Шантель Шоу – Hired: Mistress: Wanted: Mistress and Mother / His Private Mistress / The Millionaire's Secret Mistress (страница 8)

‘I don’t,’ Matilda flared. ‘I’m just saying that there’s no smoke without fire…’ She winced at the cliché and began to make a more eloquent argument, but Dante got there first.

‘There are no moments in your life that you’d dread coming out in court?’

‘Of course not!’

‘None at all?’

‘None,’ Matilda flushed. ‘I certainly haven’t done anything illegal, well, not really.’

‘Not really?’ Nothing in his expression changed, bar a tiny rise of one eyebrow.

‘I thought we were here to talk about your garden,’ she flared, but Dante just smiled.

‘You were the one who questioned me about my work,’ Dante pointed out. ‘It’s not my fault if you don’t like the answer. So, come on, tell me, what did you do?’

‘I’ve told you,’ Matilda insisted. ‘I’ve done nothing wrong. I’m sorry if you find that disappointing or boring.’

‘I’m never disappointed,’ Dante said, his eyes burning into her, staring at her so directly it made her squirm. ‘And I know for a fact that you have your secret shame—everyone does.’

‘OK,’ Matilda breathed in indignation. ‘But if you’re expecting some dark, sordid story then you’re going to be sorely disappointed. It’s just a tiny, tiny thing that happened when I was a kid.’

‘Clearly not that tiny,’ Dante said, ‘if you can still blush just thinking about it.’

‘I’m not blushing,’ Matilda flared, but she knew it was useless, could feel the sting of heat on her cheeks. But it wasn’t the past that was making her blush, it was the present, the here and now, the presence of him, the feel of his eyes on her, the intimacy of revelation—any revelation.

‘Tell me,’ Dante said softly, dangerously, and it sounded like a dare. ‘Tell me what happened.’

‘I stole some chocolate when I was on school camp,’ Matilda admitted. ‘Everyone did,’ she went on almost immediately.

‘And you thought that you’d look an idiot if you didn’t play along?’

‘Something like that,’ Matilda murmured, blushing furiously now, but with the shame and fear she had felt at the time, reliving again the pressure she had felt at that tender age to just blend in. She was surprised at the emotion such a distant memory could evoke.

‘So, instead of standing up for yourself, you just went right along with it, even though you knew it was wrong.’

‘I guess.’

‘And that’s the sum total of your depraved past?’ Dante checked.

‘That’s it.’ Matilda nodded. ‘Sorry if I disappointed you.’

‘You didn’t.’ Dante shook his head. ‘I find you can learn a lot about a person if you listen to their childhood memories. Our responses don’t change that much…’

‘Rubbish,’ Matilda scoffed. ‘I was ten years old. If something like that happened now—’

‘You’d do exactly the same,’ Dante broke in. ‘I’m not saying that you’d steal a bar of chocolate rather than draw attention to yourself, but you certainly don’t like confrontation, do you?’

Shocked at his insight, all she could do was stare back at him.

‘In fact,’ Dante continued, ‘you’d walk to the end of the earth to avoid it, steal a chocolate bar if it meant you could blend in, stay in a bad relationship to avoid a row…’ As she opened her mouth to deny it, Dante spoke over her. ‘Or, let’s take tonight for an example, you ran to the toilet the moment you thought you had upset me.’

‘Not quite that very moment.’ Matilda rolled her eyes and gave a watery smile, realising she was beaten. ‘I lasted two at least. But does anyone actually like confrontation?’

‘I do,’ Dante said. ‘It’s the best part of my job, making people confront their hidden truths.’ He gave her the benefit of a very bewitching smile, which momentarily knocked her off guard. ‘Though I guess if that’s the worst you can come up with, you really would have no problem with being cross-examined.’

‘I’d have no worries at all,’ Matilda said confidently.

‘You clearly know your own mind.’

‘I do.’ Matilda smiled back, happy things were under control.

‘Then may I?’

‘Excuse me?’

