanner grovelling was impressive. Nauseating, but impressive. He bought diamond-studded solid gold cufflinks and sent them over as a gift. They arrived back almost at once, with a brief note thanking Mr Vanner but saying Mr Bullen did not accept gifts from strange men.
I almost liked Bullen for that. But then I thought maybe I’d imagined the dead-pan humour in the note. No man so filthy rich could have made a joke so neat.
Besides, it conflicted with my image of him as a thickset thug. I’d never seen him, but there was something about his name that suggested a bone-crusher, not a wit.
Next Vanner tried a ship-to-ship phone call, with an invitation to dinner, but was informed that Mr Bullen and his guests had gone ashore and would not be returning until late.
After that Vanner’s temper hit the skids. I was the first one to feel it.
‘You’re not pulling your weight, Della,’ he snapped.
‘What?’ I said crossly. ‘I’m doing double shifts because Maggie’s never around when she’s supposed to be.’
‘She’s involved in…other duties. Very popular girl. But you’re leaving her to do it all.’
‘Now, look, Mr Vanner, I’m here as a waitress.’
He gave the silent laugh that made me feel queasy.
‘Of course you are, Della. Of course you are. But a very special kind of waitress. It’s not enough to serve food and drink to the guests. You’ve got to make them feel happy.’
‘I do. I smile and tell jokes, and I don’t back off when they breathe fumes over me.’
His manner became ingratiating, which should have warned me.
‘Of course. I know you’re trying, but you’re not making the best of yourself. I’ve had a pretty dress put in your cabin and I want you to wear it.’
I knew the worst as soon as I saw that ‘pretty dress’. I should never have put it on, but we’d soon be heading back to England. Having coped for most of the trip, I thought I could manage just a bit longer.
There was one guest in particular whose piggy eyes lit up at the sight of me all silver, shimmering and half naked. His name was Rufus Telsor and he’d given me the most trouble from the start.
He’d come aboard with another man, called Williams, whom he seemed to know well, which at first made me hope he might be gay. No such luck! They were just hunting in pairs.
I discovered that when the two of them cornered me on deck. The ensuing conversation was of the ‘Come on, you know you want it really’ variety, and I won’t bore you with the details.
I managed to fight them off and escape with a torn dress, but I knew there was nowhere to hide on the yacht. I had to get off before they caught me again.
Going down the gangway was out of the question. Vanner was there and he would see me. Besides, go down to what? We were moored out in deep water. I’d need a boat to get to shore, and there was no way I’d be able to get one.
From the stern of the ship I had a view of him, leaning on the rail, brandy balloon in hand. Even from this distance I could see that he was red-faced and slipping out of control. I could expect no help from him. He was more likely to be furious that I’d fought back.
As I watched, Telsor and Williams appeared, heading for Vanner, presumably to complain about the lack of hospitality. I hadn’t much time. It would have to be the water.
I hoisted the dress up, climbed over the rail, and jumped.
Luckily I’m a good swimmer, and I can hold my breath for a long time. When I finally surfaced I’d put some distance between me and The Silverado. But I was getting too close to The Hawk for comfort, so I kicked out and headed for the shore.
When I reached the quay I’d have had a problem if someone hadn’t been passing and given me a hand up.
Briefly I toyed with the idea of asking him for help, but he wasn’t alone. His companion was female and suspicious. One look at me was enough to make her squeal, ‘Come on. We’re going to be late.’
‘Er—yes—er—’
He was trying to ogle me and avert his eyes at the same time. Looking down at myself, I understood. The water had made the silver dress almost transparent.
‘Can you tell me how to find the British Consul?’ I begged.
‘No idea,’ he said hastily. ‘But you might find someone at the casino who’d know. Lots of Brits there. Head up that hill. Coming, Gina!’
And he was gone.
I began to climb up the slope that led to the town. It was hard because I’d lost my shoes in the water. Plus I had to keep to the shadows, in case I got arrested for going around half naked.
I managed to make it to the casino, and slip into the gardens without attracting attention, but then I realised I had a problem.
What should I do? Walk in like this?
There was an open door, with light pouring from within. I could make out the shapes of people moving back and forth, the sound of music and laughter. It was a tempting scene, the kind where I would once have been at home.
Gamblers, people who live on the edge, high rollers: I’d always felt comfortable with them. That buzz of anticipation is something I understand. Well, in my family you have to.
But right now I was on the outside looking in, desperate, stranded, not a penny to my name, nothing but the clothes I was almost wearing.
Then something happened.
A man came out of the casino and stood breathing in the night air. He was dressed for a night out—dinner jacket, black bow tie, frilled shirt. All conventional stuff.
It was the man himself who drew my eyes. He was tall, over six foot, broad shouldered, long-legged, with a head of thick hair that was just on the edge of curling. He looked like someone who was used to living well. Everything about him spoke of a healthy animal who took the good things of life for granted and enjoyed them to the full.
He probably didn’t have a brain in his head, but who cared?
Then I pulled myself together. It was men who’d got me into this mess, and now was no time to go misty-eyed over a handsome profile. I was getting a chill.
He came towards the bush behind which I was hiding, and I wondered if he was the one I should waylay and ask for help. The question was, did he have a ‘Gina’ in tow, ready to shoo me off? A man who looked like that probably did.
He came closer still, and stopped right by the bush.
Then he pounced.
I didn’t see him coming, just felt his hands grasping me. One of them gripped hold of my ear, which hurt, so I lashed out at him as hard as I could.
I did pretty well. The high slit in the silver dress meant I could kick with some real force, so I did. I landed a few thumps on the shins, and from the yell he gave I might have caught him in a sensitive place as well.
‘Come on out of there, you!’ he said, gasping slightly. ‘Oi!’
That last one came from a punch in the midriff, and it seemed to decide him that the fight had gone on long enough because he tossed me onto my back and landed on top of me.
I’d been right about one thing. He was a healthy animal. I could feel it in every line of the big body pressed against mine as I lay looking up at him.
