The Marriage Takeover

But, in all fairness, no man in his right mind would turn down an opportunity like that. He’d done the best he could in the circumstances. Given her a chance to veto it.

A chance he knew quite well she wouldn’t take.

Just for an instant she felt resentful.

Glancing up, she discovered Lang Dalton was watching her intently.

Leaning towards her, he said softly in her ear, ‘You look like Ariadne must have looked when she was about to be abandoned in Naxos.’

All at once Cassandra was convinced of two things—he was well aware of what she was thinking, and he wanted her to blame Alan.

Well, she wouldn’t give him that satisfaction.

Allowing herself no time to change her mind, she turned to her fiancé and, with as much enthusiasm as she could muster, exclaimed, ‘Darling, of course you must go!’

For a moment he looked surprised at the warm response. Then, a little lamely, he said, ‘You know I don’t like to leave you.’

But she’d seen the relief in his eyes.

‘Don’t be silly. It’s only for a couple of days.’

Lang smiled grimly. A lot could happen in two days. In less time than that he’d been known to make or break a multi-million-dollar deal and, on matters that adversely affected the environment, apply enough pressure to change the modus operandi and ensure the results he wanted.

‘Don’t worry,’ he told Alan urbanely. ‘While you’re away I’ll show Cassandra something of the area, and make sure she doesn’t get bored.’

If that statement of intent was meant to reassure, as far as Cassandra was concerned it failed dismally.

And Lang knew it. ‘Of course if you’re really not happy with that arrangement…?’

‘I’m quite happy,’ she assured him mendaciously.

‘Well, if you change your mind before the helicopter leaves, and feel you can’t bear to be abandoned after all, I might be prepared to stretch a point…’ But his derisory smile suggested that it would be the behaviour of a child.

Which it would.

‘Thank you, but there’ll be no need.’

Lifting her chin, she met his eyes, and saw in their depths a gleam of triumph, of satisfaction.

It was almost immediately masked. But she knew without a shadow of doubt that he had got exactly what he wanted.

Remembering her premonition, she gave a shiver, suddenly convinced that, for some obscure reason, this whole thing had been carefully planned, that both she and Alan had been ruthlessly manipulated.

Such a notion had obviously never crossed Alan’s mind. He tended to be inward-looking, self-absorbed, and she guessed that a lot of the byplay had gone over his head.

Off the hook, looking eager and excited once again, he turned to Lang and remarked, ‘I heard through the media that you’re considering putting money into the Rio Palos Dam project…’

As they drank their coffee, the two men talked business, while Cassandra tried hard to dismiss her fears. No doubt when she’d had a good night’s rest she would be able to think clearly and laugh at her own foolish fancies.

Alan had slept during the interminable flight, but Cassandra, still new to flying, and perturbed about the visit, hadn’t even managed to doze. Tiredness was making her skin feel as though it was drawn tight over her facial bones, and there was a dull ache between her eyes.

Making a great effort, she sat straighter and tried to concentrate on the conversation, but after a while she began to feel oddly light-headed, the male voices seemed to ebb and flow, and waves of fatigue washed over her.

‘You look absolutely shattered.’ Lang Dalton was on his feet by her side. ‘Why don’t you go to bed?’

‘I think I will, if you don’t mind.’ To her own ears her voice sounded dazed and befuddled.

As she rose, Lang pulled out her chair and said, ‘I’ll see you to your room.’

‘Thank you, but there’s really no need,’ she assured him.

Alan stood up and, a shade abstractedly, kissed her on the cheek. ‘Goodnight, then, darling. I’ll see you in the morning before I go.’

Leaving the two men to resume their discussion, she made her way through a house that was pleasantly cool and airy, full of evening sun and the scent of flowers.

Though she made a conscious effort to walk straight, from time to time she staggered a little, like someone who was inebriated.

As soon as she reached her room she put on her nightdress, cleaned her teeth, and, falling into bed, went to sleep the instant her head touched the pillow.

