The Devils Price. Carole Mortimer

his wife that Cynara had got out of his life, that and—–

      ‘Shouldn’t you be rehearsing?’ the coldly scornful voice interrupted her thoughts. ‘After the way you performed last night I think you need it,’ Diane added bitchily.

      Anger flashed in her velvet brown eyes, although Cynara’s smile didn’t waver for an instant. ‘I’m sure that if the hotel management have any complaints about my performance they will tell me so,’ she was stung into retorting.

      ‘Daniel is the management,’ the other woman hissed. ‘And after the way you’ve been throwing yourself at him he wouldn’t dare complain about you. I’ve met your sort before,’ she went on vehemently. ‘Daniel is just too enthralled by your beauty at the moment to see that you would drop him like a hot brick if someone with better prospects came along.’

      Cynara should have been used to these sort of attacks by now, but it didn’t make the vindictive words hurt any less. All women in her profession were supposed to have slept their way to where they were, and Diane was far from the first woman to make such an accusation. But not by the flicker of an eyelid did Cynara let the other woman know how much she had wounded her; that would only give Diane a satisfaction she didn’t deserve.

      ‘I’ll see you later, Diane,’ she said cheerfully as one of the guests came to the desk for attention.

      She knew Diane’s feeling towards her was completely illogical; she hadn’t encouraged Daniel Pope in any way. But Diane was so uncertain of her own relationship with the man that she suspected every woman he came into contact with, including those that weren’t interested.

      Seeing Michael so unexpectedly had unnerved Cynara more than she had realised, and she knew that the rehearsals that morning weren’t going well, her thoughts elsewhere, five years back, in fact. She had been twenty-one then to Zack’s thirty-three, her eyes not quite open to the harshness and cruelty of the world, although she had had some experience of it. Her broken relationship with Zack had shown her once and for all that she had little to offer a man.

      ‘Do you want to stop for an early lunch?’ Sean, the piano-player in the residential four-piece backing group asked kindly. ‘You seem a bit off-colour this morning.’

      ‘Off-key, you mean,’ she corrected ruefully, her long hair secured at her nape, the trousers and loose top she was wearing her usual attire for rehearsals. ‘There’s no need to be kind, Sean, I’m lousy this morning, and I know it.’

      ‘That’s being too hard on yourself,’ he sympathised. ‘Your mind just isn’t on it today. Let’s all go eat, hm?’ He stood up, in his early forties, as all the group were.

      ‘You go on without me,’ she sat down wearily on the stage. ‘I need to cool off first.’ She eased the damp hair off her nape, evidence that she had been working hard, even if it hadn’t been up to standard, her blouse also clinging damply to her back. She was twenty-six now, had been singing professionally for eight years, and it certainly didn’t get any easier!

      ‘Like to join me for lunch in the coffee-shop?’

      She looked round gratefully at the sound of that cheerful voice, the mutual dislike between Diane and herself not true of one of the hotel’s other receptionists, Josie Adams. She and Josie had become friends almost instantly, often sharing their breaks together.

      Josie frowned as she came further into the large table-filled lounge. The room would be a hive of activity later this evening when Cynara did her show, all of the tables filled, the bar packed too, although right now the place was hollowly empty, the heels of Josie’s sandals echoing loudly as she came over to the slightly raised stage. ‘Everything all right, love?’ she asked gently.

      ‘Of course,’ Cynara gave a bright smile, shaking off the feeling of tiredness. ‘And lunch sounds good.’

      ‘It won’t do much for my figure,’ the other woman grimaced as they walked to the hotel’s coffee-shop, preferring its informality this time of day to the more formal atmosphere of the hotel’s other three restaurants. ‘But I need the energy before I start work.’

      ‘You go on at one?’

      ‘Mm,’ Josie nodded as they sat down at the vacant table in the corner of the brightly attractive room. ‘And from what I can tell the place is in chaos today.’

      Her eyes widened. From what she had seen of the hotel, other than Diane’s normal bitchiness, everything was running as smoothly as it usually was. ‘It seems okay to me,’ she shrugged.

      Josie shook her head. ‘Have you seen Daniel this morning?’

      They both ordered a salad, and while they did so Cynara thought about the question. No, she couldn’t say she had seen the manager today, and that was unusual. Daniel was good at his job, really took care of the guests’ comfort, was always in attendance to see to their slightest whim. His Assistant Manager was noticeably absent too.

      ‘He and Mark are upstairs in the penthouse suite,’ Josie told her as they waited for their meal to be served. ‘With the owner of the hotel. He arrived late last night, unexpectedly, and now he wants a full report.’

      Cynara knew that the London Excellence hotel was one of a huge chain of hotels all over the world. She had been contracted to work a month in each of the six largest ones and, although this was the first she had worked in, she knew it was run as well as its name implied. ‘I doubt Daniel will have much trouble with that, he’s very good at his job.’

      ‘And Mr Buchanan expects the best,’ Josie grimaced. ‘I don’t suppose you can blame him. He—–’

      ‘Buchanan?’ Cynara echoed sharply, sure that she must have paled. It was too much of a coincidence! ‘Do you mean Zack Buchanan?’ she asked dully, knowing it could be no other man, not when she had actually seen Michael, his son.

      ‘That’s right,’ the other woman confirmed. ‘He owns all the Excellence hotels. Hey, are you all right?’ She frowned as she noticed how pale Cynara had gone.

      Cynara managed a wan smile. ‘I skipped breakfast, I think I just need my lunch.’

      ‘Sure?’

      ‘Of course,’ she dismissed lightly. ‘Tell me more about Zack Buchanan.’

      ‘Not much to tell,’ Josie shrugged. ‘Not much that I know, anyway,’ she added ruefully. ‘His father used to run things until four or five years ago, and he was even more of a tyrant than his son. At least Zack Buchanan only appears every six months or so and shakes the place up; his father had agents who came here posing as guests and then reported back to him.’

      That sounded like the Nicholas Buchanan she had known, and Zack still sounded as if he preferred things to be straightforward and honest. Father and son were complete opposites.

      Diane had lied to her about Zack staying here, and for that she could cheerfully have slapped her. She could have met Zack any time this morning without warning. It must be Zack’s turn to have Michael after all, although Michael’s lonely state this morning, and Josie’s comment that Zack was working with Daniel this morning, seemed to imply that he wasn’t able to give too much time to his son.

      ‘Zack Buchanan has to be the man they had in mind when tall, dark and handsome was quipped,’ Josie continued. ‘He’s all of those things. And more.’

      Cynara waited until their meal had been served before prompting. ‘More what?’

      Josie shrugged. ‘He’s cold, unapproachable. The only thing he seems to care about is his family. With his looks and wealth he should have a woman in every town.’

      ‘And?’ She nibbled uninterestedly on her salad.

      ‘Not a single woman, in any town. Unless he’s very discreet,’ Josie frowned. ‘Although something like that would be hard to keep secret in a place like this.’

      ‘I’ve noticed!’ she teased.

      ‘Just