Silver

‘Well, you’ve come to the wrong man, Silver,’ he told her curtly. ‘I don’t need your money. Now get the hell out of my bed before I throw you out…’

Now she had him cornered, and the fierce thrill of triumph that ran through her was visible in the brilliant glitter of her eyes.

‘You’re lying, Jake,’ she countered softly, and then, before he could speak, added coolly, ‘I could allow you to continue to lie to me, but I don’t have that kind of time to waste. You see, I happened to be standing outside Annie’s sitting-room when you were telling her how desperately you did need money.’

What she hadn’t heard was why. Annie, it seemed, knew far more about Jake than she was prepared to admit. It had been obvious to Silver from the quality of their conversation that they were two people who knew one another well—as friends, not as lovers—and, intrigued as she was by the mystery that seemed to enshroud Jake, she was pretty sure that his presence at the clinic had nothing at all to do with any supposed reaction to his surgery, as Annie had originally intimated to her in the days when she’d had far too much to accomplish herself to worry about other people’s affairs.

Lost in her own thoughts, Silver took several seconds to become alive to the deep aura of menace emanating from Jake. It washed over her in an icy cold blast, activating her own instinct for self-preservation.

‘What you want the money for, what you do with it—that’s your concern and not mine, but don’t waste both our time by lying about not needing it,’ she told him, ignoring his anger.

She waited, feeling the tension ease out of her body a little as the menace evaporated.

‘Hasn’t anyone ever told you that it’s dangerous to listen outside other people’s doors?’ he asked her.

Silver shrugged the question aside and said firmly, ‘I’m prepared to pay you a million pounds—–’

She didn’t get any further; Jake interrupted her with a smothered curse.

‘God! If it’s just your virginity you want to lose, you could lose it for free any night of the week just by picking up someone—–’

‘It isn’t,’ she interrupted him flatly. ‘If you’d listened to what I said originally, you’d realise that. My virginity isn’t of any importance. I simply mentioned it to illustrate why I need the expertise you can teach me. It isn’t pleasure I want from you, Jake. It’s simply knowledge. A crash course in what turns a man on, in what sends him out of his mind with desire… In what makes him forget everything else in the driving need to possess one particular woman.’

‘Go and buy yourself a sex manual,’ he jeered. ‘It will come much cheaper than a million pounds.’

But Silver could see where the tiny betraying nerve pulsed in his jaw as his mouth compressed, and she felt a corresponding savage kick of triumph in her own stomach. She was going to win… whether he knew it or not, she was going to win.

She didn’t make the mistake of letting him sense her triumph. He might be blind, but his other senses, already honed by the years he had spent staying alive in one after another of the world’s danger zones, had been hardened by the accident, compulsively perfected by what Annie had once, in an unguarded moment, described to her as the strongest will she had ever come across. His perception was a hundred times greater than that of the majority of sighted human beings.

‘I’ll give you twenty-four hours to think over my proposition,’ she told him coolly. ‘After that, the deal’s off.’

As she spoke, her voice was cold and brisk, formidably like that of her father, a man who had single-handedly run one of the world’s most successful private business empires. It had none of the deliberate sensuality she had injected into it before. She was a clever woman, who for the first time in her life was learning to direct that intelligence into promoting for herself a false image—which in time she was determined would become herself—and she had already learned the power of projecting conflicting messages. She did it now, contrasting the frozen chill of her voice with the deliberately erotic movements of her body. She slipped off the bed and walked slowly up to and then past him, holding herself tall, using her powerful imagination to create the role she needed.

She was a high priestess of an ancient religion, sure of her strength and her power, knowing that her body was one of her strongest tools, unconcerned by her nudity. Her hair rippled down her back, a silver cloud, her skin warmed by the room’s heat.

She didn’t touch him—that would have been a beginner’s mistake—but she walked close enough to him to be quite sure he would be aware of her nudity… of her body, with its woman’s scents and allure.