I couldn’t see him so well now. There was a bright moon in the sky but his head came in between and his face was dark. I could only make out the glitter of his eyes and hear the sound of his breathing.
He was panting after his exertions, and I understood that, because so was I. Every part of me was suddenly warm and tingling, as though the struggle had got me really worked up. I could hear my heart thumping.
‘Get off me,’ I snapped.
‘Good grief!’ he said, peering at me more closely. ‘What the devil—?’
‘I said, get off me!’
He drew back and rose to his feet, pulling me up with him and keeping hold of my wrists.
‘Who the hell do you think you are to jump on me?’ I demanded, trying to kick him again but not managing it this time.
‘I’m a man who doesn’t like being stolen from, even if it is just petty cash.’
‘I haven’t stolen from you,’ I raged.
‘But you were trying to. Why else were you hiding in the bushes? I’ve been crept up on before. I know the signs.’
‘Oh, really?’ I seethed. ‘You’re so clever, aren’t you? But you’ve got it wrong this time.’
‘Why are you soaking wet?’ he asked suddenly.
‘I’ve been swimming,’ I flashed. ‘I thought it would be good for my health. Ow!’
I’d actually managed to free one hand by then, but in the same moment I trod on something sharp.
I yelled and hopped about, and then found myself actually clutching him again to steady myself. That really annoyed me.
He was looking down at me with interest.
‘You’re not wearing very much,’ he remarked.
‘Ten out of ten for observation.’
‘Well, I’m funny like that. When a girl’s wet and half naked I tend to notice, especially up close.’
I abandoned politeness. ‘Bully for you! And I am not a thief.’
‘Well, you sure looked like one, skulking in the bushes until a victim came past. You think anyone who walks out of the casino must be a millionaire—’
It was madness to get into an argument with him, but I couldn’t stop myself.
‘Well, that’s all you know,’ I snapped. ‘I’ve been in enough casinos to know that people walk out poorer than they go in. If they didn’t, all the casinos would close down.’
‘You really know the subject, don’t you? I’ll bet you have been in casinos! I expect your accomplice is still in there—’
‘What accomplice?’
‘The one who signalled you that I’d had a big win—’
‘So you say! Every loser says he’s a winner.’
‘What do you think all that is on the ground?’ he demanded, pointing down.
For the first time I realised that the ground was covered with notes.
‘Those are my winnings, which just happened to fall out of my pocket while we were struggling,’ he said.
‘Don’t try to make that sound like my fault,’ I said. ‘You pounced on me, not the other way around. I was not lurking to steal from you.’
‘OK, we’ve exchanged pleasantries long enough. Why don’t you tell me what you’re doing and why?’
‘I am looking for the British Consul,’ I asserted, with what I hoped was dignity.
‘Dressed like that?’
‘It’s because I’m dressed like this that I need the Consul,’ I said through gritted teeth.
‘You need help, don’t you?’
‘You guessed!’
‘I’m clever that way,’ he said, not letting himself be offended by the edge in my voice, which I suppose was lucky for me.
‘I’m running away,’ I told him, ‘but I’ve got nowhere to run to.’
‘Where are you running from?’
‘A yacht. It’s called The Silverado and it’s moored down there. Look.’
From here we could just about make out Vanner’s yacht, far below us in the harbour.
‘That one,’ I said, ‘right next to the big vulgar one.’
‘You mean The Hawk?’ he said.
‘You know it?’ For a moment I thought he seemed uneasy.
‘Why do you say it like that?’ he asked.
‘Like what?’
‘As though knowing The Hawk is a crime. Are you acquainted with the owner?’
‘I know of him. He’s a creep called Jack Bullen, and Hugh Vanner has been trying to crawl to him ever since he berthed.’
‘That makes this Vanner character a creep, but why Bullen?’
‘Because Vanner would only crawl to an even bigger creep than himself.’
‘I suppose that’s logical,’ he admitted.
‘He even sent him gold and diamond cufflinks. I ask you!’
‘That’s really disgusting. And who needs gold and diamonds? Look at these—’
He flashed his own cufflinks at me and I was startled. They were really rubbish, and I mean really. My family is expert in appraising jewellery and I absorbed it with my mother’s milk.
Not that I needed expertise with these. They looked as if they’d come off a market stall, and the mother-of-pearl was peeling.
‘You do know The Hawk, don’t you?’ I challenged him.
‘In a sort of way,’ he said vaguely.
I wondered if he was one of the ship’s stewards, enjoying a night out. Despite his fancy shirt and bow tie this man was short of cash. His winnings probably represented a fortune to him.
‘You’d better pick up your money,’ I said.
‘Can I risk letting you go?’
‘I’ve got nowhere to run.’
He released my wrist and bent to grasp some of the notes.
‘How about helping me?’ he asked, looking up.
‘I’d rather not touch your cash.’
‘OK, OK, you’re not a thief and I’m sorry I said it. Now, will you help me before a wind gets up and it blows away?’
I picked some up, deciding that my first thoughts had been right. Clearly this man needed every penny.
‘So now tell me what you’re doing here? Or can I guess? You’re running from Vanner the creep?’
‘Right! And from the other creeps that he wanted me to “be nice” to. This is his dress.’
His lips twitched.
‘I’ll bet he doesn’t look as good in it as you.’
‘Very funny. I jumped overboard to escape him, and now I don’t know what to do or where to go. I need the Consul, but Monaco is so tiny it probably doesn’t have one.’
‘Yes, it does—well, a Vice-Consul anyway. If you like I’ll take you to find him.’
I nearly collapsed with relief.
‘Would you really? Thank you, thank you—could we go now, please?’
‘All right. Just let me—’
‘That’s her!’
The voice came from the darkness, but it was followed at once by Vanner scurrying across the lawn like a black beetle.
‘Get her!’ he shrieked. ‘Arrest her.’
He was followed by two gendarmes who headed for me.
‘Hold on a minute, there!’
The man from the casino spoke in a lazy voice, but there was something about him that stopped everyone in their tracks.
Vanner recovered first.
