The Millionaire's Revenge

‘I could come and visit you when you’re at university,’ she carried on dreamily. ‘Your own room. Bliss. Or else you could come and visit me at university. Taking this year off’s been good, but I can’t wait to stretch my wings and leave home.’

‘Edinburgh is a long way to commute from London.’ He touched her nipple with the pad of his thumb and felt her body still under his touch.

‘What are you saying to me, Gabriel?’ Laura jerked his head up so that their eyes met in the semi-darkness. ‘Too far to commute? I know it won’t be like it is now, with you working locally, but we’ll still see each other, won’t we? Fate brought us together. I know that. Why else would you have happened to see that advert for a job all the way up here, with lodgings provided? And why else would you have found your way here, at these stables, to earn some extra money, meeting me in the process? Fate.’

‘Ah, but are you sure you will have time for me?’ he teased. ‘Studying to become a vet is not going to leave you much time for entertaining old…acquaintances…’

Laura caught the wicked gleam in his eyes and breathed a silent sigh of relief.

‘So it’s just as well that you’re not an old acquaintance, isn’t it?’ She allowed herself a little laugh and relaxed back against the sofa.

‘There is another solution, of course, to the problem of meeting up regularly…’

‘Oh, yes. What’s that?’ She ran one foot along the length of his thigh. ‘Have you suddenly discovered a vast sum of money somewhere and bought a helicopter so you can fly up to see me every evening?’

‘Laura, will you marry me?’

It took a few seconds for Laura’s drowsy brain to absorb what he had just said. ‘You’re joking, aren’t you?’

‘I have never been more serious about anything in my life, querida.’

Laura shifted herself into a sitting position and drew her legs up. She desperately wanted to switch the light on so that she could see the expression on his face, but switching on lights was totally out of the question. The office block was not at all visible from the house, but it was still a chance they never took. Instead, she peered at him.

‘Marry you, Gabriel?’ He was deadly serious. His body language conveyed as much.

‘Of course, it would be a bit difficult to start with, but we could find somewhere cheap to rent in London and as soon as we are settled you could re-apply to a London university to do your course. Having to come up here to work and save money has slowed me down a bit, but I have only one year left to complete and then I will be earning money. We won’t go hungry, mi amor, of that you can be certain.’

‘Gabriel…’ Her voice was a low stammer as the implications of marrying him slammed into her like a fist. Her parents would die. Her mother certainly would. She knew that they had viewed her relationship with Gabriel with growing unease, and they probably weren’t even aware that they were lovers. Her mother had shown slightly more fortitude than her father and had contented herself with the occasional observations that she should be careful not to become too emotionally entangled. Her father had been more outspoken. He had told her only two weeks ago in no uncertain terms that he disapproved strongly of what was going on and that he wanted her to end any relationship before it got out of control.

She could feel him pulling away from her and she reached out and gripped his hand tightly. ‘God, Gabriel, I love you so much. I’ve never felt anything like this before. You know that. I’ve told you that a thousand times. More. But…’

‘But…?’ No, this was not going how he’d imagined, not at all. He had expected her immediate, glowing acceptance. Yes, there would be one or two problems, but nothing that could not be handled. Nothing that they could not discuss and solve. His pride began shifting into place. He could feel it closing around him like a vice and he took a few deep breaths to steady himself.

‘I’m only nineteen,’ she said, half pleading. ‘Can’t we just…carry on like this…?’

‘You mean sneaking around your parents’ backs because you’re ashamed to be seen openly with me?’ he accused harshly, and Laura flinched back from the tone of his voice.

‘That’s unfair!’

‘Is it?’ He stood up and began putting on his boxer shorts, his jeans whilst she continued to watch him with a growing sense of panic. ‘It seems to me, Laura, that you don’t object to my presence in your bed, or should I say on this cursed sofa, but you object to it everywhere else in your life!’ Rage had now settled firmly into place. He remembered her father’s burst of laughter at the unimaginable idea that a poor Argentinian might want to marry his daughter and wondered whether it was so far removed from her own refusal. Because refuse she had. No point trying to cover it up in pretty packaging. She had turned him down.

