to make things clear. In general.’ She was floundering. Come on, Annis, you can do better than this. ‘Sometimes Lynda can be a bit misleading…’
He did not say anything, maintaining his air of gentle interest. Annis ran out of excusing generalities.
She tried the truth. ‘I—er—I mean I’m a bit of a workaholic.’
She made a despairing gesture. Too big a gesture, as always in this room of objets d’art. Champagne fountained from the glass she’d forgotten she was holding. At the same time a gold-painted plinth swayed at the impact. Konstantin Vitale steadied it. She saw he was looking deeply amused.
Amused! Great!
Of course, she could have said, My stepmother has set me up once too often. She thinks it would be nice for me to meet you. And when she says meet, she means dine with, dance with, holiday with, sleep with and, in the fullness of time, marry. Because my stepmother cannot get her head round the idea that any woman of my age might have other priorities. She thinks I’m scarred and difficult and on the shelf. She wants to help. You’re just the latest in a long, long line of unattached men she thinks might be good for me.
Oh, yes, she could have said that. It was there, every furious word, seething on the tip of her tongue.
Except, Annis was realising uneasily, he did not look like the latest in a long line of anyone. Nor, on consideration, like the sort of man who was likely to be good for the woman of the moment. Challenging, exciting and unpredictable, yes; cynical, certainly. Not, good.
Annis looked into the handsome, world-weary face and was assailed by doubt. Surely even Lynda, who thought she had a moral obligation to throw unmarried people together, wouldn’t imagine she could matchmake for a sophisticate like this?
She said gropingly, ‘Lynda did say she wanted us to meet?’
He was straightening the abstract sculpture on the plinth she had nearly sent flying. He glanced down at her, green eyes glinting.
‘Those common interests of ours, I guess.’
He looked perfectly solemn but Annis knew he was laughing.
Annis’s doubts disappeared. So her first suspicions had been right after all. She was oddly disappointed. She did not want him to be the sort of man to date a millionaire’s daughter, sight unseen.
‘Oh, yes?’ she said freezingly.
He was bland. ‘Meet another workaholic.’
And he held out his hand again.
To her own annoyance, Annis found herself taking it as if he had mesmerised her. It was not the light, social brush of the fingers of that first handshake either. It was a purposeful grasp, as if he were giving her a message.
Startled, she looked down. His hand was tanned and strong. It looked as if he had been working outdoors somewhere in the sun. Her ringless fingers were as pale as water engulfed in his clasp, and looked about as weak, Annis thought in disgust. Was that his message? Indignant she lifted her head and glared right into those strange eyes.
There was a moment’s silence.
Then, ‘Yeah,’ he drawled. As if she had asked him a question. Or as if she were a strange girl he was sizing up across a fairground or the floor of a nightclub. Sizing her up, what was more, with lazy appreciation.
Appreciation? Ridiculous. He had to be mocking her.
Annis tugged her hand away in pure reflex.
She half turned away and spoke at random. ‘If you’re a genuine workaholic, what are you doing at a party? There’s at least another four hours’ working time left tonight.’
It wasn’t a very good joke and Konstantin Vitale didn’t laugh.
‘I could ask you the same thing,’ he said slowly.
Annis was curt. ‘Family.’ She was not going to admit that her stepmother had got her here under false pretences, though. It made her look a fool. So she added lightly, ‘Lynda’s dinner parties are a three-line whip. Besides, I haven’t seen my father since Carew’s half-year results.’
Konstantin Vitale glanced across at his host, currently holding forth by the fireplace. His mouth curled.
‘You work for Carew’s? I thought your stepmother said you were independent.’
Annis bristled. ‘I am. I still take an interest in the family firm.’
The sardonic look deepened. ‘Of course. Why didn’t I think of that?’
He doesn’t like me, she thought. Well, that was mutual.
‘Families do usually take an interest in each other’s affairs.’
‘I’ll take your word for it,’ he said dryly.
Annis narrowed her eyes at him challengingly. ‘No family, Mr Vitale?’
‘None that I’d discuss my financial results with.’
Annis saw the chance for revenge.
‘Could this be why you’re a workaholic?’ she asked sweetly.
He appeared to consider the question. ‘Nothing better to do with my time?’ he interpreted. He shook his head decisively. ‘No, it’s not that. You see, unlike you, I do date.’
The riposte was so unexpected that for a moment Annis could not think of a thing to say. Then she saw the devilish glint of laughter in the green eyes. And was swamped by a blush.
Oh, boy, what a restful Friday evening this was turning out to be!
Annis tried to ignore the heat in her face and the nasty sensation that a master had beaten her at her own game.
‘Each to his own,’ she said crisply, preparing to turn away.
He stopped her by propping himself against the wall and barring her escape route.
‘I so agree. And what is your own, Annis Carew? Are you just playing at business, propped up by family money? Is that what you’re doing here? Checking that the subsidy will keep coming?’
Annis was so indignant she forgot the dying blush.
‘I’m here to network,’ she said furiously and quite untruthfully. ‘In my line of work you seize every opportunity.’
She comforted herself that lots of management consultants did network a great deal. Just because she and her business partner Roy did not choose to, that didn’t undermine the general principle.
‘Plenty of people worth networking with,’ agreed Konstantin Vitale.
How did he manage to sound as if he had found a slug in his salad?
Annis conveniently ignored the fact that when she’d arrived this evening her heart had sunk at the sight of all these dauntingly impressive people. ‘Lucky me,’ she said brightly.
Konstantin