Annie had told her that he was generally an abstemious man who didn’t indulge in any of life’s pleasures greedily. It was an admission Silver had rather trapped the other woman into giving.

A dulcet comment about the anomaly of the fact that he was a man in his early thirties apparently without any intimate relationship in his life had provoked Annie into defending him, and had also elicited the information that he had once been married and that his wife was now dead.

Silver had sensed that Annie was torn between protecting Jake’s privacy and telling her more. She had been curious to know how his wife had died, but not curious enough to push Annie too hard.

She had other ways of finding out all there could possibly be to find out about him if she so chose… there were those admirable men of business in Switzerland who had looked after her father’s affairs so discreetly and who now looked after hers. But Jake Fitton’s past held no interest for her, and neither did his future. She had a use for him, that was all—a use that, once finished, would cease to be of any importance.

He let her walk past him without moving, looking stoically towards the window as though unaware of the tormenting, warm human presence of her.

Her clothes were in his bathroom. She opened the door, wondering what she would have done if he had given way and reached for her.

She didn’t like admitting that she could make mistakes, and had he reached for her she would have had to acknowledge that she had made one.

She didn’t want a man who wanted her, who felt desire for her… just as she didn’t want to know anything about Jake other than the fact that he suited her requirements admirably and that he disliked her enough to ensure that their relationship did not cross any of the barriers she intended to set around it.

Yes, he was ideal for her purpose, this cold, angry, embittered human being who looked at her with those hawk’s eyes that couldn’t see her, but that still held bitterness and dislike. She approved of that. She understood it and could relate to it. She needed him, and she meant to coerce him into submitting to that need.

CHAPTER TWO

SILVER waited out the twenty-four hours in her chalet. The oil sheikh had installed a Jacuzzi in a specially built extension that was raised on pillars some thirty feet above the ground.

The room was circular, one third of its wall-space taken up by specially treated glass that allowed those inside to look out, but no one to look in. From the Jacuzzi the view of the mountains was spectacular.

Low divans followed the curve of the glass wall, heaped with priceless rugs and silk cushions. The jacuzzi was large enough to hold an entire rugby team, and sometimes, when she relaxed in it, Silver wondered about the women who had shared it with the sheikh.

Had they enjoyed the experience? He was fifty-odd years old and fat, with heavy jowls and small, greedy eyes. His hands flashed with jewels and his beard smelled of perfume.

Silver had rented the chalet through an intermediary who had been instructed to describe her as a very wealthy middle-aged widow. She had not wanted any unheralded visits from the chalet’s owner while she was in residence, something which she had heard on the grapevine had happened to a beautiful, amoral socialite she knew, who had described the event with a shudder of distaste.

The socialite’s companion, a sleek, too pretty nineteen-year-old boy with homosexual tendencies, had laughed maliciously and taunted, ‘Oh, come on, you must have been tempted. They say he’s a very generous lover, and gives uncut stones as a mark of his appreciation. The more appreciative he is, the higher the carat of the diamond.’ And he had looked pointedly at the brilliantly cut stone she had been wearing on her finger.

Everyone had laughed until she had told him tartly, ‘This, my dear one, is a fake. He also punishes those who don’t please him by knocking them around or passing them on to his bodyguards.’

Silver had no real fears that he would arrive unexpectedly. She moved languidly in the warm water and then got out. The twenty-four hours were almost up, and she had heard nothing from Jake.

She dried herself, standing carelessly in front of the huge window, enjoying the room’s heat. A jungle of plants covered the back wall, turning the room into a luxurious green cavern of tropical indolence, an erotic contrast to the crisp sharpness of the snow outside.

Before she dressed she smoothed body lotion into her skin; it had the same expensive perfume as her scent. It left her skin velvet-soft and with the same lustrous gleam as expensive heavy satin.

Jake had another two hours. After that she would start packing for her return trip.

The phone rang, and she dropped the silk underwear she had just picked up, reaching for the receiver, subduing the wild dance of elation that sang through her blood.