‘Stop it, Gabriel!’ She sprang to her feet, shaking with dismay, and tried to get his hands between hers, but he brushed them aside and carried on getting dressed whilst she stood before him in all her naked splendour. Her vulnerability only occurred to her when he had slung his tee shirt over him, and then she hurriedly began to follow suit, flinging on her clothes with shaking hands.

‘God, you even still wear your father’s clothes!’

‘He doesn’t wear this! And I only put it on because it’s warm and it was the first thing that came to hand when I left the house tonight! Left the house to meet you!’

‘Yes, under cover of darkness! Would you have been so desperate to come rushing out if I had invited you to dine with me? If you had been forced to tell Mummy and Daddy that you were going on a date with me?’

‘Yes, I would have been just as desperate!’ Her eyes glittered with unshed tears, which she swallowed back. ‘But when have you ever asked me out on a date?’ she flung at him. ‘You come and work and sometimes we ride off together away from the house and we sleep together, but when have you ever asked me to go out to dinner with you?’

‘You know the situation!’ His voice cut through her like a knife and sent a shiver of despair fluttering down her spine. ‘I have always made it clear that every meagre penny I get from the company is ploughed back into my bank account so that I can support myself financially for my last year at university!’

‘I’ve offered to pay!’

‘Accept money from a woman? Never.’

‘Because you’re so damned proud! And you’re letting your pride destroy what we have now!’

‘What we have? We have nothing.’

The silence stretching around them was shattering. Gabriel could hardly look at her. His optimism as he had set off earlier for her house now seemed pathetic and absurd. Even after he had been kicked in the face by her parents, he had still stupidly convinced himself that she would still be his. His wife. He had made the classic mistake of avoiding reality, which was that she was rich and he was poor and never the twain could meet. Whatever flimsy objections she was now trying to come up with.

‘Don’t say that,’ Laura whispered. ‘I love you.’

‘Just not enough to prove it. Just not enough to marry me. Words without action are meaningless.’

‘You make it sound so simple, Gabriel. You love me, therefore do as I say and follow me to the ends of the earth, never mind about hurting anyone along the way.’

He flushed darkly and his mouth tightened into a hard line. ‘It is as simple as you choose to make it.’

‘No, it’s not! It’s anything but simple! What about my university degree?’

‘I told you…’

‘Yes, that I could come to London and somehow it would all be sorted out! And my parents? Do I just walk away from them as well? Why can’t you just…wait? Wait for a few years? My parents would adjust over time…I know they would. I would be able to finish my degree. Perhaps I could start in Edinburgh and arrange a transfer…’ Her voice faltered into silence as she absorbed the hard expression on his face.

‘I made a mistake.’ His mouth curled into a twisted smile that was the death knell on any lingering illusions she might have been nurturing that she could somehow prevent him from walking out of that door and never turning back. ‘I thought I knew you. I realise now that I never did.’

‘You knew me, Gabriel. Better than anyone has ever known me,’ Laura intoned dully. One errant tear slipped out of the corner of her eye and she let it trickle down the side of her face.

‘Oh, I don’t think so, querida.’ The endearment that had filled her with joy only an hour before was now uttered with sneering cynicism. ‘It’s time for you to get back to the playground you know best. You will go to university and be the golden girl your mummy and daddy have trained you to be and then, in time, you will marry someone they approve of and live happily ever after.’

He turned away and began walking towards the door and that snapped her out of her daze and she rushed behind him, past him so that she could position herself in front, blocking his way out.

‘Don’t do this!’

‘Get out of my way.’ There was a grim determination in his voice but Laura stood her ground, refusing to watch him leave even though her head was screaming at her that it was all over and that there was nothing she could do to make him stay.

It flew through her head that she could agree to marry him. Marry him and crash headlong into her parents’ disappointment and anger. Toss aside her aspirations and follow him, as he wanted, to the ends of the earth. But the moment was lost when she realised, knowing it to be a fact, that he would never accept her now. All those little indications of his pride that she had glimpsed over the months had solidified into something she could not breach.

