Charade of the Heart

by Cathy Williams

  ‘Oh, no. There were no opportunities during all those times we were in bed together, were there?’

  ‘How could I?’

  He shot her a contemptuous smile. ‘You’re right. It would hardly have been an aphrodisiac, would it?’

  ‘Stop acting as though your life has been unblemished!’ Beth shouted, her misery giving way to anger. ‘Stop acting as though you have the final word on everything that’s sunshine and light! Are you going to try and tell me that you’ve treated the opposite sex with scrupulous fairness? That you’ve never made mistakes?’

  ‘At least women knew where they stood with me. I didn’t resort to the comfort of lies.’

  ‘I had to think about Laura!’

  ‘You had to think about yourself, you mean. You were here for a short stint. Why blow it when sleeping with the boss was so convenient?’

  ‘You’re acting as though I have no morals.’

  ‘Well, from where I’m standing, they’re not exactly shouting at me.’

  Their eyes clashed and she was the first to look away, unable to find anything that would make him understand.

  ‘And you would know all about morals, I suppose,’ Beth intoned bitterly. ‘Are you going to tell me that you weren’t quite prepared to hand me my walking papers the minute I outstayed my welcome in your life?’

  ‘Don’t try and twist things round to suit your argument.’ The dark eyes raked mercilessly over her face. ‘Your behaviour was despicable.’

  She stared mutely at him. ‘I’m still the same person,’ she said defiantly. ‘Only my name’s different.’

  ‘You don’t really expect me to buy that, do you?’ he asked icily. ‘You led me up the garden path. You conveniently avoided telling me the truth because, oh, dear, the opportunity never seemed to arise, and you stand there expecting me to forgive and forget?’

  ‘No,’ she muttered into the developing silence, ‘I don’t suppose I do. I know you well enough to realise that you don’t forgive mistakes, even mistakes of the innocent variety.’

  ‘You’re damn right,’ he said, his eyes knifing into her. ‘And I don’t forget, either.’

  ‘That’s nothing to be proud of,’ Beth informed him dully.

  ‘From where you’re standing, I don’t really think you can afford to say much on that subject, do you?’ he asked with a contemptuous sneer. ‘No, if I were you, I’d take a long, hard look at myself and then ask whether I’m qualified to give advice to anyone on morality.’

  She looked at him, flinching at the glittering hardness she saw in his eyes. This was so much worse than she had ever expected. Had there been a ray of hope lurking in her subconscious that he might forgive her her sin of ommission? If so, she was in no doubt now that any such hope had been sadly misguided.

  ‘Do you want me to return to work?’ she asked inconsequentially, realising that there was nothing to gain by prolonging their conversation. Nothing she could say would ever wipe the disdain from his face. No one liked being deceived, least of all someone like Marcos Adrino.

  He smiled again, cruelly. ‘Oh, yes. You’ll continue until I can find a suitable replacement, and you should count yourself lucky that I don’t take legal steps to make you pay for what you did. You’ll work for me, all right, and actually it might even be salutary for me to be forced to view my stupidity on a daily basis. They say that you learn from your mistakes; well, what better way for me to learn than to have my mistake staring me in the face every day of the week?’

  This time he did not slam the front door, and Beth didn’t follow him. There was no point. There was nothing left to be said.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  BETH HAD NO IDEA how she got through what little remained of the night. She blindly washed up the few dirty plates in the kitchen and then busied herself with tidying up the lounge, only looking up when Laura bounced into the room, full of life, her face wreathed in smiles.

  Things, it transpired, had been sorted out between the two of them. Life was rosy and full of promise and her sister, true to form, was regaling her with her new-found happiness, thoughtless of the fact that all Beth wanted to do was find a dark corner and cry her eyes out.

  Laura had never been good at facing other people’s distress and, Beth noted wryly, she certainly hadn’t changed in that respect.

  She was on top of the world. David, Beth learned, had been miserable in Paris, had pined for her. And, more to the point, had no wife.

