A Bad Enemy (3 page)

She fumbled for the door catch, and the door swung open.


'I don't want to hear any more of this,' she said, as she got out. 'I'm going to see my grandfather. He's all I need to know about right now.'


She had long legs and she strode out, hoping that he would take the hint and stay where he was, but when she reached the electronically operated sliding doors to the main, foyer, he was beside her.


Lisle turned to him, her face frozen. 'This is getting ridiculous.'


'I quite agree,' he said grimly. 'Perhaps before you go rushing off in all directions to intensive care, you might care to listen to me for a moment. There's something you ought to know.'


She looked up into the harshly unsmiling face, her green eyes widening. 'There are—other complications? He can't—oh no, he can't be—dead already, and you haven't told me?'


'Of course not. But you're right that there are complications—although it's true to say that Murray is causing them, not suffering from them.'


Lisle felt unutterably weary. She slid a hand round the nape of her neck, freeing her heavy fall of copper hair from the confines of her coat collar.


'All the complications seem to be in your head, Mr Allard. Could you explain more clearly, if you must, and a damned sight more quickly.'


'Last time I gave you bad news, Miss Bannerman, you complained because I didn't break it to you gently.'


Oh, I'm not listening to any more of this!' Lisle turned away impatiently, but he detained her, taking her arm, not gently, and pulling her round to face him.


'Yes, you are,' he grated. 'You're going to listen, you spoiled little brat, so that if Murray is conscious and able to speak, you'll be able to tell him what he wants to hear.'


'That I'm delighted he's apparently selling out to you?' Lisle demanded, green eyes sparkling. 'The words would choke me.'


'Then chew them well,' he came back at her, his mouth twisting. 'Because it's no business deal he wants you to approve. What Murray's waiting to hear is that I've asked you to marry me—and that you've agreed.'

There was a long screaming silence.

At last, Lisle said huskily, 'You—cannot be serious.'

Jake Allard said with a kind of weary impatience, 'Is it likely I'd be joking—about such a thing—and at a time like this?'

She looked at him blankly. 'But Murray couldn't—he wouldn't.'

'Wrong on both counts, I'm afraid.' The grey eyes flickered over her, then still holding her arm Jake began to propel her towards some of the tan leather benches, placed back to back in the main reception area. He said abruptly, 'Sit down. I'm going to phone up to the unit and see if they're ready for us.'

Lisle was thankful to feel the solid support of the bench under her. Her mouth was dry and she was shaking from head; to foot. She found herself thinking with sudden mocking clarity that if she collapsed, at least it would be in the right place. She placed her folded hands on her knees, and sat staring at them, noticing almost detachedly the white knuckles, the strained grip of the slender fingers. She felt shattered. Incapable of assimilating what Jake had said, or rationalising it.

It seemed a very long time before Jake came back, but she knew that in reality it was only a few minutes. She looked up at his dark face, mentally bracing herself for more bad news, more shocks, but his cool, guarded expression gave nothing away.

'Sister says fifteen minutes. We'll go to the cafeteria and wait there.'

She didn't even think of protesting. She went with him across the foyer to the lifts. An elderly man holding a bunch of flowers, a youth, barely out of his teens by the look of him, with his arm tenderly round the shoulders of a massively pregnant girl were already waiting. As the lift began its upward journey, Lisle found her gaze straying constantly to the young couple. The girl's left hand with its wide golden band lay protectively over her distended abdomen, and although she was clearly nervous, she was smiling up at' her husband, her eyes bright with excitement and happiness.

Marriage, Lisle thought numbly, the ultimate partnership. Sharing a life, sharing a bed, conceiving a child in mutual passion, caring for it together…

She glanced at Jake and found him watching her with such irony that her face was flooded with sudden, burning colour.

The cafeteria was a dazzle of bright lights, stainless steel, and red formica-topped tables with matching plastic seats. The coffee was surprisingly good and came in thick white institutional cups. Lisle refused anything to eat, but Jake bought a round of cheese sandwiches and ate them with every evidence of enjoyment. When he had finished, he pushed the plate away and looked at her.

'For Pete's sake stop staring at me as if you expect to be leapt upon at any moment,' he said. 'I promise you nothing could be further from my mind.'

'I wasn't!' Lisle denied indignantly. 'But you can't expect to—to spring things on me like that and expect me to take it in my stride.'

'I suppose not.' He gave her a long, considering glance. 'Well, Miss Bannerman, I think we'd better talk — or may I call you Lisle, seeing that we're practically engaged.'

'We are not engaged!' Lisle returned her cup to its saucer with a bang that even put that sturdy china at risk. 'I'd rather die!'

'Death before dishonour?' The firm lips curved in frank amusement. 'That's a curiously old-fashioned viewpoint.'

'I don't give a damn how old-fashioned it is,' she said shortly. 'Arranged marriages aren't exactly eighties-style either.'

