A Kept Woman (47 page)

the wrong place.’

‘Nah. Not stories, mate, more like a warning. Of course,

I fucking hate you, right. Always did. You know that.’

‘Yeah. I do,’ Michael replied flatly.

‘But that’s business. Once I get home I’ll see what I can

do about screwing you over. Return the favour, like. This is more personal. Diana … see, I don’t know this Tina, but she’s bang on about the money. Diana’s a gold digger. She always was, always will be. She married me for money. Never did a stitch of work in her life. She’s the same as your ex, but a bit less honest about it.’

Michael felt the blood rise up in his throat. He wanted

to reach down the telephone and strangle Ernie with the

cord. Lying bastard. Trash-talking asshole.

‘That’s a lie, and we both know it.’

‘Is it?’ Ernie gave a sniggering, high-pitched laugh.

‘You think she was the poor hard-done-by sweetheart who I betrayed? Wake up and smell the petrol fumes, Cicero. Diana knew you were gonna be rich. She married me for my money. If you don’t believe me ask her.’

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Michael hung up the receiver and sat staring into space.

Violence doesn’t solve anything, the old saying went. But he thought it might make him feel better. The vision of bailing his fist and smashing it into the side of the limey prick’s nose was tantalising, but all Michael could do was slam down the phone.

The thought of Manhattan drooling over his woman women - was annoying. Michael shrank from it. He was a businessman, a private guy. Not some two-bit film star with multiple marriages and a sordid past. He pictured Tina, half nude like a centrefold. Bad judgment on his part. But she really didn’t matter; the poor kid was only embarrassing herself. They’d split up. She was no reflection on him.

The trouble was, Michael realised with a jolt, that he loved Diana.

He had been attracted to her from day one. Disliked her, then warmed up’ to her when her prestige was snatched away. She was a hard worker with a talent for hiring and presentation. All th.e bonuses and rises he had given her, she had deserved.

But Diana was a high-maintenance beauty. He wondered about the amount of cash it took her to keep it all together. Even when she had nothing, she came into the office in solid designer wear. He wasn’t up on women’s beauty rituals, but he knew she went to very expensive, very upscale hairdressers, manicurists, beauty parlour.

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She wore a lot of diamonds and other jewels. She lived in

a fancy apartment. And all this stuff required cash.

Uneasily, he thought about Brad Bailey. An insufferable little jerk living on daddy’s money. Well, OK, he admitted to himself, he didn’t know if he was a jerk or not, but there was no self-made element to him. He was just an upper-class pretty boy with a ton of cash. Ernie Foxton was self-made, but he was a bastard. What did he have to recommend him besides money?

They said love was blind. Could he have been that

blind?

Michael stood and walked to his window and looked

out over Sixth. The yellow cabs and crawling cars jostled for position, the sun sparkling off their windscreens, the chaos muted from this height. He had always wanted a girl who would love him for himself. There was a sick feeling at the pit of his stomach, a nagging suspicion. Diana had been an excellent manager, but Imperial had always been his thing. The terms of the buyout by JanCorp, if Imperial Games proved a success, had

provided for him getting the money.

A lot of money.

Tina claimed that Brad Bailey had dumped Diana.

Ernie said Diana married him just for his money. The magazine claimed that Michael was, right now, in love with the biggest gold-digger in New York City.

Michael’s reflection stared back at him from the window. He was stocky, muscular, with a square jaw and a broken nose. He looked nothing like thin little Ernie Foxton, nothing like the all-American WASP good looks of Brad. Plus, Diana was an English lady, very refined, very proper. What the hell would she want with someone from the Bronx? But, said that nagging little voice, right now you’re someone from the Bronx with zo million bucks. And Tina says she knew you had that money coming.

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Diana had got back together with him barely two months after Tina had spoken to her.

Michael shook his head. It was bullshit, all of it. Of course Diana had married Ernie Foxton for love. She was guilty of nothing more than bad judgment, which he was guilty of too by fucking Tina Armis. He would ask

Diana, and that would be the end of the matter. Meanwhile, he had a company to run.

