Betrayal

by Margaret Bingley

  After the first panic-filled seconds she found that it wasn't unpleasant to have a man's mouth on hers again, and even his hands on her breasts, slipping easily down the front of the ballgown and gently manipulating her nipples, weren't displeasing. In fact, provided that she let her mind roam free and didn't allow memories from the past to intrude, it was acceptably pleasant.

  Only when she felt his right hand easing its way up her thigh did she resist, and he stopped at once. He expected to be stopped at that point; indeed he would probably have been disappointed if she'd allowed him to continue, and so he drew away from her as she straightened her clothing and ran her fingers through her hair.

  'I'm very tired,' she apologised. 'Would you mind if I… ?'

  He touched her lightly on the chin. 'Not at all. I should be going. I've got to visit Naomi and the girls this weekend and I'll need to be up early in the morning. It was a lovely evening, and I hope there'll be many more of them for us.'

  'It was lovely to get out again. I'd forgotten what a real social life was.'

  'About your working… ' 'Well?'

  'I wonder if you'd mind thinking about this over the weekend. Now that Kay's gone I'm desperately in need of a hostess; someone to take to social events and to act as my partner when I give dinner parties. It takes a lot of time to do all that properly, and I'd really prefer it if you could take her place rather than going out to an office to earn your crust of bread!'

  'You mean you'd pay me? Like a girl from an escort agency?' she said indignantly.

  'Not at all, but I'd meet all your living expenses and put a little money into a bank account for you so that you weren't entirely dependent upon me. You must see that it would fit in with Jessica better than anything else. I'm not that difficult to be with, am I?' 'And who warms your bed?' she asked shortly.

  He gave a brief smile. 'Don't worry, I'll see to all that for myself. You're quite safe; I don't expect you to undertake everything that Kay did!'

  'I'll think about it,' she promised, suddenly desperately sleepy, and he was quite content with her answer.

  Chapter Eleven

  Paulo Bellini was as small as his son, Renato, was tall. He claimed to be 5' 4" to Renato's 6' 4" but very few people believed him. And yet he gave off a greater aura of power and authority than Renato.

  Renato smiled frequently, eyes alight with intelligence and humour. Paulo never smiled and his eyes were cold and expressionless; there was none of the Italian expansiveness about him, which only made him stand out the more against his compatriots. That and his reputation.

  Of the six men present at the meeting only Renato wore casual clothes, and only Renato's hair was carefully styled and worn long enough to cover his collar at the back. The rest of them were all in dark blue suits and wore their hair short and greased down—but then, they were bankers and businessmen, judged by their outward appearance.

  'You say this woman's definitely taken Kay's place?' queried Renato, anxious to get the facts straight.

  His father nodded, silently wishing that there was more of him in his son than he had so far been able to discover.

  'But she isn't yet his mistress?' he continued, speaking in English because it was England they were discussing. It was customary for them to converse in the language of the country on the agenda.

  'It is only a question of waiting,' his father responded. 'Six months is a long time for a man like Gueras to wait. His patience will snap.' 'It was highly regrettable about Kay,' commented one of the men.

  'She provided us with a lot of useful information.'

  'Perhaps that's why she died as she did!' said Renato dryly.

  'She died as she did because that madman Bishop was responsible for her murder. Only he would have inflicted such torture on an innocent woman.'

  Renato's teeth flashed in a smile. 'Scarcely innocent; a sexually sophisticated courtesan who was playing a double game. There was always the risk of such a death.'

  His father banged his fist upon the mahogany table. 'But that is not why she died. She died to make way for this, this… '

  'Lisa Walker,' put in his secretary helpfully.

  'And now Lisa Walker won't "put out", as they say in America. How very unfortunate for Gueras!'

  'Renato, there is no cause for amusement. We were close to finding out where the money went. People talk about Spain and France, but nothing is known. Just a few months and we might have learned the truth. As it is… '

  'We write it off as a loss!'

  'I am not happy,' said Paulo furiously. 'I did not build up my banks in order to be made a fool of by some second-rate criminal in London.'