She felt an anger rise inside her suddenly. ‘If you loved me, you would wait for me.’

He reached out and pulled the door open from behind her and, tall though she was, she was not half as powerful as he was. He opened it easily, sending her skittering out of his path.

‘It can’t end like this,’ Laura cried desperately. Her flash of self-righteous anger had lasted but a second before disappearing in a puff of smoke. ‘Tell me that we’ll meet again.’

He paused and looked at her then. ‘You should hope, querida, that we never do…’

CHAPTER TWO

THIS was Gabriel Greppi’s favourite time of the day. Six-thirty in the morning, sitting in the back seat of his Jaguar whilst his driver covered the forty-minute drive into London, allowing him the relative peace and sanity to peruse the newspapers at his leisure. From behind the tinted windows of the car, he could casually look out at the world without the world casually looking back at him.

Sometimes, in the quiet tranquillity of the car, he would occasionally reflect that the price he had paid for his swift and monumental rise to prominence had been a steep one. But such moments of reflection never lasted long. His days of idle, pointless introspection were long over and they belonged to a place he would never again revisit.

He picked up the Financial Times and began scouring it, his dark eyes frowning in concentration as he rapidly scanned the daily updates on companies and their fortunes. This was his life blood. Companies that had suffered under mismanagement, inefficiency or just plain bad luck were his playground and his talents for spotting the golden nugget amidst the dross were legendary.

He almost missed the tiny report slipped towards the back section. Four meagre square inches of newsprint that had him narrowing his eyes as he re-read every word written about the collapsing fortune of a certain riding stables nestling in the Warwickshire equestrian territory.

No, not a man for idle introspection, but this slither of introspection galloping towards him made his hard mouth curve into a smile. He reached forward and tapped on the glass pane separating him from Simon, his driver.

‘You can take the scenic route today, Simon,’ he said.

‘Of course, sir.’ Obligingly, Simon took the next turning from the motorway and began manoeuvring the byroads that led away from the country mansion in Sunningdale towards the city centre.

Whilst Gabriel relaxed back into the seat, crossed his long legs encased in their perfectly tailored and outrageously expensive handmade trousers, and clasped his hands behind his head.

So the riding stables were on the verge of bankruptcy, pleading for a buyer to rescue them from total and ignominious ruin. He could not have felt more satisfied if a genie had jumped in front of him and informed him that his every wish would come true.

For the first time in seven years he allowed his tightly reined mind to release the memories lurking like demons behind a door.

Laura. He stared through the window at the lush countryside gliding past them and lost himself in contemplation of the only woman to have brought him to his knees. The smell of the stables and the horses. Glorious beasts rising up in the misty twilight as they were led back into the stables. And her. Long white-blonde hair, her strong, supple body, the way she laughed, tossing her head back like one of her adored animals. The way she moved under his touch, moaning and melting, driving him crazy. The way she had finally rejected him.

His jaw clenched as he feverishly travelled down memory lane and he felt the familiar, sickening rush of rage that had always accompanied these particular memories.

‘On second thoughts, Simon. Take the motorway. There’s a call I want to make…’

Or rather, a call he would instruct his head accountant to make. But Andy, his head accountant, didn’t get to the office until eight-thirty, and waiting until then nearly drove Gabriel to the edge of his patience.

It was not yet nine when Laura raced into the kitchen and grabbed the telephone, breathing quickly because she had just finished doing the horses and had opened the front door to the frantic trilling of the phone. Of course, the minute she picked up the receiver, she could have kicked herself. Why bother? She knew what was going to greet her from the other end. Someone else asking about unpaid bills. Lord, they were crawling out of the woodwork now! Her father had managed to keep the hounds at bay whilst he had been alive, spinning them stories, no doubt, and using his upper-crust charm to squeeze more time in which to forestall the inevitable, but the minute he had died and she had realised the horrifying extent of the debt, every man Jack had been down her throat, demanding their money. The house had been mortgaged to the hilt, the banks were clamouring for blood and that was only the tip of the iceberg.

