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For an instant her smile faltered. She had already faced the fact that it would be impossible for her to return to Wolfe International. That chapter in her life was over.
Whether or not she succeeded in her mission, it would be time to put the past behind her, if she could, and move on…
But she would succeed, she vowed. She had to succeed to make the rest of her life worth living.
The bus, its grimy windows filmed with a fine drizzle, crawled through the heavier-than-usual Thursday evening traffic like a wounded snail.
By the time Charlotte got off at Belton Street and let herself into the Bayswater flat, her first, almost sick, excitement had seeped away.
So had her confidence.
As naturally tidy as her flatmate was untidy, she hung up her coat and suit jacket before going through to the bright little kitchen.
Carla, who looked like a cat, had all the subtlety of a Rottweiler and was fond of quoting platitudes. She was standing by the stove.
Her short black hair standing up in spikes, her triangular face a little flushed, she was stirring a pan of herby-smelling sauce with one hand and feeding long sticks of pasta into furiously bubbling water with the other.
Looking up, she said, ‘I thought we’d have Spag Bol tonight, if that suits you?’ Then, without waiting for an answer, ‘What happened? Did you get it?’
‘Yes, I got it.’
‘Brill! So you’re on course at last. How long will you be away?’
‘I don’t know. It all depends on how things go. The memo said six months, possibly a year… But I’m hoping to be home much sooner than that. I suppose you’ll get someone else to share the rent?’
Carla who, with another friend, Macy, ran a small but very successful boutique, shook her head. ‘I doubt it. It’s not really necessary, and I don’t know how I’d get on living with someone else.
‘Any idea when you’ll be going?’
‘Tomorrow.’
‘Tomorrow!’ She sounded staggered. ‘Why so soon?’
‘They want me to get settled in before Christmas. You don’t mind, do you?’
‘Of course I don’t mind. To tell you the truth, Andrew has been pressuring me to go up to Scotland with him on the 23rd. His family live in Dundee.’
‘You didn’t mention it.’
‘I couldn’t decide whether or not I wanted to go.’
Realizing that Carla had been unwilling to leave her, Charlotte could only feel grateful for such a loyal friend.
Knowing from past experience that her flatmate was uncomfortable with any undue display of sentiment, she merely said, ‘But you’ll go now, I hope?’
‘I expect so. Though the shop’s bound to be busy, Macy has offered to hold the fort for a couple of days in exchange for extra time off at New Year.’
Fishing out a strand of spaghetti and pinching it between her finger and thumb, Carla went on briskly, ‘This is done, so I’ll start dishing up. You can fill me in on all the details while we eat, and afterwards I’ll help you with your packing.’
Then with satisfaction, ‘It’s a jolly good job I bullied you into buying all those new clothes in the autumn sale…
‘Tell you what—’ she continued, putting down two steaming bowls ‘—get some wineglasses out and we’ll have a bottle of plonk to celebrate. When you’ve got your claws into Daniel Wolfe and brought him to his knees, we’ll have champagne.’
‘I don’t think I can go through with it,’ Charlotte admitted in a rush.
‘Of course you can go through with it!’ Carla’s dark eyes flashed. ‘That kind of swine ought to get his comeuppance.’
‘But, even if I can attract his attention in the first place, I don’t think I’m a good enough actress to pretend to like a man I loathe and detest.’
‘Certainly you are. Didn’t you play the femme fatale opposite that revolting Keith what’s-his-name when the Sixth Form put on Someone Like You?’
‘This isn’t the same…’
‘You can do it!’
‘I’m not so sure… The thing is, as well as being an extremely wealthy man, Daniel Wolfe’s got loads of sex-appeal, so he’s—’
‘How do you know he’s got loads of sex-appeal?’
‘I’ve seen pictures of him in the papers.’
‘Newspaper pictures can give a false impression.’
‘He’s always got a woman clinging to his arm.’
‘That could be something to do with his money. You know what they say about millionaires—some women will love them if they’re bald and hideous and only four foot two.’
‘He must be at least six foot and he has plenty of hair. Added to that, he’s undeniably attractive.’
‘Close to, I bet you he’s wall-eyed and has halitosis,’ Carla said sourly.
Charlotte smiled fleetingly. ‘Just in case I do manage to get close to him, I rather hope not. But what I’m trying to say is, apart from being rich, he’s clever and intelligent. I don’t know if I can attract someone like that.’
Carla lifted her eyes to heaven as though praying for patience. ‘You’ve been attracting the opposite sex since you were at school, without even trying.’
‘But Daniel Wolfe is different. He lives in a different world and with no lack of women to choose from he may not fancy someone like me.’
‘He’ll be interested.’
‘How can you be so sure?’
‘He’s a man, isn’t he?’
‘Yes.’
‘And straight?’
‘Almost certainly.’