  'First-rate,' corrected his son with some amusement. 'I'm sure a second-rate criminal would not have managed to fight us like this.'

  'You find this amusing, do you not? Excellent, we will see how amusing you find it when you are living in England with only your umbrella for company.'

  A murmur went round the room and Renato sat up straight for the first time. 'You want me to live in England? For how long?'

  'For as long as it takes to discover how he did it, where the money went and what else he is involved in. I am told that even now he is encroaching on the drugs market.'

  'We don't dabble in drugs,' said Renato indifferently. 'He is still encroaching on our territory.'

  'I imagine the Mafia are more concerned about that. Why not ask them to sort him out?'

  'I wish to settle this debt myself, and so I send my son.'

  Renato sighed inwardly and reflected that he would now have to give up his elegant mistress in Milan and start all over again in London, where such women were more difficult to find. Gabriela was intelligent, witty, and ran her own fashion house. She demanded nothing more of Renato than he did of her, and he'd miss her. She was very convenient.

  'Well?' demanded his father.

  'I apologise, I was thinking of something else.'

  'Women, no doubt! I said that we are told this Lisa woman has been heard to say that she wouldn't marry Gueras even if he were free.'

  Renato raised his eyebrows. Considering his wealth, that reflects very poorly upon his technique!' he mused. Two of the men laughed, Paulo did not.

  'You are to go within the month. I wish you discreetly settled before Gueras realises one of our family has arrived. Then you must make it clear that you are there only to oversee the London branch of our bank , and to have a good time before looking around once again for a suitable second wife.'

  'Luciano is to come with me,' said Renato curtly, the mention of a wife bringing the image of his young son to mind.

  'Naturally. Women like a man who loves children.'

  'In England no one loves children if what their papers say are true,' said Renato. There were general murmurs of agreement in which even Paulo Bellini joined in.

  'Do we still have anyone inside Gueras's organisation?' asked Renato casually. His father shook his head and they went on to talk about their Swiss branch. After a time Renato left the room with the excuse that he had a lot of arrangements to make.

  When he arrived at Gabriela's apartment she didn't look delighted to see him. 'I'm rather busy.' There was a hint of annoyance in her voice.

  'Then you'll be relieved to hear that I'm leaving. I have to go to England for a time. I came to say goodbye.'

  Her almond-shaped brown eyes widened and she held the door open. 'Come in.'

  Raising himself to his full height, Renato looked down at her and shook his head. 'You've already said you're busy. Good luck with your next collection. I wish you happiness.'

  'You will return?' she asked.

  'To Italy, yes. To you, I think not. My father feels it is time I found myself a second wife. Once I return that will be my priority.'

  She smiled invitingly. 'Your first wife didn't come between us.' 'We were both younger then,' he said harshly, and never looked back because he didn't want to see the pain in her eyes, and yet her first rejection of him had made him want to lash o
ut and inflict just such a hurt. There were times when he regretted the speed of his reactions. Just occasionally it would, he knew, be better if he stopped and thought before speaking.

  During the next two weeks, as he chivvied his staff to make all the necessary arrangements for his trip, he tried several times to speak to his father about an insider in the Gueras organisation, certain that the older man had lied at the meeting.

  Only when they stood together in the departure lounge of Milan airport were his suspicions confirmed. 'We do have someone close to Gueras,' Paulo murmured as they embraced. 'It's better that you do not know who, and tell no one else that such a person even exists. You understand?'

  'I understand. Come, Luciano, it is time to catch our plane.' The tiny boy and the huge man walked away together and Paulo felt his breath catch in his throat. The child looked so lonely. It was certainly time for Renato to start looking around again once this job was over. Paulo needed more grandsons to inherit the Bellini empire. One frail child was not enough.

  He watched the plane until it was a mere speck in the sky and then turned away. He didn't know why he felt so emotional this morning. There was no risk attached to the job Renato had to do, and in any case his son could take very good care of himself , yet he did feel worried.

