by Diana Fraser
Cassandra breathed deeply, desperate to rid herself of the steel band that threatened to tighten its grip around her head. It had come from nowhere. One minute she’d been thinking of how she could begin to put her plan for revenge into action and the next minute the memory of Danny had slipped quietly into her head, as gently and as pervasively as the waves upon the shore. The thought of him was like a kick in the guts: winding, heart-breaking. Her head tensed and she closed her eyes, willing the pain to dissipate.
He’d been just six years old—straight hair that flip-flopped into his eyes, no matter how often she seemed to trim it—when he’d died. She’d been trying to juggle too many responsibilities, as usual. When her father had suggested Danny go out on the yacht with him, she’d agreed, relieved to have one less responsibility to think about. The decision had haunted her every day and every night since.
She knew her father had been more moody than usual, that the business was in difficulty but she had no idea how big the problems were. She’d later learned his financial director had called while her father was out at sea to give him the news that he’d been ruined. He’d killed himself realizing he’d somehow let a multi-million dollar business, that had been in his family for generations, slip through his fingers.
A single gun shot to the head was discovered when his body eventually washed to shore. Danny’s body was never found. Not knowing what had subsequently happened, how Danny had disappeared, how the yacht had come to be drifting by itself, seemingly intact, had haunted her every day and every night since.
How much had he suffered? Had he watched his grandfather die and then fallen overboard himself? Had he curled up into a ball and cried her name, needing her comfort and she hadn’t been there for him? Had her father taken a long time to die and Danny had to witness his pain alone? She’d never know. There was only one thing she knew. One thing she remembered in particular.
That afternoon’s paper. Dallas Mackenzie’s handsome face, familiar from gossip columns, under the headline, “Kiwi billionaire takes over Boston company founded in 1863”. She’d known then that something had happened to her father.
She’d known he’d been on a knife edge and she’d let him take Danny. She’d joined the search teams and they’d soon located the boat. But no bodies. Not until her father’s turned up, days later. As someone had turned the bloated body over, and she’d seen the effect of the gunshot wound to what was left of his face, her pain had merged with the image of Dallas’s face. And only one word had come into her mind.
Revenge. Revenge upon the man whose smiling face appeared in the newspaper column while her heart lay in shreds. There would be no half-baked scenes: no demand for explanations. She knew what it was all about. Money. It was the only thing that had any value for people like that.
She’d briefly met Dallas’s brother, James, but she’d refused him admittance to the funeral or a meeting afterwards. She had no interest in listening to his apologies on behalf of his brother—his company line, his superficial regret.
She cast one last look at the sea—furious for allowing its beauty to momentarily lull her into forgetting her purpose—before retracing her steps mechanically back along the shore. She was there for one reason and one reason only and the sooner she got on with the job of ruining Dallas Mackenzie, the better.
It was five minutes before she emerged from the windswept kanuka bushes at the top of the cliff—her chest heaving from the exertion—fingering a wild orchid.
Dallas folded the unread paper and put on his sun glasses.
She was certainly fit, he’d give her that. His eyes moved down from the flushed face, framed with curling tendrils of hair that had escaped the severe ponytail, and lingered on her breasts. He couldn’t help it. They were made to be admired.
She stood, hands on hips, as she tried to regain her breath from the steep path. Dallas thanked his maker for those moments as desire stirred within him. It gave him time to admire the shape of her heaving breasts, firm and full, and her nipples, outlined in the damp of her tight white vest. It gave him time to imagine the salty taste of the two sweat-darkened crescent shapes under her breasts. It gave him time to appreciate the length of her smooth, tanned legs.
He gripped his coffee mug in an effort to take control. It was all he could do to not reach out to her, to pull her to him and explore that luscious body, warm and damp. He could almost feel his tongue playing with her erect nipples and his hands gliding down her silken inner thighs to discover where she liked to be touched. And he’d be watching her face, her reactions all the time, to enjoy her arousal.
