Masquerade

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Masquerade Page 11

by Hannah Fielding


  ‘If?’ His lips twisted sardonically.

  He was goading her. A voice at the back of her head urged caution. She was on slippery ground; this job was perfect in every way. What if he gave it to someone else? She must swallow her pride and try to put the conversation back on a friendlier footing, make concessions, even if they were to her disadvantage. A lump formed in her throat as anger, hurt and frustration all bubbled up tightly, but she forced herself to ignore his mocking tone.

  ‘I mean, if we do not come to some sort of agreement that would satisfy both parties,’ she said, looking abruptly away so he could not see the intense emotion in her eyes.

  ‘You disappoint me. You’re giving up too easily, Luz. Can I call you Luz?’ His tone was now caressingly reprimanding.

  The man was hideous. At that moment she loathed him with a passion for all his contemptible mind games, but for Luz this was new territory and her responses were in chaos. First Leandro, now Andrés: her sense of humiliation was increasing layer upon layer, dangerously swaying her equilibrium. She swallowed hard, shrugged and turned back to face him. He had filled a glass with water and was handing it to her, his charcoal eyes staring at her gravely.

  Ignoring the offer, Luz smoothed back a stray tendril of hair.

  ‘You haven’t answered. May I call you Luz? It’s such a beautiful name and it suits your luminous beauty to perfection.’

  She blinked, her large blue eyes confounded. So now he was resorting to compliments. What next? There was an intense look about him that made her heart beat a little faster. Was it excitement or fear? She was so close to getting the job and yet so far. Never had a man challenged her in this way and she was torn between fascination and abhorrence.

  ‘I don’t understand you,’ she said. ‘What is it that you want?’

  ‘According to Nietzsche, “The true man wants two things: danger and play. For that reason he wants woman, as the most dangerous plaything …”’ He was staring at her, his finger on his mouth, and she had to look away. This was more than she could handle.

  ‘Maybe if you got off your high horse you would understand me better,’ he continued softly, his voice deep and melodious. She glanced back at him sharply. His eyes were stroking her with a dark, sensuous touch. He was becoming more personal by the minute and she found it deeply disturbing. She shook her head.

  Her lips parted to say something, but he was in there before her. ‘Has it not occurred to you that this discussion may be part of the examination?’

  She frowned. ‘What examination? I thought I’d finished with examinations!’ Her voice was tight, her sapphire eyes reverting to steel grey as tension mounted inside her.

  He nodded and met her frozen expression. ‘Don’t I have a right to make sure that you’re serious about this assignment? That, no matter what disagreement we might have in the future, under no circumstance whatsoever will you walk away from this job?’ He gestured with his hand and continued to look at her steadily. ‘I need unconditional commitment, nothing less. You’re intelligent and, I’m sure, very skilled in your field, but also quite impulsive, as you proved with your first job.’

  Now that was the last straw. His condescending tone incensed her. Luz glared at him, her stormy eyes colliding with his cool arrogant look.

  ‘How dare you patronize me! I have a good mind to …’

  ‘Yes?’ His dark eyebrows lifted quizzically.

  He’s decided what you’re like. Don’t give him the satisfaction of proving him right, the voice of reason advised, but she wasn’t listening.

  ‘Are you threatening me? Do you want me to resign before even starting?’

  ‘Not at all, on the contrary. You are deliberately misunderstanding me, Luz. I needed to see just how impetuous you could be. Your passion is your strength, but also your weakness. You are so busy lashing out that you’re entirely missing the point. Actually, my greatest wish is that we join forces to honour and immortalize the works and the name of a great artist.’ He put his hand on his heart, his dark gaze glued to her face. ‘Luz, I really feel deep in here that we would make a formidable partnership.’

  ‘You have a funny way of showing it,’ she said sceptically.

  He smiled ruefully. ‘If you had more trust in your worth, and your instincts, you would have seen through this little ruse.’ A strange expression flashed in those dark chocolate eyes or was it her imagination? He opened a drawer and took out a folder similar to the one she still held. ‘Just to prove I’m not lying to you, have a look at this.’

  She eyed him mutinously and took the file from his hand. Still trembling inside, she quickly flipped through the contents and then looked up. The copyright in this contract was clearly assigned to her.