Some sound disturbed her, and she stirred and groaned. She had slept very heavily. Her head was muzzy and her throat dry.

Struggling to open eyelids that felt as though they’d been fastened shut with Velcro, she saw a strange room with bright sunshine filtering through the light muslin curtains.

For a few seconds she was utterly confused and disorientated. Then memory opened the floodgates, and along with recollection came a rush of anxiety, a return of the foreboding she’d expected sleep to banish.

Though she couldn’t begin to guess at the reason, she remained convinced that, while making sure Alan went to LA, Lang Dalton had contrived that she should remain here… And, to all intents and purposes, of her own free will.

He was a brilliant tactician, she thought broodingly. Having put her in a position where her pride insisted she couldn’t take it, he had tauntingly offered her a chance to change her mind.

Well, that had been a mistake on his part, she decided abruptly. Even if it made her look foolish, she was going to take it!

She would make the excuse that she had resolved to seize this opportunity to see something of LA, in case it was going to be her future home.

Once the helicopter had dropped her, she could book herself into a hotel for the night. There would be no need for her to go anywhere near Seguro House. That way no one could accuse Alan of mixing business with pleasure.

Lang Dalton had said the helicopter would be ready ‘first thing in the morning’. What time was it now? A glance at her watch only served to confuse her; she had omitted to adjust it to the time difference.

So how long had she got? At a guess she must have nearly slept the clock round, so probably not long, she thought with sudden urgency. But all she needed to do was throw a few things in her overnight bag before Alan knocked. She could always skip breakfast.

Jumping out of bed, she hurried to the bathroom.

Having showered and dressed at top speed, and pulled a brush through her long hair, she began to pack some changes of clothing and a few essentials. She had barely finished when she heard the unmistakable sound of a helicopter.

Just in the nick of time, she thought with relief. Any second now Alan would be knocking at the door.

But no knock came, and it took a moment or two of stunned disbelief before the unwelcome fact finally sank in that the engine noise, rather than approaching, was moving away.

No, no, it couldn’t be. Alan wouldn’t leave without seeing her, without saying goodbye.

Her heart suddenly racing, she pressed a button set into the side of the nearest arch, and the glass panels slid aside.

Hurrying out onto the patio, she shielded her eyes from the brightness and looked up into the cloudless sky. The helicopter, silver against the deep blue, was heading south-west towards the coast and the urban sprawl that was Los Angeles…

‘Good morning.’ Lang Dalton’s low-pitched, attractive voice made her jump. ‘You’re up and dressed earlier than I’d expected.’

Bare feet leaving wet prints, he was coming towards her, tanned and fit-looking, wearing well-cut navy swimming trunks, a towel slung around his neck. His thick blond hair was wet and rumpled, a single lock falling over his forehead.

‘That isn’t…?’ Her voice shook betrayingly, and she stopped speaking abruptly.

Following her gaze to where the helicopter had become a rapidly dwindling speck, he said, ‘I’m afraid so,’ adding with a kind of mocking concern, ‘You look upset. I do hope you hadn’t changed your mind about going?’

‘No, I hadn’t changed my mind,’ she lied jerkily, and felt almost sure that he didn’t believe her. ‘But Alan promised he’d…’ Once again she was forced to stop.

‘See you before he left?’ Lang finished for her. ‘You’ll have to forgive him. He didn’t have a moment to spare. In fact he was forced to go without any breakfast.’

A drop of water ran down his lean cheek and he lifted the towel to wipe it away before continuing, ‘The helicopter arrived over an hour early. Some last-minute problem had cropped up that meant McDowell, my pilot, was needed back in LA urgently.’

But surely Alan could have found just a few seconds to say goodbye?

As though reading her thoughts, Lang went on smoothly, ‘Brent and I agreed that as you were obviously jet-lagged it would be a shame to wake you for what would have necessarily been a very brief farewell.’