He groaned, flipped the newspaper open onto his lap and poured her a glass of freshly squeezed orange juice without standing up to greet her. There was no way he could stand without revealing his thoughts.
“Good run?”
Cassandra turned to see Dallas, already immaculately dressed, sitting in the shadows with a cup of coffee.
Her heart thudded as memories of yesterday flooded her mind and her senses. Get a grip woman. Damn. She hadn’t expected to meet him at that hour and wished she’d been more covered up. But she didn’t seem to have any choice but to join him.
“Very refreshing. Thanks for the juice.”
She took a sip and sank down into a chair.
“You look as though you could do with it.”
She nodded. “That path’s real steep. This is just what I need.” She took another long drink, enjoying the tartness of the home-made juice, and sat back. It was impossible not to feel soothed by her surroundings. “It’s so beautiful here.”
“That’s why I stay. Beautiful and untouched. Like that wild orchid you picked.”
She looked down at it and twirled it in her hands. “Someone I knew…it was his favorite flower.”
She dragged her eyes away from the flower and across to where Dallas was sitting. Now was not the time for memories.
The sun was higher, casting the verandah, and his face, in shadow. His sunglasses hid his eyes but she could tell from the tilt of his head that he was watching her as he sipped his coffee.
Even through dark glasses he had a way of looking at her that was so intimate and powerful, she felt as if he could strip her down emotionally and physically with just one look. She looked away into the blue distance. Thank God she had decided to do no more than a light jog this morning. She was sweaty enough without the increase in temperature his gaze produced.
She closed her eyes, searching for a moment of calm, absorbing the heat of the sun’s rays that fell onto the edge of the verandah where she sat. All she could hear was the clatter of flax and the song of wax eyes.
“It’s also very peaceful.”
The peace was suddenly shattered by a banging door and a vibrant contralto belting out the chorus to Madam Butterfly.
Dallas raised an eyebrow. “Not always. Meet Rosa.” He stood up immediately and pushed his chair back on the wooden decking. “I think I’ll leave you to it.”
A tall, statuesque lady threw open a side door and bustled across to them. A beaming smile shone from a face framed by a shock of steel grey hair. She was holding a large tray of breakfast things.
“Buon giorno bella. Welcome, welcome. Here, I have breakfast for you both. Dallas! Where are you going? Come back here and eat something. That coffee will be no good. Oh, he’s gone. He is so bad. Still, bella, it’s very nice to meet you. I’m Rosa, Dallas’s housekeeper. And if Dallas wasn’t so rude he would have introduced me. But I know you. You must be the lovely Cassandra.”
Cassandra blinked. She was sure that Dallas wouldn’t have introduced her as such.
Smiling, Cassandra stood up to greet Rosa. She couldn’t help it. The woman’s warmth and humor were contagious.
“Very pleased to meet you Rosa.” Cassandra extended a hand.
Rosa laughed—a loud, raucous, infectious laugh—deposited the tea things on the table and threw her arms around her, kissing her on both cheeks.
“We don’t stand
on ceremony here, bella. Well, of course, Dallas does but that’s just him. I have to humor him sometimes. Else he tells me I have to go and we both know that I’m never going anywhere.” Another loud belly laugh followed.
Cassandra grinned back but was disconcerted. She had to adjust her ideas of Dallas, yet again, to incorporate a doting Italian mama and a home that was obviously more than a house. She could cope with a womanizing mercenary, but a doting housekeeper?
“I think Dallas had to make a call, or some such…” She trailed off, hoping she wouldn’t have to spend her working life making excuses for him.
“Oh, never mind him. He’s just a stroppy, impatient boy. It doesn’t worry me. So you—sit down, sit down—you slept well?”
“Very well, thank you. The bed was so comfortable.”
“Perfetto. We were not expecting anyone but we always keep a room free for visitors. Dallas is always bringing people home.”
I bet he is, Cassandra thought.
“So you like the room?” Rosa continued.
“It’s beautiful. And the curtains on the bed are amazing. They look like museum pieces.”