  ‘I resent being toyed with,’ she told him icily.

  ‘Who doesn’t? I apologize. Unfortunately, it’s sometimes necessary to use disagreeable means to get to the bottom of things. Did you really think we are so unprofessional that we would deliberately change the terms of an agreement?’ There was a shadow of reproach in his tone.

  This man was the limit – he really had the knack of antagonizing her.

  ‘And do you find it professional to expressly mislead a person, especially when you’re in a position of power?’ she replied contemptuously. ‘Are those honourable tactics as far as you’re concerned? Personally, I think it is rather unsavoury and I don’t care for it one bit,’ she ended, lightning flashing dangerously from her eyes.

  To her surprise, he was silent. His face had become very serious, impassive, like a statue of a Roman god that she had once seen in the Prado, fierce in its dangerous, masculine beauty. The intensity of his gaze made her heart thunder mercilessly. I’ve blown it, she thought, sudden panic rushing through her. He’s going to throw me out. Suddenly she wished she had swallowed that last retort. She looked at him blankly.

  Andrés wrenched a sigh deep from his chest and something in his expression flickered. He looked genuinely troubled, anxious even.

  ‘Luz …’ Her name had never been so tenderly uttered. ‘Luz, I’m sorry. You’re right, it was not an honourable way to approach things. Perhaps … I went a little too far,’ he murmured, rubbing his finger across his chin as he gazed at her. ‘Could we start again, do you think?’

  His tone was deep and soft; his eyes caught hers in a dark, compelling search for a response. Once more this man was wielding his power over her, whether he knew it or not, and the spell was working. She sat like a statue, staring into those midnight eyes.

  Then, very subtly, Andrés recovered himself. ‘Well?’ he said at last. ‘Friend or foe?’

  Without a word she opened the second folder, signed her name at the bottom of the document and gave the contract back to him. She was defeated.

  He walked around the desk and passed her a duplicate, one he had already signed. As she stood up to take it from him, he swiftly caught her hand and lifted it to his lips. ‘Thank you,’ he murmured, gazing down at her. ‘I promise you won’t regret it.’

  His lips were warm and soft with the smoothness of velvet; their heat ran through her like a current of electricity, causing every nerve in her body to shudder imperceptibly. Luz met his brooding gaze and pulled her hand away, painfully aware of his proximity and the dynamic sexuality that he exuded. Stepping back, she rapidly shoved the folder into her briefcase and was about to take her leave when there was a knock at the door.

  A couple walked in.

  ‘Ah, Lorenzo and Adalia, you’ve arrived just in time to meet Doña Luz de Rueda, who will be writing Eduardo’s biography.’ He turned his gaze on Luz, making her cheeks colour. ‘She has outstanding credentials and I’ve already been impressed by her in every way.’

  Andrés went over to greet his guests. ‘Don Lorenzo and Doña Adalia Herrera are my partners in our new venture, Los Laboratorios Calderra, SA,’ he told Luz. ‘Don Lorenzo is also an accomplished torero – he has perpetuated the Herrera myth.’

  As Andrés spoke, Don Lorenzo no
dded towards Luz, his eyes raking over her as his friend continued: ‘His father was one of the great toreadors of our time. Lorenzo takes part in some of the most important corridas in Spain.’

  As she smiled a greeting, Luz surreptitiously studied the handsome pair. They could almost have been Scandinavian. Tall, slim and fair, with large pale-blue eyes and almost regal features, their mien was elegant and striking. Luz recognized the sister as the beautiful woman she had seen that night at the opera, sitting in the box opposite.

  ‘Andrés, cariño, you really are incorrigible!’ Adalia reprimanded silkily, her hand moving to touch his arm lightly. Her pale eyes flicked between Andrés and Luz. ‘You never told me you had already found someone for the post.’ She fixed Luz with a look of curiosity.

  ‘But how wonderful that you are just what dear Andrés is looking for!’ she gushed, smiling briefly at Luz before immediately turning back to Andrés, regarding him closely. ‘I’ve never heard Andrés speak about anyone with quite such enthusiasm.’

