The Spaniard's Baby Bargain

Christina’s protest was immediate, and voluble.

Ariane’s heart turned over at the sound, and she resisted the impulse to reach out and soothe the babe.

‘It would appear you have a certain empathy with the young.’

A compliment? Should she admit to having had some practice? ‘I reported the effects of war on children during the conflict in Kosovo.’

Very few were aware her experience was hands-on, that she’d spent time in severely understaffed hospital wards, helping out, or that she’d chosen to stay until trained staff arrived on the scene.

‘Where chaos reigned and depleted medical supplies were the norm.’ Manolo subjected her to a steady appraisal.

A calculated guess, based on media releases at the time?

‘You were given the opportunity to fly out with departing media staff, yet you refused,’ he continued. ‘Instead you ate rationed food, opted to sleep on a mattress on the floor of an infirmary and tended the sick twenty-four seven.’

He couldn’t know that, unless—

‘No one enters my home without undergoing a full investigation,’ he informed quietly.

No one?

‘No.’

Oh, hell, that was just what she needed…someone who could read her mind.

Christina uttered a cry in protest, then settled into full voice with renewed fervour.

Ariane’s hands itched to take back the babe, heat a feeding bottle and cradle her close. Yet she didn’t have the right.

‘Goodnight.’ Her voice came out sounding stiff and incredibly polite.

‘Thank you.’ There was no cynicism apparent, and she turned as she reached the door.

‘No problem.’

It was Ariane’s suggestion stage three of the interview be taped in Manolo del Guardo’s study…or library, office…whatever he chose to call the room where most of the business action took place away from his corporate offices.

For this occasion she’d requested formal attire, and he didn’t disappoint.

An impeccably tailored suit, blue cotton shirt and matching silk tie conveyed the outer trappings of a very successful businessman.

‘I imagine it won’t take long to set up your equipment?’

‘I can do that while Ariane gives you a run-through,’ Tony assured.

Ariane was tempted to ask if Christina was OK, whether she’d slept well…and barely managed to pull herself up as she followed Manolo through the foyer to a spacious room lined with floor-to-ceiling bookcases.

There was a large executive desk, comfortable leather buttoned chairs, the usual fax, computer, printer.

She checked her clipboard, then studied the room. The natural light seemed fine. ‘I think we’ll begin with you seated behind the desk. After a few questions you can stand, perhaps cross to the bookcases.’ She glanced towards Tony. ‘You could do a slow pan with the camera.’ He gave a nod in silent agreement. ‘Then we can conclude with Manolo seated in one of those chairs.’

In a few hours they’d be able to wrap it. Then they could pack up and leave. Another job done. Well, there was the grunt work of editing and mixing. Tony already had a sweeping external shot of the tall, modern, downtown building housing the Del Guardo Corporation, together with a small footage of the luxurious entry foyer.

As per detailed instructions, there would be no external shots of his private home or an indication of its location. No outward display of his cars, the cruiser he was purported to own, or the private jet.

Manolo del Guardo could easily have become an ‘if you’ve got it, flaunt it’ type of tycoon. Instead, he guarded his home and daughter with the type of hi-tech electronic privacy reserved for royalty and the Hollywood glitterati.

‘This morning we’ll focus on your charity interest, how and why you founded the organisation, your contributions, achievements and goals.’

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