‘Silver?’

It wasn’t Jake. She forced down her disappointment.

‘Annie. How are you?’

‘Fine. Can you make it for dinner on Friday? It will only be a fairly informal affair. Some old friends are passing through. Jake will be there…’

‘Does he know you’ve invited me?’ Silver questioned her, wondering if this was a skilful ploy of Jake’s to evade her time-limit and yet accept her terms at the same time.

‘He doesn’t even know yet that I’m going to invite him,’ Annie told her.

‘Mm… Friday… I’m afraid I won’t be able to make it. I won’t be here.’

There was a short silence, and then Annie queried almost sharply, ‘So you’re going through with it, then? I understand why you feel the way you do, but is it really wise? Wouldn’t it be better to simply leave things as they are? To put the past behind you?’

‘No,’ Silver told her with emotionless economy. They had been through this so many times before, ever since in that moment of weakness she had confessed to Annie how important it was to her that she reach the goal she had set herself—an impossible goal, some might claim; an unhealthy, even dangerous goal, others might say… especially Annie… especially if she knew the full truth. There were certain things that Silver had kept back from her, certain truths which she had suppressed because even now she could hardly accept them herself.

To have learned that the man she loved had not only betrayed her but was also involved in her father’s death, and in supplying drugs to other members of the wealthy and élite circles he moved in, had devastated her.

No, these were not things that could be told to anyone. Charles had boasted to her that he was beyond the reach of the law, that he had powerful friends who would protect him… well, she was going to show him that, though he might think himself invincible, he was vulnerable just as she had been vulnerable… just as her father had been vulnerable. She was going to bring him down… to destroy him… to…

‘Silver, think!’ Annie cautioned her. ‘If you do succeed, what then—what afterwards?’

‘I don’t care about afterwards,’ Silver told her truthfully.

In her cluttered, untidy office, Annie stared at the calendar on the wall. It depicted a paradisiacal Indian Ocean island, all pale yellow sands, emerald seas and waving palm trees. If she was truthful, she had never felt happy about doing Silver’s operation; that was why she had abandoned the lucrative field of cosmetic surgery in the first place. The puritan in her had balked at what she was doing… And yet there had been something about Silver that had called out to her for help… something in her very desolation and determination that she hadn’t been able to resist. She had felt an awareness of the extent of her suffering, of her need… she, who had thought herself armoured against emotionalism, just hadn’t been able to refuse to help her.

And then, of course, there had been the money.

Five million pounds to help finance her clinic here in Switzerland… her very special clinic where she used her skills to treat the victims of human violence and destructiveness, mending ruined faces and bodies torn, ripped apart… destroyed by human cruelty.

All her skill, though, hadn’t been enough to save Tom.

As always, the memory of her husband weakened her, pain sweeping through her, blotting out the environment of her hospital with its orderly, sane demands on her, taking her to another place… another life and the man she had shared them with.

It was no good remembering Tom. He was never going to come back, never going to bound into their flat, sweeping her off her feet and into bed. She trembled, remembering how it had been between the two of them, and knowing that it was as much because of that… because of all she had shared with Tom that Silver would never have… that she had finally been persuaded to carry out the operations which had given Silver her new face.

‘Be careful,’ she said quietly. ‘Be very careful, Silver…’

Silver smiled mirthlessly as she replaced the receiver. She had no need of Annie’s warning. She knew full well the enormity of the task she had set herself, but it would be accomplished, and without Jake Fitton’s help if necessary. There were other men.

But none quite as ideal, she acknowledged bitterly twelve hours later, standing on the platform waiting for the local train which would take her to Innsbruck. She was travelling light, the same way she had arrived: one piece of hand luggage, into which she had managed to pack everything she had brought with her.

