Mediterranean Tycoons - JACQUELINE BAIRD

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His tanned shoulders were slightly hunched as he forked scrambled egg into his mouth with one hand, his other tapping something into a laptop.

      One more night with him and it would be over. They would reach Greece tomorrow, conclude their business deal and cut the last slender link that bound them. Never to meet again. She would have her inheritance—or to be precise, Anna and the Taylor Foundation would. A satisfactory outcome, she told herself. Rion would move on to another woman, and she … well, she would what?

      ‘Don’t just stand there—come and join me.’

      Selina didn’t answer her own question. She looked at Rion’s smiling face and walked across to take the seat opposite. ‘You looked occupied,’ she said, glancing at his laptop and then up at him. ‘Do you ever stop working?’ she asked, and took a sip of her orange juice.

      He reached across and took her free hand in his. Raising it to his mouth, he kissed her palm, sending an electric sensation up her arm. A knowing, intimate smile curved his lips as she eased her hand from his.

      ‘I am going to in about half an hour. I have a few things to check out on the Bratchet deal—it is looking good, if a little expensive.’

      ‘You are going into business with that man?’ she asked, carefully placing her glass on the table.

      ‘No—not into business with him.’ The relief she felt was quickly destroyed as Rion continued, ‘He wants to sell up and has offered me first refusal on buying him out. It is a good deal—not so much for the motor trade he runs but for the prime location of the property he owns in New York. Even in a recession you can never lose on owning land in one of the greatest cities in the world. Bratchet knows that, and I am surprised he wants to sell simply because he has finally married and wants to play happy families with Alice and his stepchildren. He is asking more than I want to pay, but everything in life is negotiable and I’ll get it for the right price in the end.’ He grinned.

      ‘Yes,’ Selina agreed numbly. The irony did not escape her that the only time Rion had ever discussed his work with her was now. She had a good idea why Bratchet was selling up. And she could not bear to think why he doted on his step-grandson …

      ‘Give me five minutes, and you will have my undivided attention for the rest of the day.’

      ‘Okay.’ She watched Rion turn back to his laptop and, deep in thought, sipped at her orange juice, oblivious to the beauty of the day.

      The day before the opening of the rescue centre in Cambodia she had been sitting talking with Trevor’s father, Clint, in the foyer of his hotel. He had pointed Justin Bratchet out to her as the man walked across to the reception desk to check out. Bratchet was a regular visitor to Cambodia to indulge his preference for young boys, he’d told her. A police contact had told Clint just that morning that Bratchet had finally been arrested the day before, because an eight-year-old boy he had abused had ended up in hospital. But Bratchet was a very wealthy man and had obviously bribed the right people. The charges had been dropped.

      Selina had been horrified, and asked why the Americans didn’t arrest him. Dryly Clint had told her they could not. They could only extradite the man to stand trial at home if the Cambodian authorities arrested him first, but they would get him eventually, Clint had said. Bratchet might have got a fright and would stay away for a while, but he would be back. His sort couldn’t help themselves.

      At dinner last night Selina had managed to discover that Bratchet was going to the Far East on business the next day, while his wife was going back to America.

      ‘Right, Selina, no more work. How would you like to go scuba-diving off Gozo today?’

      She swallowed the yes that rose in her throat and let her eyes rest on Rion. ‘I thought we were sailing for Greece this morning?’

      ‘I’m not in any rush. We can take a day or two longer if you like.’

      If he had said that yesterday she might have agreed, but not now … Last night her call had not been to her Aunt Peggy but to Trevor. A quick call, to tell him she had seen Bratchet dining in Malta with his wife and learned that Bratchet was leaving tomorrow for the Far East without his wife. Maybe he was tired of matrimony. She’d told him to look out for the man and rung off with the excuse that her new friend was waiting for her—which, in a way, had been true …

      ‘What about your business deal with Bratchet? You said it was expensive—are you still going to pursue it?’ She wanted Rion to say no.

      ‘Of course I am. What have you got against the man? The fact he flirted with you?’

      ‘No, I am far too mature for him anyway,’ Selina said, with a dry irony that was lost on Rion. ‘I just think there is something a bit sleazy about him.’ She wanted to tell Rion the truth, but she wasn’t sure she could trust him.

      Rion got to his feet and came round to her. Taking her hand in his, he drew her up. He looked down into her lovely but serious face.

      ‘When a good deal is to be made the man offering it could be a serial killer for all I care. As long as it is legitimate, business is business.’ He should have known better than to try and talk business with a woman. ‘Now, do you want to go to Gozo or not?’

      ‘Not,’ Selina said, resignation filling her, and, pulling her hands from his, she took a step back. There was no future for them anyway—why prolong the agony by another day?

      After what Rion had said she knew she could not tell him about Bratchet. She had trusted Rion once with her heart and he had broken it. Much as she still loved him she did not dare trust him again—not when other people, children, were involved.

      If her hunch was right and Bratchet was on his way to Cambodia she knew Rion well enough to know he would tell the man. Maybe not in the pursuit of business, but out of genuine disgust at what the man was. But either way Bratchet would be warned.

      ‘We had a deal, you and I. Two weeks—and it ends tomorrow back in Greece. I sign the shares over to you, you pay me, and that’s the end.’

      She glanced up. His tanned perfectly carved features were set in a cold mask. The flicker of pain she thought she’d seen in his dark eyes must have been a figment of her imagination, she dismissed a second later.

      ‘You are right, Selina. A deal is a deal. But it is not quite that simple,’ he said in a cold, flat tone. ‘I’ll tell Ted to prepare to leave immediately, and arrange with Kadiekis to meet us when we dock with the relevant documents. I spoke to him the day after we left Letos and he agreed to inform Anna by letter according to the terms you and I worked out for her. She has probably received the notification by now so there should be no problem.’ And, turning, he walked away.

      ‘Wait.’ She looked around, feeling guilty she had not thought to ask Rion about the lawyer. ‘You have left your laptop,’ she said weakly. He turned, his gaze flicking over her scathingly. ‘The heat will damage it …’ She trailed off as in a few lithe strides he picked up the laptop from the table and stopped in front of her.

      ‘Such concern for my property is admirable, Selina, and as you also belong to me for another day,’ he reminded her, with a predatory smile that left her in no doubt what he meant, ‘I’ll see you later.’

      A deep, brooding frown creased Rion’s brow as he stood on the bridge as the yacht left the harbour. He knew women, and knew Selina had enjoyed the trip as much as he had, but she had turned down his offer to extend the cruise flat. She could not wait a minute longer than she had to to get away, and it bothered him.

      He should be content. He had done what he had planned to do—have a relaxing break made all the more satisfying by Selina. He had got his revenge for her betrayal and enjoyed every minute. He was ready to get back to work full-time—especially with the Bratchet deal.

      So why wasn’t he satisfied? And why did Selina and revenge in the same sentence make him feel thoroughly ashamed of himself?

      

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