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Sick with apprehension, Dixie knocked on the door of her lofty employer’s office and walked in, a band of tension tightening round her head, her mouth bone-dry and her palms damp.
César Valverde spun lithely round from the wall of glass which overlooked the City skyline and studied her. ‘You’re late,’ he delivered icily.
‘I’m really sorry…I just don’t know where the time went.’ Dixie studied the deep-pile carpet, wishing it would open up and swallow her and disgorge her only when the interview was safely over.
‘That is not an acceptable excuse.’
‘That’s why I apologised,’ Dixie pointed out in a very small voice without looking up.
There was really no need to look up. In her mind’s eye she could still see César Valverde standing there, as formidable and unfeeling as a hitman. And close to him she always felt murderously awkward, not to mention all hot and bothered. Yet he was physically quite beautiful, a little voice pointed out absently inside her head.
He had the lean dark face of a fallen angel, blessed with such perfect bone structure that at first glance he knocked women flat with his spectacular sleek Mediterranean looks. Hair thick and glossy as ebony. Eyes the same colour as dark bitter chocolate, which blazed into the strangest silver in strong light. Mouth mobile, wide and sensual. A sensationally attractive male animal, but at second glance he had always chilled Dixie to the marrow.
Those stunning eyes were hard and cold, that shapely mouth rarely smiled, except at someone else’s misfortune, and those sculpted cheekbones stamped his features with a quality of merciless unemotional detachment which intimidated. He might radiate raw sexuality like a forcefield, but Dixie still prided herself on being the only woman in the whole building who was repulsed by César Valverde. The guy could give a freezer pneumonia just by arching one satiric brow.
Belatedly conscious of the dragging silence, Dixie emerged from her own reflections and glanced nervously up. Her pupils dilated, her heartbeat quickening as she stared. A decided frown on his striking dark features, César Valverde was strolling in a soundless circle round her, his piercing gaze intent on her now shrinking figure.
‘What’s wrong?’ she breathed, thoroughly disconcerted by his behaviour and the intensity of his scrutiny. ‘Dio mio…what’s right?’ His frown deepened as her slight shoulders drooped. ‘Straighten up…don’t slouch like that,’ he told her.
Flushing, Dixie did as she was told. She was relieved when he positioned himself against the edge of his immaculately tidy glass desk.
‘Do you recall the terms of the employment contract you signed before you started work here?’
Dixie thought about that and then guiltily shook her head. She had had to fill in and sign an avalanche of papers at speed that first day.
‘You didn’t bother to study the contract,’ César gathered with a curled lip.
‘I was desperate for a job…I would have signed anything.’
‘But if you’d read your contract, you would have known that getting into debt is grounds for instant dismissal.’
That unexpected revelation struck Dixie like a sudden blow. She stared at him in horror, soft full lips falling apart, what colour there was in her cheeks slowly, painfully draining away. César studied her the way a shark studies wounded prey before moving in for the kill. In silence he extended a computer printout.
With an unsteady hand, Dixie grasped at the sheet. Her heart felt as if it was thumping at the foot of her throat, making it impossible for her to breathe. The same names and figures which already haunted her every waking hour swam before her eyes and her tummy flipped in shock.
‘Security turned that up this morning. Regular financial checks are made on all staff,’ César informed her smoothly.
‘You’re sacking me,’ Dixie assumed sickly, swaying slightly.
Striding forward, César reached for a chair and planted it beside her. ‘Sit down, Miss Robinson.’
Dixie fumbled blindly down into the chair before her knees gave way beneath her. She was waiting for him to ask how such a junior employee could possibly have amassed debts amounting to such a staggering total. Indeed, in that instant of overwhelming shock and embarrassment, she was actually eager to explain how, through a series of awful misunderstandings and mishaps, such a situation had developed through no real fault of her own.
‘I have not the slightest interest in hearing a sob story,’ César Valverde delivered deflatingly as he lounged back against his desk again, his impossibly tall, lean and powerful length taking up a formidably relaxed pose.
‘But I want to explain—’
‘There is no need for you to explain anything. Debts of that nature are self-explanatory. You have a taste for living above your means and you like to party—’
Cringing at the knowledge that he knew about those shameful debts in her name, and her equally shameful inability to settle them, Dixie broke back into speech. ‘No, Mr Valverde. I—’
‘If you interrupt me again, I won’t offer you my assistance,’ César Valverde interposed with icy bite.