  It was probably because of women, he told himself . They had been a constant source of trouble with Renato since the boy reached his fourteenth birthday, yet still—at thirty-six—he hadn't once fallen in love.

  It left a dangerous void in his emotional life, and whatever else happened there must be no scandal attached to any member of the Bellini family. Somehow Paulo felt that London was going to be an unlucky place for them all.

  Bishop could have told him why.

  Louise and Ruth looked anxiously across the table at each other. It was Sunday evening and their father had spent the entire day with his family, a day full of such tension that Rebekah had become almost hysterical and was now fortunate enough to be eating with her nanny upstairs. They both envied her.

  It was 8.45 p.m. and they and their father had been seated at the table since 8 o'clock, waiting for Naomi to come down. Neal's fingers drummed incessantly on the table top and he glanced frequently at his watch while his daughters looked down at their laps. They knew why their mother was late and dreaded the moment when she eventually appeared.

  Just as Louise was about to offer to go and see if her mother was all right, the door opened and she came in. Her hair was carefully swept up and coiled into a neat bun; her makeup was over-stated but at least she'd used some, and her maroon-coloured velvet skirt with oyster pink satin blouse was smart, although the colours clashed hideously.

  'Ready, my dear?' asked Neal softly.

  Naomi looked round the room in puzzlement. 'Where is everyone?' 'We're all here, Mother,' said Ruth quickly. 'The party was yesterday.'

  'How silly of me! I do hope I'm not late,' she added, glancing nervously at her husband.

  'Only forty-five minutes! For God's sake sit down and ring for the soup.'

  Naomi gave a strange laugh. 'He makes it sound as though the tureen will walk in! He means ring for the maid of course!' She continued giggling to herself as soup was served and the maid withdrew. Both girls began to eat carefully, aware that their father would be in a hyper-critical mood. He glared at Ruth. 'Must you crumble your roll like that? It looks as though you're planning to feed the birds.'

  'Feed the birds—tuppence a bag!' sang Naomi, memories of Mary Poppins springing suddenly into her drink-sodden mind.

  Neal groaned and wondered what Lisa was doing. He'd come so close to getting her into bed last week. She'd been in an excellent mood after her first visit to Ascot and, full of champagne and high spirits, had almost given in. Almost, but not quite. The story of the fifteen months since she'd left Toby. If only he had more time he thought, but now life was complicated by the presence of Renato Bellini in London , and if anything he had less time than ever to spare in pursuit of her.

  Looking down the table at his wife, his eyes glittered with hate. She could have been sixty in the harsh overhead light, and her orange-tinged lipstick, fortunately being removed by the occasional spoonful of soup she swallowed, was so wrong for the outfit that he wondered briefly if she'd worn it to annoy him but then decided she was too drunk to think of such a thing.

  After the soup they had roast beef , Yorkshire pudding, runner beans and tiny new potatoes from the vegetable garden. It was all perfectly cooked and tasted delicious but none of the women could enjoy it.

  The girls were terrified that their mother would cause a scene and Naomi was plucking up the courage to do just that. Finally, after toying with her meat for a few moments, she cleared her throat.

  'That girl you're with in Tat/er again this month—what's her name?'

  'Lisa Walker; Simon Greene's girl.' 'Simon Greene? I don't remember… ' 'Hardly surprising in your condition.'

  'I suppose she's your new mistress?' she said loudly. Louise gripped her knife and fork more tightly while Ruth put hers down and swallowed hard, all appetite gone.

  'Don't be ridiculous, Naomi! Pass me the horseradish sauce please, Louise.'

  'What's ridiculous about it? Kay's gone. Someone must be giving you all this sexual satisfaction I keep reading about, and it isn't me.' 'Eat your dinner, dear,' said Neal softly, but his eyes held a threat visible even to Ruth.

  'I want an answer!' shouted Naomi, lurching to her feet clutching a glass of claret.

  'I've given you one. She is not my mistress. Now please sit down and remember the children are here.'

  'Do you imagine that they don't know what you're like? Auntie Kay indeed! They knew all about her and her cool dis… dis… distemper!'

