The Valentine Affair

‘That stupid girl has just plucked a name out of thin air!’ Imogen agreed furiously. ‘The Leo Hamiltons of this world would never agree to cooperate with us. He might just respond to an approach from The Times, for instance, but definitely not a down-market rag like the London Chronicle.’

‘Thank you for those few kind words, Imogen!’ Mike grated angrily, prevented from saying any more as James, about to leave the room, turned to underline the older woman’s words.

‘I hate to say it—but, unfortunately, Imogen’s quite right,’ he shrugged. ‘I don’t normally reveal my sources. However, it seems only fair to say that it was the girl’s mother who tipped me off about the engagement. Believe me, Leo Hamilton would prefer to slit his own throat rather than court any publicity. And, as far as cooperation with this newspaper is concerned...?’ He shrugged again. ‘You’re likely to get more information out of an oyster!’

‘Hmm... Well, it looks as if I’ll have to cancel the feature. Especially since there’s not enough time to line up anyone else.’ Mike nodded slowly in agreement. ‘I’m very disappointed in you, Alex,’ he added sternly. ‘Why promise something you can’t deliver?’

‘I can deliver Leo Hamilton,’ she told him firmly.

James Boswell smiled and shook his head. ‘Come on, Alex! What’s the point in flogging a dead horse? Everyone knows that both the guy and his family have always avoided any publicity like the plague. So, there’s no way he’s going to agree to participate in an article about his engagement. Right?’

‘No, you’re wrong,’ she protested, before turning to her editor. ‘I’ll admit that James has a point—Leo Hamilton wouldn’t normally be too happy about the idea. Well, not at first, anyway. But, please give me a break, Mike,’ she begged earnestly: ‘Because, in this particular case, I can virtually guarantee to bring home the bacon.’

‘This is all a complete waste of time,’ Imogen snapped. ‘I don’t know about you, Mike, but I’ve got better things to do than to listen to such nonsense.’

‘Calm down, everyone,’ the editor said firmly, before regarding the younger girl intently for a moment. ‘You seem very certain that you won’t have any problems with this article, right?’

‘Right.’

‘Now, you’re certainly not stupid, Alex,’ he continued slowly. ‘You must know that if you want my backing I’m going to need some hard facts. What makes you so certain that you can gain the cooperation of this guy? Are you one of his ex-girlfriends, for instance?’

‘Certainly not!’ she snapped curtly.

‘Well...?’

Alex hesitated for a moment, and then gave a heavy sigh. ‘OK, Mike. I normally try to keep family and business matters entirely separate. However, if you’re insisting on some “hard facts”...’ She shrugged. ‘Well, it just so happens that Leo Hamilton is my stepbrother.’

CHAPTER TWO

‘GO AWAY—you great big bully!’ Alex muttered angrily, impatiently tooting her horn at the driver of a large delivery truck who was clearly trying to force her small car out of the way as she drove through the narrow, crowded streets of the city.

Ever since the meeting in Mike Tanner’s office only two hours ago it felt as though she’d been frantically spinning like a top. Which had, at least, the virtue of keeping her mind fully occupied, and unable to think too much about the forthcoming confrontation with Leo Hamilton.

But now as she pulled on the handbrake, staring blindly out through her windscreen at the lines of cars and trucks all firmly stalled in the heavy traffic, there seemed little she could do to combat the wild, nervous fluttering in her stomach.

Relax! Keep calm...there’s no need to panic. Quite apart from anything else, there’s a good chance that Leo probably won’t even recognise you, she told herself firmly. ‘And let’s hope he doesn’t!’ she added out loud, with an attempt at grim humour, almost shuddering as she recalled the deeply unhappy young girl who had suddenly found herself dumped in a strange household in Italy all those years ago.

Most teenage girls looked a mess at one time or another—but she’d really gone to town, with that ‘heavy Gothic’ style!

It was difficult to remember now exactly what had prompted her to dye her hair jet-black. Or why she’d ever thought that smothering her face in chalky-white foundation and applying both sooty-black mascara and dark crimson lipstick with a heavy hand could be a good idea. Could it have been some sort of protest? An infantile act of rebellion against an unkind world? If so, it had, most unfortunately, proved to be a fatal mistake.

After one appalled glance at the strange-looking sixteen-year-old girl who’d suddenly arrived at her holiday home in Tuscany, Leo’s mother, Eleanor Lucas, had swiftly taken matters in hand. However, by the time she’d forcefully bullied Alex into looking more like the girl’s normal self, it had proved to be far, far too late. Because, barely moments after setting eyes on him, Alex had fallen desperately in love with her tall, dark and handsome twenty-three-year-old stepbrother. While he, for his part, had clearly only thought of her as some ghastly teenaged version of one of the Munsters.

Over the years, Alex had done her level best to forget that long, baking-hot and totally dreadful summer holiday, where one disaster had been swiftly followed by another, like a Greek tragedy. But now, with the prospect of meeting once more the man who had so blighted her young life, she could feel her skin almost crawling with embarrassment and humiliation.

Cool it! she told herself firmly as the stalled traffic began slowly moving, at last. Just about everyone makes a complete idiot of themselves at least once in their lives. So, why should you be the exception? Besides, what happened in the past doesn’t matter. It’s the here and now that’s important. And, if you don’t want to find yourself out of a job, you’ve got to get this story—come hell or high water!

Unfortunately, trying to psych herself up for the forthcoming confrontation with Leo wasn’t proving too successful. Mainly because it didn’t need a very high IQ to realise that, after the horrendous scene in Mike’s office, her job was now squarely on the line. A fact which her editor had made crystal clear.

