The Price of Scandal (15 page)

He appeared to be wearing less than she was, which was not a lot. Without a word he folded back the cover beside him, the gesture not nearly as articulate as the one that gleamed in his eyes.

The breath snagging in her throat, Neve glided towards him, only stopping when her thighs made contact with the wooden frame of the bed.

Lifting her chin, she slipped the loop of the belt that tied her robe and let it slide from her shoulders. All the while Severo’s eyes did not leave her face.

‘You are lonely,
cara
.’

Neve bit her lip. ‘You have no idea,’ she whispered.

‘Oh, I think I might,’ he said, reaching for her. His hand went to her belly. ‘The baby—it is all right for us to—?’

Neve held his hand where it was; his awkwardness made her smile. ‘It is all right,’ she confirmed softly.

He drew her to him, cupping her face in his hand to tilt it up to him. ‘I have not asked how you feel about the baby.’

She was not prepared for the question, and Neve’s eyes fell from his. ‘How can I feel? It’s happening…’

‘You’re avoiding the question so I assume that you are not…happy.’ Did you expect her to be? ‘I know this is something that we did not plan, but in time you—’

Neve cut across him as the fears she had been afraid to admit even to herself came rushing out. ‘It’s not the baby, it’s
me
…I mean, my parenting skills with Hannah weren’t exactly dazzling…What if I make a terrible mother?’

Her composure crumbled as he drew her shaking body into the shelter of his arms.

His expression was tender as he kissed first one eyelid and then the next before he drew her face into his shoulder. ‘You will be a marvellous mother,’ he said, stroking her hair.

Her teary face lifted. ‘You really think so?’

‘I know so,’ he said firmly. ‘All a child needs is to know they are loved. The rest…we will learn…and I know,
cara
, that you are a fast learner.’

‘And you are a pretty good teacher.’

The shy invitation shining in her eyes took his breath away.

Severo was shaking as hard as she was as he rolled her beneath him. The raw, leashed power in his body excited Neve more than she would have thought possible.

‘This time,’ he promised, ‘it will be special and I will not hurt you.’

‘It was special the other times too,’ she whispered. ‘And you never hurt me.’

But he did make her cry, though not until the next morning when she returned to her room to find it full of flowers. Every surface was crammed; they were everywhere, filling the air with their sweet perfume.

Flowers but no note—Neve allowed herself to hope that actions spoke louder than words.

Chapter Fifteen

N
EVE
felt the phone in her pocket vibrate and put down the boxes she was bringing in from the car, thinking if Severo saw her he would insist on a private bodyguard to save her from herself.

He was proving to be ridiculously protective, but also, much to her surprise, rather good at practical things like holding her head when she was throwing up.

She gave a distracted smile to a passer-by as she fished the ringing phone from her pocket.

‘Neve, have you seen it?’ Hannah sounded scared.

‘Seen what?’

‘The headline in the paper.’

‘Which paper?’

‘All of them, I should think,’ Hannah replied. ‘And you obviously haven’t, because if you had you’d know exactly what I’m talking about.’

The phone wedged against her shoulder, Neve continued to listen while she eased the box towards the shop door with her foot as she started to open the door with her elbow.

‘Severo—’

Neve let the door close, two bright spots of colour appearing on her cheeks as, her voice sharp with anxiety, she asked, ‘What’s wrong with Severo?’

There had been nothing wrong with him when he had left her bed that morning.

‘There are stories all over the papers about him.’

For the duration of Hannah’s dramatic pause Neve’s mind produced several possible reasons Severo might be in the headlines, including rumours of a romance with some model or long-stemmed aristocratic beauty, or—

‘They say he’s lost all his money.’

Neve, waiting for the punchline, after a few moments realised there was none.

‘Severo?’ She shook her head from side to side as she leaned back against the shop window, blocking the window display. ‘That’s not possible,’ she said positively.

‘That’s what some of the pundits say too,’ Hannah admitted. ‘They can’t associate failure with Severo Constanza, but a lot of others are saying there’s no smoke without fire.’

Neve’s hands clenched into tight fists as her temper spurted. ‘You mean this is just a rumour…gossip.’ Even if it was she knew that gossip could be destructive; gossip could destroy reputations.

‘Hey, don’t get mad with me. I didn’t write the stuff, I just bought the newspaper. Since he asked you to marry him I figured you had a right to know.’

‘Oh, my God, how must Severo be feeling?’ She blew her nose noisily and added, ‘He’ll be totally devastated. His work is his life, Hannah. And he won’t pass the buck, he’ll take all the blame. He’s got a really overdeveloped sense of responsibility.’ Which was why he had proposed.

