Dark Nights (8 page)

Breeze collapsed on the bed, floated downwards, felt as if her whole body were swimming in warm water. It was sublime, it was beautiful, it was the ultimate. She realised in that moment that he hadn’t been looking selfishly to win the prize ... but that he had given her the prize, the ability to totally let go, to abandon yourself to another. In that moment, regarding Seb gazing down at her looking more content than any man she had ever seen, stroking her damp forehead, she knew she was falling inexorably, inexplicably for him. She hadn’t wanted to, she didn’t understand it but she was. That was her last thought before she fell into a slumber so perfect, she gave herself up to the warmth of his arms and the sigh of his lips. 

When she woke it was to see dawn play in peaches and burnished gold across the tips of the trees waving outside in Green Park. The night had seemed so perfect, but the morning after was spiked with reality. Breeze looked at Seb slumbering, narrow hips wrapped in a sheet. Even at rest, the muscles rounded like a range of hills. In his sleep, his hand went to the back of his head and he winced. If things had been normal, if they’d had a proper relationship she’d have woken him, questioned him about that pain – for pain it must be that plagued him in sleep. But things weren’t normal. They weren’t honeymooners, they weren’t a happy ever after; they were two people thrown together by circumstances. Maybe they were simply misfits who had shared something extraordinary but whose time was coming to an end. Next week was his birthday and was bound to be their last time together. Seb was famous for being a loner, he would revert to type; they always did. He looked perfect hero material now but she decided she’d rather leave with that impression of him on her senses than have him wake, see the coldness return to his eyes, realise that she was just one more conquest in a life filled with conquests. That now he’d had the ultimate from her, spent the night with her, she would be expendable. He’d keep her, might use her one more time, after all she was his birthday present to himself and then she’d be discarded. Still, she thought as she looked at his deeply slumbering form and picked up her clothes to sneak away. It had been good. Very, very good. No, not just that. It had been sensational. 

She raced through the park, towards Victoria Station, and remembered that she still hadn’t told him of Richard’s treachery. She’d still retained one bit of power, she still had the ability to save Seb or see him go to the dogs. Her independence told her to keep that bit of ammunition up her sleeve, but time was running out. If she didn’t tell him soon, he could be ruined. She made it home, her head spinning. Her mother’s exhortations to always be independent, her father’s ability to pursue his own ends whilst recklessly ignoring his family dogged her. But how long should she hang on to her mother’s experience and make it hers? Her history was her own to mould. When she got back, she needed to think. A jog around Crystal Palace Park always made her see more clearly. She’d go the long way today. Her body, moreover her soul needed the solace of a good long run.

She pounded the streets, then the paths and finally the grass breathing in the cleansing air as if it were wine. She’d got herself into such a mess. Being a thief, for that’s what she was, had been a move of desperation, then it had been too easy to carry on. And look where it had got her? Enthralled to a man who would squash her like an insect once he had done with her. Any thoughts that he might have any emotional attachment to her was surely an illusion. Her steps slowed as she approached home. But as she did, she saw Summer and her mother standing at the window looking for her. Something had happened, she was always on edge, had always taken care of them. She bounded up the steps. But when she got in they were beaming.

‘You’ve just missed him.’ Her mother had a cooling pot of coffee on the table, cups were arranged around it. Expensive chocolate biscuits which they only brought out on special occasions lay half eaten on a plate.

‘Missed who?’ Breeze’s hackles were raised.

Summer tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. ‘Sebastian Dark himself. He’s so much better looking than his photographs in the papers. And that car.’ Summer almost swooned. ‘You must have done something pretty major to be that much in the boss’s good books that he’d go to the trouble of coming here.’

‘I showed him around,’ Breeze’s mother said proudly, clearing away the cups. ‘He has hidden depths that man. He’s interested in Victorian and Edwardian architecture, was very knowledgeable, in fact. He was most impressed with your grandfather’s designing of the house. And he loved how you’d restored the old conservatory. He was very admiring of Summer’s orchids, said he’d seen some like them when working in the far east. He congratulated us on such a beautiful house. No, “home”, that was the word he used. “You have a beautiful home, Mrs Monaghan, I envy you that. No amount of money can make that happen.” I told him it was all down to you, that we would have lost your grandfather’s house years ago without your hard work.’