  ‘He told me he was married,’ Laura announced gleefully, ‘he left the country, because he was afraid that he was getting too involved with me and he had never envisaged his life with a wife before. It daunted him. He didn’t want to hurt me and he said he needed time to think, to put things in perspective. He’s told me that if Marcos says anything about us he’s quite prepared to quit his job and find another, anywhere I want him to.’

  ‘So all’s well that ends well.’

  ‘You don’t mind, do you?’

  ‘Of course not!’ Beth exclaimed sincerely. ‘Why should I mind? I’m happy for you.’

  ‘And you’re all right?’

  ‘Fine.’ She managed a smile. Out of habit, she found herself sparing Laura her own misery, knowing that it would burst her bubble of joy, and wouldn’t serve any purpose anyway.

  Come what may, she had to carry on. Much as she wanted to, she couldn’t take refuge in her room and weep until there were no tears left because that would be the pattern of her life for the rest of her days. She had to face the world bravely, even though she was cracking up inside.

  Marcos, she told herself philosophically as she later stared at her bedside clock and tried to court sleep, was not designed to be hemmed in by a committed relationship. He was too much of a predator. She had known that all along. Surely that knowledge must make her burden easier to bear? If it did, it certainly didn’t feel like it at the moment, though.

  Right now she felt utterly hopeless.

  She only wished that she didn’t have to face him for the next couple of weeks, but perhaps it would strengthen her.

  To her relief, he wasn’t around when she arrived at work the following morning. She busied herself at the computer, but her mind was on the door, waiting for it to open, and, when it finally did, she felt her stomach constrict into a tight knot.

  Marcos looked at her with a flat, unreadable expression and nodded coolly.

  It was as though she were a complete stranger, and one with whom he did not particularly wish to acquaint himself.

  He vanished into his office, buzzing her towards lunchtime.

  Beth faced him across his desk with trepidation, wanting to see something on his face, some indication that she was on his mind, even if only in a negative aspect. But there was nothing and she realised that there would be no post-mortems on their failed relationship, no questions asked about her deception, no interest in anything she did.

  When he spoke, it was about work and his manner was crisp and businesslike. He had told her that she didn’t deserve his anger, and now she could see that as far as he was concerned she didn’t deserve his contempt either. It was as though she didn’t exist as a person at all.

  It hurt. Underneath her bland exterior, as she carried on with her work, she was hurting more than she dreamed possible.

  By five-thirty she felt as though she had undergone several years in a torture chamber.

  She hesitated as she slipped on her cardigan, and then took her courage into her hands and knocked on his door. She just couldn’t leave in this atmosphere of silence. She would prefer him to get angry with her, to rant and rave, anything rather than this.

  He was studying some files on his desk when she entered, and he barely glanced up at her.

  ‘I’m just off,’ Beth said nervously, one hand still on the door. She felt as though she would physically crumble if she released it.

  ‘Fine,’ Marcos said politely. He raised his eyes to hers but the expression on his face didn’t change.

  Beth l
ooked at him, trying desperately to see the man behind the mask. Her eyes followed the line of his powerful arms, arms that had held her, the curve of his mouth that had covered her body with kisses, the black eyes that had burnt with feverish passion.

  ‘Is there anything you want before I leave?’ Her words sounded embarrassingly provocative, even though they were not meant to be, and she carried on hastily, ‘I’ve prepared all the information on those two hotels in North America. It’s on my desk…’ Her voice trailed off.

  ‘No, you can go now.’ He looked back down at the files on his desk and she felt a spurt of anger. All right, so she had been wrong, but how could he act as though they had shared nothing? He had not even seen fit to listen to what she had to say.

  ‘Marcos…’ she began.

  He looked up at her and this time his eyes were hard. ‘I told you to leave. Do I have to remind you that you take orders from me? The door is behind you.’

  They stared at each other in silence, and Beth was the first to look away.

  ‘Yes,’ she mumbled, ‘I’ll see you tomorrow.’