It would kill him to be forced to ask for help, and how many would want to help now? Tight pain swelled in her chest as she thought of him being alone.

Damn the man. If anyone did try he’d push them away because he’d never admit he needed anyone. Of course, he would come back—that was a given. She had total confidence that Severo could do anything he wanted to if he set his mind to it, but in the meantime…? Neve lifted her chin. She might not be able to offer much in the way of practical help, but she could be there to do what she could.

‘I’ll speak to you later, Hannah, and don’t worry!’ she yelled, sliding the phone back into her pocket as she opened the door and yelled, ‘Could you put this box in the back, Shirley, and lock up when you leave? Something’s come up.’

Fifteen minutes later she was stuck at a red light when she had her inspired thought.

She might after all be able to offer more than moral support. She had almost forgotten she had money.

‘I’m rich!’ she shouted cheerfully.

The question was how rich?

A slight detour took her to the office of the solicitors who had dealt with James’s estate. When she requested an interview and stressed the urgency she was seen straight away.

Refusing the polite offer of tea and biscuits, Neve got straight to the point.

‘The money James left me—how much exactly is there?’

After the will had been read Neve had been quite clear: she wanted nothing to do with the money; as far as she was concerned it was not hers. She had explained to the solicitor it could stay where it was or, better still, be given to charity.

The worried solicitor had earnestly begged that she make no hasty decisions, stressing that the decision was hers, but suggesting she gave just ten per cent of the total to charity and then reviewed the situation in twelve months’ time.

‘You might think differently about it then.’

He’d been right.

‘Including the property in France and the…let me see…’

He mentioned a sum that made Neve’s jaw drop.

‘I had no idea,’ she admitted with a shaky smile. ‘So how much of that is cash?’

‘You’re thinking of buying something?’

‘More making an investment. Do you think you could put some figures on paper for me?’

‘Will Monday be all right for you, Mrs—’

‘I was thinking sooner—actually more like now.’

An hour later Neve, armed with the information she needed, parked outside the towering Constanza building and approached the big glass foyer with a mixture of trepidation and determination, pausing only to shout, ‘Vultures!’ at the news crew filming there.

The conversation returned to the question that perplexed everyone assembled for the strategy meeting.

‘I just don’t understand where this story of a financial crisis started? I mean, there is no crisis, or at least there wasn’t.’

Severo leaned back in his seat as the subject was discussed once more around the table; he knew exactly where it had started. It had started, unless he was mistaken, with his impatience and a throwaway comment.

It had been bad timing. Livia had turned up at totally the wrong moment and in an attempt to get rid of her—he should have gone for the throttling option—he had sent her on her way with the terse advice to ‘find another banker, this coffer has run dry’.

He had then forgotten the conversation—he had a lot more on his mind—until he picked up the financial pages this morning. He should have known better. Livia had always been a very literal woman, but practical too. In the same paper was the announcement of her engagement to a banker, a middle-aged man who, to Severo’s knowledge, had already run through four wives. It had the hallmarks of a match made in heaven.

‘A source “close to the family”, this paper says.’

Severo placed the pen he had been threading through his long fingers down on the blotter and responded to the questioning looks flashed in his direction with a shrug.

‘The market is really nervous,’ his head of development said gloomily.

‘The market is not nervous,’ a colleague contradicted with equal gloom. ‘It is terrified. We have to make a statement to stop this speculation.’

There was a general murmur of assent around the table.

Only one voice was raised in disagreement.

At first inclined to be amused by the conversation, Severo was becoming irritated by the growing level of hysteria in the room. Generally he encouraged debate and a bit of healthy dissent, but this debate was not healthy.

The bottom line was his senior management team could discuss and debate all day but, in the end, the final say was his. They could and probably would be unhappy about his decision, but they were not in a position to challenge it.

‘We do nothing. We do not deny or confirm, we just continue business as usual,’ he announced to his horrified audience.

Severo could multitask, but on this occasion he chose not to. All his attention was needed to focus on making Neve see sense.

And besides, his instincts told him that it would be a mistake to enter into a dialogue. Doing so would only grant the stories circulating a degree of credibility.

As he was by nature proactive, he found it frustrating to step back and let things follow a natural course. But this was one occasion when no action was the best action.

Other situations required a more hands-on approach. Giving Neve breathing space to reach the right conclusion had been a mistake. For starters there was no guarantee that she would make the right choice and that was not a risk he was willing to take; that was not a situation that required he sit back and wait for events to unfold.

It was time to take charge and force the pace.

‘I know, Andrew, how much has been wiped off the value of the company, but when the market settles, which it will, when the hysteria dies a natural death, which it will, we will recover the losses. This company is not a house of cards. It can withstand this temporary blip. Now, if you’ll excuse me I have more urgent—’ Severo came to an abrupt halt.
More urgent?