‘This woman is a thief,’ he shrieked. ‘She stole money from me before leaving my boat. Look, she’s holding it. That’s mine. I demand that you arrest her.’
The gendarmes started to move again, but the man placed himself between them and me, and I realised again just how big he was. He could have dealt with two of them easily.
‘The money’s mine,’ he said. ‘This lady was helping me to pick it up. We hadn’t finished, as you can see.’
He indicated the grass, where some stray notes still lingered.
‘You’re lying!’ Vanner shrieked. ‘The money’s mine. She’s a thief.’
‘I suppose you’re Hugh Vanner,’ the man said, eyeing him with open contempt.
A new look, part caution, part suspicion, came over Vanner’s face.
‘How do you know who I am?’
‘I recognise you from the description.’
This was kind of a private joke, since only he and I knew what that description had been.
Vanner shot a look at me.
‘What have you been saying about me?’
‘That you’re a low-life who tried to force me to sleep with your business buddies,’ I said. ‘That’s why I had to jump overboard—’
‘With my money!’
‘Don’t say that,’ the man said quietly. ‘I’m warning you, don’t say it.’
‘You’re warning me? Who are you to tell me what to do?’
The man looked surprised. ‘I’m Jack Bullen.’
It was worth anything to see Vanner’s face at that moment. Even in the garden lights I could see him go green. This was the man he’d been trying to reach, to impress, and he’d met him like this.
Of course I knew there wasn’t a word of truth in it. I’d given him the clue to dealing with Vanner and he’d taken it up brilliantly. And who was to know he wasn’t really Jack Bullen, just as long so nobody saw his cufflinks?
‘You’re Jack Bullen?’ Vanner said in a strangled voice that did me the world of good to hear.
‘The one you sent the gold cufflinks to. Remember?’
Vanner gulped and began frantically back-pedalling with the gendarmes, assuring them that it was all a misunderstanding. They scowled at him, but finally departed.
‘That’s better,’ Vanner said, trying to sound in command of the situation. ‘Mr Bullen, you and me need to do some serious talking—’
‘When you’ve returned this lady’s property,’ he said coolly.
‘When I—?’
‘Her clothes, her passport, and whatever you owe her in wages.’
‘I suppose I’m well rid of her at that.’
‘Deliver everything to The Hawk. That’s where I’m going now.’
‘Fine, fine. We can share a cab to the harbour—’
‘No, we can’t. Send those things over and don’t keep me waiting.’
I couldn’t see him well as he said this, but I had a good view of Vanner, and I saw the startling change that came over his face—a kind of withering. He’d seen something in this man’s face that made him fall silent and take a step back.
The man took my arm and began to walk away.
‘Wait a minute,’ I whispered. ‘You were going to take me to the Vice-Consul.’
‘I’ve changed my mind. We’re going to The Hawk.’
‘Oh, no! Not another yacht. I’ve had enough of them to last a lifetime.’
I tried to pull away, but he wouldn’t release my arm. He wasn’t holding me all that tightly but there was no way I could escape.
He hailed a passing cab and almost tossed me into it.
‘Now, look here—’ I began.
‘No, you look here. You can go with Vanner, with the gendarmes, or with me.’
‘Or I can go to the Vice-Consul.’
‘If you know where to find him. And just how long do you want to wander around dressed—or rather undressed—like that?’
‘Are you daring to take advantage of my condition?’
‘That’s exactly what I’m doing.’
‘That’s blackmail.’
‘It’s what I’m good at. Now, shut up or I’ll toss you back into the water.’
I opened my mouth to tell him what he could do, but then shut it again. Not because I was afraid of his threats, or of him. I wasn’t.
But I’d seen a gleam in his eyes that undermined his words. He was laughing, challenging me not to laugh with him, and despite everything I found myself doing so.
That was the moment when it all began.
CHAPTER TWO
Jack’s Story
MOONLIGHT and roses. Trees waving gently in the Mediterranean breeze. Romantic music playing in the distance.
It was twenty-three-hundred hours and I was standing outside Monte Carlo Casino, ten grand richer than when I’d gone in.
Yes, that was the state I’d reached. Moonlight. Twenty-three-hundred hours. Ten grand.
But what else did you expect? I’m Jack Bullen. King Midas. Whatever I touch turns to ten grand. Or, if we’re talking real money, ten million.
But tonight was only gambling, so I made do with pocket money.
I blame my grandfather, Nick, and his cufflinks. When he gave them to me he said they were lucky and they would help me win. And, dammit, he was right.
I don’t win every single time. It’s not quite as bad as that. But I win often enough to come out richer. And it’s all his fault.
I blame him for a lot more than that. Starting with my father. Nick was a happy-go-lucky fellow, who loved his family, earned enough from his little grocery business to get by, and enjoyed a laugh. So, according to Sod’s Law, he was bound to have a son who thought he was feckless and worked night and day to ‘better himself’.
I don’t know if my father got better, but he certainly got richer. He started work in Grandpa’s grocery and gradually took over, shunting his father aside. When he finally inherited the shop he built it into a chain, and raised me in the belief that my mission in life was to climb ever onward and upward to the glorious heights of tycoonery.
I’d rather have been a vet, and if Dad had lived longer I might have fought it out with him, but he died when I was fifteen and you can’t argue with a dead man. Especially if he’s left you everything.
Every last penny.
Which was unfair on my older sister, Grace, who was left to look after me, our mother being already dead. She didn’t complain, because she’d picked up Dad’s ideas about my dynamic future.
So I ended up doing business courses, computing, economics, just as if Dad were alive, because Grace said so.
As soon as I could touch my inheritance I transferred a fair share to her, but by that time it was too late. I was trapped in business and success.
Oh, yes, I was a success. I made money. The firm prospered. I bought another firm. Before I knew it I was a conglomerate.
I tried to lose money, I swear it. Don’t even ask me how I ended up owning a cable television channel. It was a kind of accident. The channel showed light porn. The screen was always full of nubile girls wriggling around half dressed.