‘Then, mark my words, he’ll be a pushover.’
CHAPTER TWO
HER brain stuck on a mental treadmill, thinking, planning, analyzing, unable to rest, Charlotte lay awake for most of the night. She got up the next morning heavy-eyed and headachy, and pulled on her old woollen dressing-gown.
Outside it was grey and gloomy, with lingering patches of mist. Her father would have referred to it as ‘one of the dark days before Christmas’.
When she trailed through to the kitchen Carla, fully dressed and ready for her usual early start, was making toast and coffee.
‘You look like something the cat dragged in,’ she remarked bluntly.
‘I feel like it,’ Charlotte admitted.
‘No beauty sleep?’
‘Not much.’
‘You’ll have to do a lot better than that. If Daniel Wolfe could see you now, he’d run and hide.’
While they ate breakfast together she remarked thoughtfully, ‘I reckon your best bet would be to appeal to his protective instincts, supposing he’s got any. In my experience most macho men like the “wide-eyed and helpless” bit.’
‘I’m not sure I can do wide-eyed and helpless,’ Charlotte objected.
‘Try. It feeds their egos, believe me.’
‘I do believe you, but—’
‘How far do you intend to go? To hook him, I mean. You don’t plan to go to bed with him?’
A shiver running down her spine at the very thought, Charlotte said vehemently, ‘No I most certainly don’t!’
‘Not that you couldn’t use a spot of fun in your life…’
‘That kind of excitement I can do without.’
‘Well, if his reputation is anything to go by, he must be pretty good in bed and in your place I’d give it a whirl.’
‘With a man like that?’
‘As far as I’m concerned, life’s a bowl of cherries. You have to spit out the stones and enjoy the flesh.’
‘I don’t seem able to,’ Charlotte admitted. ‘I often wonder if there’s something wrong with me.’
‘The only thing wrong with you is your pride. And pride builds a lonely house. But a word of caution… If you do mean to keep saying no, just watch yourself. Don’t let the big bad Wolfe get you alone. From all accounts he’s a born seducer and you never know, if he’s used to getting his way, he may turn nasty…’
After issuing a spate of last-minute warnings and advice Carla gave her a quick hug. ‘I’d better go. Fridays are always busy and so close to Christmas it’s bound to be hectic.
‘Oh, by the way, I’ve left your Christmas present on the bookcase. I haven’t had time to wrap it, so you can use it as soon as you like.’
At the door she turned to say, ‘Keep in touch. I’ll miss you.’
When Charlotte went through to the living-room she found one of the boutique’s elegant black and gold bags on the bookcase.
It contained three pairs of pure silk stockings and a bottle of Dawn Flight, her favourite perfume.
Smiling fondly at the other girl’s absurd generosity, she went to fetch the Carillon Trilogy, which Carla had wanted.
Enquiries had proved it to be out of print, but after weeks of searching Charlotte had been lucky enough to find the set in a second-hand bookshop.
After she had showered, made-up with care and twisted her dark red-gold hair into a shining coil, she put on the sage-green suit and oatmeal blouse she had left ready and zipped up her case. Then, feeling tense and jumpy, she went to stand by the window of the basement flat.
She was looking up at the damp street when a sleek dark blue limousine with tinted windows stopped by the spiky wrought iron railings.
A moment later a uniformed chauffeur descended the steps and knocked at the yellow-painted door.
She hurried to open it.
Young and smart, he touched his peaked cap. ‘Morning, Miss Michaels.’
‘Good morning.’
‘May I take your luggage?’
‘Thank you.’
While he dealt with her case, Charlotte locked the door and put the key through the ornate letter-box, before following him up the area steps.
Having closed the boot he sprang to open the door of the limousine.
He couldn’t have been more on the ball if he’d been chauffeuring Daniel Wolfe himself, she thought, secretly amused by his super-efficiency.
Head down, she had started to climb in before she realized that a man with dark hair, wearing a charcoal-grey business suit and a muted shirt and tie was already sitting there.
Surprise making her miss her footing, she stumbled and ended up almost in his lap, her face only inches from his, the warmth of his breath on her lips.
Steadying her until she was properly seated, he picked up the shoulder-bag she had dropped and handed it to her. ‘I’m afraid I startled you.’ He had an attractive voice.
‘I just wasn’t expecting…’ As she realized who her fellow passenger was, the words tailed off.
No, it couldn’t be.
But it was.
Although she had only seen pictures of him, there was no mistaking that tough, charismatic face and the arrogant tilt of that dark head.
In the flesh he was even more sexy than his pictures had led her to believe, and Carla had been quite wrong. His breath was fresh and sweet and the eyes that looked straight into hers were amazing—a brilliant silvery grey, their heavy lids fringed with dense, sooty lashes.
Her heart started to race and her breathing became shallow and impeded, while a quiver of pure hatred ran through her.