‘What on earth was he doing here?’ Her mother was such a sensible woman. Breeze had never seen her looking like that, sort of besotted. Seb must have turned the charm full on.

‘He said you must have lost this in the office,’ said Summer dropping the gold heart with the little diamond into her hand. ‘He was passing by so he dropped it in. He noticed you always wear it and might be worried about losing it. That’s so thoughtful for a busy man. I thought you said he was mean and selfish. Just goes to show you never can tell. Oh, and he also left this padded envelope. Something boring to do with work he said.’ Summer breathed in the air, ‘I can still smell his aftershave, just like pine forests.’ The two women were still singing his praises as her mother and Summer, invigorated by their visitor and glowing in his praise went off to water the orchids. Breeze collapsed onto a dining room chair, trailed the little heart and chain in her fingers then opened the envelope. Inside was a long box and inside that laying on a blue velvet bed, the prettiest necklace she had ever seen. A string of sublime fire opals, glowing and changing in the sunshine. She had never seen opals like that before, their lights danced on the skin of her hand. She read the card inside. She was intrigued at the large, swirly, extravagant handwriting. Surely, Seb’s father had been wrong when he said his son wasn’t artistic, that handwriting and his eye for colour in choosing the beautiful opals belied that. More like Seb had never been given the chance to express that side of himself. ‘Breeze, I wanted to say thank you. I bought these at the jewellers at the Ritz. They’re unique, just like you. x’ 

Breeze held their coolness which reminded her of the coolness of his fingers on her skin. It was gorgeous. She couldn’t accept it of course. For what did it represent? How he had callously bought her sexual favours. Still, she tried the opals around her neck. They suited her perfectly. But would suit her even better if she coloured her hair back to her original colour, rich chestnut. It would feel good to be her real self again, for in a way he was the one person in the world from whom she no longer had anything to hide. He had seen her at her worst, had caught her stealing. And he had seen her at her most vulnerable, when she had laid herself before him and surrendered totally to his masculinity, trembling at his touch. If only their weird and artificial relationship didn’t prevent him from seeing her at her best. For she did have a best side, loyal, nurturing. Even the sex which had been fabulous, mind-blowing wasn’t entirely her. It had been a power game never a love match. The word jolted her. Love. Saturday, his 30th birthday must be their last coupling. Love wasn’t something she could consider in the same moment she thought about Seb, for if she ever fell in love with a man like him, and he rejected her, it would destroy her. 

But one thing she was finally sure of as she made her way upstairs to get washed and dressed was that she could not hate him any more. And that was why as soon as she was ready she was going to go right out, and tell him about the vile, underhand plot his closest aide was hatching to destroy him.

Chapter Nine

‘MR DARK CAN’T BE disturbed. He’s working on something very important right now.’ His secretary guarded him with a loyalty that was steadfast. That’s the way people were around Seb Dark. He inspired it in them.

‘I’m sorry,’ Breeze marched past the secretary and barged in. It was now or never. 

Seb looked astounded to see her; she had kept her distance from him in the office so well of late. ‘It’s OK, Mrs Hammond,’ he waved the concerned woman away. ‘I’m happy to see Miss Monaghan any time.’

‘Thank you.’ Breeze sat, only the flimsy barrier of the desk stood between them. She yearned to reach out and touch him, like you would a magnificent panther. She thought she saw a flicker of the same response in him. But this was business, not pleasure. ‘There’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you for a while. I ... I held back. I’m sorry, because it makes me look as bad as them, when I’m not, really I’m not.’

‘You’re talking in riddles, Breeze.’ His sensual mouth firmed. She felt her legs weaken, her fingers fluttered to her throat as if she wanted to still the pulse which now raced every time he was near.

‘It’s about Richard, and Mr Vanhoffer. You may not believe me. I hardly even know where to begin.’ She found she was stuttering; he looked so devastatingly handsome. Now she had relinquished the protection of hating him she was drawn to him like a magnet. 

‘Then begin at the start, it’s always easiest.’ 