  ‘Goodnight.’

  Beth had never known that she could miss anyone as she missed Marcos, but she did. She realised very quickly the following day that he had no intention of treating her in any way other than that of the polite, distant boss. Emotionally, he had dismissed her from his life, and his attitude rammed home the point far more forcefully than if he had sat her down and told her so himself.

  On top of that there was the trauma of now sharing the flat with two other people, and, much as she loved her sister, she found that she preferred the privacy of being on her own.

  To be fair, they were very easygoing. And blissfully in love. David had enthusiastically entered into the spirit of impending fatherhood, and they were both happily planning what they should buy, and when.

  It was only when she returned to the flat after another endlessly long day at work that he informed her that he had lost his job.

  Beth was staggered. More staggered than he appeared to be.

  She stormed into work the following day, itching for Marcos to come back from his all-day meeting in Norwich, and when he did she quietly asked if she could have a few words with him.

  ‘I have a lot to do,’ he said, frowning, glancing at his watch, but she resolutely held her ground.

  ‘This won’t take long.’ She met his eyes with that bland, icy expression which she had developed over the past two days, and he nodded curtly, preceding her into his office.

  ‘Well,’ he said, moving to sit behind his desk, ‘what is it?’

  ‘It’s about David.’ There was not a flicker of emotion in the black eyes, and some of her courage faltered. ‘He’s told me that he’s been sacked.’

  Marcos stifled a yawn, as though to imply that this subject could hardly qualify as being worth his valuable time.

  ‘I’m sorry the whole thing bores you,’ Beth said stiffly, ‘but I don’t think it’s particularly fair to sack someone simply because of what’s happened between us.’

  ‘I did not sack David,’ he informed her coldly. ‘We mutually agreed that it was best for him to leave—’

  ‘You sacked him.’

  ‘And,’ he continued, ignoring her interruption, ‘if you think that this has anything to do with you, then you flatter yourself.’

  Beth turned bright red. She could feel her nails biting into the soft flesh of her upper arms.

  ‘Are you telling me that I meant nothing to you?’ she bit out, unable to prevent herself.

  He leaned back, folding his arms across his chest, and surveyed her without interest.

  ‘I have no desire to discuss what…happened between us.’

  ‘I can’t agree to that!’ Beth threw at him. ‘Not when it affects someone else! Because I don’t believe that David’s dismissal had nothing to do with us!’

  ‘I don’t give a damn what you believe,’ Marcos said in a courteous, conversational tone of voice, as though they were discussing the weather or the state of the economy. ‘And as for your original question—’ he picked up his fountain pen and tapped it lightly on the desk ‘—you meant to me what every other woman has meant to me. A brief liaison. Except,’ he added, his eyes flint-hard, ‘I don’t normally part company with my women with quite such a sour aftertaste in my mouth.’

  There was a heavy silence.

  ‘No,’ she pointed out bitterly, ‘you prefer your women to have the sour aftertaste.’

  ‘Is that what you have?’

  He stood up and walked across to the window, staring outside, his back to her.

  ‘Yes,’ she admitted quietly. ‘I have the sour aftertaste of someone whose side of the story hasn’t really been heard.’

  Marcos gave a dry laugh. ‘And I thought that I’d heard all there was to hear on that little matter. Enough, at any rate, to last a lifetime.’ He turned to face her, staring at her as though she had suddenly metamorphosed into some curiously disgusting specimen.

  ‘I love my sister! That was the reason I agreed to the whole damn thing in the first place. I had no idea that I would become involved with you.’

  ‘Oh,’ he said sarcastically, ‘you expect me to buy that, do you? You did it out of love. Well, heaven preserve me from that particular emotion if that’s the sort of thing it inspires.’

  His words cut her to the quick, but she would not show him that. If he wanted to treat her like a stranger, then two could play at that game.

  ‘Yes, silly, isn’t it?’ she said coldly. ‘Love can make us do all sorts of things that are totally out of character.’