He buzzed Piato. ‘Harry, you can start putting through any calls that are to do with the business, OK? We’ve wasted half a morning on this bullshit.’

Diana crossed her legs under the mahogany table and listened politely to the interpreter, while not taking her eyes from her guests. It was said that the Japanese liked their women feminine and deferential, but she hadn’t worn a dress. She’d chosen a soft Joseph pantsuit in crisp pink cotton, with a matching silky, form-fitting top, and a pair of Jimmy Choo sandals in candy-floss leather, with a tow heel. Today it had been more important than ever to get out of the door looking her absolute best. Her lips were touched up with a clover gloss, her makeup minimalist, with light Mac concealer and Shu Uemura blusher hiding her pale, stricken skin and the hollows under her eyes. Drops had removed every last trace of redness. To the reporters - probably from Big City - she had managed to look pulled-together and upbeat. There would be time enough to collapse later. She had no idea what Michael thought of it, or how the office was dealing with it. As far as her day went, she hfid gone straight into her meeting, and then whatever else happened to be on her plate, it could wait.

Thank God for boarding school and the stiff upper lip. It was amazing how often it came in handy. She had met Marissa Matthews before, at balls, charity parties, things like that. She was a bitter, warped little woman who had

bad things to say about everybody. Diana vaguely remembered cutting her dead once at a party of Claire’s.

Diana didn’t like gossip mongers. Now she remembered why.

Of course most of it was lies, she thought, as she nodded and smiled and gave little bows to her guests as they were finally ushered out. But the deadly thing was that part of it was true.

Once the door was closed, she buzzed Michael on the office intercom. He picked up right away. Diana braced herself.

‘I’d like to see you,’ she said, as calmly as she could. ‘I’ll be right there.’ He hung up. Diana moved to the small private bathroom at the back of her office. It was her work sanctuary, with flesh flowers by the sink, Tuscan soaps and two vials of her specially blended Parisian scent. The mirror showed her face, beautiful and composed. Her dark hair was fresh and shiny from the wash and set she’d had done in her building’s ground-floor salon. Her heart felt like it was in a blender, but at least she looked good.

‘Michael plunged through the office, waving aside the executives who tried to come up and press their questions on him. Harry could take care of them. Right now, business didn’t seem that important.

Diana had left her door open. He told Ellen to hold all calls, then went through and shut the door behind him. She was standing at the window, wearing something in pastels, light pink, form-fitting. It showed off the incredible firm, curvy flair of her butt he loved so much, and the high, full line of her breasts. He had a flashback of her ass on top of him, grinding away, her breasts bouncing above him the last time they had made love, yesterday, at lunch, when they had ducked back to his place because they couldn’t keep their hands off each other. How hot

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she got, how completely she had yielded to him, Michael thought. He remembered Ernie had called her frigid. At least he knew in that way, he was different, at least he knew she liked his touch. She could not help herself, under him. He would not allow it. With some girls, his touch had been light, casual, they meant little to him. But Diana was a woman he had to have, she was in his blood. It was imperative to subdue her, to make her writhe and sob with pleasure and shudder in his arms … his fists clenched. There was nothing like it in the world.

His heart lifted just from looking at her. She belonged to him.

The question was why.

‘I guess you read it,’ he said, lamely.

The and the rest of Manhattan.’ She shrugged, an elegant, delicate movement that made the sheen on her little sweater sparkle in the light. ‘It’s fish and chip wrapping. It doesn’t bother me.’

She was the old Diana Foxton now, the ice-queen. Daring him to say any differently.

….. I have a couple of questions.’

‘Fire away.’ Diana’s blue eyes sought out Michael’s. He looked angry with her, disappointed. Oh God. She delved deep inside her for every spare ounce of strength.

She couldn’t crumple and cry the way she wanted to. ‘First, did you speak o Tina?’

‘Yes, I did.’ Diana saw Michael’s eyes flash darkly and she prickled defensively. ‘I spoke to her, but it was nothing like she said, OK?’

‘It was nothing like that? You didn’t discuss relation

ships? You didn’t discuss me and Brad Bailey?’

