A Spanish Affair

‘Butterflies aren’t good business.’ Robert shrugged philosophically. ‘Neither are wild flowers and the like, come to that, or putting family first and being less than ruthless. Maybe if I’d been a bit more like the de Capistranos of this world my kids wouldn’t be in danger of losing the roof over their heads.’

‘Don’t say that,’ said Georgie fiercely, her eyes sparking green flames. ‘You’re the best father and husband and brother in the world. You’ve already admitted you’ve no regrets in putting Sandra first and it was absolutely the right thing to do. You’re ten times the man—a hundred times—de Capistrano will ever be and—’

‘Have we met?’

Two blonde heads shot round as though connected by a single wire and a pair of horrified green eyes and amazed blue surveyed the tall dark man standing in the doorway of the small brick building that was Robert’s office. The voice had been icy, and even if the slight accent hadn’t informed Georgie this was de Capistrano she would have known anyway. The impeccable designer suit and silk shirt and tie sat on the tall lean body in a way that positively screamed unlimited wealth, and the beautiful svelte woman standing just behind the commanding figure was equally well dressed. And equally annoyed if the look on the lovely face was anything to go by. His secretary? Or maybe his wife?

And then Georgie’s racing thoughts were focused on the man alone as he said again, ‘Have we met?’ and this time the voice had all the softness of a razor-sharp scalpel.

‘Mr de Capistrano?’ Georgie’s normally clear voice was more of a weak squeak, and as she cleared her throat nervously the black head nodded slowly, the deep, steel-grey eyes piercingly intent on her face. ‘I’m sorry… I didn’t know…’ She took a hard pull of air before continuing more coherently, ‘No, Mr de Capistrano, we haven’t met, and I have no excuse for my rudeness.’

‘So.’ The furious anger in the frosty face hadn’t diminished an iota.

‘Mr de Capistrano.’ Robert pulled himself together and strode across the room, extending his hand as he said, ‘Please understand. What you overheard was less a comment on you than an endeavour to hearten me. There was nothing personal intended. I’m Robert Millett, by the way, and this is my sister, Georgie.’

There was a pause which seemed to last for ever to Georgie’s tortured senses, and then the hand was accepted. ‘Matt de Capistrano.’ It was pithy. ‘And my secretary, Pepita Vilaseca.’

Georgie had followed her brother across to the others and as the two men shook hands she proffered her own to the immaculate figure at the side of the illustrious Mr de Capistrano. This time the pause was even longer and the lovely face was cold as the tall slim secretary extended a languid hand to Georgie, extracting it almost immediately with a haughty glance which said more clearly than any words could that she had done Georgie the most enormous favour. Pepita. Georgie looked into the beautifully made-up ebony eyes that resembled polished onyx. Sounded like an indigestion remedy to her!

And then, as Robert moved to shake the secretary’s hand, Georgie was forced to raise her eyes up to the dark gaze trained on her face, and acknowledge the reality of what she had imbibed seconds earlier. This was one amazingly…handsome? No, not handsome, her brain corrected in the next moment. Male. One amazingly male man. Overwhelmingly, aggressively male. The sort of man who exuded such a primal masculinity that the veneer of civilisation sat frighteningly lightly on his massive frame.

The leanly muscled body, the jet-black hair cropped uncompromisingly short, the hard good looks—

‘Do you always…encourage your brother by doing a character assassination on complete strangers, Miss Millett?’ Matt de Capistrano asked with arctic politeness, interrupting Georgie’s line of thought and forcing her to realise she had been staring unashamedly.

She turned scarlet. Help, she breathed silently. Get me out of this, someone. He had held out his hand to her and as she made herself shake his, and felt her nervously cold fingers enclosed in his firm hard grip that sent frissons of warmth down to her toes in a most peculiar way, her mouth opened and shut like a goldfish in a bowl before she was able to say breathlessly, ‘No, no, I don’t. Of course I don’t.’

‘Then why today and why me?’

His voice was very deep and of an almost gravelly texture, the slight accent turning it into pure dynamite, Georgie thought inappropriately. ‘I… You weren’t supposed to hear that,’ she said quickly, before she realised just how stupid that sounded.

‘I’d worked that one out all on my own,’ he said caustically.

Oh, how could she have been so unforgivably indiscreet? Georgie’s heart sank into her shoes. Her flat shoes. Which didn’t help her confidence at all with this huge six-foot avenging angel towering over her measly five foot four inches—or perhaps angel was the wrong description. ‘It was just an expression,’ she said weakly. ‘There was absolutely nothing personal in it, as Robert said.’

‘That actually makes it worse, Miss Millett.’ It was cutting. ‘When—or should I say if?—anyone had the temerity to insult me I would expect it to be for a well-thought-out and valid reason.’

Well, hang on just a tick and I’m sure I can come up with several, Georgie thought darkly, forcing a respectful nod of her head as she said out loud, ‘All I can do is to apologise again, Mr de Capistrano.’ Which is exactly what you want, isn’t it? Your full pound of flesh.

‘You work here?’

Georgie thought frantically. If she said yes it might be the final death knell to any faint hope Robert had of persuading this man to finance the cost of the new machinery for a short time, but if she said no and the deal did go through he’d soon know she’d been economical with the truth!

