Paper Marriages

Instead Penny had stayed at home to look after her brother James, and grieved, while still having to deal with all the details of two deaths and the ongoing accident investigation.

Today Penny had come up to London on business and to stay with Jane for two days. Jane’s family was looking after James.

In a buoyant mood, Penny had actually thought she was beginning to get over the worst of her grief and feel hope for the future. It had been a perfect May morning when she had set off for her meeting with her publishing house, and to her delight she had signed a contract for four more children’s books. The first was already at the printers’.

It had been James who had given her the idea. By the age of three he had already learnt to read simple books, and when Penny was at home he loved her telling him bedtime tales, that were often based on historical fact. She had looked for some early learning books on history and been unable to find any.

So she had written and illustrated one. James had loved it, and after her final exams were over last June, she had sent it to a publishing house. With the death of her father and Veronica, she had forgotten all about it, until she had received a letter saying they liked it and were going to publish it and suggested she wrote a whole series.

In the afternoon she had had an appointment with Mr Simpson, her father’s lawyer. Thinking the will had passed probate, she had walked into his office, happier than she had been in months, and hoping for more good news.

Mr Simpson had gone over the will again. He had informed her Mrs Brown’s pension was secure and there was a reasonable amount of cash divided between Penny and James equally, and in the event of Veronica’s death Penny would be James’s legal guardian. Penny had been aware of all this, and she’d already known Haversham Park was hers, because he had read the will out after the funeral.

‘Now we come to the hard part, so to speak,’ Mr Simpson said gruffly. ‘Your father was a lovely man, but paperwork was not his forte. Another document has come to light, perfectly legal and above board, but the actuality is you only inherit a half-share in Haversham Park. It seems your father sold the other half to a third party.’

The news came as a complete body-blow to Penny. She could not believe it. ‘What?’ she exclaimed, her eyes widening in horror. ‘A third party, I don’t believe it! Daddy would have told me.’ Someone else owned half her home! The thought was mind-boggling. What was she supposed to do—share her home, or split the house down the middle? She had the hysterical desire to laugh—the whole idea was ludicrous. But one look at Mr Simpson’s serious face and she knew he was not joking.

Penny paled as a premonition that worse was to come filled her mind. She had to ask the question, but her mouth was suddenly dry.

‘I don’t know why he didn’t,’ Mr Simpson continued. ‘But I have to tell you the inheritance tax on the value of your father’s estate is quite considerable.’ He mentioned a figure that had her mouth falling open in shock. ‘If you don’t sell your share of Haversham Park you can’t pay the inheritance tax and you will eventually be declared bankrupt, and the house will be sold anyway by the Inland Revenue.’ Things could not get worse, but they did…

‘But it is not all bad. I have spoken to the other party.’

‘Who is the other party?’ Penny asked hoarsely, finally managing to speak.

‘Well, that is the good news. He is an Italian gentleman, a Mr Solo Maffeiano.’

At the mention of Solo, the little colour left in Penny’s face drained away, her stomach heaved. Solo Maffeiano owned half her home. No, no, no, she screamed silently. Life could not be so cruel. But as Mr Simpson’s voice droned on she was forced to accept it could.

‘He tells me you know each other, and he is quite agreeable to talk over the options available. You sell to him or you put the place on the open market and share the proceeds. Either way, Penelope, you will be all right.’ Mr Simpson actually smiled.

Penny shivered, nausea clawing at her stomach, and she could not respond.

‘You can buy a smaller place, much more sensible for you and James. The inheritance tax can be paid, and you will still have enough to live on plus the money to set up a trust fund for your brother’s education.’ Mr Simpson beamed and looked at Penny and he realised his client was far from happy. She looked terrified, as though the weight of the world had just fallen on her shoulders.

He stood up from behind his desk and walked around to Penny, putting a fatherly hand on her drooping shoulder. ‘I realise it has come as a shock to you, my dear. But, believe me, selling is the sensible solution, the only solution.’

Penny shook her head, and dragged herself up on shaking legs. ‘There must be something I can do,’ she pleaded, ‘Rather than involve Mr Maff… eiano.’ She choked on his name. To have to sell her home was horrific, but not half as bad as the thought she might have to see Solo again. He had hurt her so much in the past she couldn’t bear to face him. ‘If I must sell the house, please, you arrange it for me, Mr Simpson.’

