Mistresses: Blackmailed With Diamonds / Shackled with Rubies. Robyn Donald

this is to be a lifetime thing?’

      ‘You bet. The whole point is to be completely free of all the heavy stuff—obligations, responsibilities, and above all people’s expectations.’

      I’m not sure if he knew it, but he gave a little sigh as he said the last words, and it told me a great deal.

      ‘That’s where the shoe really pinches?’

      ‘And how!’ he said with feeling.

      ‘Hence the dog?’

      ‘Dogs. At least three. I’ve just decided. Dogs have the right idea. They don’t expect anything from you except love and care. They aren’t trying to talk you into a bad investment, or get you drunk, hoping to muddle you into something you’ll regret. They don’t pay you daft compliments in an attempt to seduce you, because you’re rich and they want to get their hands on the goodies. And above all they aren’t trying to badger you into a marriage that would suit them.’

      His voice got a little ragged on the last words.

      ‘Are you really that modest?’ I asked. ‘Or is it false modesty?’

      ‘What is?’

      ‘Your assumption that the women who seduce you are only after your money.’

      Personally, I could think of a million other good reasons. Well, one anyway.

      ‘I only said they try to seduce me,’ he pointed out.

       ‘Of course. And you say, “Get thee behind me, Satan.” ’

      ‘Never mind that,’ he said hastily. ‘We’ve got distracted. And I’d like to make it clear that when I mentioned money I wasn’t accusing you. If there’s one lady in the world who isn’t trying to fleece me, it’s you.’

      ‘Well, I don’t have to fleece you, do I?’ I pointed out. ‘You’re spending a fortune on me without giving me the trouble of seducing you—always assuming that I could.’

      ‘I’m not answering that. You don’t need me to answer that.’

      I just smiled.

      ‘And,’ he pointed out, ‘always assuming that you’d want to.’

      ‘And I’m not answering that,’ I told him. ‘You think I came down in the last shower?’

      ‘I guess neither of us did,’ he replied, with meaning.

      After that we fell silent for a while, both of us thinking over what we’d just said, what we’d left unsaid, and what we both understood.

      ‘I’m only saying,’ I resumed at last, ‘that I could be all kinds of gold-digger, just biding my time, waiting to ask for more.’

      ‘And last night? Covering me with bruises?’

      ‘I didn’t know who you were.’

      ‘A true gold-digger would have known who I was. You have no idea about these women, Della. They have filing systems, filled with photographs of men, plus full details of every penny they possess. They know more about my assets than I do. And you’re not like that. I know you.’

      ‘You don’t know me.’

      ‘I do.’

       ‘Don’t.’

      ‘Do.’

      The waiter appeared again and we fell silent, trying not to laugh.

      When the soufflé had been served, with a different wine, he returned to the subject.

      ‘If I assume most women are fortune hunters it’s because those are the kind I tend to meet. Maybe some of them aren’t, but it gets hard to tell the difference. Women have come to feel almost unreal to me. In fact, so do most things.’

      I sipped from my glass, and the wine felt like heaven. Seeing the look on my face, he refilled the glass.

      ‘Of course,’ he added, a tad too casually, ‘there is one thing that could give me cause for suspicion about you, and that’s the fact that you’re so secretive about yourself. Now if you could just come up with a few personal details I could stop worrying…’

      ‘Too late!’ I told him, laughing. ‘You should have played that card about five minutes ago. You’ve missed the trick now.’

      ‘I was afraid of that,’ he said. ‘If this were a boardroom I’d have known exactly when to play it. But sitting here with you, like this—I’m confused.’

      ‘Good,’ I told him. ‘I prefer that.’

      ‘I’m not going to win a single round with you, am I?’

      I shook my head.

      ‘I know it’s hard to believe—’ he sighed ‘—but when I’m out of the boardroom all my confidence deserts me, and then I need help.’

      He gave me a pathetic smile that would have knocked me out if I hadn’t been getting thoroughly suspicious.

      I’ll be honest. It knocked me out anyway. This man could get to you even when you knew he was up to every trick.

      ‘Don’t—you—dare,’ I breathed slowly. ‘Don’t you dare sit there and play for sympathy. Do I look stupid?’

      ‘You look good enough to eat,’ he said shamelessly.

      ‘I’m warning you, Jack. Do not ask me to feel sorry for you. And take that penitent look off your face, because that doesn’t fool me either.’

      He gave his brilliant grin.

      ‘It was worth a try,’ he said. ‘But perhaps I should have known better. You see through me. That’s the nicest thing about you.’ He added in a considering tone, ‘Well—almost the nicest.’

      He waited for me to pick up on his last words. Our eyes met—his querying, mine telling him he could wait for ever. He backed down first.

      ‘Touché,’ he said, raising his glass to me.

      We understood each other perfectly.

      ‘Tell me about Bully Jack,’ I said.

      He groaned. ‘Not you too. I told you, he’s an invention. He gives my PR department something to do, and that’s about all. OK, a reputation for ruthlessness can sometimes be useful. And Grace fosters it. She has actually given newspaper interviews, painting Bully Jack in lurid colours.’

      ‘Why does Grace have such a hold over you?’

      ‘Because she looked after me when our father died. I was fifteen. He did a very unfair thing, leaving me everything and her nothing. I put it right as soon as I could, so justice has been done if we’re only talking about money. But I’ve swallowed up her life, and it’s a bit late for her to reclaim it now.’

       ‘But you must be in your thirties,’ I protested. ‘So she could have reclaimed her life at least ten years ago.’

      ‘Well,’ he said vaguely, ‘she felt she should go on looking after me. And of course I’m grateful.’

      In my opinion Grace had become domineering and power-hungry, playing on his feelings of guilt. I didn’t think he’d swallowed up her life, but I could see her swallowing his.

      I didn’t say so, because I could see that this was something he was unwilling to confront. He had a kind heart, and it undermined his attempts to break free.

      Over coffee he became businesslike, outlining the salary he intended to pay me. When I protested that it was too much he said briskly, ‘That’s enough out of you. Drink up. We still have jewellery to buy.’

      He considered me like a film director planning a shot.

      ‘You’re going to be a challenge. The