I changed all that. Out went the girls. In came animal programmes, stuff about vets, nature expeditions, deep-sea diving. I bought up the rights to old animal series that hadn’t been seen for years, and the public loved it. Advertisers fought to give me their business.
Suddenly I was the wonder man whose finger on the public’s pulse was never wrong, the visionary who could see past cheap smut to an audience starved of beauty, the marketing genius who could make wildlife profitable.
Actually, I just enjoyed animal programmes.
It was like having a pact with the devil, only this devil was called Grandpa Nick. Wherever he was, he knew the terrible things money and success had done to me. I was out of my mind with boredom, and I swear sometimes I could hear the old man cackling.
There was nothing for me to do. Any fool can make money if they start out with a pile that someone else worked for.
Where were the great challenges in life?
At the moment my biggest challenge was fending off Grace’s attempts to match me with Selina Janson. I usually ended up doing what Grace wanted because I felt so guilty at the way my life had been lived at the expense of hers.
It shouldn’t have happened that way. She’s only ten years older than me, and she could easily have married, especially after I struck out for myself.
When you fly the nest that’s supposed to be it, right? You don’t reckon on the nest flying after you.
But Grace nobly declared that nothing would make her abandon me, and I couldn’t hurt her by saying how much I longed to be abandoned.
So here I was, mid-thirties and still officially sharing a home with my sister. I have my bachelor pad in town, and I’m there most nights, but Grace pretends it’s just the odd occasion.
Maybe that was why she’d redoubled her efforts to marry me off to Selina.
‘I don’t know what you’ve got against that lovely girl,’ she complained to me a few weeks earlier.
‘I’ve got nothing against her,’ I protested. ‘I’ve never had anything against any of the girls you’ve tried to handcuff me to. But if I married every girl I’ve got nothing against, my wives would fill a city and there’d be some sort of scandal.’
‘I do wish you’d be serious,’ she fumed. ‘It’s no way to approach life.’
‘It’s a great way to approach not being married off against my will.’
‘You’ve got to marry some time.’
‘Why? For all you know I might be gay.’
‘Don’t give me that nonsense,’ she snorted. ‘Not after that girl who—’
‘Yes, never mind,’ I said hastily.
‘You need a suitable partner in life, and you should be looking carefully.’
‘Why? I’ve got you looking carefully for me,’ I said, as lightly as I could.
As I knew she would, she missed the irony.
‘Yes, I am, and it takes a lot of trouble to weed out the unsuitable ones.’
‘Perhaps you shouldn’t weed them out,’ I said meekly. ‘It would probably do me a lot of good to meet someone unsuitable, as an awful warning. It might really teach me a lesson.’
‘Oh, stop playing the fool. I know all about the sort of semi-clad females who float through your apartment—’
How did she know? She never saw them. I’d made sure of that. But Grace had her spies and they could teach MI5 a thing or two.
I couldn’t resist teasing her.
‘They’re not all semi-clad. Some of them wear nothing at—’
‘That’s enough. We’re talking about your future wife.’
‘I was trying not to talk about her. Why Selina?’
‘Because she has the very best connections. Her mother’s related to a title, her father’s one of the richest merchant bankers in town—’
‘And you think I’m so hard up that I need to marry money. Thanks!’
‘Money should marry money. It doesn’t pay to spread it around too thin.’
‘Gracie, darling—’
‘And don’t call me, Gracie. It’s vulgar.’
‘We are vulgar. You talk as though we were heirs to an ancestral fortune, but Grandpa Nick made just enough to get by. Dad worked himself into the grave to make more than he needed, and, heaven help me, I’m going the same way. I’ll swear I’m getting grey hairs.’
‘Where?’
‘Here at the side. Can you see?’
‘No, I can’t,’ she said, giving me the fond smile that reminded me that I did actually like her a lot. ‘You’re too handsome for your own good, and you know it.’
‘I’m still going grey from the treadmill I’m on. If I knew a way to jump off it I would, but I won’t manage that by marrying Selina Janson.’
‘I didn’t mean to make too much of her money,’ Grace said in a relenting tone. ‘It’s simply that she has all the right qualities.’
With difficulty I refrained from tearing my hair.
‘No, Grace, she has only one of the right qualities, and that’s the fact that I have nothing against her. It needs a lot more than that.’
She eyed me suspiciously.
‘You haven’t become entangled with some floozie, have you?’
‘Why floozie?’ I growled. ‘I might have met a nice girl.’
‘Then I’d know about her. Who is she?’
I was about to say that she didn’t exist when some instinct for self-preservation stopped me.
‘I don’t think I ought to tell you any more just now,’ I said, choosing my words carefully. ‘I don’t want you investigating her to find out if she’s “suitable”.’
‘Meaning that she isn’t?’
‘She’s suitable for me,’ I said.
I accompanied the words with a smile which was meant to be knowing, but I had a horrible feeling I just looked foolish. I don’t think Grace noticed. She was seething at my mad dash for independence.
‘Surely you can tell me something about her?’ she demanded. ‘What does she look like?’
‘She’s beautiful.’
‘What else?’
‘She has a perfect figure and she’s very sexy,’ I improvised wildly.
‘Where did you meet her?’
‘Around.’
‘Really, this is very unsatisfactory.’
‘Not to me,’ I said.
‘Well, I’ve made arrangements for the summer now, and it’s too late to change them.’
The hairs began to stand up on the back of my neck. ‘What arrangements?’
‘Oh, don’t pretend not to know. We talked about chartering a yacht and you agreed.’
‘You vaguely mentioned a yacht,’ I said, frantically searching my memory, ‘but I don’t think we actually agreed—’
‘I said we should charter a yacht to cruise the Mediterranean and you said, ‘Sure.’ Which is what you always say. Raymond Keller is eager to join us. You said yourself he’s bound to be the next president of Consolidated, and you can get him tied up while we’re out at sea.’
‘You’ve actually invited—?’