Struggling to understand that assurance, Dixie tipped back her wildly curly head and gaped at him. ‘Assistance?’ she stressed blankly.
‘I’m prepared to offer you another form of employment.’
In complete confusion, Dixie blinked.
‘But if you take on the role, it will entail a great deal of hard work and effort on your part.’
Sinking ever deeper into bewilderment, but ready to snatch at any prospect of continuing employment like a drowning swimmer snatches at a branch, Dixie nodded eagerly. ‘I’m not afraid of hard work, Mr Valverde.’
Obviously he was talking about demoting her. Where did you go from office junior? Dixie wondered frantically. Scrubbing the floors in the cafeteria kitchen?
César sent her a gleaming glance. ‘You’re really not in a position to turn my offer down.’
‘I know,’ Dixie acknowledged with total humility, suddenly starting to squirm at the reality of how much she had always disliked him. Evidently she had completely misjudged César Valverde’s character. Even though he had a legitimate excuse to sack her, he seemed to be willing to give her another chance. And if that meant scrubbing the canteen kitchen floor, she ought to say thank you from the bottom of her heart and get on with it.
‘Jasper hasn’t been well.’
The switch in subject disconcerted Dixie. Her strained face shadowed. ‘By what he’s said in his letters he still hasn’t quite got over that chest trouble he had in the spring.’
César looked grim. ‘His heart is weak.’
Dixie’s eyes prickled. That news was too much on top of all her other worries. Her stinging eyes overflowed and she dug into the pocket of her skirt to find a tissue. But the horrible news about Jasper did make sudden sense of César Valverde’s uncharacteristic tolerance, and his apparent willingness to allow her to remain in his employment by fixing her up with another job. He might not approve of her, or of her friendship with Jasper Dysart, but clearly he respected his godfather’s fondness for her. Presumably that was why he wasn’t going to kick her when she was already down.
‘At his age, Jasper can’t hope to go on for ever,’ César gritted, his unease with her emotional breakdown blatant and icily reproving.
Fighting to compose herself, Dixie blew her nose and sucked in a deep, steadying breath. ‘Will he be coming over to London this summer?’
‘I shouldn’t think so.’
Then she would never see Jasper again, she registered on a powerful tide of pain and regret. The struggle to stay abreast of the debts Petra had left behind made a trip to Spain as out of reach as a trip to the moon.
‘It’s time we got down to business,’ César drawled with perceptible impatience. ‘I need a favour, and in return for that favour I’m prepared to settle your debts.’
‘Settle my debts…what favour?’ Dixie echoed, lost as to what he could possibly be talking about and stunned by the idea of him offering to pay off those appalling bills. A favour? What sort of favour? How could her staying employed in any capacity within the Valverde Mercantile Bank be any kind of a favour to César Valverde?
César moved restively away from the desk and strode over to the window, the clear light of early summer glittering over his luxuriant hair and hard, classic profile. ‘In all probability, Jasper doesn’t have long to live,’ he spelt out harshly. ‘His dearest wish has always been that I should marry. At this present time I have no intention of fulfilling that wish, but I would very much like to please him with a harmless fiction.’
A harmless fiction? Dixie’s bemusement increased as she strained to grasp his meaning.
‘And that is where you come in,’ César informed her drily. ‘Jasper likes you. He’s very shy with your sex, and as a result he only warms to a certain type of woman. Your type. Jasper would be overjoyed if I announced that we had got engaged.’
‘We…?’ Dixie whispered weakly, certain she had missed a connecting link somewhere in that speech and beginning to stand up, as if by rising from the chair she might comprehend something that she couldn’t follow while still sitting.
César wheeled round, a forbidding cast to his lean features. ‘Your job would be to pretend that you’re engaged to me. It would be a private arrangement between us. You would play the role solely for Jasper’s benefit in Spain.’
A curious whirring sound reverberated in Dixie’s eardrums. Her lungs seemed suddenly empty of oxygen. Disbelief paralysing her, she gazed wide-eyed across the room at César Valverde. ‘You can’t be serious… Me,’ she stressed helplessly, ‘pretend to be engaged to…to you?’
