Too Tough To Tame. Annette Broadrick
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answered his own phone? She shrugged and said, “This is Kelly MacLeod, returning your call.” She couldn’t help adding, “Can’t you afford to pay for someone to answer your phone?”
There was a pause. She could swear she heard a noise that sounded like a chuckle, which she found odd. He didn’t strike her as a man with much of a sense of humor.
“Ah, yes. Ms. MacLeod. Thank you for getting back with me so promptly. The number I left on your machine is my private number. I thought it would save time.”
“Save time for what? I take it you wish to discuss the painting?”
“Among other things,” he said smoothly. “Would you consider having dinner with me one evening this week?”
He must be kidding. “I don’t see why, Mr. Chakaris. If you’re interested in buying the painting, I’m sorry. It’s not for sale.”
“Now, that’s interesting,” he replied. “Although I have no interest in buying it, there are a few things I’d like to discuss with you. If dinner isn’t convenient, perhaps we could meet for lunch.”
She frowned. Why was he insisting on meeting with her? She was curious—very curious. Well, why not. She’d show him she wasn’t afraid of him. “When?”
As though there had never been a doubt that she would meet with him, he said smoothly, “Tomorrow, perhaps?”
She did a mental check for possible scheduling conflicts before she replied. “All right.”
“Good. I’ll send my car for you at twelve-thirty.”
“But—” she began, only to hear a dial tone.
She put the phone down and stood there, thinking she probably should have refused.
Don’t kid yourself. You’ve wanted to meet him…it’s probably one of the reasons you allowed yourself to be talked into putting the painting on display.
Now there was a bit of nonsense if she’d ever heard one. Kelly checked her watch. She was being ridiculous and had better things to do than analyze her feelings where Dominic Chakaris was concerned.
She would meet him, hear what he had to say and afterward would put him and her painting of him in the past where they belonged.
With a quick shrug, she went upstairs to her mother’s bedroom to begin sorting through the last of her mother’s possessions.
The next morning Kelly forced herself out of bed, convinced she hadn’t slept the night before. She remembered waking up and looking at the clock several times and having trouble going back to sleep.
Part of it was due to her sorting through her mother’s things. As much as she had prepared herself, she’d been unnerved by how many memories of her mother had surged back in the course of the afternoon. The slight scent of her mother’s favorite perfume lingered in the closet, causing Kelly to feel that her mother was actually there with her.
She’d come across familiar pieces of clothing and had been reminded of the shopping trips she and her mother had shared.
Kelly had found photographs taken of her from the time she was born, all carefully labeled, dated and placed in a leather-bound album.
Her parents looked so happy together, so proud of her, that she could not stop the tears that trickled down her cheeks.
Handling her mother’s things reminded Kelly of her loss. Within a four-year period she’d lost both parents. She had watched her mother grieve for her husband, never fully recovering from the loss.
Kelly had developed a hatred for the mammoth corporation that had destroyed her father’s health and eventually caused the loss of her mother. Until a few months ago, the greedy corporation and the people behind it had been faceless. Then she had discovered that Dominic Chakaris was the person behind the scenes, playing puppet master with people’s lives.
She should have known news of the portrait would eventually reach him.
While she was in the shower, Kelly thought about possible reasons he wanted to meet her. From everything she had learned about the man, she was sure he would take the opportunity to lambaste her for her audacity. He might try to intimidate her into removing the portrait from the show. She decided to launch a preemptive strike.
As soon as she was dressed, she called the gallery. When the manager answered, she said, “Andre, this is Kelly MacLeod.”
“Ah, Kelly. I’m glad you called. We’ve sold two of your paintings since I last spoke with you. We could have sold more if there weren’t so many on loan from your clients.” He told her which ones and the amount he’d received for them.
“I believe it’s time to close my show, don’t you?”
“You’ve done so well, I thought you would want to continue to display your talent in order to gain new clients.”
“That’s very sweet, Andre, but the truth is, I have a waiting list of women who want their portraits done. Some have managed to get their husbands to agree to a family portrait. If I took no other commissions I’d still be busy for the next couple of years.”
He sighed. “Then of course I’ll do as you wish. I’ve enjoyed working with you once again. I hope we can do another show for you when you’re ready.”
“Of course. I wouldn’t have been able to make it this far without your support. The commissions from my first showing after Dad died were a godsend.”
She made arrangements to have the paintings delivered to her the following week and hung up, figuratively brushing her hands for having taken that step.
Later, she heard the doorbell and realized that she’d spent the entire morning in her mother’s bedroom without paying attention to the time. She glanced down at her casual clothes and shrugged. She wasn’t out to impress the man. If he was offended, too bad.
Nick paced back and forth in front of his desk, checking his watch every few minutes. Ms. MacLeod should be arriving soon and he needed to decide how he would deal with her.
“You’re pacing like an expectant father or a nervous bridegroom,” Craig said, walking into the office. “Here are the reports you requested, by the way.” He placed a bundle of bound papers on the desk. “Maybe they’ll help to occupy your mind.”
Nick stared at Craig in disgust. “Has anyone ever told you that you have an overactive imagination? What makes you think this has anything to do with her? We have several large acquisitions hanging fire at the moment.” He nodded toward the papers. “You should know that as well as I.”
Craig folded his arms. “Uh-huh. I’ve known you for years, Nick. You treat the buying and selling done by this company as casually as if you were playing with Monopoly money. The only topic on which I’ve seen you this nervous is Kelly MacLeod.”
Nick walked behind his desk and sat down. “Right,” he said rolling his eyes. “Let’s see what we have here,” he added, pulling the papers toward him.
The chauffeur, who introduced himself as Ben Jackson, was professionally polite as he escorted her to the limousine parked in front of her home. After opening the back door, he helped her inside.
Kelly looked around the spacious interior. The back area was almost as large as some rooms she’d seen. She settled back into the luxurious leather and wondered which restaurant Mr. Chakaris had chosen for this meeting. She wouldn’t be surprised if he owned a few.
When the limo stopped some time later Kelly was surprised to see that they were in front of one of the towering office buildings in the business district. She didn’t recognize the name on the building. Perhaps it had a restaurant of which she hadn’t heard.
The driver came around and opened her door, offering his hand. Once she stepped out of the limo, he escorted her to the doorman and said, “Ms. MacLeod is here to see Mr. Chakaris.”