‘I’m going out on a limb for you, Alex. So you’d better deliver the goods,’ he’d warned.

Ignoring Imogen’s furious anger at being overruled, Mike had continued grimly, ‘These articles of yours had better be damn good. If I find that you’ve been spinning a yarn—or trying to pull the wool over my eyes in any way—I can guarantee that you’ll never work for me again. Or any other newspaper, for that matter. Got the message?’

Alex had nodded nervously, the noise of Imogen’s rage and fury ringing in her ears as she’d hurried away from his office.

Well, at least she hadn’t been lying about her relationship with Leo Hamilton, Alex had comforted herself, trying to ignore her guilty conscience as she’d reached the sanctuary of her desk.

Oh, yeah? Just who do you think you’re kidding? The ghostly voice in her head had demanded with a scornful laugh. You may not have told a one hundred per cent lie. But you were definitely being economical with the truth—right? Because Leo is only a sort of stepbrother—or should it be stepbrother by marriage? And you haven’t set eyes on the rotten man, or the rest of his horrid family, for almost eight years.

‘OK...OK,’ she’d muttered under her breath, resolutely banishing her conscience to the far, dark recesses of her mind as she’d tried to concentrate on the Herculean task before her.

First and foremost Alex had realised that she needed a lot of background information—almost as important to a journalist as water in the Sahara Desert. After all, she knew absolutely nothing about Fiona Bliss, and had virtually no knowledge of what her stepbrother had been up to during the past eight years.

However, just over an hour later, she’d been feeling quite pleased with herself. The Chronicle’s library had produced a pile of news cuttings on Leo and his family, while a quick phone call to her old school friend Sophie would hopefully provide a whole host of material about his new fiancée, Fiona Bliss.

Unfortunately, Sophie—who rented the basement flat of Alex’s house, and worked on a glamorous monthly magazine mostly devoted to fashion and the lives of those prominent in society—had proved an unexpectedly hard nut to crack. It was only after promising to lend the other girl her best long gown for a deathly smart St Valentine’s Ball—and her favourite pair of high-heeled gold sandals and matching bag—that Sophie had reluctantly agreed to raid the files in her office.

‘Great!’ Alex had grinned down the phone. ‘So, how about meeting me for a late lunch in the pub around the corner from your office, and you can give me the details then. OK?’

‘No, it’s not OK,’ her friend had protested. ‘I’ll need a lot more time than just a few hours. Who do you think I am? Mata Hari?’

Alex had gritted her teeth in frustration. ‘Look...do you want to be the belle of the ball, and make that ex-boyfriend of yours as jealous as hell, or what?’ she demanded. ‘Of course, if you’re happy to wear your tatty old black dress, and don’t mind looking like something the cat dragged in...’

‘Oh, all right!’ Sophie had ground out, before slamming down her phone.

So far, so good. But with so little time in which to both complete her interviews and write the article, Alex knew that time was of the essence. Which was why, striving to keep calm and banish her rising panic, she’d swallowed her pride and begged James Boswell for his help.

Clearly aggrieved that he hadn’t known of her relationship to Leo Hamilton, the paper’s social editor still didn’t think she had much of a chance of gaining the glamorous banker’s cooperation.

‘Especially now that the guy has the modern equivalent of a shotgun wedding in front of him,’ James had added with a sour grin.

‘You don’t mean...?’

‘No, of course I don’t think his girlfriend is pregnant,’ he’d retorted curtly. ‘But your stepbrother is going to find it almost impossible to extricate himself from the clutches of Fiona’s mother, Ethel Bliss. Believe me, that’s one really tough, hard woman—who’s ruthlessly ambitious for her only child. Don’t forget, it was Ethel who tipped me off about the “engagement”. So, even if Leo wanted to extricate himself from the situation—and I’ve no reason to think that he does—I’ll lay any money that he’s going to find himself standing at the altar, firmly anchored to a heavy ball and chain!’

James had also let fall the information that her stepbrother lived in a large, glamorous penthouse apartment in Knightsbridge, overlooking Hyde Park.

‘With a tough doorman, and more intruder alarms than the Bank of England, none of my contacts has been able to put a foot over the threshold. I still don’t think Leo will agree to help with your article,’ he’d added, with a bad-tempered shrug. ‘But, since you’re a member of the family, at least getting in to see the guy will be a piece of cake, right?’

‘Er...right,’ she’d murmured, hoping she’d sounded more confident than she felt, and quickly realising that her only hope was to try and catch Leo off guard, in his office at the bank.

‘Nothing ventured—nothing gained!’ Alex now told herself firmly. But, as she drove slowly past the Mansion House, keeping a sharp lookout for a space in which to park her car, she couldn’t help worrying about the forthcoming interview.

After a frantic dash home to change out of the jeans which she normally wore in the newspaper office, Alex still wasn’t at all sure whether she’d picked the right sort of ‘stuffy’ outfit. Maybe the black wool suit, with its tightly fitted jacket over sheer black stockings and high-heeled black court shoes, was a bit too funereal for a bank?

Still...what the heck? she told herself defiantly as she finally managed to find a free parking meter. Because, quite frankly, the chances of her actually managing to get as far as Leo’s office were so slim as to be practically anorexic!

In fact, even getting through the bank’s front door was likely to be almost impossible, she realised, walking slowly up the street towards the large Victorian building, and noting the figure of a burly, uniformed commissionaire filling the doorway. Desperately trying to suppress the sudden urge to turn tail and buy a one-way ticket to South America, Alex gradually noticed that a steady stream of people seemed to be approaching the bank.