‘Jasper will be convinced. People are always keen to believe what they want to believe,’ César asserted with rich cynicism.
As yet uncertain that this weird conversation was actually taking place, Dixie moved her head in a negative motion. ‘But nobody would believe that…that you and I…’ A betraying tide of colour slowly washed up her throat into her cheeks. ‘I mean, it’s just so unbelievable!’
‘That’s where your upcoming hard work and effort will pay off.’ Once again César studied her with that curious considering frown he had worn earlier. ‘I intend to make this charade as credible as possible. Jasper may be naive, but he’s no fool. Only when I’ve finished transforming you into a slim, elegant Dixie Mark Two will Jasper be truly convinced.’
It crossed Dixie’s mind that César Valverde had been at the booze. A slim Dixie Mark Two? She snatched in a short, sustaining breath. ‘Mr Valverde, I—’
‘Yes, I expect you’re very grateful,’ César dismissed arrogantly, a scornful light in his brilliant dark eyes as he surveyed her. ‘In fact I imagine you can hardly credit your good luck—’
‘My good luck?’ Dixie broke in shakily, wondering how any male so famed for his perception could be so wildly off course when it came to reading her reactions.
‘An image makeover, a new wardrobe, all your debts paid and an all-expenses-paid trip to Spain?’ César enumerated with cool exactitude. ‘It’s more than good luck…from where you’re standing now, it’s the equivalent of striking oil in the desert wastes! And you don’t deserve it. Believe me, if I had an alternative choice of fiancée available you’d have been fired first thing this morning!’
‘I was the only choice, wasn’t I?’ Dixie gathered in a wobbly voice. ‘Your type,’ he had said minutes ago, the only woman liked by Jasper that César Valverde knew. A slim Dixie Mark Two? How dared he get as personal as that? Didn’t he even appreciate that she had feelings that could be hurt? But then why should he care, standing there all lean and fit and perfect, probably never having had to watch his appetite once in his entire spoilt rotten life!
‘That’s irrelevant. By the way, I want this arrangement of ours to stay under wraps.’ César scanned her with threatening dark eyes. ‘Do you understand the concept of keeping a secret, Dixie?’
Locked to those spectacular dark eyes, Dixie felt oddly dizzy and out of breath. ‘A secret?’
‘It’s quite simple. If you open your mouth to another living soul about this deal, I’ll bury you,’ César Valverde murmured with chilling bite.
Dixie blenched. ‘That’s not very funny.’
‘It wasn’t meant to be. It was a warning. And you’ve been in here long enough. As soon as you walk out of this office, you can clear your desk and go home. I’ll be in touch this evening so that we can work out the finer details.’
Dixie lifted her chin, her rarely roused temper rising at the arrogance with which he simply assumed that she would do whatever he told her to do, no matter how immoral or unpleasant it might be. ‘Whatever decision I make, I can now consider myself fired…isn’t that right?’
‘Wow, quick on the uptake,’ César derided smoothly. ‘Too dumb to safely operate anything with a plug attached, but reads Nietzsche and Plato in her spare time. According to Jasper, you have a remarkable brain. And yet you never do anything with it. You certainly never dreamt of bringing it into work with you—’
Her lashes fluttered over huge violet eyes. ‘I beg your—?’
‘But then that’s because you’re a lazy, disorganised lump, who contrives to hide behind the front of being a brick short of the full load! Only around me you won’t get away with that kind of nonsense!’
Disbelief roared through Dixie as she reeled from the full impact of that derisive attack, even though on another level she longed to question him about Jasper having said that she had a remarkable brain. However, anger abruptly overpowered that brief spark of surprised pleasure and curiosity. ‘If I can consider myself fired, then I’m free to tell you exactly what I think of you too!’
César gave her a wolfish half-smile of encouragement. ‘I’m enjoying this. The office doormat suddenly discovers backbone. Make my day… Only be warned—I will respond in kind.’
Teeth almost chattering with the force of her disturbed emotions, Dixie drew herself up to her full unimpressive height and hissed, ‘You have to be the most unscrupulous, selfish human being I have ever met! Doesn’t it even occur to you that I might have some moral objection to cruelly deceiving a sweet old man, who deserves better from a male he loves like a son?’