'I don't think the Asian community among us would necessarily agree with you.' Jake's tone was deceptively mild. 'And they have our galloping divorce rate to back them up too. But that's by the way—what I really want to get across to you is that you're not to give Murray a blow-by-blow account of your true opinion of me, my manners, morals or anything else which occurs to you. This scheme of his to marry us to each other is dear to his heart, and you're not going to upset him by dismissing it out of hand.'

Lisle sat up very straight on the uncomfortable plastic chair. 'You're not suggesting that I should—go along with it?'

'Why not?' He gave her a level look. 'I'm prepared to—and I have just as little taste for you as you have for me, darling. But although you probably don't know it, Murray and I go a long way back. He was good to me when I was starting up, and gave me a lot of help and advice. I owe him, in other words, and I think you do too, lady, if your expensive flat, your pretty clothes and your sinecure at Harlow Bannerman are anything to go by, not to mention the unlimited expense account you and your brother have been running.'

'You have been busy,' Lisle commented, a bright spot of colour in each cheek.

The grey eyes hardened with contempt. 'It's time someone was, sweetheart, otherwise your private gravy train could come off the rails for good. Your grandfather has decided I'm the right man for the job, and my appointment as managing director will be confirmed by the board early next week.'

'Not if Gerard and I have anything to do with it,' she said furiously.

'Gerard will find himself isolated,' he said curtly. 'Perhaps you've forgotten that your voting shares in the company are under your grandfather's control until you're twenty-five, and he's already signed a proxy supporting my appointment.' He paused, then added with heavy emphasis, 'And he's selling me his own block of shares, so I won't just be running the company, trying to get it back on its feet again, I'll be controlling it too.'

Lisle drew a deep uneven breath. 'You—you took advantage of a sick old man.'

He gave a derisive laugh. 'You'd better not let Murray hear you say that. He was in top form when he made our deal, and if you don't believe me ask Oliver Grayson.'

'That—Judas?'

He shrugged. 'On the contrary, I found him a good man. I think we're going to work well together.'

Lisle, gripped the edge of the table, fighting for self-control. 'I don't believe a word of this. Grandfather would never sell his shares to you. He's always been adamant that they should remain in the family.'

'And as far as he's concerned, they will,' he said calmly. 'But through his granddaughter and her husband, rather than his grandson as he'd intended. Gerard's unfailing record of unreliability and self-interest has caught up with him at last, I'm afraid. He knew that I was moving in, and he could have stayed and fought for his place in the sun. But no. As soon as he thought the danger was averted, he just cleared out, and that kind of failure in judgment can be fatal when you're trying to run a company in times like these.'

Lisle sat as if she had been turned to stone.

'Of course,' Jake went on, 'you might have been able to warn him, if you'd shown your face in the office for the past ten days, but your attendance record is one of the poorest I've seen, Your department head is loyal to the Bannerman name. He said you were working on a promotion for the Salzburg Fair at home, but he didn't speak with any real conviction. I suppose the poor guy has never dared tell you that real public relations work isn't merely acting as some kind of high class call-girl at your brother's behest.'

She said hoarsely, 'You—bastard! How dare you…'

'I dare more than that,' he said flatly. 'I might not even complain if it had all paid off—if the intimate dinners for potential customers, the drunken thrashes at your flat, the weekends on the boat had produced a full order book. But even you must know that's not the case. And yet you've a lovely face, and an enticing body, so what went wrong? Perhaps your heart wasn't in your work.'

Lisle felt sick with rage and shame. That he, or anyone else, could think such things made her feel utterly degraded, even though there was no reason for it. She'd never been overwhelmed with enthusiasm for acting as Gerard's hostess, but she played the role he had chosen for her to the best of her ability, learning to recognise the gleam in the eye which suggested that one of the guests might be getting the wrong idea, and distance herself with charm yet finality, because it was Harlow Bannerman she was selling, and not, under any circumstances, herself.

Yes, she had allowed Gerard to use the flat for parties, but then as Harlow Bannerman were subsidising the rent, she had felt she could hardly refuse. But she had attended few of them herself, usually spending the night with friends. And since Janie had moved in with her, she had been able to use that as an excuse for Gerard to go elsewhere, because there had been disturbing indications that some of the entertainments he gave were by no means as conventional or innocent as he claimed. 

Gerard had often laughed at her, complaining that she was a prude, and perhaps she was. Uneasily she recalled again the slapped face incident, and his subsequent fury, and there had been other occasions when his attitude had switched from amusement to exasperation, when he had exerted none too subtle pressure on her to 'relax', to be 'nicer' to certain clients. At times they had come close to quarrelling about it, but not seriously, because she couldn't believe that he meant it seriously.

But now suddenly she was no longer so sure. The fact that her own motives and behaviour had been so totally misunderstood was making her question Gerard's for the first time, and shed a new and disturbing light on his half grumbling, half amused accusations of prudishness.