what she said.
Martine looked into his gleaming, dark eyes. ‘Remember, if you hurt Charles, I’ll make sure you pay for it,’ she said, then turned on her heel and walked away.
CHAPTER TWO
‘YOU have to admit,’ said Annie, one of the share analysts, some months later, ‘he’s an asset to the bank!’
‘Oh, please, no puns this early in the morning!’ winced Martine.
‘You’ve got no sense of humour where he’s concerned, that’s the trouble,’ complained Annie, who was a year younger, and very pretty: small, fair, bubbly, and very popular with the men. ‘And you’ve dodged my question! He’s the hottest thing we’ve acquired in years. Look at that Ambleham-Tring merger—I hear we’ve picked up a lot more business from that, and his client list has doubled since he arrived.’
‘Haven’t you got any work to do?’ Martine was staring at her VDU, frowning over the string of figures coming up. ‘Because if you haven’t, I have. With Charles ringing in to say he’s working at home today, and our trip to Rome starting tomorrow, I’ve got so much to do I’ll be working until very late tonight, so get off my desk and go away, Annie!’
‘In a minute,’ Annie said, wriggling like a child on the edge of the desk, her small feet swinging back and forth. ‘I wanted to ask you something...’
‘Well, what?’ Martine irritably asked, wondering how Annie could be so thick-skinned. What did you have to do to get rid of her?
‘Has he got a woman tucked away somewhere? I mean, he hasn’t dated anyone since he joined us, he says he isn’t married, and I can’t believe he’s gay, so is there someone in the background?’
‘I don’t know, I don’t care, and will you please shut up about Bruno Falcucci, get off my desk and let me get on with my work?’ Martine frequently wished she had never heard the man’s name, let alone met him. He had been here nearly four months and she sometimes felt as if the whole place revolved around him. It certainly did as far as the female staff were concerned. They couldn’t stop talking about him; half of them were in love with him and the others were simply fascinated.
Except Martine, of course. If anything, she disliked him more now than she had the first day she’d met him.
She had watched grimly while he became a director and immediately began to dominate board meetings, making himself the centre of power on the board, a voice to be reckoned with, pushing Charles further and further out of the picture.
It was what she had feared from the beginning, but Charles would not listen even now. He had smiled gently when she pointed out that Bruno had taken over some of his own clients, some of the most lucrative, at that.
‘At my suggestion, my dear girl!’ he had insisted. ‘I’m trying to shed some of my workload. You told me I was working too hard, remember!’
‘I didn’t tell you to hand some of your best clients over to Bruno Falcucci! And you never told me that was what you were planning!’
He had given her a wry, apologetic look. ‘I knew you’d get agitated and lecture me on your favourite subject!’
Eyes startled, she’d asked, ‘What do you mean?’
‘Bruno,’ Charles had said, laughing softly as she flushed dark red. ‘Now, don’t deny it—you’re paranoid where he’s concerned. You think he has horns and a forked tail!’
‘Yes,’ she had said then, soberly. ‘I don’t trust him, and I only hope you aren’t making a serious mistake, letting him get into such a position of power at the bank.’
Her uneasiness had not lifted a few weeks after this discussion with Charles, on the cool autumn morning when Annie sat on her desk and would not stop talking about Bruno Falcucci.
‘Shoo,’ she told Annie, pushing her off her desk, and Annie turned a laughing face to her.
‘Oh, come on, I bet you’re secretly crazy about Bruno too—you just won’t admit it!’
‘I’d rather date Dracula!’ Martine snapped just as her office door opened.
She and Annie both looked round, both froze in confusion. Bruno stood in the doorway, his dark eyes hooded and unreadable, his powerful body briefly at rest, which she already knew was rare for him since he was perpetually in motion, a man with burning energy always racing against the clock, or himself, or the world, she wasn’t sure which.
‘What’s Dracula got that I haven’t?’ he drawled, and Annie began to giggle, half in relief because he didn’t seem angry, half with embarrassment because she didn’t know how much of the earlier conversation he had overheard.
‘Don’t tempt me,’ Martine said, and Bruno looked into her eyes, his mouth twisting.
‘Could I?’
Annie’s eyes grew enormous, fascinated. She looked from one to the other and waited to hear more.
‘No,’ Martine said through her teeth.
Bruno held the door open. ‘Weren’t you just going, Annie?’ he asked in a bland voice. She hesitated, wanting to stay and eavesdrop, but Bruno’s eyes were hypnotic. Reluctantly she swayed her way across the room towards him. Martine watched Bruno watch Annie. There was a distinct gleam in the dark eyes. Annie was a pocket-sized blonde Venus—high breasts, tiny waist, rounded hips—and she knew how to move to make men stare. Bruno was staring now.
Annie paused to smile up at him; Martine couldn’t see her face but she saw the way Bruno smiled down at her.
‘Dracula hasn’t got anything you haven’t got,’ Annie said, and giggled.
‘Then why aren’t you scared?’ Bruno asked and bent towards her, lip curling to show his teeth, pretending to be about to sink his fangs into her throat.
Annie shrieked in delight and fled.
Bruno straightened and looked across the room. Martine coldly met his laughing gaze and the laughter stopped; his face tightened and turned cold. He walked towards her, letting the door slam behind him.
Her nerve-ends quivered in alarm at something in his stare. He stopped beside her desk, and for an instant of panic she was afraid he was going to touch her, kiss her.
She went crimson, then white, shrinking back from him.
He watched her inexorably.
‘One of these days I’m going to tell you why you can’t stand the sight of me,’ he said softly. ‘And then you’ll really hate me.’
‘I already do!’
It came out before she could stop it, and she bit her lip in shock. She hadn’t meant to be so up-front about her real feelings; she was horrified that she should have lost control like that. In her work she often came up against men she loathed and despised, but she knew better than to let her view of them show!
‘I’m sorry,’ she said edgily, not quite meeting his
