if you’re thinking this is an act of lunacy that Ria talked me into...’
She gave a nervous laugh. ‘I was thinking something like that,’ she admitted.
‘Well, I assure you, it isn’t. Over the years, I’ve put money into a dry-cleaning shop, a video chain, even a haircutting establishment.’ He smiled. ‘Why not a decorating shop? My accountants tell me that the changing economy has altered people’s habits. They’re spending money on re-doing, rather than on starting afresh.’
‘Yes, but—but you barely know me...’
‘I know your work, and Ria vouches for you. That’s good enough. And it is a loan, Olivia, understand that, with interest payments and a monthly due date and all the rest.’ He smiled. ‘My accountants, and the tax people, wouldn’t have it any other way.’
Olivia blew out her breath. ‘I—I don’t know what to say,’ she whispered.
Wright laughed. ‘An astute businesswoman would simply say yes.’
She stared at him. ‘How did you get started?’ she’d asked Pierre once, and he’d shrugged his elegantly clad shoulders and answered with more honesty than she’d expected. ‘A loan from a wealthy friend,’ he’d said. ‘Without her, I’d probably still be painting peonies on silk scarves.’
Wright drew a cheque from his breast pocket and pushed it across the table. ‘Have a look at this. My people said it would get you started, but if it’s not right, say so. I’d want to see you capitalised properly. If we want the right clientele to find you, we have to set you up in the right location and with the right sort of ambience.’
The cheque was for an amount that made Olivia’s head spin. She stared at it, then at Wright.
‘I—I don’t know,’ she said slowly. ‘What if I fail?’ She pushed the cheque back towards him, the light glinting off her diamond and gold watch. He stopped the cheque’s progress by covering her hand with his.
‘Ria and I have every confidence in you.’
She stared at him blankly. ‘Mr Wright...’
‘Charles.’ He grinned engagingly. ‘Surely we’re on a first-name basis now.’
‘Charles,’ she said slowly, and then she fell silent. Ria, she thought, I’m going to break your neck. I’m going to hug you to death. I’m going to—I’m going to get up any minute and dance and shout and throw my arms around that stuffy head waiter...
‘Are the funds sufficient, then?’
She nodded. ‘Oh, yes, Charles. It’s more than enough. It’s just that I—I don’t know if I can accept it. I’d feel funny, letting you give me such an enormous amount of money.’
‘What a lovely sentiment. She almost sounds as if she means it.’
The voice was male, the tone soft. But there was no mistaking the coldness of it, nor the undisguised contempt. And there was certainly no mistaking its familiarity.
It was the man who’d bumped into her only moments ago. Olivia drew herself up and gave him a cold stare.
‘You’re not welcome here,’ she began, but then she stopped. The stranger wasn’t looking at her at all, he was looking at Charles—and Charles was looking back at him, his ruddy face gone pale as a sheet.
‘How nice to see you again, Charles,’ he said, but she knew that wasn’t what he meant at all. Charles knew it, too; his hand, still clutching hers over the cheque, tightened until his grip was almost painful.
Olivia cleared her throat. ‘Do you—do you know this man, Charles?’
The man laughed. ‘Do you know me, Charles?’ he said, his voice cruelly mimicking hers.
‘Edward.’ Charles’s voice was a little breathless. ‘This is a surprise.’
Edward gave a sharp laugh. ‘Yes. I can imagine.’
Olivia frowned. Something was going on here, something unpleasant, but what? The stranger was staring at her luncheon companion. She couldn’t see his eyes clearly—they were blue or black, it was hard to be certain which—but it was obvious that they were icy with what could only be described as unbridled hatred.
A little shudder rocketed through her. Clearing her throat, she began rising to her feet.
‘I’ll just go to the ladies’ room so you gentlemen can—’
‘No.’ Charles’s fingers clasped hers more tightly, and Olivia winced as she fell back into her seat. ‘No,’ he repeated. ‘Edward’s not—he’s not staying. Are you, Edward?’
The other man smiled, although Olivia wasn’t quite sure that was the correct word to describe the way his lips drew back over his teeth.
‘I’ve a lunch with some business associates,’ he said softly. His gaze swept across the table, where Olivia’s hand, still clutching the cheque, lay trapped by Charles’s. The terrible smile came again, swift and chill, and his eyes lifted to Olivia’s. ‘You had an appointment, you said. But I’d no idea who the lucky man was.’
Charles swallowed convulsively. ‘Do you—do you know Miss Harris, Edward?’
The man’s lips drew back from his teeth. ‘Not half as well as you do,’ he said.
‘Now, wait just a minute,’ Olivia began, and Charles’s fingers squeezed hers again.
‘Miss Harris and I were just—’
‘Don’t tell me.’ The stranger’s gaze drifted with slow insolence from Olivia’s face to her breasts. She felt a rush of crimson suffuse her cheeks; when his gaze finally met hers again, he laughed softly, as if he and she were sharing some awful joke. ‘You were discussing business,’ he said. ‘Any man with half a brain could figure that out.’
The words were innocent, but the insult had been blatant none the less. Olivia snatched her hand from Wright’s and got to her feet. She forced herself to look straight at the man blocking her way.
‘Excuse me,’ she said coldly.
‘Don’t leave on my account, darling. I’m sure you and Charles still have lots of “business” to discuss.’
‘Would you please step aside?’
‘So well-mannered.’ His teeth flashed in that awful smile again. ‘And so lovely. I must admit, Charles, your taste is impeccable.’
‘Just who in hell do you think you are?’ Olivia demanded in quiet fury.
‘Why don’t you tell her, Charles?’ the man said softly, his eyes never leaving Olivia’s face.
‘Edward.’ Charles’s voice was low and tense. ‘You’ve made an error. I told you, Miss Harris is—’
‘A business associate. Of course.’ He reached out suddenly and caught hold of Olivia’s arm. His hand curved