In Paris she would buy new clothes, clothes for the woman she had made herself into. For the woman Annie had made her into, she amended grimly. She had no illusions about herself. Outwardly she now bore the physical attributes of a beautiful woman. The ability to reflect those physical attributes inwardly, to project the reality of being that woman—that task lay with her. She had the determination to do it… the motivation… she had the intelligence. And the skill? Only time would tell.

She now possessed the physical body and face of a beautiful woman; in Paris she would clothe that body as it needed to be clothed if she was to attract Charles’s attention and ensnare him. She knew exactly what kind of woman appealed to him. How he liked initially to be challenged, even dominated by the woman he desired… It was only later that his own true character surfaced and he began to need to inflict cruelty and humiliation on his lovers… to subjugate them…

She had learned a good deal about the real Charles since her father’s death… about the Charles who hid behind the mask of almost godlike physical beauty… behind the appeal of his tall, broad-shouldered body and his golden, deceitful face.

Yes, in Paris she would buy clothes: clothes from Valentino and Armani, from Chanel arid Yves St Laurent, clothes from those designers who knew all about how subtly to emphasise a woman’s sexuality without making a parody of it.

And from Paris she would go to London. To a new life… a new identity. Everything was arranged: the exclusive apartment that whispered sleekly of old money… the letters that would allow her to enter Charles’s milieu as an accepted member of that exclusive and very small world.

Everything was planned, right down to the smallest detail.

A frown touched her forehead as she acknowledged the one major obstacle still confronting her. She now had to find someone to take Jake Fitton’s place. Someone dispensable… someone who would give her what she wanted… what she had to have if her plan was to succeed.

Damn Jake Fitton. She had known he would be difficult to persuade, had known it instinctively, a gut-deep reaction rather than any logic. After all, by his own admission he needed the money… and she had counted on his needing that money too much to refuse her.

That she should have miscalculated so badly and so early on in her planning was more worrying than she wanted to admit. It spoke of an underlying lack of facts; of having made an emotional rather than a clinical decision; of having made the kind of basic error her father would have derided. He had taught her to play chess, he had taught her to gamble for the highest stakes, and he had taught her to run his business affairs, which were now hers… and she had thought she had learned those lessons well. She had thought there was nothing anyone could teach her about man’s basic greed and vulnerability; now she was having to rethink the assessments she had made… to backtrack… to look for an alternative route by which she could reach her ultimate goal.

The train arrived. She got on board without looking back, swaying easily down the carriage, knowing that people were watching her, but remaining outwardly oblivious to their interest.

She sat down and removed a magazine from her bag, coolly snubbing the attempts of the man seated opposite her to engage her in conversation.

Maybe in Paris she would find a man. She told herself it was stupid to allow herself to get so worked up over Jake’s refusal of her proposition, that there was no point in dwelling on what was after all a very minor matter, but it remained there like a small shadow, clouding her mood, growing as the miles passed. The fact that he had rejected her as a woman didn’t bother her… After all, she reasoned mirthlessly, that was something she was used to.

No, it was her own miscalculation that worried her… her own failure to correctly judge the situation, guess what his reactions would be. It showed a grave lack of judgement—a lack of judgement she could not afford. And only now did she admit that she had chosen Jake Fitton as much because he was such a challenge as because of his suitability for the role. It was that small piece of vanity that had been her downfall, and now she was furious with herself too for putting her whole plan into jeopardy simply for the unnecessary and trivial pleasure of putting Jake down, of forcing him to acknowledge her superiority.

His thinly veiled contempt of her had rankled after all… and that was a weakness she could not afford to have. After all, before she was finished, there would be people who felt far more than mere contempt for her…

She closed her eyes and leaned back in her seat, ruthlessly regimenting her thoughts, forcing herself to admit her own stupidity…

The train rattled into Innsbruck.

She was spending the night in a hotel before flying out in the morning. A porter caught sight of her and hurried towards her beaming, only to grimace when he saw she had no luggage. She walked out into the sharp winter sunlight, looking for a taxi. A car drew up alongside her, the rear door opened and from inside it Jake Fitton said quietly, ‘Two million pounds.’

