A Devilishly Dark Deal. Maggie Cox
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you like something to drink?’ he asked, getting abruptly to his feet. At his guest’s hesitant nod, he started to move back towards the open French doors. ‘What will it be? A glass of wine? Lemonade or some fruit juice, perhaps?’
‘A glass of lemonade would be perfect … thank you.’
‘I will go and find my housekeeper.’
When he returned from the kitchen, where he’d arranged for their drinks to be brought out to them by Inês—a local woman he had hired as housekeeper and cook—Marco returned to the balcony, feeling a little more in control of the fierce attraction his pretty guest had unwittingly provoked. Yet his pulse still raced at the sight of her sitting quietly beneath the parasol. With her pale blonde hair lying softly against her shoulders, even her profile was angelic. He privately confessed he would do almost anything to get her to stay with him for the rest of the afternoon.
Her smile was shy and a little reticent as he sat down again. He had the sense that when she wasn’t championing a cause she was the quiet, reflective sort. He liked that. It would be a refreshing change from the women he usually dated … all spiky demands and too-high expectations of where a relationship with him might lead.
‘Our drinks will be along shortly,’ he told her.
‘Mr Aguilar …’ she began.
He raised an eyebrow. ‘Marco,’ he corrected gently.
Her incandescent summer-blue gaze slid away for a moment. He saw her take down a deeper breath, as if to centre herself.
‘I was wondering if you’d made a decision about whether you might be able to help the children or not?’
He took a few moments to marshal his thoughts. He hadn’t embellished the truth when he’d told Grace at their first meeting that there were many charities he supported, and there were quite a few children’s charities amongst them. Yet none of them was directly helping orphaned children. The subject was apt to bring back memories of a childhood that he had striven hard not just to forget but to hide from the world at large. Perhaps he had subconsciously aimed to dissociate himself from that quarter entirely in case it brought forth more intrusive and uncomfortable questions from the media about his past?
‘I have no doubt that your children’s cause is one that a wealthy man like me ought to readily support, Grace, and while I am definitely not averse to making a donation, having listened and talked to you, I would like a bit more time to reflect on what level of help I can give. If you leave the details with me I will look over them at my leisure and get back to you. Is that all right with you?’
‘Of course … and it’s fantastic that you’ve decided to help us. It’s just that …’
She leaned forward and he saw conflict in her eyes—maybe at trying to press him to take action sooner rather than later, which warred with her innate impulse to be polite. Even so, he wasn’t above using whatever weapon he could from his personal armoury to get what he wanted. His success in business hadn’t come about without a propensity to be single-mindedly ruthless from time to time. Pretty little Grace wanted something from him, and likewise he wanted something from her, he realised. He didn’t doubt there had to be a way of gratifying both needs.
‘It’s just that I don’t want to take up any more of your time than necessary,’ she said in a rush. ‘I know you must be an extremely busy man.’
‘Are you in a hurry to leave?’
‘Not at all, but …’
‘Yes?’
‘I really don’t want to offend you, or perhaps bring back hurtful memories of your past, but I just want to paint a picture for you if I may? Can you imagine what it must be like not only to have to contend with being be an orphan, with no mother or father to love you and take care of you, but also to live in a dirty shack without even the most basic amenities that most of us take for granted? I don’t mean to be pushy, I really don’t, but the sooner we can alleviate their dreadful living conditions and put up a new more sanitary building, the better. For that we desperately need financial help. So when you say you’ll look over the details at your leisure … do you have any idea how long that might take?’
Inside his chest, Marco’s heart was thundering. No, he didn’t have to imagine what it was like to grow up without a mother or father to take care of him … not when he’d personally experienced it, growing up in a children’s home where there had been about five or six children to every carer. The sense of emotional deprivation it had left him with would be with him for ever, and no amount of money, career success or comfortable living would alleviate his underlying feelings of being isolated from the rest of the world and certainly not as deserving of love as other people.
But at least the building he had lived in had been safe and hygienic. He abhorred the idea of innocent children having to contend with the dreadful conditions Grace had emphatically outlined to him, so he would be writing her a cheque so that they could have their new building. But he wouldn’t be hurried.
‘Whilst I am a compassionate man, Grace, I am first and foremost a businessman, who is meticulous about looking over the details of every transaction I make. I’m afraid you are going to have to be a little more patient if you want my help.’
‘It’s hard to be patient when you personally know the children who are suffering,’ she murmured, her cheeks turning a delicate rose. ‘You’ve checked out that I am who I say I am, and that the charity I represent is absolutely legitimate, so why delay? I can assure you every penny of the money you give us will be accounted for, and you’ll get a receipt for everything.’
‘I am pleased to hear it, but if you knew how many worthy charities petition me for financial aid you would perhaps understand why I must take the appropriate time to discern who receives it and when.’ He paused to bestow upon her a more concentrated glance. ‘You’re studying me as if you cannot understand my caution in writing you a cheque straight away? Maybe you think that because I clearly have the money I shouldn’t hesitate to give it to your charity? Perhaps you believe that I should feel guilty about having so much? If that is so, then you should know that I worked hard from a very young age to have the success I have now. One thing is for sure … I did not grow up with a silver spoon in my mouth, and neither was good fortune handed to me on a plate.’
The woman sitting opposite him at the table bit down heavily on her plump lower lip and her glance suddenly became fixated on the mosaic-tiled tabletop. When she next looked up her lovely blue eyes were glistening, Marco saw.
‘I’m so sorry. I had no right to rant at you about the situation. I get too passionate, that’s the trouble. You’ve been nothing but hospitable and gracious, giving up your time to talk to me like this, offering your help, and now I’ve been unforgivably rude and presumptuous.’
‘I don’t believe for one moment that you meant to be discourteous. However, I am beginning to realise that underneath that angelic exterior I see before me there is a veritable wildcat.’
‘Only when I see injustice and pain.’
‘Ah … God knows there is enough of that in the world to keep you busy for the rest of your life, no? But, tell me, was that the only reason you came to the Algarve, Grace? To see if you could petition my help for your charity?’
Tucking a strand of drifting fair hair behind her ear, she released a long, slow breath. ‘No, it wasn’t. I truly only thought of asking your help when I overheard that conversation in the café. I’m here because I’m having a bit of a break from work, since you ask. I’m afraid I returned from Africa feeling rather exhausted and a little low after my last visit there. The sights I’ve seen haunt me. Anyway, my parents have a holiday home here and they suggested I come out for a rest.’
‘So you are, in effect, on holiday?’
Her big blue eyes visibly widened, as if she was taken aback by the mere idea. ‘I suppose I am. Although the truth is I’m not very good at relaxing. After