‘Only in a vague sort of way. And there are one or two other contacts I’m working on—’
She rattled off a list of names and I had to admit they were well-chosen. All of them useful, all people I’d feel easy with and could make money out of. Grace knew her stuff, which was how she got away with being a bossy-boots.
I was beginning to feel almost relaxed about it when she said, ‘And of course Selena will be there.’
‘What do you mean, of course?’
‘Well, the others will be couples, so naturally—’
I’ll spare you the rest. Enough to say that I made a ritual protest, but gave in when I realised how I’d been backed into a corner. There wasn’t a damned thing I could do about it without offending someone that it would be inconvenient to offend.
I just wish that some of the financial journalists could have been there to see. According to them I am Master of the Game, he whose will is law. Minions go in fear and trembling of my lightest word.
Hah!
They should have seen ‘Bully Jack’ cave in to Grace, that’s all I can say.
Before I knew it everyone had accepted the invitations I’d never given, including Selina and her parents.
To protect myself, I issued a few invitations of my own. First there was Harry Oxton, who’d been trying to make an impression on Grace for a couple of years. He was a widower, a kindly man who put up with the way my sister used him when she needed an escort and forgot him at other times.
Then there were the newlyweds, Charles and Jenny Stover. I’d been their best man six months ago. When I explained to them that I needed their help, and exactly what kind of help I needed, they laughed and said fine!
Grace looked askance, though whether because Jenny was an old flame of mine or Charles was an old flame of Selina’s I wouldn’t like to say.
But I told her I’d invited them now and it was too late to go back on it. She’s not the only one who can do bland innocence.
But the one that really made her mad was Derek Lamming. His heart was set on Selina, and I think they’d have been married by now if Grace hadn’t stuck her oar in, trying to secure Selina for me.
‘You needn’t think I don’t know what you’re up to,’ Grace fumed to me.
‘I’m sure you do,’ I told her, grinning. ‘But I learned deviousness from you, so naturally I’m good at it.’
‘You do realise we don’t have room for all the extra people you’ve invited, don’t you?’
‘Then we’ll need a bigger yacht.’
That was how we exchanged the modestly luxurious vessel that Grace had chartered for the much larger Hawk.
What can I say about The Hawk? Think Onassis with knobs on. Other yachts had one swimming pool, The Hawk had two. It slept forty in over-the-top decadence.
Every cabin was done in a different style—French Second Empire, Roman villa, Egyptian splendour, Renaissance—all of them with solid gold accessories.
Since I was supposedly the big cheese of the outfit, I had a suite with a sunken bathroom, and a bed that could have slept ten.
Grandpa Nick would have laughed himself to stitches.
At the last minute Grace said worriedly, ‘You won’t do anything to offend Selina, will you?’
‘Grace, I will be the perfect gentleman with Selina,’ I vowed. ‘I won’t try to entice her into the moonlight, I won’t ogle her in a swimsuit, in fact I won’t even look at her in a swimsuit. I won’t try to kiss her, or hold hands with her. I won’t do one single thing that could compromise me into marriage with her. You can count on that.’
‘All right, be difficult if you have to be. You know what I mean. I don’t want to hear any more about this other woman—Cindy, or whatever her name is.’
‘I never told you her name, and I’m not telling you now.’
‘But you won’t invite her to come along with us, will you?’
‘No, I promise I’ll confine my meetings with her to fleeting assignations wherever we drop anchor.’
Grace gave a scream, chiefly because she couldn’t decide if I was serious or not. I decided to leave it that way. ‘Cindy’ might be useful.
I had no idea, then, just how useful.
We set off from Southampton and went across to Cherbourg on the first day, then across the Bay of Biscay and down the coast of Portugal to the Mediterranean.
We had a good time, with plenty of dinner and dancing, card-playing, wheeling and dealing—and flirting. I solved that problem by flirting madly with almost every woman aboard. Especially Jenny.
She was safe. I could romance her without fear of being hog-tied. But then Charles got a bit tense—actually said I was overdoing it. He responded by dancing smoochily with Selina for a whole evening. Then it was Jenny’s turn to get tense.
They mended matters by vanishing into their cabin for three days, and emerging wreathed in smiles.
That was how I wanted to look when I found ‘her’. It wasn’t going to happen with Selina. I was beginning to wonder if it would happen with anyone.
In Gibraltar Charles and I managed to jump ship for a few hours, returning with the dawn. He spread tipsy hints about a lady I was supposed to have met ashore, then clapped his hand over his mouth as if realising that he’d said too much.
Grace gave me a look that would have shrivelled a lesser man.
We pulled the same stunt in Naples and Venice. Then it was time to start back down the Adriatic coast, with Grace snapping at me and demanding to know just how stupid I thought she was.
‘If I thought you were stupid I’d be less scared,’ I told her truthfully.
‘Does this young woman really exist?’ she demanded.
‘My lips are sealed,’ I replied solemnly.
‘Then I think it’s time we met her.’
‘Is that the royal “we”?’
‘No, it includes Selina, since you’re playing fast and loose with the poor girl’s feelings.’
‘Grace, for the last time, I will not marry Selina. Is that understood?’
‘We were talking about your lady-friend. Do tell me when you mean to produce her. Perhaps she’ll be at the next port. You can bring her on board and we’ll all have such a jolly time together.’
A master stroke. Game, set and match to Grace.
I had to produce a girl soon.
And Grace knew that I had nobody to produce.
Palermo, Naples, Genoa: all the way up the coast I ducked and dived, with Grace asking, with unbearable sweetness, when she would have the pleasure of meeting my ‘friend’.
When we anchored at Monte Carlo there were still several days left to go, which filled me with gloom. I was wondering how I could arrange an urgent call home and high-tail it out of there.
The day after we arrived I received an unexpected gift. It was a set of solid gold diamond-studded cufflinks, and they came from a man called Hugh Vanner, on The Silverado, anchored just next door.
I couldn’t wait to get rid of them. I’d vaguely heard of Vanner. He was the kind of shifty character who hung around on the fringe of the legitimate business world, picking up what he could get. His methods were those of a slimeball. I sent the cufflinks back with a note saying that I didn’t accept gifts from strange men. It was a safe bet that he wouldn’t get the joke.