‘You’re right. That thought didn’t occur to me,’ César confessed, without a shade of discomfiture or remorse. ‘Considering that you’re currently on the brink of being taken to court for obtaining goods and services by fraudulent deception, I’m not remotely impressed by the sound of your moral scruples!’
Dixie shrank and turned white. ‘Taken to c-court?’ she stammered, aghast, her eyes nailed to him in the hope that she had somehow misunderstood.
CHAPTER TWO
‘DIO MIO…’ César raised a winging ebony brow to challenge Dixie’s stricken expression. ‘Didn’t you read that printout I gave you either? The interior designer, Leticia Zane, has instigated proceedings. Did you expect her to be sympathetic towards a client who took advantage of her services without the slightest hope of being able to pay for them?’
Numbly, Dixie shook her pounding head, her stomach curdling. ‘But I haven’t got any more money to give Miss Zane…I’ve already offered instalments.’
César Valverde shifted a broad shoulder in an unfeeling shrug. ‘The lady may well have decided to make a public spectacle of you to deter other clients who are reluctant to settle up. You’re a good choice—’
‘A good choice?’ Dixie parroted, scarcely believing her ears.
‘You don’t have socially prominent friends likely to take offence on your behalf and damage her business prospects.’
‘But…but a court prosecution.’ Dixie squeezed out those words, breathless with horror, utterly appalled by what he was spelling out to her. Her own naivety hit her hard. She stared down at the printout, belatedly reading the small type beneath the debt to Leticia Zane’s firm. ‘Prosecution pending’, it said. Her blood ran cold with fear and incredulity. The interior designer knew very well that all the work on her sister’s apartment had been done at Petra’s behest. Dixie had merely been the mouthpiece who’d passed on the instructions.
‘Delusions of grandeur have a price, like everything else,’ César Valverde sighed.
‘I can’t think straight,’ Dixie mumbled sickly.
‘Sharpen up. I haven’t got all day to wait for an answer that is already staring you in the face,’ César breathed with callous cool.
Dixie gave him a speaking glance from tear-filled eyes and fumbled with the crushed tissue still clutched between her shaking fingers. ‘I just couldn’t deceive Jasper like that, Mr Valverde. I couldn’t live with lying to him. It would be absolutely wrong!’
‘You’re being selfish and shortsighted,’ César drawled crushingly, dealing her a look of hostile reproach. ‘Getting engaged to you is the one thing that I can do to make Jasper happy. What right have you to say that it would be wrong or immoral?’
‘Lies are always wrong!’ Dixie sobbed helplessly, and turned away from him in embarrassment.
‘Jasper won’t ever know it was a lie. He’ll be delighted. I plan to leave you with him in Spain for a few weeks…assuming he’s well enough for me to leave, even temporarily,’ César adjusted flatly.
‘I couldn’t…I just couldn’t!’ Dixie gasped strickenly, already plotting a weaving path towards the door, barely able to see through her falling tears but determined not to be swayed by his specious arguments. ‘And it’s wicked of you to call me selfish. How can you do that?’
‘For Jasper’s sake…easily. I’ll call on you tonight to get your final answer. I think you’ll have seen sense by then.’
Dixie hauled open the door with a trembling hand and shot him an angry, accusing glance. ‘Go to hell!’ she launched thickly as she walked out.
Only as she shut the door behind her did she notice the little gathering of staff standing with dropped jaws further down the corridor.
‘Are you OK, Dixie?’ Bruce Gregory enquired kindly.
One of the directors put his arm round her in a very paternal way to walk her away. ‘We’ll get you sorted out with a job some place else.’
‘Not in a bank,’ someone whispered ruefully.
‘Ever thought of cooking for a living?’ another voice asked brightly. ‘You’re a great cook.’
‘A restaurant kitchen could be very stressful, though.’
‘And I drop things,’ Dixie muttered, a sense of being a total failure creeping over her.
‘Imagine you telling César to go to hell!’ the director remarked bracingly.
‘But he’ll never let Human Resources give her a decent reference now,’ Bruce groaned as the older man slotted her into a seat in the office she shared with a couple of the secretaries. Just about everybody on the whole floor seemed to crowd around her then.
‘He tried to blackmail me,’ Dixie mumbled sickly.
