The Valentine Affair Read online

  Ever since the meeting in Mike Tanner’s office only two hours ago it felt as though she’d been frantically spinning like a top. Which had, at least, the virtue of keeping her mind fully occupied, and unable to think too much about the forthcoming confrontation with Leo Hamilton.

  But now as she pulled on the handbrake, staring blindly out through her windscreen at the lines of cars and trucks all firmly stalled in the heavy traffic, there seemed little she could do to combat the wild, nervous fluttering in her stomach.

  Relax! Keep calm...there’s no need to panic. Quite apart from anything else, there’s a good chance that Leo probably won’t even recognise you, she told herself firmly. ‘And let’s hope he doesn’t!’ she added out loud, with an attempt at grim humour, almost shuddering as she recalled the deeply unhappy young girl who had suddenly found herself dumped in a strange household in Italy all those years ago.

  Most teenage girls looked a mess at one time or another—but she’d really gone to town, with that ‘heavy Gothic’ style!

  It was difficult to remember now exactly what had prompted her to dye her hair jet-black. Or why she’d ever thought that smothering her face in chalky-white foundation and applying both sooty-black mascara and dark crimson lipstick with a heavy hand could be a good idea. Could it have been some sort of protest? An infantile act of rebellion against an unkind world? If so, it had, most unfortunately, proved to be a fatal mistake.

  After one appalled glance at the strange-looking sixteen-year-old girl who’d suddenly arrived at her holiday home in Tuscany, Leo’s mother, Eleanor Lucas, had swiftly taken matters in hand. However, by the time she’d forcefully bullied Alex into looking more like the girl’s normal self, it had proved to be far, far too late. Because, barely moments after setting eyes on him, Alex had fallen desperately in love with her tall, dark and handsome twenty-three-year-old stepbrother. While he, for his part, had clearly only thought of her as some ghastly teenaged version of one of the Munsters.

  Over the years, Alex had done her level best to forget that long, baking-hot and totally dreadful summer holiday, where one disaster had been swiftly followed by another, like a Greek tragedy. But now, with the prospect of meeting once more the man who had so blighted her young life, she could feel her skin almost crawling with embarrassment and humiliation.

  Cool it! she told herself firmly as the stalled traffic began slowly moving, at last. Just about everyone makes a complete idiot of themselves at least once in their lives. So, why should you be the exception? Besides, what happened in the past doesn’t matter. It’s the here and now that’s important. And, if you don’t want to find yourself out of a job, you’ve got to get this story—come hell or high water!

  Unfortunately, trying to psych herself up for the forthcoming confrontation with Leo wasn’t proving too successful. Mainly because it didn’t need a very high IQ to realise that, after the horrendous scene in Mike’s office, her job was now squarely on the line. A fact which her editor had made crystal clear.

  ‘I’m going out on a limb for you, Alex. So you’d better deliver the goods,’ he’d warned.

  Ignoring Imogen’s furious anger at being overruled, Mike had continued grimly, ‘These articles of yours had better be damn good. If I find that you’ve been spinning a yarn—or trying to pull the wool over my eyes in any way—I can guarantee that you’ll never work for me again. Or any other newspaper, for that matter. Got the message?’

  Alex had nodded nervously, the noise of Imogen’s rage and fury ringing in her ears as she’d hurried away from his office.

  Well, at least she hadn’t been lying about her relationship with Leo Hamilton, Alex had comforted herself, trying to ignore her guilty conscience as she’d reached the sanctuary of her desk.

  Oh, yeah? Just who do you think you’re kidding? The ghostly voice in her head had demanded with a scornful laugh. You may not have told a one hundred per cent lie. But you were definitely being economical with the truth—right? Because Leo is only a sort of stepbrother—or should it be stepbrother by marriage? And you haven’t set eyes on the rotten man, or the rest of his horrid family, for almost eight years.

  ‘OK...OK,’ she’d muttered under her breath, resolutely banishing her conscience to the far, dark recesses of her mind as she’d tried to concentrate on the Herculean task before her.