How she had managed to swan along in total ignorance of their plight was now beyond her comprehension. How could she not have managed to realise? The house slowly going to rack and ruin? The racehorses being sold one by one? The horses in their care gradually being removed by concerned owners? She had merrily gone her way, doing her little job in the town, coming back to the security of her home and her horses, protected as she had always been from the glaring truth of the situation. God!

Her voice, when she spoke, was wary. ‘Hello? Yes?’

‘This is Andrew Grant here. Am I speaking to Miss Jackson? The owner of the Jackson Equestrian Centre?’

Laura ran her slender fingers through her shoulder-length blonde hair and stifled a little groan of despair.

‘Yes, you are, and if you’re calling about an unpaid bill, then I’m afraid you’ll have to put it in writing. My accountant will be dealing with…with all unpaid bills in due course.’ Like hell he would be. There was simply no money to deal with anything.

‘I have in front of me an article in the Financial Times about your company, Miss Jackson. It doesn’t make pretty reading.’

‘I…I admit that there are a few financial concerns at the moment, Mr Grant, but I assure you that—’

‘I gather you’re broke.’

The bluntness of the statement took the wind out of her and Laura shakily sat on the old wooden chair by the telephone table. With the phone in one hand, she stared down at her scuffed brown boots and the frayed hem of her jeans. In the past four months she felt as if she had gone from being a carefree twenty-six-year-old girl to an old woman of eighty.

‘Money is a problem at the moment, yes, Mr Grant, but I assure you—’

‘That you will miraculously be able to lay your hands on enough of it to clear your debts, Miss Jackson? When, Miss Jackson? Tomorrow? The day after? Next month? Next year?’

‘My accountant is—’

‘I have already had a word with your accountant. He’s managing your company’s death rites, from what I gather.’

Laura gave a sharp intake of breath and felt her body tremble. ‘Look, who are you? You have no right to make phone calls to my accountant behind my back! How did you get hold of his number? I could take you to court for that!’

‘I think not. And I have every right to contact your accountant. The demise of your company is now public knowledge.’

‘What do you want?’

‘I am proposing a rescue package, Miss Jackson…’

‘What do you mean by a “rescue package”? Look, I really don’t know a great deal about finances. Perhaps it would be better if you contact Phillip again and then he can explain to me…’

‘On behalf of a very wealthy client, who wants to meet with you personally to discuss what he has in mind.’

‘M-meet with me?’ Laura stammered in confusion. ‘Phillip has all the books. It would be extremely unorthodox to—’

‘The sooner you are able to arrange a meeting with my…ah…client, the quicker your problems will be resolved, Miss Jackson, so could I propose…’ he paused and down the end of the line she could hear the soft rustle of paper ‘…tomorrow? Lunchtime?’

‘Tomorrow? Lunchtime? Look, is this some kind of joke? Who exactly is this so-called client of yours?’

‘You will have to travel to London for the preliminary meeting, I’m afraid. My client is an exceptionally busy man. If the deal shows promise, then, naturally, he will want to see the stables for himself. Now, there’s a small French restaurant called the Cache d’Or just off the Gloucester Road in Kensington. Could you be there by one?’

‘I…’

‘And if you have any doubt as to my client’s financial worthiness or, for that matter, the reliability of this proposed deal, then I suggest you call Phillip Carr, your accountant, and he should be able to set your mind at rest.’

At rest was the last place her mind was one hour later, after she had called Phillip and plied him with questions about the identity of the apparent knight in shining armour who wanted to buy one desperately ailing riding stables in the middle of nowhere.

‘He can’t be serious, Phillip. You’ve seen the place! Once glorious, now a destitute shambles. Not even a good reputation left to trade on! Just an empty, sad shell.’ Laura felt the prickle of tears welling up when she said this. She could hardly bear to remember the place when it had been in its heyday, when her mother had still been alive and everything had been all right with the world. When everything had been all right in her world, a lifetime ago it seemed.

‘He’s certainly serious at this point in time, Laura, and, face it, what harm is there in checking it out?’

‘Did you manage to find out who exactly this man is?’