Brent and I agreed… Cassandra bit her lip vexedly. Reading between the lines, what it amounted to was that to make sure she didn’t change her mind and take advantage of his offer Lang Dalton had tried to prevent Alan from waking her.

And Alan, no doubt feeling uncomfortable about leaving her, and possibly fearing some kind of last-minute reproach, had taken the easy way out.

Aloud, she said, ‘How thoughtful of you both.’ And, feeling caught, trapped, wondered despairingly how she was going to get through the next two days.

But somehow she would have to, and with the best possible grace…

As though applauding her unspoken decision, Lang smiled at her, and said briskly, ‘However, as you are awake, you’ve time for a swim before breakfast.’

The blue, sparkling water looked very inviting, but she found herself oddly unwilling to appear in front of him in a swimsuit.

‘I’m not sure what the time is,’ she prevaricated. ‘I forgot to alter my watch.’

Glancing at the slim, waterproof Rolex he wore on his left wrist, Lang told her, ‘It’s just after six.’ Then, with a glint, he said, ‘And I can recommend that swim.’

Making a big deal of adjusting her watch, she half shook her head. ‘I’m really thirsty. I think I’d rather have a drink.’

‘Why not have both? There’s some freshly squeezed juice waiting.’ He indicated a table by the pool-side that had been set with a selection of fruit and cereals, a jug of orange juice and two tall glasses.

As she hesitated, his sardonic smile making it clear that he had recognized the reason for her reluctance, he added, ‘I’m going in now to shower and dress. Afterwards I’ve got a couple of things to take care of, so you’ve a good half-hour before I join you for breakfast.’

‘Thank you; in that case I think I will.’ She was pleased that her voice was steady.

Watching him walk away, his carriage easy, athletic, she gritted her teeth. He was the most complex, demoralizing, disturbing man she’d ever met.

Going back into her room, the first thing she noticed was the overnight bag that now wouldn’t be needed.

Oh, if only she’d wakened sooner! Agitated and jumpy, nervous as a cat shut in the wrong house, she sighed. But it was too late. There was nothing she could do but make the best of things.

Stripping off her clothes, she pulled on her black swimsuit and looked in the cheval-glass. It fitted her slender, long-legged figure to perfection, and by modern standards was quite modest, but her heightened sensibilities made her feel half naked.

A cautious peep showed the patio was deserted, and, with a rueful grimace at the stupidity of her own behaviour, she ventured out.

She helped herself to a glass of the delicious, sweet-tart juice, and drank it thirstily before slipping into the pool.

The water was blissfully cool and refreshing, and she swam several leisurely lengths while the tension slowly drained out of her.

Turning on her back, she floated motionless, her hair fanning out around her, her eyes closed, the Californian sun warm on her face.

‘About ready?’

Lang’s voice startled her, and her head went under. She gulped in water, and for a second or two thrashed about wildly.

A strong hand caught one of her wrists and drew her to the side. Then, crouching, he took her under her arms and hauled her out with what seemed to be effortless ease.

While she coughed and spluttered, he set her on her feet and steadied her until she’d blinked the water from her eyes and got her breath back. Then, picking up a short white towelling robe he’d tossed over a chair, he held it for her.

‘Thank you,’ she said huskily. Pulling the robe around her, she knotted the belt and used the cowl collar to wipe her face and dry the dripping ends of her hair.

A hint of amusement in his voice, Lang suggested, ‘Perhaps in future you should avoid the deep end, rather than risk drowning.’

‘I can swim perfectly well,’ she informed him indignantly. ‘I would have been in no danger of drowning if you hadn’t startled me.’

She hadn’t meant to sound quite so accusing, she thought belatedly, but the shock had momentarily put out of her head the need to tread warily.

‘I’m sorry. Trying to drown you wasn’t my intention. Believe me, I much prefer you alive.’ Then he said softly, ‘You see, I have plans for you, Cassandra.’