  First and foremost Alex had realised that she needed a lot of background information—almost as important to a journalist as water in the Sahara Desert. After all, she knew absolutely nothing about Fiona Bliss, and had virtually no knowledge of what her stepbrother had been up to during the past eight years.

  However, just over an hour later, she’d been feeling quite pleased with herself. The Chronicle’s library had produced a pile of news cuttings on Leo and his family, while a quick phone call to her old school friend Sophie would hopefully provide a whole host of material about his new fiancée, Fiona Bliss.

  Unfortunately, Sophie—who rented the basement flat of Alex’s house, and worked on a glamorous monthly magazine mostly devoted to fashion and the lives of those prominent in society—had proved an unexpectedly hard nut to crack. It was only after promising to lend the other girl her best long gown for a deathly smart St Valentine’s Ball—and her favourite pair of high-heeled gold sandals and matching bag—that Sophie had reluctantly agreed to raid the files in her office.

  ‘Great!’ Alex had grinned down the phone. ‘So, how about meeting me for a late lunch in the pub around the corner from your office, and you can give me the details then. OK?’

  ‘No, it’s not OK,’ her friend had protested. ‘I’ll need a lot more time than just a few hours. Who do you think I am? Mata Hari?’

  Alex had gritted her teeth in frustration. ‘Look...do you want to be the belle of the ball, and make that ex-boyfriend of yours as jealous as hell, or what?’ she demanded. ‘Of course, if you’re happy to wear your tatty old black dress, and don’t mind looking like something the cat dragged in...’

  ‘Oh, all right!’ Sophie had ground out, before slamming down her phone.

  So far, so good. But with so little time in which to both complete her interviews and write the article, Alex knew that time was of the essence. Which was why, striving to keep calm and banish her rising panic, she’d swallowed her pride and begged James Boswell for his help.

  Clearly aggrieved that he hadn’t known of her relationship to Leo Hamilton, the paper’s social editor still didn’t think she had much of a chance of gaining the glamorous banker’s cooperation.

  ‘Especially now that the guy has the modern equivalent of a shotgun wedding in front of him,’ James had added with a sour grin.

  ‘You don’t mean...?’

  ‘No, of course I don’t think his girlfriend is pregnant,’ he’d retorted curtly. ‘But your stepbrother is going to find it almost impossible to extricate himself from the clutches of Fiona’s mother, Ethel Bliss. Believe me, that’s one really tough, hard woman—who’s ruthlessly ambitious for her only child. Don’t forget, it was Ethel who tipped me off about the “engagement”. So, even if Leo wanted to extricate himself from the situation—and I’ve no reason to think that he does—I’ll lay any money that he’s going to find himself standing at the altar, firmly anchored to a heavy ball and chain!’

  James had also let fall the information that her stepbrother lived in a large, glamorous penthouse apartment in Knightsbridge, overlooking Hyde Park.

  ‘With a tough doorman, and more intruder alarms than the Bank of England, none of my contacts has been able to put a foot over the threshold. I still don’t think Leo will agree to help with your article,’ he’d added, with a bad-tempered shrug. ‘But, since you’re a member of the family, at least getting in to see the guy will be a piece of cake, right?’

  ‘Er...right,’ she’d murmured, hoping she’d sounded more confident than she felt, and quickly realising that her only hope was to try and catch Leo off guard, in his office at the bank.

  ‘Nothing ventured—n
othing gained!’ Alex now told herself firmly. But, as she drove slowly past the Mansion House, keeping a sharp lookout for a space in which to park her car, she couldn’t help worrying about the forthcoming interview.

  After a frantic dash home to change out of the jeans which she normally wore in the newspaper office, Alex still wasn’t at all sure whether she’d picked the right sort of ‘stuffy’ outfit. Maybe the black wool suit, with its tightly fitted jacket over sheer black stockings and high-heeled black court shoes, was a bit too funereal for a bank?

  Still...what the heck? she told herself defiantly as she finally managed to find a free parking meter. Because, quite frankly, the chances of her actually managing to get as far as Leo’s office were so slim as to be practically anorexic!