  'I take it you mean disdain? Kay's dead, Naomi.'

  'I know that. I do read the papers. Poor Kay, she didn't have any protection, did she? Not like me. Oh, you'd love to have me killed too, I don't doubt that for a moment, but you can't, can you? You can't afford the enquiries that would follow. I know too much about you, and it's all written down as well.'

  Neal glanced up from his plate and stared at her. 'Indeed?'

  She laughed. 'Surprised? Fancy stupid, drunken Naomi having the wit to leave anything with a solicitor, but I have and you don't even know which solicitor I've used!'

  'You're talking nonsense. I had intended to stay overnight but I think I'll return to London after dinner. I've had enough of this house for the moment.'

  'What about me?' she screamed, hurling her linen napkin to the floor and knocking over the gravy boat as she thumped the table with her hand. 'Do you think I like living here on my own, week after week? Don't you think I've got needs and feelings?'

  'I'm sure everyone's aware of your needs, Naomi!'

  'I only drink because… ' She frowned, losing her thread of thought.

  'Because you can't afford cocaine every day?'

  'Who started me off on that? It was you, wasn't it! Admit it, tell the children what kind of husband you are. "Try some of this, dear, it will make you feel much better." That's what you said. And you were clever because it did. It made me feel better but not for long enough. Never for long enough!' She began to weep.

  She cried badly, her face turning red and blotchy while her nose ran and beads of sweat made their way through the caked makeup. Neal could scarcely bear to look at her but forced himself to get up from his chair and walk to the other end of the table.

  'You're tired. Louise, ask Nurse Clarke to come and take your mother to bed.'

  'That's right, pack me off to bed. But you won't be sharing it, will you? You'll be off to that trollop in London, rolling around in her… '

  'Shut up!' he said dispassionately, and twisting her right arm, forced her from the chair and towards the door. 'Do you honestly think any man would want to share your bed these days?'

  'It's your fault!' she screamed, ignoring the appearance of Nurse Clarke hurrying down the wide staircase. 'You've made me what I
am. Well, don't forget I've covered myself. If anything happens to me, you'll be in so much trouble you'll be lucky not to go down for twenty years or more. I've watched you these past few years; I've seen the people who've come and gone and… '

  'Get her to bed,' he ordered the nurse. 'Make sure she goes to sleep. I'm beginning to wonder if you're quite up to this job,' he added quietly, and Nurse Clarke turned away. Naomi was past help, but she wasn't going to lose her position by telling her employer that. Besides, she thought he probably knew.

  When he strode back into the dining-room, Louise was crying softly into her handkerchief while Ruth sat, white-faced and straight-backed, her hands clenched into fists on her lap.

  'You musn't get upset, Louise,' he said benignly. 'Your mother isn't well. She can't help herself.'

  'Why?' asked Louise as rudely as she dared. 'Why's she like this? I can remember when she was quite different. She used to laugh a lot and loved playing with us.'

  'She never got over Rebekah's birth. Her hormones were affected or something. I'm told it does happen.'

  'Never mind Rebekah, what about Kay?' muttered Ruth. 'You were saying?' queried her father politely.

  'Nothing.'

  'I'm very glad to hear it.'

  'What did she mean about prison?' continued Louise, her blue eyes challenging her father.

  'I've no idea, she gets these delusions now and again . Alcoholics do. The worst thing I've ever done is drive at 100 m.p.h . on the M l and I don't think you get twenty years for that!'

  'But… '

  He sensed that Louise wasn't going to let up and went straight for her weakest point. 'The only person I know who might not want the police investigating his activities is your friend, Bishop. There's some very strange things go on in his Norfolk cottage. Yes, if the police were ever to investigate any of my companies I don't think Bishop would come out of it very well. Shall I ring for dessert?'

  Ruth looked at her sister compassionately. Poor Louise loved their mother but was also besotted with Bishop. Now she wouldn't know who to believe or what to do for the best. As for herself , she didn't care about their mother any more and she loathed Bishop. All she wanted was a little peace.