She poured out to him what she knew, how she knew it. She could see in the tight lines of his sensual mouth that one question lay unanswered – why she had taken so long to tell him? She only hoped to God it wasn’t too late. 

He steepled his fingers, a signet ring, one he had said had been given to him by his father, the father who never valued his work but whom he still honoured, shone on his finger. ‘I admire you in coming here today, Breeze. I wondered how long it would be before you told me. You see, I already knew.’

Breeze felt the floor whoosh from under her, like she was in a fast moving lift. ‘You knew?’

He smiled, a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. ‘Yes, I knew. It turns out that even I have a heart and on reflection I felt sorry for Mr Vanhoffer. Even though I took over everything he owned, I respected him as a smart man of business. So I made him an offer. An extremely generous offer to come and work for me, helping behind the scenes to pull ailing companies out of the mire. But I didn’t tell anyone else I’d taken him on. He informed me a while ago that Richard had approached him. And I told him to string Richard on. I needed to know what he was up to. It confirmed some things about Richard’s lack of loyalty I had already heard on the grapevine but couldn’t prove. Richard will be getting his marching orders today. He’s got a wife and a young family. I shan’t be taking it any further for his sake. I simply hope he’s learnt his lesson.’

‘You’re very generous.’

‘For a bastard you mean. Isn’t that how you’ve seen me?’

‘I ... well, maybe. At times.’

‘I understand how money drives people to do bad things. Integrity’s a difficult talent to achieve in this business but I do my best.’

He did, he so did. In that moment, she wanted to have him take her in his arms, to hold her like he’d done so many times before. But now, he didn’t move towards her. A dark lack of liveliness dulled his eyes. Had she failed him so comprehensively? Like so many other people had done? She wished she’d come earlier. Wished she hadn’t thought so badly of him that she’d waited.

‘And now, I’m sorry, Breeze, I have many papers I have to wrap up, things I have to complete before–’ He stopped mid sentence as if catching himself out. For one moment, she thought he was going to reach out and stroke her like he had so many times before. Electricity crackled between them. Then died, as if he’d flicked a switch. His voice was flat. ‘We’re still on for Saturday? Your last obligation to please me.’ Still there was the heat of desire, but also a holding back which she didn’t understand.

‘So, it will be the last then?’ She felt it difficult to swallow. The last. He was going to let her go. The very real thought that she might never enjoy his caresses again made her world implode; she desperately wanted to reach out and feel those muscles tense under her fingers again, see those eyes flicker as she took him in her hands. But his stiff stance signalled that this was not the appointed time and place. His steely control won over the sparks of desire that lit his eyes. She bit her lip. 

‘Yes, don’t look so serious. I will be releasing you from our business deal. And there will be no police, no jail, you’ve paid your price.’

Somehow, now it didn’t feel like a price paid. She’d been spared but she also felt bereft. As the door closed, and the lift carried her down, there were a million things she’d left unsaid. And there was also the necklace in her pocket which she’d planned to give back. Somehow she couldn’t bear to let it go. At least they had Saturday.

Chapter Ten

BREEZE HAD PLANNED THE last Saturday to be at the House of Lords. He’d like the irreverence of fornicating in a place which prided itself on its formality – in his own way he was as much of a rebel as she was. She had phoned to tell him the place and time but unusually had got his answerphone. She had left a message and now, here she was standing in the street at the entrance of the Houses of Parliament which lead to the Cholmondeley Room. And he was late. Seb had never been late before. 

She waited and waited, paced up and down, wore a groove in the pavement, watched the afternoon turn to evening. No way would Seb willingly have stood her up. He was a man who kept his word, something must be wrong. 

In desperation she took a taxi to headquarters and almost ran up to his office. It was deserted. Maybe, she clung on to a small ray of hope, the security man, Ronald would know something. He knew everything and everybody. 

By the time she reached him, she was panting. ‘Hey, Miss Monaghan, don’t you look a pretty picture. And your hair, you’ve coloured it down. If you don’t mind my saying it matches your eyes perfectly. I always did think you was pretty striking as a blonde but brunette’s much more the real you. You must be going somewhere mighty fine lookin’ so good.’