  In fact, even getting through the bank’s front door was likely to be almost impossible, she realised, walking slowly up the street towards the large Victorian building, and noting the figure of a burly, uniformed commissionaire filling the doorway. Desperately trying to suppress the sudden urge to turn tail and buy a one-way ticket to South America, Alex gradually noticed that a steady stream of people seemed to be approaching the bank.

  Surely that wasn’t...? Oh, wow! It really was turning out to be her lucky day, she told herself with a slightly hysterical giggle, before running swiftly across the road.

  ‘Hi, Ben,’ she smiled breathlessly at the Chronicle’s financial editor.

  ‘Good heavens! What on earth are you doing in this neck of the woods, Alex? I didn’t know you were interested in City finance.’

  ‘Of course I’m interested,’ she assured him earnestly, firmly clutching hold of his arm. ‘In fact, I find the whole concept of world trade simply fascinating!’

  ‘That’s great!’ he exclaimed, his cheeks flushing slightly as he gallantly led her up the steps. ‘Today’s meeting is only a public relations exercise. But it will be interesting to hear more details of Hamilton’s partial merger with a German bank.’

  ‘Absolutely!’ she agreed, almost unable to believe her luck. If she could swan in with Ben, she was almost home and dry!

  ‘So, after we’ve heard what they’ve got to say, maybe you’d let me take you out to lunch? I’m writing a feature on some recent corporate takeovers, which I think you’ll find quite thought provoking.’

  ‘Oh, dear—I don’t think I can make lunch,’ Alex murmured, softening the blow with a beaming smile as they walked up the steps. ‘But I’m looking forward to reading your article. It sounds absolutely riveting!’ she added, both amazed and slightly ashamed at her sudden, unexpected ability to lie her head off.

  ‘Here we are,’ he announced as they approached the open door of the bank. ‘Got your press card?’

  ‘Of course.’ She flashed the small plastic folder at the commissionaire, who happily waved them onwards into the large building.

  Hoping to remain as inconspicuous as possible, Alex led Ben to the far side of the room, where rows of gilt chairs were set well back, facing a large table at the other end.

  Staring up at the amount of gold leaf on the ornately decorated ceiling, she let her gaze move on to take in the enormous glass chandelier, clearly lit to banish the grey February morning beyond the windows, around which were draped thick crimson brocade curtains. In fact—with its dark crimson plush covered walls heavily encrusted with large gloomy oil paintings—it looked more like a gentlemen’s club or a grand drawing room than a modern working environment.

  Well, well! It certainly looked as if these merchant bankers believed in making themselves very comfortable. Nice work if you can get it! Alex mused caustically, wondering how soon she could slip out of the room and continue her search for Leo Hamilton.

  While she had been taking stock of her luxurious surroundings, the room had been gradually filling up with journalists from most of the daily newspapers and those magazines concerned with finance. Busy chatting to one another, it wasn’t until two men walked through a door at the far end of the room that the general conversation ceased and the audience began taking out their notebooks.

  Seated behind a large, stout figure in a gabardine raincoat, Alex had difficulty in seeing what was going on. However, as soon as she moved her chair slightly, giving herself a better view of the table at the end of the room, she realised with a jolt that—thanks to Ben—there was no need for her to seek out Leo Hamilton.

  That he hadn’t changed at all was the first coherent thought to emerge from the swirling chaos in her mind. But then, as her vision cleared, Alex realised that she was mistaken.

  It was now nearly eight years since she’d last seen Leo, and, while his outward, extraordinarily handsome appearance might seem little altered, he now clearly saw no reason to hide his obvious command of the situation, or the overpowering strength of his forceful personality. He had, in fact, matured into a tough, resourceful man, and it didn’t look as if nowadays that firm, hard mouth laughed very much, if at all.

  The bright light from the chandelier cast a sheen on his dark hair, highlighting a few threads of silver at the temples. His skin was very tanned, as if he spent most of his time in the open air—not the usual environment for a banker. Or that of a man who, if James Boswell was to be believed, apparently spent a great deal of his time in the bedrooms of beautiful women!

