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

man from the casino spoke in a lazy voice, but there was something about him that stopped everyone in their tracks.

      Vanner recovered first.

       ‘This woman is a thief,’ he shrieked. ‘She stole money from me before leaving my boat. Look, she’s holding it. That’s mine. I demand that you arrest her.’

      The gendarmes started to move again, but the man placed himself between them and me, and I realised again just how big he was. He could have dealt with two of them easily.

      ‘The money’s mine,’ he said. ‘This lady was helping me to pick it up. We hadn’t finished, as you can see.’ He indicated the grass, where some stray notes still lingered.

      ‘You’re lying!’ Vanner shrieked. ‘The money’s mine. She’s a thief.’

      ‘I suppose you’re Hugh Vanner,’ the man said, eyeing him with open contempt.

      A new look, part caution, part suspicion, came over Vanner’s face.

      ‘How do you know who I am?’

      ‘I recognise you from the description.’

      This was kind of a private joke, since only he and I knew what that description had been.

      Vanner shot a look at me.

      ‘What have you been saying about me?’

      ‘That you’re a low-life who tried to force me to sleep with your business buddies,’ I said. ‘That’s why I had to jump overboard—’

       ‘With my money!’

      ‘Don’t say that,’ the man said quietly. ‘I’m warning you, don’t say it.’

      ‘You’re warning me? Who are you to tell me what to do?’

      The man looked surprised. ‘I’m Jack Bullen.’

      It was worth anything to see Vanner’s face at that moment. Even in the garden lights I could see him go green. This was the man he’d been trying to reach, to impress, and he’d met him like this.

      Of course I knew there wasn’t a word of truth in it. I’d given him the clue to dealing with Vanner and he’d taken it up brilliantly. And who was to know he wasn’t really Jack Bullen, just as long so nobody saw his cufflinks?

      ‘You’re Jack Bullen?’ Vanner said in a strangled voice that did me the world of good to hear.

      ‘The one you sent the gold cufflinks to. Remember?’

      Vanner gulped and began frantically back-pedalling with the gendarmes, assuring them that it was all a misunderstanding. They scowled at him, but finally departed.

      ‘That’s better,’ Vanner said, trying to sound in command of the situation. ‘Mr Bullen, you and me need to do some serious talking—’

      ‘When you’ve returned this lady’s property,’ he said coolly.

      ‘When I—?’

      ‘Her clothes, her passport, and whatever you owe her in wages.’

      ‘I suppose I’m well rid of her at that.’

      ‘Deliver everything to The Hawk. That’s where I’m going now.’

      ‘Fine, fine. We can share a cab to the harbour—’

      ‘No, we can’t. Send those things over and don’t keep me waiting.’

      I couldn’t see him well as he said this, but I had a good view of Vanner, and I saw the startling change that came over his face—a kind of withering. He’d seen something in this man’s face that made him fall silent and take a step back.

      The man took my arm and began to walk away.

       ‘Wait a minute,’ I whispered. ‘You were going to take me to the Vice-Consul.’

      ‘I’ve changed my mind. We’re going to The Hawk.’

      ‘Oh, no! Not another yacht. I’ve had enough of them to last a lifetime.’

      I tried to pull away, but he wouldn’t release my arm. He wasn’t holding me all that tightly but there was no way I could escape.

      He hailed a passing cab and almost tossed me into it.

      ‘Now, look here—’ I began.

      ‘No, you look here. You can go with Vanner, with the gendarmes, or with me.’

      ‘Or I can go to the Vice-Consul.’

      ‘If you know where to find him. And just how long do you want to wander around dressed—or rather undressed—like that?’

      ‘Are you daring to take advantage of my condition?’

      ‘That’s exactly what I’m doing.’

      ‘That’s blackmail.’

      ‘It’s what I’m good at. Now, shut up or I’ll toss you back into the water.’

      I opened my mouth to tell him what he could do, but then shut it again. Not because I was afraid of his threats, or of him. I wasn’t.

      But I’d seen a gleam in his eyes that undermined his words. He was laughing, challenging me not to laugh with him, and despite everything I found myself doing so.

      That was the moment when it all began.

      Chapter Two

       Jack’s Story

      MOONLIGHT and roses. Trees waving gently in the Mediterranean breeze. Romantic music playing in the distance.

      It was twenty-three-hundred hours and I was standing outside Monte Carlo Casino, ten grand richer than when I’d gone in.

      Yes, that was the state I’d reached. Moonlight. Twenty-three-hundred hours. Ten grand.

      But what else did you expect? I’m Jack Bullen. King Midas. Whatever I touch turns to ten grand. Or, if we’re talking real money, ten million.

      But tonight was only gambling, so I made do with pocket money.

      I blame my grandfather, Nick, and his cufflinks. When he gave them to me he said they were lucky and they would help me win. And, dammit, he was right.

      I don’t win every single time. It’s not quite as bad as that. But I win often enough to come out richer. And it’s all his fault.

      I blame him for a lot more than that. Starting with my father. Nick was a happy-go-lucky fellow, who loved his family, earned enough from his little grocery business to get by, and enjoyed a laugh. So, according to Sod’s Law, he was bound to have a son who thought he was feckless and worked night and day to ‘better himself’.

      I don’t know if my father got better, but he certainly got richer. He started work in Grandpa’s grocery and gradually took over, shunting his father aside. When he finally inherited the shop he built it into a chain, and raised me in the belief that my mission in life was to climb ever onward and upward to the glorious heights of tycoonery.

      I’d rather have been a vet, and if Dad had lived longer I might have fought it out with him, but he died when I was fifteen and you can’t argue with a dead man. Especially if he’s left you everything.

      Every last penny.

      Which was unfair on my older sister, Grace, who was left to look after me, our mother being already dead. She didn’t complain, because she’d picked up Dad’s ideas about my dynamic future.

      So I ended up doing business courses, computing, economics, just as if Dad were alive, because Grace said so.

      As soon as I could touch my inheritance I transferred a fair share to her, but by that time it was too late. I was trapped in business and success.