The Determined Husband

‘If you can spare a few minutes, there’s someone I think you should meet. His name is Roberto Canelli. Though I only met him myself a few days ago, I happen to know he’s been looking for a suitable site to relocate his business.’

Turning to Sera, Keir asked, ‘I hope you don’t mind?’

Well aware that business was the be all and the end all of the evening, she answered valiantly, ‘No, of course not.’

He gave her a swift, grateful smile and promised, ‘I’ll try not to be too long.’

‘Canelli’s about to complete a deal with Bensons,’ Cheryl warned, ‘so if you have anything that might interest him, you’ll have to move fast…’

A moment later, feeling rather lost, Sera watched as they walked away and disappeared into the throng.

Cheryl was very tall for a woman, almost six feet in her high heels, and with their two heads close together, one so smooth and bright, the other so dark and curly, they made a handsome couple.

‘As you’ve just arrived, you won’t have eaten yet?’ Martin’s voice broke into Sera’s thoughts.

‘No,’ she admitted.

‘Then, while we get to know each other, shall we go and see what the buffet has to offer?’ A hand at her waist, he led her through to the adjoining room.

As she might have expected, the tables held an excellent and varied selection of food, while above the hum of conversation glasses clinked and champagne corks popped.

With a gallantry she found slightly embarrassing, Martin insisted on helping her to a selection of hors d’oeuvres before serving himself.

A lot of the top men from the world of finance were gathered by the buffet, standing in little groups of twos and threes, making new contacts and cementing old ones over smoked salmon canapés and glasses of vintage champagne.

While they ate, Martin pointed out several whose names were synonymous with wealth and power, and told her amusing anecdotes about each.

Sera was laughing at one of them when Keir appeared at her side. She turned to him eagerly.

His expression curiously tight, he told her, ‘Signor Canelli is interested in a site near SoHo that’s just recently come on the market. He’d like to take a look at it straight away, so Cheryl has kindly offered to drive us down there. Will you be all right?’

Her heart dropping like a lead weight, Sera said, ‘I’ll be fine.’ Then trying not to sound anxious, ‘Have you any idea how long you’ll be?’

‘It’ll depend on the traffic, I’m afraid.’ Giving her hand a squeeze, he assured her, ‘But I’ll be as quick as I can.’

‘If you don’t happen to make it back,’ Martin said smoothly, ‘I’ll see Sera gets home safely.’

‘Thank you, but I expect to be back.’ Keir’s voice was only just civil.

It was obvious that he wasn’t happy about leaving her with Martin Rothwell. But business came first.

His face set, he turned and walked away.

Treating the other man’s reappearance as an unwanted intrusion, Martin asked cheerfully, ‘Now then, where were we?’

For the next twenty minutes or so, while they stood by the buffet, he plied her with delicacies and, though he himself drank little, made sure her glass was kept topped up.

Giving her his undivided attention, he asked her a string of questions. Where did she live…? What did she like most about New York…? How did she think life in the States compared with life in England?

He seemed genuinely interested in her answers, and she found him surprisingly easy to talk to.

One of his comments made her ask, ‘Do you know England well?’

‘Fairly well. We have English ancestry and both Cheryl and I have spent some time over there. After leaving college I lived in London for almost three years…’

Despite his charm, he was known to be a hard-headed businessman, and Sera expected him to excuse himself as soon as the meal was over, rather than waste any more time on one of his own employees.

But, even when they’d finished eating and their coffee cups were empty, he remained by her side.

Aware that he would need to mingle with his guests, she put down her cup and said politely, ‘Thank you, Mr Rothwell, that was most enjoyable,’ and made to leave him.

‘Don’t go…’ he put a restraining hand on her arm ‘…and out of the office please call me Martin.’ Seeing the look on her face, he said teasingly, ‘Go on, try it. It’s not that difficult. Martin.’

‘Martin,’ she echoed uncertainly.

‘Not bad. All you need is a little more practice.’

His hand lingered on her arm as he queried, ‘As you’ve been in New York such a short time you can’t know many people here?’

‘No.’

‘Then let me introduce you to a few.’

‘I’m afraid I’m not really dressed for it.’

His pale blue eyes on her face, he said, ‘As far as I’m concerned, you’re quite perfect.’

Disconcerted, she stammered, ‘Th-thank you, but Keir might be back soon, and I—’

‘If he does turn up, I’ll reluctantly hand you over. Until then, let’s circulate.’

He offered her his arm and, feeling she had no option, she took it.

Uncomfortable at first, after a while and rather to her surprise, Sera began to relax and enjoy a novel experience.

On the arm of the big boss, she found herself being regarded with a kind of deference and respect that made her smile inwardly.

As they moved from group to group, pausing to talk to what Martin termed the ‘more interesting’ of his guests, he introduced her simply as ‘Miss Reynolds, an English colleague.’

When the conversation invariably turned to the current financial scene, with a flattering certainty that she knew what she was talking about, he drew her into each discussion, inviting her opinion and treating her as an equal.

It was heady stuff.

An evening she’d only looked forward to because Keir was taking her became stimulating and enjoyable, despite his continued absence.

Towards eleven, people began to drift away, and she found herself saying goodnight to Martin’s guests as though she was his hostess.

The party was coming to an end, with still no sign of either Cheryl or Keir. Oh, what on earth was keeping them? she wondered.