A Thorn In Paradise

‘Trying to find an appropriate lie to that one?’ he asked her, looking at her coldly.

‘He asked me what my impression was of you, and I told him the truth.’

‘Which was…?’

‘That you struck me as being arrogant and objectionable.’

She expected him to hit the roof with that one, but he didn’t, and she shifted uneasily in the chair.

‘I can’t think of too many women who have called me that before,’ he said softly, staring at her, and she thought to herself, No, I don’t suppose you have, I suppose they’ve all been too busy trying to get you to give them one of those lazy, charming smiles of yours. Well, not me, buster.

‘No?’ she asked politely. ‘They must be very short-sighted, then.’

‘Or maybe you’re the one with the misguided judgement. You are, after all, in a minority. Of course, you could be an expert on men. Is that it?’

‘I forgot one more adjective,’ she said, ignoring his question, and he raised his eyebrows in a question. ‘Egotistical.’

‘Now might I be permitted to subject you to the same character assassination as you’ve just subjected me to?’ he asked, and she reddened, not saying anything.

Her coffee had gone cold and she refilled her cup, not liking this turn in the conversation one bit. She didn’t want to get involved in any word games with this man. In fact, she would have liked to be able to ignore his presence completely.

‘Do I have a choice?’ she asked. ‘I gather you’ll force your opinions on me whether I like them or not. You did last night.’

‘Well,’ he said, folding his arms and looking at her from under his thick, black lashes, ‘you’re a relatively plain little creature, but I wouldn’t describe you as background material. No, quite fiery in fact, and with lots of that so-called honesty which some English people think is a virtue when in fact it’s only a mark of rudeness.’

‘A mark of rudeness…!’ she spluttered, furious.

‘That’s right,’ he agreed silkily. ‘Have you cultivated that in an attempt to win my father over? I remember him as being brilliant and temperamental, a man who wouldn’t be able to abide any coy simpering around him. Did you think that the quickest and surest way to win him over was to meet fire with fire?’

‘I don’t have to stay here and listen to this.’ She stood up, trembling, and turned to go.

‘Wait!’

‘Don’t order me about! You might get away with that where you come from and with the sort of women you mix with, but not me!’

They stared at each other and she felt a heated, unwelcome awareness of his masculinity. When he stood up, she had to force herself not to move, to remain where she was when every confused instinct was telling her to run. He walked across to her, not taking his eyes off her face, and she glared at him with resentment. Plain, was she? Scheming, was she? She wished that the ground would open and swallow him up. She would stand and watch him disappearing with a smile.

‘The sort of women I mix with?’

‘You heard me! From what you said they fall at your feet, but don’t expect the same sort of reaction from me!’

He looked at her speculatively, as if digesting that remark, and she wished that she hadn’t said anything. There was no reason why she had to defend herself to this man and it irked her that she was continually being forced into a position of self-defence.

‘No?’ he said, watching her mouth, then flicking his eyes along her body, then back to her face. ‘The financial reward not tempting enough?’ Her face darkened and he laughed with acid amusement. ‘Or maybe the little mouse with the fiery temper prefers to scurry into a corner and observe life from the sidelines?’

He was deliberately antagonising her. It was obvious. But the desire to wipe that cool assessing sneer off his dark face was so strong that she had to clench her fists tightly to overcome it.

‘Is there anything else you want or can I leave?’

‘Which is my father’s bedroom?’

She began telling him but he interrupted her and said, ‘Take me there. I think the time for confrontation has arrived.’

She nodded and spun round, walking briskly into the hall, then up the staircase to the right wing of the house, tensely aware of his presence behind her. Was he nervous? she wondered. He didn’t appear nervous. In fact, he gave the impression of someone who didn’t have a nervous bone in his body, but he could just be a good actor. She tried to imagine him having butterflies in his stomach and failed.

They had reached Benjamin’s bedroom and she knocked on the door, pushing it open and stepping in.

She wasn’t looking at Antonio, so she didn’t see his reaction, but Benjamin’s face mirrored his shock. She had a strange feeling of being superfluous and made to move away, but Benjamin bellowed at her, ‘Where do you think you’re going? I told you that I didn’t want to see him!’

Antonio’s mouth hardened but he didn’t say anything. He walked into the room, round to the side of the bed, and stood there looking down at his father, his face unreadable. It didn’t look as though it had the makings of a touching emotional reunion and Corinna reluctantly entered the room as well, shutting the door behind her.

‘You’re not wanted here,’ Benjamin said breathlessly, beckoning to her to come over, which she did, and then clasping her hand tightly, all of which she could see his son noting, jotting down, no doubt, in that computer mind of his to be recalled and used against her at a later date.

‘My heart,’ Benjamin said, ‘my blood-pressure. I can’t take this. The shock will kill me.’ He lay back looking faint and Antonio shot her a doubtful look.

‘I did write to tell you that I’d be coming,’ he said, reverting his eyes to Benjamin who had his eyes closed and was breathing heavily.

‘Perhaps you’d better leave,’ Corinna interjected worriedly, reaching next to the bed for her bag which contained her instruments. If Benjamin’s blood-pressure was up, then Antonio would have to leave whether he liked it or not.

He ignored her. ‘Didn’t you receive my letter?’

‘I preferred to think that it had been a mistake.’ He opened his blue eyes and peered at his son with defensive hostility on his face. Side by side, she could see the resemblance between them, which had not been so noticeable before. Their features weren’t identical by any means, and Antonio, with his deeply bronzed skin, looked distinctly foreign, but there was a similarity of expression stamped on both their faces, the same strong, stubborn look in their eyes. Two forceful personalities, she thought, destined to clash.

‘I never make mistakes,’ Antonio said, glancing at her, and she returned his look with equanimity.

‘Well, you made a mistake coming over here,’ Benjamin said. ‘You haven’t set foot in this house for years and that’s suited me just fine. As far as I am concerned, I haven’t got a son.’

That brought a dark flush to Antonio’s cheeks, but whether it stemmed from anger or discomfort, Corinna couldn’t say.

‘We both know the reasons that I left here in the first place,’ he answered tautly. ‘Not,’ he continued harshly, ‘that I want to have our dirty linen aired in front of your nurse.’

‘Why not?’ Benjamin threw at him, ‘she’s more a part of my life than you are.’

‘A dangerous situation, wouldn’t you say?’ Antonio said grimly. ‘She’s a nurse, she’s not indispensable.’

‘Will the two of you stop talking as if I weren’t here!’ Corinna burst out. She faced Benjamin and said quietly, ‘Your son’s right, I shouldn’t be here. The two of you should talk your differences out without a third party present.’

‘I have nothing to talk out,’ Benjamin said stubbornly. He looked at his son, one hand clenched. ‘I didn’t invite you here. I don’t know why you’ve come and I don’t want to know. Just seeing you is going to set my blood-pressure soaring.’

‘It’s fine,’ Corinna said. She had taken it unobtrusively a short while ago and was surprised to find that it had been stable.

‘For the moment,’ Benjamin growled, ‘but not if I have to be subjected to this sort of scene for much longer.’

Antonio gave an impatient click of his tongue. ‘Look, I’ve been away a long time,’ he muttered, glancing across to where Corinna was standing. ‘I grant you that all this should have been cleared up a long time ago.’

His face was tight, and she could tell straight away that he was not a man who felt comfortable making concessions of any description.

‘Should have been, but wasn’t,’ Benjamin said, refusing to bend. ‘Now if you don’t mind leaving, I feel very tired. Close the door behind you.’