‘Don’t worry, Penelope, it is all in hand. I have taken the liberty of setting up a meeting for you tomorrow at noon at Maffeiano’s London office.’

‘Please could you go for me? Whatever you arrange I’ll accept, but keep me out of it.’

‘I’m afraid I can’t do that. Mr Maffeiano has insisted on dealing with you personally. But it will work out fine, I’m sure.’ Mr Simpson pressed a card with the address on it into her hand. ‘Now, why don’t you run along and do some shopping, cheer yourself up?’

Mr Simpson looked pleased, while Penny looked sick when she had finally left the lawyer’s office. She could not believe what had happened; it was her worst nightmare realised. She was dreading having to meet Solo again, but she had no choice.

She could vividly remember the horrendous scene when Solo had caught her in the arms of Simon. Incredulous anger had been followed by a tirade of what had sounded like curses in Italian and then, as if a switch had been thrown in his brain, he’d stepped back, coldly remote and in complete control.

Acting for all she was worth, Penny had told Solo she was sorry if she had given him the wrong impression, but Simon had always been her boyfriend, and she had only dated Solo because Simon had been away.

Even now she still shivered when she remembered the look of icy contempt Solo had slashed at her, before in the next moment Simon had played his part.

‘Penny and I have been a couple for ages, and I know her well. When her stepmother asked her to be nice to you she was too soft-hearted to say no—she doesn’t like to hurt people. You do understand, sir,’ and the sir had simply accentuated the age difference.

‘Yes, I understand perfectly,’ Solo had drawled. His handsome face devoid of all expression, and his grey eyes cold and hard as the Arctic waste, had frozen her to the spot. ‘Congratulations, Penny, I do believe Veronica has finally met her match.’ And swinging on his heel, he had stalked off.

After the fatal day when she had lied to Solo and he had left, life had never been quite the same at Haversham Park. Her father had told her Solo had called but had had to leave in a hurry. Her father had continued saying he was sure Solo would be in touch as he was very fond of her.

Penny had responded, lying through her teeth, ‘Maybe, but he is far too old for me, and I’m going to university with Jane. We are really looking forward to meeting other young people, laying the groundwork for a good career.’

Her father had looked shocked, and then worried, before sighing and saying, ‘You’re very young; I should have expected it.’

Three weeks later when Penny had left for university and there had been no contact with Solo, Veronica had realised something was wrong, and accused Penny of destroying the best chance her father had ever had of making a fortune.

‘It was obvious Solo fancied you. You should have given him more encouragement. What girl needs an education when they can hook a millionaire like Solo Maffeiano? You’re an idiot.’ Which had summed up Veronica’s slant on life, Penny had thought dryly.

‘For heaven’s sake, cheer up, woman,’ Jane’s voice cut into her troubled thoughts. ‘Sell the mouldering old pile and get a life like me.’

For the next couple of hours Penny did try. But the thought of the meeting tomorrow prevented Penny relaxing and she was glad when the evening was finally over and they returned to Jane’s house.

At five minutes to noon Penny walked into the building that housed the London offices of the Maffeiano Corporation. She glanced across the marble-floored foyer to where a smart brunette sat at a long, curved desk, bearing the word ‘Reception’ on a gold plaque.

Taking a deep breath, Penny pulled the jacket of her black suit down to her hips and walked to the desk. ‘Excuse me, I have an appointment with Mr Maffeiano.’

The receptionist’s gaze slid over Penny’s slender figure dressed in the neat black suit, with the white blouse beneath, the blonde hair scraped back in a bun, and the pale face. ‘You have an appointment with Mr Maffeiano?’

Bristling, Penny affirmed with a nod, ‘Yes.’ So she didn’t look like his usual model woman, so what! At college she’d had no trouble fighting off a succession of young men more interested in her looks than her brain. Then during nine months as a mother to James she had developed a firm belief in her own intellectual talents, and ability to cope with any eventuality. This was business, strictly business, and she could handle it.

‘I’ll call his secretary. Take a seat.’ The girl gestured to a seating arrangement surrounding a table holding magazines.