We all went to the casino. It was a sedate visit, during which we all behaved sedately and lost sedate amounts of money, then returned to the ship consoling each other for losses that we would barely notice.
Once back on board we all went to our cabins, prior to congregating for a nightcap. I was feeling a bit tense, because Selina had been making significant remarks all evening and I could feel the noose tightening.
The last straw came when a steward informed me that Vanner had called the ship while I was away.
Now I was really paranoid. Looking out, I saw lights on The Silverado, and I had sudden visions of him coming over. I’d been hunted as much as I could stand, and suddenly I went mad.
‘Tell the Captain to have the boat ready to take me ashore again,’ I said. ‘And keep quiet about it.’
Before leaving I changed my cufflinks. It was a chance to test a theory. I’d worn platinum cufflinks for the first visit to the casino, and lost. Now I was wearing Grandpa’s old tatty ones.
My luck turned the moment I went in. I won until I got bored with winning, then strolled out into the gardens. At once I knew I was being stalked.
My boredom with money doesn’t extend to giving it to people who are trying to pilfer it, so I made my move first, pouncing on whoever was crouching in the bushes.
Suddenly I was grappling with a whirling dervish who thumped and kicked with alarming force and precision. The last one caught me straight in the midriff and almost winded me. It was sheer desperation that made me toss the other party to the ground and dive on top.
And there was approximately ninety pounds of slender female writhing beneath me. If I hadn’t been gasping already I had plenty to gasp about now. In self-defence I got to my feet.
The next few minutes were par for the course. I accused her of trying to steal from me; she denied it. But I was talking off the top of my head. My real consciousness was elsewhere, in the urgent warmth that had seized me as I lay on top of her and wouldn’t let go of me now.
It got worse when I realised something else about her.
‘Why are you soaking wet?’ I asked.
‘I’ve been swimming,’ she said scathingly. ‘I thought it would be good for my health. Ow!’
She’d trodden on something sharp, which must have hurt because her feet were bare. So was the rest of her, almost.
She was wearing a silver lacy dress, tight at the waist and slit high at the thigh. The water not only made it cling to her, it also made it virtually transparent. So now I could see what had been writhing against me.
She was beautiful—slender, perfectly proportioned, rounded, dainty, sexy, provocative. This was getting very difficult.
Make me strong, I prayed silently to the guy who helps me on these occasions. Let me at least act like a gentleman, even if I don’t feel like one right now.
But he must have been off-duty tonight, because there was the warmth, growing stronger every moment.
I returned to normal consciousness to discover that we were having an infuriated discussion about casinos. I think I accused her of having an accomplice inside, but don’t ask me how we reached that point. I know we ended up scrabbling around on the ground for the cash that had fallen out of my pocket in the struggle.
I suppose it was when she mentioned the British Consul that I realised I’d got it wrong, and she really wasn’t a thief.
‘Where are you running from?’ I asked.
‘A yacht. It’s called The Silverado and it’s moored down there. Look.’ She pointed down into the harbour. ‘That one. Right next to the big vulgar one.’
‘You mean The Hawk?’ I asked cautiously.
‘You know it?’ Now she definitely sounded hostile.
‘Why do you make that sound like a crime?’
So she told me all about The Hawk, how its boss was a creep called Jack Bullen, better known as Bully Jack.
I was glad she couldn’t see me too well at that moment.
‘Hugh Vanner has been trying to crawl to him,’ she seethed.
‘That makes this Vanner character a creep,’ I said, ‘but why Bullen?’
‘Because Vanner would only crawl to an even bigger creep than himself. He even sent him gold and diamond cufflinks. I ask you!’
‘That’s really disgusting,’ I agreed fervently.
She told me how Vanner had tried to make her be ‘nice’ to his guests, and she’d jumped overboard to escape him.
She was small and defenceless, with not a single possession—not on her, anyway. But she was defying the world and I’d never seen anything like her.
Maybe the idea came to me then. Or maybe it had been nudging the edges of my thoughts for a few minutes past. But it was forming rapidly, and I had the outline pretty much shaped when I heard, ‘That’s her!’
And there was a man who could only have been Vanner, rushing at us with two gendarmes, shrieking that the silver girl had stolen from him.
I pointed out that the money lying all around us was mine, which stymied him, although he still frothed at the mouth until, to shut him up, I had to give him my name.
‘You’re Jack Bullen?’ he said in a choked voice.
After that he couldn’t get rid of the gendarmes fast enough. He wanted to get me alone to do some business schmoozing.
‘When you’ve returned this lady’s property,’ I told him. ‘Deliver everything to The Hawk.’
Fending off his attempts to join us, I took her arm and made for the road where there would be a taxi.
‘You were going to take me to the Vice-Consul,’ she said.
‘I’ve changed my mind. We’re going to The Hawk.’
She was still arguing as we got into the taxi. I laid out her options.
‘You can go with Vanner, with the gendarmes or with me.’
‘That’s blackmail.’
‘It’s what I’m good at. Now, shut up or I’ll toss you back into the water.’
I don’t normally talk to women like that, but something had happened to me that night. I was like a drowning man who sees his last hope and knows he has to grasp it. So my finesse went out of the window.
Then I saw her looking at me. An incredulous, half-quizzical smile had taken over her face, and I found myself smiling back. We knew nothing about each other, except that we were on the same wavelength.
‘All right,’ she said.
CHAPTER THREE
Della’s Story
‘WE DON’T have much time,’ the man told me in a low, hurried voice.
I could see that we didn’t. The taxi was on its way down the slope to the harbour, and we were going to be there at any moment.
‘All I can say now,’ he said, ‘is that I need help badly, and you’re the only person who can give it to me.’
‘How?’
‘I’m being nudged—well, frog-marched—into a marriage I don’t want to make. Selina’s a banker’s daughter, and money must marry money. That sort of thing.’
‘Sure, like you’re a millionaire,’ I said sceptically.