‘Well, yes, but—’

Michael held up one hand, furious. ‘That’s great, Diana. Talking about me in the office. I guess that wipes out any plans to sue. Tell me, did you also discuss the fact that you were dating a rich guy?’

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really wasn’t like that.’

‘I’m sure.’ His dark, thick brows frowned at her. He

was so angry, she thought. He was controlling it, but the scornful look on his face just made her want to burst into tears. ‘You know, I took a call from your ex-husband today. He’s a jerk. He said nothing unusual, except for ” one thing, he said that Tina was right, that you never loved him, that you married him for his money. I told him that was bullshit. He told me to ask you.’

Michael looked steadily over at her. His heart felt like

it was being crushed by some unseen iron fist. Please Lord, let her deny it. I’ll never ask you for anything again.

‘So tell me. What’s the story, Diana? You did marry

him because you loved him, right?’

There was a pause.

Michael breathed in, raggedly. He knew what her answer was before she said it. Diana walked over to her window again, and rested her hands on the window, her head bowed.

‘Wrong,’ she said, finally. Her voice was leaden, ‘I married Ernie for his money. I thought we’d be good together. He married me to get a hostess. I thought it was an even transaction.’

‘Yeah. Very even. Very romantic,’ Michael said. He

felt sick. ‘And Brad? I guess he dumped you, huh? Did

you know about the deal with JinCorp?’

Diana couldn’t believe it. She felt the blood drain from her face. She walked back to her desk and picked up her pink leather Prada tote. She had known it was bad, but she had never expected it to be as bad as this. Not from Michael. Not from the guy she loved.

‘Of course I knew about it.’ She spoke very softly; it seemed to her her voice was coming from far away, like

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somebody else’s. ‘I’m a director of this company. Or at least I was. I resign.’

‘What?’ Michael said. He seemed completely shocked. ‘Why? You can’t leave. We need you. This is our personal business, nothing else.’

‘Yeah, well.’ Diana was weary. ‘Maybe I can’t separate business and personal the way you do. To me, everything’s personal. Maybe it’s just part of being a woman. Whatever, I’m not staying here with you.’

‘All I did was to ask you questions,’ Michael said, stubbornly.

‘And I answered them. I did certain things, yes. But I’m not that person any more. I’ve changed.’ Diana felt a tear seep out, betraying her, and trickle down her chin. ‘I don’t need to justify myself to you. Because if you can’t trust what we have, it’ll never be any good. I thought you loved me. I guess I was wrong.’

He just stood there. He wasn’t even looking at her. With a wrenching stab of sorrow in her gut, Diana shoved her way past him. She didn’t even say goodbye to Ellen. She marched straight into the lobby and stepped into the elevator, riding down to the parking lot, where she could commandeer one of the company town cars.

It felt weird, so weird, to be going home in the middle of the day. She managed to keep the tears in during the ride home. There would be enough time to collapse when nobody was about. Diana watched Manhattan slip by, and tried to be upbeat. She wasn’t destitute this time, she had options. One of them was going home. She had a quarter-of-amillion-dollar bonus, ifter all. She could take that money and start another business, maybe her own thing. Claire had offered to take her on in the interior design store. She had a talent for that. So it wasn’t high-profile headhunting, so what? Diana thought. She could make something of it.

But her internal efforts to bolster herself were a dismal

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failure. She didn’t want to make it on her own. She wanted Michael. She was in love with Michael. And now, she had lost him.

The car stilled, grinding to a halt in the sweltering traffic. Diana couldn’t hold it any more. She started to cry, as quietly as she could. Why hadn’t she kept a packet of Kleenex in her pretty, impractical bloody bag?

She finally tumbled out at the lobby of her building almost thirty minutes later. She had shoved a fifty-buck note at the driver, far too large a tip, but she just wanted to get him away from her as quickly as possible without well-meaning questions about how she was feeling. Diana marched straight into the elevator, making sure the lobby guard didn’t stop to shoot the breeze either. Today, she just wasn’t up to it. All she wanted was a hot bath, her white towelling robe, and Claire’s shoulder to cry on. Maybe it would be best to unhook the phone, too. The media were bound to get hold of her resignation. They would take it as confirmation that the Big City story was gospel. But the thought of more public