  But clearly that aspect of his life had been left aside as he calmly welcomed members of the press. In fact, Leo’s tall figure appeared perfectly relaxed—the wide, powerful shoulders and lean hips accentuated by the immaculate formality of his well-cut, dark grey lounge suit—as he smoothly explained the reasons behind his bank’s new merger with a German financial institution. Watching the cool, unruffled way in which he dealt with a host of questions from the assembled journalists, Alex had no problem in understanding why he’d been chosen to present this exercise in public relations.

  But, while Leo appeared to be exuding an air of relaxed charm, he didn’t succeed in fooling her...not for one minute! Because, as she knew only too well, beneath the suave and charming exterior Leo Hamilton had always been as hard as tungsten steel.

  The perfect example of an iron fist clothed in a soft velvet glove, Alex reminded herself grimly, unable to prevent an icy shiver of apprehension from feathering down her spine.

  Buried in unhappy memories, it was some moments before she realised that the meeting was breaking up. Noting that, while one or two journalists were busy checking some final points with Leo, the majority of those present were slowly leaving the room, she muttered a brief goodbye to Ben before mingling with the crowd as they made their way out through the door.

  One swift, rapid glance around the large foyer was enough for Alex to see that she’d have to move sharply if she wished to avoid attracting the attention of either the receptionists or the commissionaire, who was now carefully shepherding the press corps out of the building. Using a group of journalists as a shield, she edged towards the bank of lifts, slipping inside and quickly punching a button at random.

  ‘Hello, Dora,’ she called out some minutes later, having charmed a passing office boy into giving her not only the exact location of Leo’s office but also the name of his personal assistant. ‘I’ve just popped in to see Leo. Is it all right if I wait in his office?’

  Glancing up from her desk, Dora stared at the slim figure standing in the open doorway.

  Quite certain that she’d never seen this person before, Dora was also well aware of Mr Hamilton’s inflexible rule that girlfriends were never allowed anywhere near his office. And, since no respectable office would dream of employing anyone with that untamed cloud of fair, sun-bleached hair tumbling down around her shoulders—not to mention one wearing such a disgracefully short black skirt over long slim legs encased in sheer black stockings—she clearly didn’t work here, at the bank.

  However, just as Dora was about to pick up the phone and call Security, she took another, hard look at the girl leaning casually against the door. You didn’t have to be a serious follower of fa
shion to realise that suit must have cost a fortune. And those Gucci shoes and matching handbag on its gold chain wouldn’t have been exactly cheap, either. So...

  Oh, heavens! It looked as though she’d nearly made a dreadful mistake. Because, of course, this extraordinarily attractive-looking girl must be Mr Hamilton’s new fiancée.

  ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t realise...’ Dora muttered, rising quickly from behind her desk. ‘It’s Miss Fiona Bliss, isn’t it?’

  ‘How did you guess?’ Alex smiled happily at the older woman. ‘Er...darling Leo is just finishing a meeting downstairs. So, is it all right if I wait for him in his office?’

  ‘Of course.’ Dora beamed at the girl and led her into the palatial mom. ‘Can I get you anything?’

  ‘I’d sell my soul for a cup of coffee,’ Alex admitted with a grin, waiting until Leo’s secretary had left the room before sinking down into a leather chair.

  ‘Phew!’ she muttered with relief a little while later, gratefully sipping her hot coffee—and thankful that she didn’t have to go through such an exhausting charade every day of the week. What a piece of luck, his secretary mistaking her for Leo’s fiancée! Although exactly what she was going to say or do when he returned to his office, she had absolutely no idea.

  However, while she had the chance, maybe she ought to have a good look around his office? If her articles were going to be a success, it was important to try to pick up some clues about both his present lifestyle and his new fiancée.

  Unfortunately, there was virtually nothing in Leo’s opulent suite of rooms which couldn’t just as well have been found in the office of any highly successful man—a huge leather-covered mahogany desk with its back to the large window, a grey and white marble mantelpiece over a fake log fire, comfortable black leather chairs and sofa... It all looked depressingly bare of clues. Apart from the fact that there were no photographs, of course. That was definitely odd. Surely he ought to have a picture of his beloved fiancée placed prominently on his desk?

  Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of firm footsteps approaching down the marble-floored corridor. Bracing herself for the forthcoming confrontation, Alex heard his secretary informing Leo that his fiancée was waiting for him in his office.