  Luz felt herself flush again, then tense inwardly. The whole meeting with Andrés, not to mention the thrilling current that had run through her at his touch, had made her feel thoroughly exposed. Now she wanted nothing more than to exit his office without further scrutiny.

  ‘I am sure that Señor de Calderón is just being kind.’ The explanation was delivered in an even, calm voice; no one could have guessed the turmoil that bubbled away inside Luz, though Andrés cast her a wry glance.

  Without waiting for Andrés to say anything, she picked up her briefcase and held out her hand to him. She made the handshake as brief as possible, trying to ignore the feeling of his strong fingers on her skin. ‘I’m afraid I’m already late for another appointment,’ she said, evading his eyes, though she could sense them on her. ‘Thank you, Don Andrés, for your confidence. I will make sure my work lives up to your expectations.’

  She nodded to his visitors and walked swiftly to the door, opening it before either man could do so for her. Without a backward glance she left the room, head high, managing to conceal, she hoped, her confused and fractious feelings.

  * * *

  When Luz got home she was surprised to find that her parents had arrived for the weekend. Her father was on the sofa in the living room reading the paper, her mother curled up in a chair with a book.

  ‘Darling,’ exclaimed Alexandra as she got up to hug her daughter. ‘I hope you don’t mind us descending on you like this.’

  Salvador rested his paper on his lap. ‘El Pavón is unbearable at the moment with all the preparations for the ball so we thought we’d run away for a couple of days and take a break from it all.’ He winked at Luz and patted the cushion beside him.

  Alexandra sighed. ‘Poor Agustina does her best, but she’s not so young any more. The trouble is, she won’t give up the reins to anyone else and we have to tiptoe around her so as not to upset her. But tell us, didn’t you have an appointment today with your new boss? How …’

  ‘Don’t you start all that, Mamá, I’ve had a morning of it already!’ Luz interrupted, claws out. ‘I am not working for Andrés de Calderón, I have been assigned to write this biography about his uncle. That doesn’t make de Salazar’s nephew my boss.’ She ran her fingers through her long black hair in an irritated gesture.

  ‘Don’t get so angry, Luz, it’s only a slip of the tongue,’ Alexandra said, giving her daughter a kiss and smoothing her hand across the back of Luz’s head.

  ‘Iay, iay, who’s had a bad day?’ Her father looked at her teasingly. ‘Come and sit down beside me, querida, and tell Papá all about it,’ he said affectionately.

  ‘It’s been a challenging, if exhausting, morning. That man is the most arrogant, manipulative, high-handed scoundrel I have ever met.’ Luz flopped down on the sofa next to her father.

  ‘And charming with it, I suppose,’ Alexandra interjected.

  ‘And you’ve fallen under his spell. Yes? No?’ Salvador added playfully.

  ‘Will you stop second-guessing me, both of you, this isn’t helpful!’ Luz cried out, her eyes flashing. ‘I would have happily told him to go to the Devil if it hadn’t been for the fact that I’m passionate about Eduardo de Salazar’s work and I’d give my right arm to write his biography. Plus, I’ve done so much research already.’

  Never before had she felt this out of control and it made her so agitated.

  ‘Most importantly, did you sign the contract?’ her mother asked.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘And in your favour?’

  ‘Yes. I’ve got the copyright, there’s no time limit on the work and I’m being handsomely paid,’ she conceded.

  ‘So what’s the problem, querida?’ Her father flung up his hands. ‘What more do you want? Ah, you women! You are never so happy as when there’s a drama.’

  What she wasn’t telling them was that Andrés de Calderón had humiliated her and made her feel vulnerable as never before. It felt like this was all part of some master plan to undermine her. In the end she’d got what she wanted, not because she’d won it, but because he had wanted to give it to her, and Andrés had made quite sure she understood that. He had proved great gamesmanship and had scored a point in what seemed like a battle for authority … for this round, she thought disdainfully. Given Leandro’s indifference at the horse fair, it was the second indignity her pride had suffered in the last twenty-four hours and she was not about to invite the experience again.

