A Devilishly Dark Deal. Maggie Cox
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But at least the building he had lived in had been safe and hygienic. He abhorred the idea of innocent children having to contend with the dreadful conditions Grace had emphatically outlined to him, so he would be writing her a cheque so that they could have their new building. But he wouldn’t be hurried.
‘Whilst I am a compassionate man, Grace, I am first and foremost a businessman, who is meticulous about looking over the details of every transaction I make. I’m afraid you are going to have to be a little more patient if you want my help.’
‘It’s hard to be patient when you personally know the children who are suffering,’ she murmured, her cheeks turning a delicate rose. ‘You’ve checked out that I am who I say I am, and that the charity I represent is absolutely legitimate, so why delay? I can assure you every penny of the money you give us will be accounted for, and you’ll get a receipt for everything.’
‘I am pleased to hear it, but if you knew how many worthy charities petition me for financial aid you would perhaps understand why I must take the appropriate time to discern who receives it and when.’ He paused to bestow upon her a more concentrated glance. ‘You’re studying me as if you cannot understand my caution in writing you a cheque straight away? Maybe you think that because I clearly have the money I shouldn’t hesitate to give it to your charity? Perhaps you believe that I should feel guilty about having so much? If that is so, then you should know that I worked hard from a very young age to have the success I have now. One thing is for sure … I did not grow up with a silver spoon in my mouth, and neither was good fortune handed to me on a plate.’
The woman sitting opposite him at the table bit down heavily on her plump lower lip and her glance suddenly became fixated on the mosaic-tiled tabletop. When she next looked up her lovely blue eyes were glistening, Marco saw.
‘I’m so sorry. I had no right to rant at you about the situation. I get too passionate, that’s the trouble. You’ve been nothing but hospitable and gracious, giving up your time to talk to me like this, offering your help, and now I’ve been unforgivably rude and presumptuous.’
‘I don’t believe for one moment that you meant to be discourteous. However, I am beginning to realise that underneath that angelic exterior I see before me there is a veritable wildcat.’
‘Only when I see injustice and pain.’
‘Ah … God knows there is enough of that in the world to keep you busy for the rest of your life, no? But, tell me, was that the only reason you came to the Algarve, Grace? To see if you could petition my help for your charity?’
Tucking a strand of drifting fair hair behind her ear, she released a long, slow breath. ‘No, it wasn’t. I truly only thought of asking your help when I overheard that conversation in the café. I’m here because I’m having a bit of a break from work, since you ask. I’m afraid I returned from Africa feeling rather exhausted and a little low after my last visit there. The sights I’ve seen haunt me. Anyway, my parents have a holiday home here and they suggested I come out for a rest.’
‘So you are, in effect, on holiday?’
Her big blue eyes visibly widened, as if she was taken aback by the mere idea. ‘I suppose I am. Although the truth is I’m not very good at relaxing. After being in Africa and seeing the children at the orphanage I can’t stop thinking about them and constantly wondering what else I can do to help.’
‘So when you learned that I would be in the area for a meeting you were determined to try and talk to me?’
‘Yes … I was.’
Helplessly, perhaps inevitably, Marco found himself warming to his refreshingly candid guest even more. ‘Clearly your desire to assist those less fortunate than yourself drove you to risk something you perhaps would not ordinarily do. You must be possessed of an exceptionally kind heart, Grace.’
‘You make it sound like it’s something unusual. There are some wonderful people who work for the charity who are equally committed and devoted.’
Inês appeared through the elegant French doors with a tray of drinks. The plump Portuguese woman’s smile was positively beatific when Grace warmly thanked her for the tall glass of lemonade, and right then Marco thought it would take a stone-hearted soul indeed not to respond similarly to this young woman’s generous warm nature.
When the housekeeper had left them alone again, he took a long cool sip of his drink then leant back in his chair. ‘I told you that I unexpectedly find myself with a free afternoon today? I think I would very much like you to spend the rest of it with me. We will start by going out to lunch.’
Grace was sure that most women finding themselves in her position right now with the arresting Marco Aguilar sitting opposite and declaring they would go out to lunch, would silently jump for joy at having such good fortune. But Grace didn’t jump for joy. The situation was just too unreal to be believable, and she didn’t feel anywhere near equipped to go out to lunch with such a man. Especially when she’d probably just offended him with her passionate outburst and more or less telling him he should help the charity.
He was a successful and wealthy man, yes. But she’d learned that he knew personally what it was like to be deprived and go without—emotionally at least—having been brought up an orphan himself. Why he wanted to be with her for even a minute longer bewildered her. And if she did agree to go to lunch with him, what could she talk about? Save helping the orphans and maybe complimenting him again on his beautiful house?
Before leaving home she’d led a more or less uneventful life. In fact, Grace hadn’t felt as if she’d really experienced life at all until she’d stolen her freedom and permanently left home after returning from university. God knew she loved her parents … was grateful for all that they’d done for her … but in truth there were times when their protectiveness all but suffocated her. They were always so afraid she’d make the wrong choices, always wanting to protect her from the possibility of making mistakes.
That was why she’d never felt able to tell them that she’d once briefly dated a man who had hit her in a drunken rage and tried to rape her. He’d never got the chance to hurt her a second time, but the psychological wounds he’d left her with had not easily nor quickly abated. Though she would never regret her decision to break free, that experience had made her wary of getting involved with anyone again. Even a so-called simple date seemed fraught with danger now.
‘It’s very kind of you to offer to take me to lunch, but … don’t you have someone else you’d rather go with?’
Looking honestly bewildered, her companion shook his head—as if not quite believing what he’d just heard. ‘In answer to that strange question I will only say that I would rather go to lunch with you, Grace. I wouldn’t have suggested it otherwise.’
‘But you hardly know me—and I hardly know you.’ Tearing her glance free from Marco’s disturbingly frank examination, she stared out at the sublime vista of shimmering verdant green that stretched out like an infinite plateau in front of them. It might as well have been a vast ocean and she a small rudderless boat lost in the middle of it, she thought. That was how vulnerable and afraid she suddenly felt.
‘And how will we get to know each other if we don’t spend some time together?’
As if to prompt her into making a decision, pangs of genuine hunger registered inside