The Marriage Takeover

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.