Penny was glad to sit down because her legs were suddenly weak. If the girl did but know Penny did not want to be here, only the decision had been taken out of her hands. She had not slept a wink last night, the enormity of what had happened was almost destroying her.

Over and over again she asked herself why her father would have done such thing, but could not find an answer. The only certainty was that she had lost the family home. The only decision left was where the house would go—to Solo or to a stranger—and that was not up to her, but to Solo. She dreaded the prospect of meeting him again.

‘Miss Haversham.’ A grey-haired lady in her fifties approached Penny. ‘Will you come this way, please?’

‘Thank you.’ Penny tried a smile and followed the lady down a long, carpeted corridor.

The secretary opened a door at the end, and gestured Penny to enter before her. ‘You can wait here. Mr Maffeiano is delayed, but he won’t be long. Help yourself to coffee,’ she said, indicating a coffeemaker that stood on a small table in one corner of what was obviously an office. The woman took a seat behind a large computer desk. ‘You look as though you need a fix, my dear,’ and she smiled, suddenly looking very human.

‘No… No, thank you.’ Penny returned the smile, her head turning when a double door that she surmised led to the inner sanctum was opened and a woman walked out. Penny stifled a silent groan. Tina Jenson…

‘Hello—well, if it isn’t little Penny Haversham,’ the tall redhead drawled, then added, ‘I’m surprised you have the nerve to face Solo after the stroke you pulled.’

‘And hello to you too.’ Penny said dryly. Why should she be surprised to see Tina? The woman was Solo’s Personal Assistant and long-time lover. If any stroke had been pulled, it had been by Solo Maffeiano on her father, she thought angrily. Her father had been no businessman, Penny would be the first to admit. Solo had to have tricked him, anything else she could not contemplate. She had adored her dad; still did, she thought sadly.

‘You have nerve, I’ll give you that,’ Tina said shortly, and, with a goodbye to the secretary, swept out of the office.

Penny watched her leave with mixed feelings. It was only the second time she had met the woman, but Tina did not improve on acquaintance, she thought bitterly. Obviously Tina and Solo were still together, and Penny refused to believe the slight pain in her heart was anything other than a touch of heartburn. She had not eaten anything since yesterday.

Penny glanced at the coffee but dismissed the idea, and sat down on one of the chairs provided. All she’d had for breakfast were three cups of black coffee, and she was nervous and angry enough without having another shot of caffeine. She clasped her hands around her purse in her lap in a deathlike grip and waited.

‘He will see you now,’ the secretary announced as a green light on the console flashed, and, indicating the door to Penny, she added, ‘But please make it quick, he does not have much time. His meeting with Mrs Jenson took longer than expected.’

I’ll just bet it did! Penny thought unkindly. A kiss and a cuddle, or maybe more had delayed him! Rising to her feet, Penny straightened her shoulders and with a brief, ‘Thank you,’ in the secretary’s direction she walked into Solo’s office.

Warily she glanced around the elegant room. Dark panelling, a polished wood floor with what looked like a very expensive carpet, a black leather sofa and chair, and by the massive window that filled almost a whole wall was an enormous mahogany desk and a high-backed chair. But no Solo Maffeiano!

She walked slowly into the room, her heart racing. It was hot. May and the central heating was still on. Not a luxury Penny could afford at Haversham Park, she thought wryly. She unfastened the jacket of her suit, and pulled at the collar of her blouse.

Maybe it was deliberate. Solo Maffeiano was the sort who would like to make a client sweat, she thought bitterly, taking a deep breath and slowly exhaling before she forced her feet onwards to the desk. She stopped at the edge, at a loss as to what to do next. She tried a polite cough, her throat tightening in the process.

Slowly the chair swung around and she saw Solo and her breath stuck in her throat. Their eyes met and she almost passed out. It was the fiercest electric connection she had ever experienced in her life. She blinked, and when she looked again, like a replay of her eighteen-year-old self, she was totally intoxicated by the sheer animal magnetism of the man that the years in between had done nothing to dispel.

To disconcert her even more Solo was lounging back in the chair, his jacket and tie discarded, the tailored white shirt fitting his broad shoulders to perfection, the collar open at the neck to reveal the strong, tanned throat and a glimpse of black chest hair. Her pulse raced, and her mouth went dry; she could not have spoken to save her life.