‘I have simply been told that his estimated wealth runs into several million, if not more, and I’ve been given a succinct list of his various companies.’ Phillip sounded unnaturally sheepish and Laura clicked her tongue in frustration. She and Phillip went back a long way. He was now about the only person she could trust and the last thing she felt she needed was his reticence.

‘Why the secrecy?’

‘Because he is considerably powerful and he says that it’s essential that no one knows of this possible deal.’

‘I don’t understand.’

Phillip sighed, and she could imagine him rubbing his eyes behind his wire-rimmed spectacles. ‘Look, meet the man, Laura. He might just save the day and you have nothing to lose. The fact is, without some kind of outside help you’ll lose everything. The lot. House, contents, your precious horses, any land you have left. It’s far worse than I originally thought. You’re standing on quicksand, Laura.’

Laura felt a shiver of fear trickle down her spine. Thank heavens her father had not lived to see this day. However much he had squandered everything, she refused to hate him for it. He had been caught up in one long vortex of grief after her mother had died, and what had followed, the gambling that had been exposed, the addiction to alcohol that he had always been able to hide beneath his impossibly cheerful veneer, all of it had been his own sad response to emotional turmoil.

She became aware that Phillip was talking to her and she just managed to catch the tail-end of his sentence.

‘…and the worse is yet to come.’

‘What do you mean? How could things get any worse?’

‘You could be held liable for some of his debts. The banks could descend on you, Laura, claim your earnings. If this man seems genuine, then be more than open-minded about his offer. Entice him into it. It could be your last chance. I frankly don’t see anyone else taking it on.’

Twenty-four hours later, with those words ringing in her ears, Laura dressed carefully and apprehensively for what could turn out to be the biggest meeting of her life. Her wardrobe sparsely consisted of a mixture of working clothes, which she wore to the office where she held down an undemanding but reassuring job three days a week as secretary for an estate agency, and casual clothes, which took the brunt of her work with the horses and showed it. Sensible dark skirts, a few nondescript blouses and then jeans and baggy jumpers. She chose a slim-fitting dark grey skirt, a ribbed grey elbow-length cardigan with tiny pearl buttons down the front and her high black shoes, which escalated her already generously tall height to almost six feet.

Hopefully, this powerful businessman would not be too short. Towering over a diminutive man would do her, she conceded wryly, no favours at all.

Her nerves were in shreds by the time she arrived at the restaurant, after two hours of monotonous travel during which she’d contemplated the gloomy future lurking ahead of her.

As she anxiously scanned the diners, looking for an appropriately overweight, middle-aged man reeking of wealth, Gabriel, removed to the furthest corner of the room and partially out of her sight behind an arrangement of lush potted plants resting on a marble ledge, watched her.

He had not known what to expect. He had awakened this morning positively bristling with anticipation. Not a sensation he had experienced in quite a while and he had relished it. Money and power, he had long acknowledged, didn’t so much corrupt as they hardened. Having the world at your beck and call produced its own brand of jaded cynicism.

He sat back in his chair, watching her through the thick, rubbery leaves of the plants alongside him, and a slow smile curved his handsome mouth. Seven years and this moment was well worth waiting for. Yes, she had changed. No longer did she have that waist-length hair, which, released, had always been able to turn her from innocent young thing into something altogether more sexy. No, but the blunt, straight, shoulder-length hair suited her. His eyes darkened as they studied the rest of her. The lithe body, the full breasts pushing out the little, prim grey cardigan, the long legs. He felt a surge of violent emotion and deliberately turned away, waiting for her now, with his whisky in one hand.

He sat back in the chair and swallowed a mouthful of his drink, mentally following her progress as she was ushered towards his table.

Their eyes met. Brown eyes widening in disbelief clashing with coal-black, thickly fringed ones. Gabriel smiled coldly as she stood in front of him, casting one desperate glance back over her shoulder and then back to him.

‘Gabriel? My God, how are you?’ The residue of shock was still rippling through her body as Laura looked at the spectacularly handsome man lounging in the chair in front of her. She clutched the back of the chair and managed a small, tentative smile.