‘Just for the sake of curiosity.’ His smile was still in place. ‘May I ask you some questions?’

‘We’re supposed to be talking about your garden.’

He handed her a rolled-up wad of paper. ‘There are the plans, you can do whatever you wish—so that takes care of that.’

‘But why?’ Matilda asked.

‘I enjoy convincing people.’ Dante shrugged. ‘And I believe you are far from convinced. All you have to do is answer some questions honestly.’

The dessert menu was being offered to her and Matilda hesitated before taking it. She had the plans, and clearly Dante was in no mood to discuss foliage or water features, so the sensible thing would be to decline. She’d eaten her main course, she’d stayed to be polite, there was absolutely no reason to prolong things, no reason at all—except for the fact that she wanted to stay.

Wanted to prolong this evening.

With a tiny shiver Matilda accepted the truth.

She wanted to play his dangerous game.

‘They do a divine white chocolate and macadamia nut mousse,’ Dante prompted, ‘with hot raspberry sauce.’

‘Sounds wonderful,’ Matilda said, and as the waiter slipped silently away, her glittering eyes met Dante’s. A frisson of excitement ran down her spine as she faced him, as this encounter moved onto another level, and not for the first time today she wondered what it was about Dante Costello that moved her so.

CHAPTER THREE

‘YOU will answer me honestly?’

His smile had gone now, his deep, liquid voice low, and despite the full restaurant, despite the background noise of their fellow diners, it was as if they were the only two in the room.

His black eyes were working her face, appraising her, and she could almost imagine him walking towards her across the courtroom, circling her slowly, choosing the best method of attack. Fear did the strangest thing to Matilda, her lips twitching into a nervous smile as he again asked his question. ‘You swear to answer me honestly.’

‘I’m not on trial.’ Matilda gave a tiny nervous laugh, but he remained unmoved.

‘If we’re going to play, we play by the rules.’

‘Fine.’ Matilda nodded. ‘But I really think you’re—’

‘We’ve all got secrets,’ Dante broke in softly. ‘There’s a dark side to every single one of us, and splash it on a headline, layer it with innuendo and suddenly we’re all as guilty as hell. Take your ex—’

‘Edward’s got nothing to do—’

‘Location, location, location.’ He flashed a malevolent smile as Matilda’s hand tightened convulsively around her glass. ‘Just one more business dinner, just one more client to impress. Just one more garden to renovate and then, maybe then you’ll get his attention. Maybe one day—’

‘I don’t need this,’ Matilda said through gritted teeth. ‘I’ve no idea what you’re trying to get at, but can you please leave Edward out of this?’

‘Still too raw?’ He leant back in his chair, merciless eyes awaiting her response.

‘No,’ Matilda said tersely, leaning back into her own chair, forcing her tense shoulders to lower, forcing a smile onto her face. ‘Absolutely not. Edward and I finished a couple of months ago. I’m completely over it.’

‘Who ended it?’

‘I did,’ Matilda answered, but with renewed confidence now. She had been the one who had ended it, and that surely would thwart him, would rule out his image of a broken-hearted female who would go to any lengths to avoid confrontation.

‘Why?’ Dante asked bluntly, but Matilda gave a firm shake of her head.

‘I’m not prepared to answer that,’ she retorted coolly. ‘I had my reasons. And in case you’re wondering, no, there wasn’t anyone else involved.’ Confident she’d ended this line of questioning, sure he would try another tack, Matilda felt the fluttering butterflies in her stomach still a touch and her breathing slow down as she awaited his next question, determined to answer him with cool ease.

‘Did you ever wish him dead?’

‘What?’ Appalled, she confronted him with her eyes—stunned that he would even ask such a thing. ‘Of course not.’

‘Are you honestly stating that you never once said that you wished that he was dead?’

‘You’re either mad…’ Matilda let out an incredulous laugh ‘…or way too used to dealing with mad people! Of course I never said that I wished that he…’ Her voice faltered for just a fraction of second, a flash of forgotten conversation pinging into consciousness, and like a cobra he struck.