  They moved into the dining room, where Carmela had laid out a light lunch. But in her father’s playful company, Luz could never stay angry for long and when she next spoke she was more relaxed. ‘Andrés certainly seems to have glamorous friends, although I wasn’t sure I liked the look of them,’ she remarked.

  ‘You met his friends? How so? I wonder if we know them. What are their names, querida?’ Salvador asked lightly. It wasn’t in Luz’s nature to be derogatory about people, though today she seemed to be making a feast of it.

  ‘They’re a brother and sister, Lorenzo and Adalia Herrera. Clearly from an important family, but I don’t recall you ever mentioning them. You may know their parents. They’re not on the ball’s invitation list, though.’

  Salvador exchanged a look of understanding with Alexandra, who was about to say something, but he spoke first. ‘Yes, the Herreras are a well-known family that extend all over Spain. I think we may have met their parents at some point,’ he said quickly. ‘What did you think of them?’

  Luz couldn’t bring herself to admit that she’d sensed Adalia’s condescension and hadn’t liked the way her brother had looked her over and shrugged. ‘Oh, I didn’t speak to them really … they were coming in as I was going out. I found them somewhat superior but perhaps I was just feeling out of sorts.’

  She cringed internally as she recalled how Adalia had greeted her ‘partner’. What was she to Andrés? From the way she had spoken to him, almost as if her words were an intimate caress, they were obviously very close, more than just business partners. And, of course, she had been his guest at the opera. Anyhow, what did she care? In the two meetings she’d had with Andrés, it was already clear he was a charmer who had a golden touch when it came to women. Hundreds of them must be throwing themselves at him. Well, so long as he kept his tentacles away from her, it was none of her business what he got up to.

  Salvador scoffed. ‘Superior? You are Count Salvador de Rueda’s daughter, you have no reason to inferior to anyone! Anyway, since when do such people worry you? You’re becoming too sensitive, niña.’ He changed the subject and they proceeded to discuss the main topic of conversation of the moment: the masked ball at El Pavón.

  They had just risen from the table and were enjoying coffee on the veranda when Carmela came bursting on to the terrace, wheezing and chuckling, carrying an enormous bunch of red roses. Eyes flashing with excitement, she laid the glorious bouquet on the table in front of Luz to everybody’s surprise, not least Luz’s.

  ‘Your novio, Doña Luz.’
She gave a huge wink. ‘Your novio has finally taken pity on you and appeared. He has sent you these beautiful flowers as a token of his love,’ she announced.

  Salvador and Alexandra turned to their daughter with questioning expressions.

  ‘Don’t look at me,’ Luz cried out laughingly. ‘I promise I haven’t the faintest idea what Carmela’s talking about.’

  ‘There’s a card, Doña Luz,’ said Carmela, barely able to restrain her impatience. She detached the envelope from the magnificent bouquet and handed it to the young woman, her features quivering with anticipation, dark eyes intent on Luz’s face.

  Salvador regarded the housekeeper with contained amusement. ‘Gracias, Carmela, usted puede ir ahora, thank you, Carmela, you can go now.’ He and his daughter exchanged knowing glances. They both understood that by the evening the whole of Cádiz would know that she had received red roses, and who knows what else Carmela’s vivid imagination might conjure up as gossip?

  Determined not to be banished just yet, Carmela had more to say. ‘A driver delivered them,’ she said, her eyes glittering. ‘Is there not to be an answer then? He’s waiting.’

  ‘Don’t worry about an answer,’ Salvador told her dismissively. ‘Thank the driver and tell him she’ll reply in due course.’

  Carmela’s face fell. ‘As you wish, Don Salvador.’

  Obviously fathers were unaware of their daughter’s aches of the heart. Disappointment was written all over her as she walked slowly round the side of the hacienda.

  Luz had already recognized the coat of arms on the envelope. She opened it. The card read: ‘Have dinner with me and let me make amends. I remain your faithful servant, Andrés.’ The writing was generous and energetic. Luz’s heart beat a little faster and a pale rose coloured her cheeks. Damn him for being so charming! She handed the note to her mother and tried to look cool.

  ‘There’s nothing like a romantic note to entangle a sensitive woman’s heart,’ Alexandra declared as she gazed lovingly at her husband, clearly remembering the days of their courtship.

 

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