‘I told you who I am. Jack Bullen.’
‘Yes, after I’d given you all the clues. That story will do well enough for Vanner, but not me. I suppose you work on his yacht?’
‘I beg your pardon?’
‘Honestly, I’m grateful to you for saving me, but I wasn’t born yesterday. The silver plate’s wearing off those cufflinks, and I’ll bet you borrowed the flash clothes from your boss.’
He tore his hair, and I had to admit that the tousled look suited him.
‘I haven’t got time to argue,’ he said. ‘Look, this is the harbour, and there’s a boat ready to take us to The Hawk. Just act like you’re wildly in love with me, and you might save me from a fate worse than death.’
He was mad, but I owed him a lot, so I reckoned I’d play along. I was feeling light-headed by then, and willing to let the night end any way it would.
He paid off the cab and we headed towards a small boat that was waiting. The pilot greeted us with a wave.
‘Evening, Pete.’
‘Evening, Mr Bullen.’
I was too astounded to speak until I was settled into the boat.
‘He called you—’
‘Well, I told you,’ he said, sounding aggrieved.
I tried to see his face as we sped out to the deep water where The Hawk was moored. But the light changed so fast that I couldn’t make out much except that he was grinning like a man with a handful of aces. I knew that look. I even had a weakness for it. And already I was getting warning signals that I was determined to ignore.
One thing was clear. This man was trouble and fun in equal measures.
So let the good times begin!
‘Just say that you’ll help me,’ he said urgently.
‘How?’
‘By being my girlfriend. Here’s the story. We’ve known each other for a few months, we meet constantly at my London flat, and these last few weeks we’ve had secret assignations all over Europe. My sister keeps demanding to meet you because she doesn’t think you exist, but you do.’
He was gabbling, and I only took half of it in.
‘Assignations all over Europe—’ I said. ‘Weren’t we travelling together?’
‘No, I was on the yacht.’
‘Why didn’t you invite me on the yacht, you cheap-skate?’
‘Because Grace wouldn’t have you.’
‘Grace?’
‘My sister. My keeper. She’s organised this trip to get me married, but you are going to thwart her.’
‘So—I’m your girlfriend—?’
‘That’s right. I’m mad about you because you’re beautiful, sweet-natured, witty, and the sexiest thing in creation. Do you think you can remember that?’
‘Can you?’ I asked.
‘Yes, all of it. Especially the last bit. OK, we’re nearly there. Act the part.’
‘You want me to gaze into your eyes?’
‘I think it’ll take a bit more than that,’ he said hoarsely, and wrapped his arms tightly around me.
I ought to have seen it coming, but he moved so fast that I was taken by surprise. Suddenly I was being pressed back against the curve of his arm while his mouth covered mine in a perfect simulation of hungry passion.
He was clever. I’ll give him that. Nothing offensive. Considering that I was half naked and we’d only just met, it was a virtuous kiss: everything for show on the outside and nothing really happening—except deep inside me, where there was a whole lot happening.
I put my arms around him and helped out with the performance. At least I told myself it was just a performance. There was something about being pressed against him that made me tend to forget that.
I was dimly aware that the boat had stopped and the pilot was turning around from the front to regard us.
‘Er—sir—?’ he said, grinning.
Jack Bullen waved him away and redoubled his efforts. It seemed only polite to co-operate, so I did, writhing my fingers in his hair and pressing against him. There were lights on us now, so I gave it all I’d got.
Looking up over his shoulder, I could see men and women leaning over the rails to gape down at us. They were all wide-eyed. Two women especially—one young, one middle-aged—glared at us with undisguised fury.
He drew back his head a little and whispered, ‘Are they watching us?’
‘With their eyes on stalks,’ I murmured back.
‘Good. Let’s make it worth their while.’
He returned to the fray, but this time in a way that was even more self-consciously theatrical. He kissed my face, my neck, all the way down, then below my ears.
‘Enough?’ he asked.
‘I think you’ve made your point,’ I said with difficulty.
‘Then let’s go,’ he muttered.
As I climbed up the gangway ahead of him I was acutely conscious of my semi-naked behind waving about just in front of his eyes. I ought to have been modestly shocked, and with Vanner I would have been. But with Jack Bullen I could only remember the feel of his body pressing mine into the warm earth behind the casino. I wondered if he was enjoying the view. I had to take a deep breath against the wave of self-consciousness that washed over me, and then I found myself stumbling.
He was there at once, his hands grasping my hips, steadying me.
‘Are you all right?’ he asked.
‘Yes—yes, I’m fine,’ I gabbled, wondering if I would ever make sense again. My insides were reacting in a way that was all their own.
We reached the deck and I got a better look at our audience. The men were in dinner jackets and the women glittered with costly jewels. There was no doubt about it now. I’d fallen into a den of millionaires.
They were taking a good look at me, too. Jack put his arm about my shoulders, turned to the middle-aged woman who looked as if she’d swallowed a lemon, and said firmly, ‘Grace, this is…Cindy.’
If looks could kill she would have slaughtered us both on the spot. But mostly me.
‘Well, this is a pleasure,’ she said. ‘At last. Even if a somewhat unexpected, not to mention delayed, pleasure.’
‘You’ll have to forgive the delay,’ he said. ‘We’ve been rather wrapped up in each other.’
Grace was looking me up and down in a way that made me very conscious that my neck was cut low and my skirt was slit high, and that was all there was.
‘I trust you’ve had a pleasant evening?’ she said, with a little smirk.
‘She’s had a misfortune,’ he said quickly, saving me from having to answer. ‘She had to leave her ship suddenly. Her things will be arriving at any moment, but in the meantime I’m taking her below before she gets pneumonia.’
He whisked me away, giving nobody the chance to say anything.
If I’d had any lingering doubts about who he was they were quelled as soon as I saw his cabin—although suite would be a better word. The decor was vaguely ancient Roman, and the last word in luxury. There was a bathroom with a sunken bath, and taps that looked like solid gold.
A quick inspection proved that they really were. I told you, I’m an expert on these things.