“Si. Dallas, he chose the furnishings himself. He has good taste, eh? Silk. Very old. Dallas, he likes that sort of thing. Me, I like something machine washable, you know? But he insists. He is so artistic, just like his mother, if only he could see.” Rosa shook her head. “He believes he is just like his father. And so, yes, he looks like him. And he is clever with numbers and such. But the other? No.”
“The other?”
Rosa drew nearer to Cassandra, her large expressive eyes flashing with interest, while she looked around to make sure they were alone.
“The drink got Dallas’s father. He was not nice to his wife, Dallas’s mother.” She clenched her fist and made as if to punch Cassandra. Cassandra blinked, alarmed. “Violent, you see. And my poor boy believes he will go the same way as his father because of the fight.”
“Fight?” Cassandra couldn’t believe how much information she was eliciting from Rosa with so little prompting. Perhaps she had nothing to fear from this woman after all.
Rosa sat back and crossed her arms awkwardly over her ample bosom, and nodded seriously. “With his brother. It was after a party and they’d all been drinking. Well you know, boys will be boys. But Dallas got angry with Callum and they fought, a bloody fight it was. But Callum, he was no innocent. He could look after himself and did too. It was bad luck for my poor boy that Callum had been at that moment using a knife. Dallas lost the top of his finger when he tried to take it from Callum. Never touched drink again. Afraid of being like his father. Same temper—perhaps.” Rosa shrugged her shoulders. “But same man—never!” She sank back in her chair in a temporary reverie.
Cassandra took another sip of her tea and waited. But not for long. Suddenly Rosa sat up straight and fixed Cassandra with a fierce look.
“Dallas is not like his father. Even if his dear mother could not see it. But you try and tell him and he just shuts me up. Pff!! ‘That’s enough, Rosa. Haven’t you got housework to do, Rosa?’ Anyone would think I stay here for the money! Mica tanto! They are my family now. Ah, well. I talk too much. So you, now. Dallas, he tell me you’re here for a trial period?”
“That’s right.” Stunned by the abrupt change in conversation and tone, Cassandra had the feeling that a long reply wasn’t required.
“It’s good I think. To see if you and Dallas suit one another. That is a very good idea. It will show you what you are dealing with. All the other girls they run, run, run, when they realize what is involved.”
“And what exactly would that be?”
“It’s no picnic, working with a man like Dallas. Everything has to be right and he never stops. These girls, they’re pretty of course, but not wanting to work so hard, if you know what I mean.” She peered into Cassandra’s face, as if looking for clues. “But you, you look different. Perhaps you can match him.”
Cassandra heard a movement behind her. But before she could look up, Rosa had bent towards her and spoke in a stage whisper, loud enough for anyone close by to hear. “He has no patience with weakness. It won’t be easy.”
“Rosa! If you’ve quite finished trying to put off my new PA perhaps you’d be kind enough to allow her to get ready for work.” He ignored Rosa’s good-natured laughter and turned to Cassandra. “We’re leaving in half-an-hour.”
“Sure. Thanks for the tea, Rosa.”
“But you haven’t had any breakfast!” Rosa’s laughter suddenly stopped, obviously concerned that someone would leave her household hungry.
“I’m fine, honestly.”
“No wonder you are so skinny. Beautiful of course, but skinny.”
Cassandra looked at Dallas helplessly in the face of Rosa’s onslaught.
“Don’t look at me for help. I’m in control of everything except Rosa. She’s the boss here. You’d better do as she says. She takes it personally if people don’t enjoy her food.”
Cassandra grabbed a piece of toast. “I’ll, er, take it with me.”
Rosa waved her hand in reply. “You two go on now to your work. You enjoy yourselves.” She withdrew, laughing loudly as she chased a prowling cat away from the kitchen door.
Cassandra caught Dallas’s eye as they walked through to the hallway. “Sounds like Rosa thinks you’re a kid who goes to the office to play.”
“Yep. Always had a tentative hold on reality has our Rosa. Couldn’t live without her though.”
Cassandra cocked her head to one side in question.