‘The honourable Penelope Haversham,’ he drawled sarcastically. ‘Allow me.’ He rose to his feet and walked around the desk.

She watched him move, six feet three of stunningly attractive male. She had forgotten quite how tall Solo was, and how he projected a power, a raw sexuality that made her stomach muscles clench in helpless response. From the top of his dark head, to the broad shoulders, to the dark pleated trousers that settled on his lean hips and long legs, he was the epitome of predatory male and she could not help staring.

Her fascinated gaze watched as he took a chair from against the wall and placed it beside her. Realising she was staring, Penny jerked back her head and felt a painful tide of red wash over her face. She was ogling the man like an idiot.

‘Sit down,’ Solo commanded coldly.

She was glad to oblige, as her legs were shaking. ‘Thank you, Mr Maffeiano,’ she murmured politely, and was aware of him resuming his seat at the opposite side of the desk.

‘Mr Maffeiano,’ he drawled mockingly. Ice-grey eyes cut like a laser into hers, then slowly swept over her slender body with a frigid disdain that even now, after so many years had the power to make her cringe. It was the exact same look he had given her when he had caught her kissing Simon, as though she was beneath contempt.

‘Surely you and I are on first-name terms at least, Penny?’

She blushed even redder. ‘Yes, of course, Solo,’ she muttered, her tongue sticking to the roof of her dry mouth.

She was behaving like a fool. She was no longer a naive young girl, with a head full of romantic ideals of love and marriage, an easy conquest for a ruthless, sophisticated man of the world like Solo. She should be thanking her lucky stars that she had seen through the devil in time, instead of sitting here, trembling and blushing like a schoolgirl.

‘Well, let’s get down to business—I haven’t much time to spare.’ His deep voice was curt. ‘I have a luncheon engagement at one.’

Warily she watched him as he shoved his chair back a little, and flung one arm casually over the back. Nervously she straightened the hem of her skirt over her knees.

His grey eyes followed the movement of her hands and narrowed to linger on her legs, and the charged sexuality of the knowing look he swept slowly over her body made heat surge in her face, and, to her shame, another more intimate place. The shockingly helpless flare of response made her press her knees together, her body became taut, and she wanted to curl up and hide.

His expressive mouth twisted in a cynical smile. ‘Still as demure as ever, I see.’ Solo had a vivid image of the lady in red last night and wanted to laugh out loud at the image Penny presented today in the black suit, the conservative court shoes, and the hair scraped back. Who did she think she was fooling? Certainly not him…

Appalled at her own weakness, Penny murmured, ‘Yes,’ as she stiffened her shoulders, not knowing what else to say. Simply being in the same room with Solo again had a disastrous effect on her mental powers. One look at him and every sensible thought vanished from her head, and she knew she needed all her wits about her to discuss business with the man.

He had been thirty-four when she’d first met him, and well aware of his impact on the female of the species. Suave and devastatingly attractive, he could charm the birds right out of the trees. His deep, melodious voice tinged with a hint of sensuality had promised untold delight, with perhaps just a touch of danger. Now as she looked up into his cold eyes all she saw was danger…

Almost four years had left their mark. His curly hair was ruthlessly swept back from his broad brow. There was harshness about the firmly chiselled features, a ruthlessness in the grey eyes that met her own that said he was a man in firm control of himself and all those around him. A man to be respected for his immense power and wealth, but also a man to be feared.

‘If you say so.’ His gaze moved with leisurely insolence over her face, and lower to the firm swell of her breasts against the soft cotton of her blouse. ‘It has been a long time but you haven’t changed at all, Penelope.’

Penny’s body responded with another sudden rush of heat that horrified her. Slender fingers curled into fists, her nails digging into her palms until it hurt, trying to distract her traitorous body with pain. What a choice! she thought dryly, and the sheer stupidity of injuring herself enabled her to relax her grip.

‘Neither have you, Solo,’ she said stiffly, hoping she sounded sophisticated and, praying her voice would not wobble, she added, ‘And I’ll take that as a compliment.’

‘Take it any way you like,’ he drawled. ‘But back to business. What exactly do you want?’ One dark brow arched enquiringly.

‘Well. I… you… Mr Simpson said…’ she stammered to a halt.