He understood the shocked looks of disbelief on the faces of his senior management team. A short time ago nothing would have been more urgent to him than the smooth and successful running of this company.

It mattered to him, of course it did, but Severo realised that his index of urgency and priorities had undergone a seismic shift over the past few months. Now what was urgent, what was vital to him, was having the woman who carried his child at his side, not just for the odd night, but permanently as his wife.

He would ask her again tonight.

What if she wouldn’t see sense? The uncharacteristic negative thought surfaced unbidden in his head. Even more uncharacteristic was the sharp shaft of immobilising panic, a deep dread that followed close in its wake.

Severo’s jaw grew taut as he pushed through the dread. It wasn’t going to happen because he wouldn’t allow it to happen. When he set a goal he went for it, not stopping until he had achieved his objective. Some people called it ruthless; he called it focus.

Success had always been the ultimate goal for Severo, a reward in itself. And when he got bored he simply applied himself to a bigger challenge. If they called the challenge impossible, all the better—it simply added spice.

Now that challenge had stopped being enough.

When did that happen?

Now he wanted what he had always previously actively avoided.

This was not a sign of weakness; the ability to change was necessary to survival. He was, he told himself, adapting to the altered situation.

What man would not want to see his child born and grow? What man would not want to share his successes with the woman he—A shell-shocked expression on his white face, Severo pushed his chair away and rose to his feet.

The men sitting around the table watched with consternation as he walked out of the room without another word.

He had been sitting alone in his office for thirty minutes when his secretary buzzed through.

‘There is a Mrs Macleod to see you. I told her you were not available but she—’

Severo cut across her. ‘Send her in.’

Neve was wearing an individual combination, even for her—an orange cardigan and a skirt with red tulips on. Severo did not notice the clashing colours, but he did notice the scent of roses that entered the room with her; he noticed the creamy tint of her bare face, the soft flush on her cheeks and the pinkness of her lips.

Seeing her face satisfied an unacknowledged hunger and awoke another, less abstract hunger. He wanted her; he wanted her soft body underneath him; he wanted her arms around him; he wanted the taste of her in his mouth. Bringing the list to a premature halt, he inhaled deeply and rose slowly to his feet.

How had he been in love and not seen it, refused to see it?

A memory from the past drifted like smoke through his mind.

‘Why do you take her back?’

His father had shrugged in response to the angry question. ‘I love her.’

‘What is love?’

‘A leap of faith.’

He had been so smug, so complacent, priding himself on his ability to be rational, to avoid messy emotional involvement. Now he could see that all that time he had not been rational, he had been afraid!

Afraid to take the leap of faith and end up where his father had. For the first time he thought of his father and did not feel anger and resentment, but pity. How different his life would have been if his leap of faith had taken him into the arms of a woman like Neve.

How many men were lucky enough to find a Neve? He had found her and discarded her. That made him…? Severo exhaled. That made him a man who had been given a second chance, and he was not going to waste it.

‘This is a surprise.’

Neve walked into the middle of the room and stood uncertainly as he pushed his chair back from the big desk and rose to his feet. Behind him the glass-panelled wall revealed a stunning view of the City below.

Neve did register the view, but her heightened perceptions made her acutely aware of every detail of Severo’s appearance.

As always his expression was hard to read; he looked big and tough and about the sexiest thing on two legs, but what went on behind those dark eyes?

To the casual observer he might appear composed, he carried himself with his habitual level of hauteur and arrogance, but Neve’s interest was not casual. She saw the fine lines of strain bracketing his beautiful mouth and the hint of dark smudges under his incredible eyes.

She missed nothing, certainly not the tension rolling off him in waves. A swell of empathy swelled, making her throat ache as she imagined him alone, grappling through the long night with this dilemma. She wanted to rush across and hug him, but knew that such an action would not be appreciated.

She had to tread softly; his male pride needed careful handling. If he interpreted her actions as pity her brilliant plan would be dead in the water.

‘I was passing, would you believe?’

He arched a brow. ‘Frankly, no.’

Neve, her stomach twisting in tight tortuous knots of excitement, her heart thudding like a hammer, dropped her gaze from the blaze of molten heat she saw reflected in his dark eyes.

‘I read somewhere that it’s a good idea to choose your own battleground. I thought of waiting until I had you in bed. But—’ she glanced around the enormous office ‘—there’s more room here.’

‘What exactly did you have in mind?’ he asked, thinking about the feel of her body when it was pressed up tight against him, the way her bottom wriggled as she tried to get closer. Room was good, but at that moment his needs were so urgent that he’d have happily settled for a broom closet so long as she was in it!