“So she thinks, anyway,” Dallas added hastily.
“So what time’s the board meeting?”
“This afternoon. We’ll be leaving for the office in half an hour.” He opened a door to what looked to be his study and gave her a sweeping glance that heated her skin. “Be ready.”
The door swept shut silently and Cassandra climbed the stairs to her bedroom, wondering if, despite her preparations, she would ever be ready for Dallas Mackenzie.
CHAPTER FIVE
“Lunch is served.”
Jenny, the receptionist, pushed the door open with her foot and brought a tray into the office.
“Thanks. You’re a mind reader.”
“Not me.” She nodded in the direction of Dallas’s office. “Dallas’s idea. Reckoned you’d forget to eat.”
“Thoughtful boss.” Or, more likely, he doesn’t want a weak female fainting in his office, Cassandra reasoned.
“With some people.” Jenny raised an eyebrow.
Cassandra decided to ignore the innuendo and pushed away the laptop and rolled her shoulders. “Seems to be pretty thoughtful with most people, judging by the meetings we’ve been to this morning.
“Yeh, I’m only kidding. He’s always had an eye for a beautiful PA which isn’t the best criteria, if you ask my advice. But he seems to have struck lucky with you. You’ve made a big impression with the management team.”
Jenny sat down and helped herself to a piece of sushi before sitting back and crossing her legs expectantly.
“So,” she continued, “how’s it going? As you expected?”
Nothing had been as she’d expected. From the obvious loyalty and affection his team showed Dallas, to the respect implicit in all his dealings with them. “There’s been a few surprises.”
“Such as?”
“How hands-on he is. He has a professional team supporting him, but all this,” Cassandra indicated the piles of correspondence, “detail, he does himself.”
“Yeh, likes to keep an eye on everything. But it’s piled up of course, since the last PA.”
“What is it with Dallas and his PAs?”
“Well, the last couple have been, how can I put this politely? Oh, I can’t. They’ve all been gold-diggers. And not so keen on doing the work, well, not the desk work.”
“Ah, I get the picture.”
“But if you’re prepared to do the work, he’s a great boss.”
Cassandra helped herself to savory. “Certainly seems to have a happy workforce.”
“So you didn’t expect him to be like that, huh?”
“Well, I didn’t really know what to expect,” apart from a ruthless, money-hungry bastard, thought Cassandra. “But, he seems very conscientious. The only thing my last boss was conscientious about was his golf handicap.”
“Well I don’t think Dallas would know one end of a golf club from the other. He’d be more likely to swing it at someone if they annoyed him.”
Cassandra laughed. “That’s my impression. Direct and to the point. Not exactly worried about the niceties.”
“You’ve got him pegged. But he is really good with us lot. We always come first with him. Mind you, he doesn’t suffer fools gladly. His meetings with fools should be a spectator sport. Worth watching if you don’t mind the sight of blood. And so long as you don’t get caught in the line of fire.”
“I’ll make a mental note of that.”
“But don’t let his manner fool you. It’s true he’s not polite and he doesn’t do small talk. Basically he can be a rude bastard sometimes. Well, most of the time actually. But he doesn’t mean anything by it. It’s just his way.”
The door slammed closed behind them, making them both jump.
“The ‘rude bastard’ has just entered the room. How about putting as much effort into your job as you do your gossiping, Jen.”
Jen leapt up. “Sorry, Dallas. I was just—”
“Going, I hope?”
Jen raised her eyes theatrically at Cassandra before closing the door firmly behind her. She was obviously used to such exchanges and didn’t seem perturbed in the least.
“Let’s make some headway with this lot.” He picked up the pile of correspondence with distaste before dropping it heavily onto the desk.
“Sure.” She swallowed her food hurriedly. “And thanks for the lunch.”
He looked at it distractedly, having obviously forgotten he’d ordered it for her. “You haven’t got time to eat. We’ve work to do.”
Right. He was thoughtful enough to get her the lunch but his consideration obviously didn’t extend to giving her time to eat it. She pushed the projects file across the desk towards him.