Solo rose slowly to his feet and in a few lithe strides was around the desk and towering over her. ‘You seem a little nervous. Shall we start again? After all, we were close friends once.’ Holding out his hand, he added, ‘Good to see you, Penny.’

Penny looked at his hand as if it were a snake that might bite. She glanced up into his eyes and saw the mocking amusement in their silvery depths. The swine was laughing at her.

‘Yes, of course.’ she said firmly and placed her hand in his. His hand squeezed hers, sending a prickling sensation scooting up her arm.

Instinctively Penny tensed, and lowered her eyes from his knowing gaze. Her head was telling her to get out of there as quickly as possible, while her traitorous heart skipped a beat as the hand that gripped hers tightened fractionally, before he set her free.

Solo looked at her lowered head. ‘You have changed, after all,’ he drawled mockingly. ‘At one time you were not afraid to face me.’

Pride alone made her tip back her head and look up. ‘I’m not now,’ she denied curtly. ‘I’m just surprised you wanted to see me, instead of Mr Simpson, my lawyer, after the way we parted,’ she said with blunt honesty.

‘Some you win, some you lose.’ One shoulder elevated in a shrug.

Penny’s eyes widened in surprise on his dark, inscrutable face. He was as good as admitting it had all been a game to him four years ago, and she, poor fool that she was, had felt guilty over the blunt way she had dismissed him. The anger that had been simmering inside her ever since Mr Simpson had told her the news yesterday came bubbling to the surface.

‘But you never lose, do you, Solo?’ she said hotly. ‘What I want to know is how the hell you conned my father into selling you half of Haversham Park.’

His silver-grey eyes hardened perceptibly, his handsome face an expressionless mask. ‘Be very careful of throwing unfounded accusations around. I allow no one to cast a slur on my integrity without taking legal action, and, given the mess you are in at the moment, bankruptcy would be the result.’

‘I’m not far from it anyway,’ she snapped back bitterly, recalling the inheritance tax, and it was enough to make her clamp down on her anger. Insulting the man was not going to help her situation. She needed Solo’s agreement, either to buy her out or to sell the house to someone else.

She had overreacted. Shock at seeing him had churned up emotions she had thought she had successfully buried. Solo Maffeiano might still have the charisma, the blatant sexuality that had the power to awaken old familiar feelings inside her. But she was older and wiser now, and knew it wasn’t love, just lust, and easily denied. She only had to remember the way he had tried to manipulate her feelings for the sake of the house.

A wry smile tugged her mouth, the irony of the situation hitting her. With her late father’s help it looked as if Solo would get the house anyway. But at least she was not stuck with a man who had quite happily toyed with her foolish heart, while betraying her with the elegant Tina Jenson.

The fact that Tina Jenson was still with him simply confirmed Solo’s guilt in Penny’s eyes. He was a ruthless, devious bastard, and she had had a lucky escape.

‘That is a very secretive smile,’ Solo prompted. ‘Care to share the joke?’

‘It was nothing,’ Penny said, and in that moment she realised Solo was nothing to her, and she smiled with genuine relief.

‘I don’t want to waste any more of your valuable time. My lawyer informs me you own half my home. How, he wasn’t quite clear.’ She could not resist the dig and cast a swift glance up at him beneath the thick fringe of her lashes. She still did not understand why her father would have done such a thing, but he had, and she had to deal with the consequences.

‘Strictly legitimate, I can assure you,’ Solo informed her coldly.

‘Yes, so I understand, and that is why I am here.’ She lowered her eyes. ‘I want you to buy me out or agree to put the house on the open market,’ Penny stated simply.

She knew Solo had not developed the land he had bought from her father, apparently losing interest in the project. When Veronica was alive she had never stopped telling Penny that it was all her fault.

Penny had had no answer to her stepmother’s accusations—well, none she’d wanted to tell her—and instead Penny had suffered in silence. While Solo Maffeiano had vanished from their lives and, as far as she knew, the acreage he had bought was rented out to adjoining farmers.

‘My, my, you actually want to sell your home?’ His sarcastic tone cut into her musings, and she glanced back up into his dark, sardonic face. ‘And I have first refusal.’ A slow smile twisted his hard mouth and chilled her to the bone. ‘What an interesting scenario, and surprising. I seem to remember you were very attached to the ancestral pile. What has changed?’