‘Temporarily,’ she compromised hesitantly.

‘Temporarily.’ The lethal eyes demanded an explanation, but Robert—tired of being virtually ignored—cleared his throat at the side of them in a way that demanded attention. Matt de Capistrano paid him no attention at all. ‘Does that mean you will be here for the foreseeable future, Miss Millett?’

Without your contract there isn’t a future. It was that thought which enabled Georgie to draw herself up straight and say, as she met the icy grey gaze head-on, ‘Not if you feel that would be inappropriate after what I’ve said, Mr de Capistrano.’

He blinked. Just once, but she saw she had surprised him. And then he swung round to face Robert, his dark aura releasing her as his piercing gaze left her hot face. ‘I came here today to discuss a proposed business deal,’ he said coldly, ‘and I am a very busy man, Mr Millett. You have the financial details ready which my secretary asked you to prepare?’

Robert gulped. ‘I do, Mr de Capistrano, but—’

‘Then as we have already wasted several minutes of valuable time I suggest we get down to business,’ Matt de Capistrano said tightly, cutting across Robert’s stumbling voice.

What an arrogant, ignorant, overbearing, high and mighty—Georgie’s furious adjectives came to a sudden halt as the grey eyes flicked her way again. ‘I trust you have no objection to that, Miss Millett?’ he asked softly, something in his face making it quite clear to Georgie he had known exactly what she was thinking. ‘I take it you are your brother’s…temporary secretary?’

Somehow, and she couldn’t quite put a finger on it, but somehow he made it sound insulting. ‘Yes, I am,’ she responded tightly.

‘How…convenient,’ he drawled smoothly.

‘Convenient?’ It was wary.

‘To have a ready-made job available like this rather than having to fight your way in the big bad world and prove yourself,’ was the—to Georgie—shocking answer.

How dared he? How dared he make assumptions about her just because she had ruffled his wealthy, powerful feathers? That last remark was just plain nasty. Georgie reared up like a small tigress, all thoughts of appeasement flying out of the window as she bit out, ‘I happen to be a very good secretary, Mr de Capistrano.’ She had worked her socks off as a temp all through the university holidays in order to be less of a financial burden on Robert—one of her ten GCSEs being that of Typing and Computer Literacy before her A Levels in Business Studies, English and Art and Design—and every firm the temping agency had placed her with had wanted her back.

‘Really?’ Her obvious annoyance seemed to diminish his. ‘You did a secretarial course at college?’

‘Not exactly.’ She glared at him angrily.

‘My sister graduated from university two years ago with a First in Art and Design,’ Robert cut in swiftly, sensing Georgie was ready to explode.

‘Then why waste such admirable talents working for big brother?’ He was speaking to her as though Robert and his secretary didn’t exist, and apart from the content of his words hadn’t acknowledged Robert had spoken. ‘Lack of ambition? Contentment with the status quo? Laziness? What?’

Georgie couldn’t believe her ears. ‘Now look here, you—’

Robert cut in again, his face very straight now and his voice holding a harsh note as he said, ‘Georgie left an excellent job a few months ago, Mr de Capistrano, in advertising—a job she was successful in obtaining over a host of other applicants, I might add. She did this purely for me and there is no question of it being a free ride here, if that is what you are suggesting. My wife used to run the office here but—’

‘You don’t have to explain to him.’ Georgie was past caring about the contract or anything else she was so mad.

‘But she died six months ago. Okay?’ Robert finished more calmly.

There was a screaming silence for a full ten seconds and Georgie moved closer to Robert, putting her hand on his arm. She noticed the secretary had done the same thing to Matt de Capistrano which seemed to suggest a certain closeness if nothing else.

‘I’m not sure that an apology even begins to cover such insensitivity, Mr Millett, but I would be grateful if you would accept it,’ the tall dark man in front of them said quietly. ‘I had no idea of your circumstances, of course.’

‘There was no reason why you should have.’ Robert’s voice was more resigned than anything now. He had the feeling Matt de Capistrano was itching to shake the dust of this particular building firm off his feet as quickly—and finally—as possible.

‘Perhaps not, but I have inadvertently added to your pain at this difficult time and that is unforgivable.’ The accent made the words almost quaint, but in view of the situation—and not least the big lean figure speaking them—there was nothing cosy about the scenario being played out in the small office.

‘Forget it.’ Robert waved a dismissive hand. ‘But it is the case that I find myself in somewhat changed circumstances. We discovered this morning we had lost some vital work, work which I had assumed would finance the extra men and hire of machinery I need for your job, Mr de Capistrano.’

‘Are you saying the estimate you supplied is no longer viable?’ The deep voice was now utterly businesslike, and Georgie—standing to one side of the two men—suddenly felt invisible. It was not a pleasant feeling.

‘Not exactly,’ Robert replied cautiously. ‘I can still do the job at the price I put forward, if my bank is prepared to finance the machinery and so on, but—’

‘They won’t,’ Matt de Capistrano finished for him coolly. ‘Are you telling me your business is in financial difficulties, Mr Millett?’