She wanted to refuse, to tell him that it was too late, that the deal was off. The words trembled on her tongue, but she fought them back. She couldn’t afford to give in to emotionalism now.

Instead she smiled and said coldly, ‘You put a high price on yourself, Jake. I hope you’re worth it.’ And then she slid into the car beside him, closing the door and settling herself into her seat while he instructed the driver.

He was taking her back to his chalet, she realised, listening. Two million pounds. Well, she could afford it—easily! She closed her eyes again; her heart was thumping frantically. Until this moment she hadn’t wanted to admit to herself how important it was that it was this man who completed the final hurdle for her… that his acceptance of her terms had a symbolism that was very important to her. Far more important than the man himself.

On the drive back to Gstaad he addressed no comment to her, and she was skilled enough to make none of her own.

She had been brought up by a father whose realisation, eight years after her birth, that she would be the only child he could ever have had led him to pour into her all that he himself had learned in his determination to make her a fitting heir to his name and possessions. Car journeys, for her, were always a reminder of those times when she had sat beside him in the back of the Bentleys he had always chosen over the more status-laden Rolls-Royces, listening while he talked, answering while he questioned. So Jake’s silence was an added burden.

She wondered if such silence was habitual to him, or if he was deliberately trying to unnerve her. Apart from that afternoon in his chalet, she had never really been alone with him, having always encountered him only in Annie’s company.

On those occasions he and Annie had talked as old friends did. There had been silences, generated when he’d become aware that she was there, a silent third, an interloper on their intimacy, and then it had been Annie who had talked, sensing the atmosphere between them and trying her best to disperse it.

The road twisted and turned, offering superb views that were not designed for the nauseous or nervy. In Gstaad they had to stop to allow returning skiers to cross the road. Silver recognised Guido Bartoli among them. Even now it was not too late to change her mind.

The skiers cleared, and the car pulled away smoothly.

‘Second thoughts?’ Jake said quietly beside her, focusing on her as though he could see her.

She had known from the moment she met him that he was dangerous, ruthless—a merciless foe—but such enmity demanded a degree of involvement, of intimacy even, that would not enter their relationship.

Allowing only polite coldness to inform her face and voice, she said quietly, ‘Two million pounds is a lot of money.’

He smiled at her, a curling, taunting smile that said what they both knew: that her second thoughts had nothing to do with money.

As she looked away from him, Silver wondered why, when, since he was blind, she was completely free to look at him, to study and assess him, she found it so difficult to do so.

Where did it come from, this innate distaste for breaching his privacy even when she knew he would be unaware of it?

It was true that he was conspicuously formidable, hardened by life into something almost indestructible. You could see that in him by just looking at him, by seeing how he reacted to his blindness, how he accepted it and adapted to it, daring it to imprison him.

They had reached the chalet. Silver fumbled for the door-handle and got out, waiting for Jake to join her. He stopped to say something to the driver and then walked across to her, finding her unerringly.

He unlocked the chalet door, telling her calmly, ‘Just as a matter of interest, I’ve had the locks changed.’

Silver followed him inside. The stove was burning warmly, and from the kitchen came the mouth-watering aroma of something cooking.

‘I thought it might be as well if you moved in here for the duration of your… tuition. I’ve allocated you a bedroom—second on the left. It doesn’t have a private bathroom, but there is a shower. Since I’m sure neither of us wants to draw this out any longer than necessary, I suggest we make a start this evening. Since you specifically mentioned that seduction was your prime objective, I have to assume that where the non-sexual aspects of such a role are concerned you require no enlightenment.’

He paused, as calmly polite as a lecturer addressing a student, which of course she was.

Silver inclined her own head and replied evenly, ‘Your assumptions are correct.’

‘Mm… you sound confident, but a confident woman wouldn’t have worn that perfume you were wearing the other day. It’s too strong… too obvious. Unless, of course, your prey has a particular penchant for it.’