His Delicious Revenge: The Price of Retribution / Count Valieri's Prisoner / The Highest Stakes of All. Sara Craven
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not totally empty-handed, I hope,’ he said. ‘If you want to work for the Brandon Organisation, why not contact Rob Wellington through the usual channels and see what’s available?’ He smiled at her, noting the beguiling fullness of her lower lip, and heard himself add, ‘I’ll make sure he’s expecting to hear from you.’
The look that reached him from beneath the long, darkened lashes was frankly sceptical. Clearly, she didn’t want to be made a fool of a second time, and who could blame her?
‘Well—thank you again,’ she said, and turned away. As she did so, a breath of the scent she wore reached him—soft, musky and sexy as hell, he decided as his senses stirred. And he was treated to another glimpse of the glittering crystals on that garter as she departed.
If she’d come here to make an impression, it had certainly worked on one level, he thought ruefully as he returned to the bar. But she would need better credentials than that to convince his Head of Personnel that she deserved a place in the company. Rob was in his forties, happily married, and quite impervious to the charms of other women, however young and alluring.
As for himself, thirty-four and conspicuously single, he needed to put the delectable Miss Desmond out of his mind, and get back to the serious business of the evening.
But that, he discovered, was not as easy as he thought. Like her perfume, she seemed to be lingering on the edge of his consciousness long after the reception was over, and he was back in his penthouse apartment, alone, with all the time in the world to think. And remember her.
Tarn walked into the flat, closed the door and leaned against it for a moment, eyes closed as she steadied her breathing, before crossing the hall to the living room.
Della, who owned the flat, was sitting on the floor absorbed in painting her toenails, but she glanced up at Tarn’s entry, her expression enquiring and anxious. ‘How did it go?’
‘Like a breeze.’ Tarn kicked off her high-heeled sandals and collapsed into a chair. ‘Dell, I couldn’t believe my luck. He was right there in the bar. I saw him as soon as I went in.’
She grinned exultantly. ‘I didn’t even have to get past security and go looking. And he was across almost as soon as I went into my spiel, oozing charm and concern. He swallowed every word, and wanted more. It was almost too easy.’
She took the card from her bag and tore it up. ‘Goodbye, Mr Hanson, my imaginary acquaintance. You’ve been a great help, and well worth the effort of getting this printed.’
She looked back at Della. ‘And thanks for the loan of the dress and this pretty thing.’ She slipped off the garter and twirled it round her finger. ‘It certainly hit the target.’
‘Hmm.’ Della pulled a face. ‘I suppose I should congratulate you, but I still feel more like screaming “Don’t do it”.’ She replaced the cap on her nail polish, and looked gravely up at her friend. ‘It’s not too late. You could still pull out and no harm done.’
‘No harm?’ Tarn sat up sharply. ‘How can you say that? When Evie’s in that dreadful place, with her whole life destroyed—and all because of him.’
‘You’re being a bit hard on The Refuge,’ Della objected mildly. ‘It has a tremendous reputation for dealing with all kinds of addictions as well as mental problems, so it’s hardly a dreadful place. It’s also very expensive,’ she went on thoughtfully. ‘So I’m surprised Mrs Griffiths can afford to keep her there.’
‘Apparently they’re obliged to take a quota of National Health patients as well.’ Tarn paused. ‘And don’t look so sceptical. Chameleon may have earned me a lot of money over the past few years, but not nearly enough to fund Evie at a top private clinic. I swear I’m not paying her fees.’
She drew a shuddering breath. ‘When I came back and saw her there, realised the state she was in, I swore I’d make him pay for what he’s done, and I shall, no matter how long it takes, or what the cost,’ she concluded fiercely.
‘Well, that’s precisely it. You see, I was thinking of a totally different kind of harm,’ Della returned, unperturbed. ‘The potential cost to you.’
‘What are you talking about?’ Tarn was instantly defensive.
Della shrugged. ‘I mean that when push comes to shove, you may not find it so simple to deliver the death blow and walk away, leaving the dagger in his back. Because you lack the killer instinct, my pet. Unlike, I’ve always thought, the eternally fragile Evie.’
She allowed that to sink in, then continued, ‘For heaven’s sake, Tarn, I know you’re grateful to the Griffiths family for all they’ve done for you, but surely you’ve repaid them over and over again, financially and in every other way. Do you still have to come galloping to the rescue each time there’s a problem? Surely there’s a moment to say—”Halt, that’s enough,” and this could be it. For one thing, what about your career? Yes, the kind of work you do requires you to seem invisible. But you shouldn’t actually become so in real life. You can’t afford it. Have you thought of that?’
‘I always take a break between projects,’ Tarn returned. ‘And by the time negotiations have been completed on the next deal, this will all be over, and I’ll be back in harness.’
She looked down at her hands, clasped in her lap. ‘Besides, I promised Uncle Frank before he died that I’d look after Aunt Hazel and Evie, just as he always looked after me. As I’ve told you, they only decided to become foster parents because they thought they couldn’t have children of their own. Then, when Evie was born, they could have asked Social Services to take me away.’
She sighed. ‘But they didn’t, and I’m sure that was his doing rather than Aunt Hazel’s. I was never the pretty docile little doll she’d always wanted. That became abundantly clear as I grew up. But I couldn’t blame her. Looking back, I probably gave her a very hard time.
‘But losing Uncle Frank knocked them both sideways. They were like boats drifting on the tide, and they needed an anchor. I can’t ignore them when they need help.’
‘Well, if Evie reckoned on Caz Brandon becoming the family anchor in your place, she gravely miscalculated,’ Della said with a touch of grimness. ‘He isn’t a man for serious relationships with women. In fact, he’s famous for it, as you’d know if you hadn’t been working abroad so much, and only back for flying visits. Evie, on the other hand, has been right here all the time, and should have been well aware that he’s not the marrying kind.’
She hesitated. ‘I’m playing devil’s advocate here, but is it possible she may simply have—misunderstood his intentions?’
There was a silence, then Tarn said huskily, ‘If so, it was because he meant her to do so. That’s the unforgivable thing. Del—she’s really suffering. She trusted that bastard, believed every lie he told her.’ She shook her head.
‘She may well have been incredibly naïve, but I’ve seen him in action now, and he’s quite a piece of work. The arch-predator of the western world on the look-out for another victim.’
She gave a harsh laugh. ‘My God, he even asked me to have a drink with him.’
‘Which you naturally declined.’
‘Yes, of course. It’s much too soon for that.’ Tarn’s lips tightened. ‘He’s going to find out just what it’s like to be strung along endlessly and then discarded like a piece of trash.’
‘Well, for God’s sake, be careful.’ Della got to her feet. ‘Caz Brandon may like to love them and leave them, but he’s no fool. Don’t forget he inherited a struggling publishing company seven years ago and has turned it into an international success.’
‘The bigger they are,’ said Tarn, ‘the harder they fall. And his business achievements don’t necessarily make him a decent human being. He needs to be taught that you can’t simply take what you want and walk away. That eventually there’s a price to be paid. And I intend