‘Mr Bullen—?’
‘After what went on in the boat, don’t you think you should call me Jack?’
‘Jack—and, by the way, you should have warned me that my name is Cindy.’
‘It isn’t. That’s just what Grace calls you. I’m afraid she means it as a put-down. What’s your real name?’
‘Della Martin.’
‘Fine.’ He pointed at my dress. ‘Take that off—quickly.’
‘I beg your pardon?’
‘Before you catch your death of cold.’ He took a large white towelling robe from the closet. ‘Then have a hot bath and put this on.’
‘Lovely,’ I said, shivering. ‘I can’t get over this place. I thought you were poor.’
‘Does that matter? You think I need help less than a poor man? I need it more. If I didn’t have any money I wouldn’t have a problem. Selina’s father is a banker, and they all want me to make an “alliance” with the family. I’m trapped. What can I do? I don’t want to be outright rude.’
‘Why not?’
He sighed.
‘I’m not very good at it,’ he admitted, sounding slightly ashamed. ‘Not with Grace, anyway. She keeps reminding me that she’s been my second mother. It’s easier to play dumb and let her realise gradually that she’s wasting her time. So now you’re my best hope—my only hope.’
‘She isn’t going to be easily fooled.’
‘She never was,’ he said with a reminiscent sigh.
As if to prove it there was a step outside and the sound of someone trying to open the locked door. Then his sister’s voice.
‘Jack, open this door at once. We have to talk.’
‘Not just now, Grace,’ he called back. ‘We’ll talk later.’
‘I said now.’ The lock rattled again. ‘Open this door at once.’
‘Goodnight, Grace.’
This time there was iron in his voice, and anyone else would have been deterred by it. But not her.
‘I’m not going away until we’ve had this out,’ she called. ‘You may think you’ve got me fooled, but I don’t believe a word about this woman who’s appeared so conveniently. She’s probably some cheap little waitress you picked up somewhere. Open this door!’
He ground his teeth. My temper was rising. I’d never disliked anyone so much after such a short time as I did this woman.
‘Goodnight, Grace,’ he called again.
‘Open this door!’
‘That’s it,’ I muttered. ‘Now I’m mad. It’s time for action.’
He looked nervous. ‘Are you going to be violent?’
‘If necessary. Come here!’
I reached for him, hooking my arm about his neck, drawing him very close, very fiercely. He barely had time to draw breath, but after that I think I managed to make him forget about breathing. When we parted he was gasping.
‘I hope I’m never the one you’re mad at,’ he managed to say.
‘Shut up!’
I returned to the action, but this time I freed one hand and unlocked the door, so that Grace came marching in to find us wrapped in each other’s arms.
I did it purely out of expediency. He’d been good to me, and I was going to be good to him. It had nothing whatever to do with the way he’d kissed me in the boat. I was not looking for an excuse to do it again.
And you can believe that or not—as you like.
With the audience being closer this time, we had to make it look realistic, and he really worked at that. I could feel his hands roving all over me, and I wondered how much more my nervous system could stand in one evening.
Grace, I’m happy to say, nearly went ballistic. She stood there yelling, ‘Will you stop this and listen to me?’
I don’t know how long she kept it up. Everything was fuzzy, and I was only vaguely aware when she stopped abruptly and a man’s voice said, ‘Jack!’
We managed to disengage ourselves, and I saw a young man and woman whom I’d vaguely noticed on deck. Now, as then, they were holding hands. They seemed to come as a pair.
‘There’s someone to see you, Jack,’ the young man said, standing aside so that we could all see Vanner.
‘Thanks, Charles,’ Jack said.
Vanner was managing a rough version of a smile, as if he still hoped to get some sort of profit out of this. He kept the smile riveted in place as he held out a brown envelope to me.
‘Here’s your passport and your wages, plus a bonus that I think you’ll find generous.’
I checked the passport and was relieved to see that it was actually mine.
‘I brought your bags too,’ Vanner said. ‘I left them on deck.’
He turned his frayed smile on Jack. ‘Mr Bullen—’
‘Get out,’ Jack said.
‘I just hoped that—now things are sorted out—you and I could—’
Jack spoke in a voice of steel. ‘I said, get out. Are you deaf?’
Vanner drew a sharp breath, and again there was that withered look on his face, as though he were suddenly filled with fear. But then fear was driven out by the spoilt petulance of a thwarted child.
‘I see,’ he snapped, glaring at me. ‘In that case, now I’ve returned your property, I’ll have mine!’
He pointed at the silver dress. I backed away from him and put out my hand.
‘It’s mine,’ he bellowed. ‘I paid for it.’
‘Oh, give it to him,’ Jack said in disgust. ‘Don’t let him have any excuse to make more trouble.’
He picked up the towelling robe again, and shooed me into the bathroom. Once in there I stripped off and put on the robe, which almost swallowed me up. When I returned Vanner had resumed arguing in a way that he probably thought was persuasive. Phrases reached me’
‘Understand these things—men of the world—lot in common—’
‘Not that much in common,’ I heard Jack say in a bored tone. ‘No young lady has ever felt she needed to risk her life to escape me.’
I tossed the dress at Vanner. I couldn’t bear to get any closer to him.
‘The steward will see you off the boat,’ Jack said.
‘No, I’ll do it,’ said the young man he’d addressed as Charles. ‘It’ll be a pleasure.’
He and the girl followed Vanner up to the deck, leaving me below with Jack and Grace, and someone else who had appeared. She was about my age, and beautiful in a chilly way. She was one of the women I’d seen looking down at me a few minutes earlier, and I didn’t need a crystal ball to tell me this was Selina.
She looked me up and down, then down and up, and I could tell what she thought about the robe, which was too big everywhere, so that I had to clutch it around me. I hoped someone would bring my clothes down soon.
‘I think I’ll have a bath,’ I said, with as much dignity as I could muster.
I turned back to the bathroom, but before I could go in there was a commotion from above—shouting, then the sound of something landing in the water. A moment later Charles came running back.
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