‘Plans?’ A little chill of alarm ran down her spine. ‘What kind of plans?’

‘You’ll have to wait and see. I’ve always believed that anticipation hones the…’ There was a brief pause before he added, ‘Pleasure. Now, are you ready for some breakfast?’

He had changed into lightweight trousers and a blue open-necked sports shirt. Conscious that he was studying the slim length of her bare legs, and feeling very much at a disadvantage, she stammered, ‘I—I was hoping to get dressed first.’

A hand beneath her elbow, he urged her towards the table and the appetizing smell of coffee. ‘This is California. Even up here, where the air’s cooler, you’re already wearing more than you need.’

Seeing nothing else for it, she sat down, hiding her legs under the table.

Smiling a little, he took his own seat and poured coffee for them both, before asking, ‘Would you like to start with some cereal?’ When she shook her head, he helped her to scrambled eggs and thin slices of crispy bacon.

Sitting in the sun, a balmy breeze rustling the palm fronds and wafting the scent of frangipani, the mountains making a majestic backdrop, they ate in silence, Lang looking relaxed and easy, Cassandra anything but.

What had he meant by plans? she wondered uneasily. It had sounded almost like a veiled threat…

Oh, don’t be a fool! she scolded herself crossly. What possible reason could a man in his position have for threatening her? Until the previous day she’d never even met him, let alone given him any cause to want to harm her.

Lang Dalton was her boss, nothing more or less. A wealthy, influential, highly respected entrepreneur, not some kind of bogeyman.

Probably plans had been a reference to some quite innocuous outing. He’d told Alan that he would show her ‘something of the area’.

When, eating abstractedly, she’d done justice to the meal, Lang refilled her cup and, his voice casual, said, ‘Oh, by the way, your fiancé wrote you a note while he was snatching a quick coffee.’

Why hadn’t he mentioned it before? she wondered vexedly.

As though in answer to that thought, he added with an ironic smile, ‘In the general excitement, I’m afraid it almost slipped my mind.’

Feeling in the pocket of his shirt, he produced a folded piece of paper and handed it to her.

Confirming Alan’s haste, his almost painfully neat writing had degenerated into a scrawl.

Cass, darling, sorry to leave without seeing you, but in the circumstances it seemed a shame to disturb you. While we were talking last night, Mr Dalton told me where he planned to take you, so enjoy your weekend, and I’ll catch up with you in Las Vegas Sunday evening.

Love, A.

Looking up, Cassandra asked blankly, ‘Las Vegas?’

‘I thought you might like to see the place,’ Lang said easily. ‘We can drive over to Nevada—you’ll find the journey itself is a pleasure—and stay a couple of nights at the Golden Phoenix… I’ve arranged for your fiancé to be flown straight there from LA…

‘Apart from the fact that Vegas is well worth seeing for its own sake—it was a frontier outpost and railway town before becoming a gambling mecca—it’s surrounded by some magnificent desert scenery.

‘Death Valley lies to the west, and from nearby McCarran International Airport there are flights that offer a bird’s-eye view of the Grand Canyon.’

‘That sounds wonderful,’ she admitted, feeling both excited and relieved. A trip to Las Vegas in a chauffeur-driven car, and staying at a hotel with plenty of people, had to be a great deal easier than remaining here with only Lang Dalton for company.

‘I’m glad you approve.’ So far so good, he thought, and asked softly, ‘Are you anything of a gambler, Cassandra?’

‘No. Are you?’

He smiled thinly. ‘Not in the usual sense. I have been known to play for high stakes, but only when the odds are stacked in my favour.’

Something about his answer made her feel uneasy, but, telling herself that she mustn’t start imagining things again, she asked, ‘When do you plan to start?’

‘As soon as possible. How long will it take you to get ready?’

‘Ten minutes?’

Nodding his approval, he rose to his feet and pulled out her chair.

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