  ‘I wouldn’t know. I have no siblings. As for love for someone of the opposite sex—well, that’s unexplored territory, and will stay that way as far as I am concerned. Now, is that all? Or have you something else to get off your chest? If you have—’ he looked at his watch ‘—you’d better do so quickly, because I have an appointment.’

  ‘Far be it from me to stand in the way of your appointments,’ Beth retorted.

  She swung around to leave and saw the outer door open to admit Angela.

  Beth stared at her, quickly covering up her reaction with an expression of coolness. But she was far from feeling cool inside. Her heart had flipped over in her chest, and she felt as though she could hardly breathe.

  So this was his appointment. Some appointment. Why didn’t he just say bed companion?

  I really mean nothing to him, she thought with agony. As far as he is concerned, it’s out with the old and in with the new.

  Angela was smiling at her, although her eyes were all for Marcos.

  She was a vision in pale turquoise, her hair loose this time and flowing over her shoulders. She looked as though she had been poured into her dress, an impression which even the casual jacket thrown over could not quite conceal.

  ‘Ready, darling?’ she asked Marcos. He nodded, his eyes flitting past her to where Beth was at her desk, her eyes averted, fumbling with her handbag.

  She turned to face them, and as she did so she watched in horror as Angela lifted her face to his, and his dark head swept downwards to kiss her lingeringly.

  Then he put his hand around her waist and addressed Beth with mild surprise.

  ‘Oh, are you still here?’

  No, she wanted to yell, this is just a figment of your imagination. ‘I’m just leaving,’ she said blandly. ‘Have a pleasant evening.’

  ‘Oh, we will,’ Marcos promised softly. ‘A meal, the opera, and then, who knows?’

  At his side, Angela giggled coyly, her full lips forming into an instinctive pout.

  Beth had the insane desire to strangle her. Instead she yanked open the door and walked quickly to the lift, hurrying just in case she was forced to share it with them. That would have been the last straw. It had been bad enough watching them drool all over each other in the office, but to have to witness similar displays of affection in the lift would have been unbearable.

  She didn’t go s
traight back to the flat. Instead, she walked through Knightsbridge, where the shops were all still open, browsing in front of the elegant store fronts, while her mind chewed over the image of Marcos and Angela like a dog with a bone.

  Had he contacted her as soon as he had walked out of her life? The tears prickled behind her eyes and she blinked them away. She refused to spend her life weeping over a man who had told her in no uncertain terms precisely what she meant to him. And, as if that wasn’t enough, had shown her.

  ‘A meal, the opera, and then, who knows?’ The words rang in her head relentlessly. Who knows indeed? From what she had seen, she knew exactly what they would be getting up to later on in the evening, and it certainly wasn’t witty repartee and intellectual discussion.

  When she had exhausted herself walking around the shops, she went to Covent Garden, where she found a little place to have a cup of coffee.

  It was teeming with tourists. All full of life and going somewhere. Unlike her. Where was she going? Her life lacked direction, like a boat without a rudder on stormy seas. She was drifting in a world of pain.

  It was after eight by the time she finally made it back to Swiss Cottage, and she breathed a sigh of relief when she found that Laura and David had taken themselves off for the evening.

  She had no desire to speak to anyone at all, and rather than risk it she retired to bed early, and made a half-hearted attempt to read her book to sleep.

  It was pointless. Her brain continued to worry the question of Marcos and Angela. She found herself looking at the clock, wondering what they were doing now, and it was only in the early hours of the morning that she finally drifted into a restless sleep.

  She awakened the following morning, her body aching as though she was in for an attack of the flu, her eyes heavy.

  The reflection that stared back at her in the mirror made her grimace. She looked as if she hadn’t slept in a week.

  She tried to hide it with some light make-up, and dressed carefully in her most sober lightweight suit.

  She had gradually bought herself a wardrobe of clothes and was no longer dependent on Laura’s, a fact which had made her smile, since her sister had no need of her own clothes now.