A Dangerous Arrangement

by Lee Christine

  Dean pushed back his chair and stood up. ‘You don’t understand.’

  Anger and frustration welled up inside Rask. ‘Don’t tell me I don’t understand. I’ve known you since you were fifteen years old, son. I can read you like a book.’

  ‘Hektor.’ In an instant the man Rask knew was back, beside him, his hand on his shoulder. ‘Your heart—don’t upset yourself.’

  ‘It’s not my heart I’m worried about.’ Rask covered Dean’s hand with his own and did his best to steady his voice. ‘I’m the one in hospital and you’re the one who looks like crap. I love you like the son I never had, and seeing you like this, well, it’ll kill me off quicker than the old ticker.’

  Dean nodded, and for the first time since he was a teenager, Rask saw a telltale glimmer in his eyes. ‘I’m sorry.’

  Rask used the grab handle to pull himself up. ‘I know it’s a private matter. I know I have no business interfering, but I couldn’t stay quiet any longer. You’re tired, worn out. This thing with Li Chen has taken its toll. It’s time you started looking after yourself.’

  Dean turned away, went to walk towards the window then swung back. ‘She has an amazing career, Hektor. She’s the most accomplished woman I’ve ever known, and yet, the most down to earth.’

  ‘Except when it comes to that violin.’

  He watched Dean smile at the memory. Then he sobered and slowly pushed a hand through his hair. ‘Oh Jesus, Rask. What have I done?’

  ‘You’ve hurt her.’

  Rask had no time for bullshit. He was in the unique position of being Dean Logan’s confidant, and Dean had been running on adrenaline these past weeks, driven by the need to get his company back on track and secure the future of his workforce.

  They all depended on him.

  And the America’s Cup disaster had affected him deeply.

  Rask sighed. ‘She would have got over the abrupt way you made her leave, she’s sensible enough to understand your reasons behind that.’

  Dean hoped so. Forcing Marina to leave the yacht that day, when all he wanted was for her to stay, had been one of the hardest things he’d ever had to do in his life. He’d never forget the way she’d looked at him in the helicopter. Those huge, hurt eyes. They haunted his dreams. Even now, he could hear her voice.

  I have to feel something. If I’m not soul connected …

  God, he missed her! He’d downloaded all her music, had it on continuous play. It was the only way he could feel connected to her. But it wasn’t enough. At night, alone in his room, he’d check the SSO website for any news of her, and one night in a hotel room when he couldn’t sleep, he’d even watched Pocahontas.

  It was fucking pathetic!

  He was like a lovelorn schoolboy.

  And then the days turned to weeks, and then a month went by, and the tentacles of the Li Chen case had reached into all four corners of the globe.

  And he was running on empty.

  ‘You’re right,’ he said eventually, ‘she would understand I was trying to get her away.’

  But she wouldn’t understand his silence.

  Seven weeks! He couldn’t just ring her out of the blue after seven weeks. She’d probably hang up and block his calls.

  She spoke to Rask only moments ago.

  She hadn’t asked to speak to him.

  And that conductor was back in Sydney.

  Suddenly, Dean’s heart shifted up a gear and a growing resolve strengthened inside him. He couldn’t just call her. He had to do better than that. He needed to make it up to her, show her how much he cared, ask for her forgiveness.

  For he wouldn’t blame her one bit if she thought he had a cold heart.

  A cold heart, and shit for brains.

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Sydney

  New Year’s Eve

  Marina waited in the wings and practised her circular breathing. On stage, the chairs were set out in the standard orchestral form. Across from her, she could see the shadowy outlines of other players, instruments at the ready, waiting in the opposite wing.

  Earlier, a hum of chatter had come from the assembled audience. Now, not a rustle or murmur could be heard, only the host for the evening introducing the players.

  ‘It’s like a dream,’ Eli whispered in her ear. ‘I can’t believe I’ll be taking your place.’

  ‘Hey! I’m still concertmaster for this performance.’

  He grinned. ‘I know. It’s surreal. I’m playing at the Sydney Opera House.’

  ‘I’m pleased Harmon took the news well. Even more pleased you chose this position over Brussels. I think you’ll enjoy Australia.’

  ‘I’m grateful to you for putting in a good word.’

  ‘You had to audition.’

  It was time now for the violins to walk on. Marina glanced at Eli, handsome in his brand new dinner suit. ‘Off you go. Break a leg.’

  Marina’s heart swelled with pride as she watched Eli take his seat on the stage. He would be concertmaster next year, and according to her watch, next year was a touch under three and a half hours away.

  The orchestra settled in without too much fuss, just an odd chair scraping and the rustling of paper as they checked they had the correct scores.

  And then Marina was alone in the wings.

  Except for Andreas.

  ‘All the best for your final performance,’ he said.

  Marina focused her gaze straight ahead. ‘It’s not my last. It’s my last as concertmaster. I’ll be making guest appearances next year.’

  ‘I hear it means you’ll be spending more time in Europe?’

  Sleazebag.

  ‘The summers, mostly.’

  ‘Hopefully we’ll see more of you in Vienna.’

  ‘I’m sure your wife will be thrilled.’

  Marina pressed her lips together in a satisfied smile as the host made the final introductions.

  ‘And now, please make welcome conductor Andreas Frey, and concertmaster Ms Marina Lane.’

  Applause filled Marina’s ears, and she steeled herself as a lump began forming in her throat. Despite being happy with how things had worked out, she would dearly miss being part of the symphony.

  She smiled, picked a spot on the back wall of the concert hall, and bowed. Then she walked to her chair while Andreas followed suit, lapping up the applause as if God himself had come to the Sydney Opera House.

  Finally, she sat in the concertmaster’s chair, always to the left of the conductor. She checked the correct music was on her stand, and then lifted her violin into position.

  A hush fell over the audience.

  Eyes trained on Andreas, Marina held her breath as the conductor raised his baton.

  ***

  From the moment she appeared on stage Dean sat transfixed. Marina wore a long, black pencil skirt and a beautiful blouse. The blouse was black lace, with long bell-shaped sleeves that draped from her wrists when she raised her arms to play.

  She sat straight, just as she had in the gondola, hair pulled off her face to fall in waves down her back. Her chin was in the rest, unintentionally tilting her face at an angle which showcased the elegant curve of her neck and the delicate angle of her jawline.

  A marketer’s dream.

  Tonight, her big vivid eyes were focused 100 per cent on the guy on the podium, the brilliant conductor, the man she’d had an affair with. According to the SSO website, he was back in Sydney for a series of short guest appearances.

  Jaw tense, Dean listened to the music and tried to ease the ache in his chest. She was so beautiful it hurt just to look at her, and for the umpteenth time he told himself what a stupid bastard he was for staying away so long.

  ***

  At ten-fifty the concert was drawing to a close, and Marina was pleased with the way her wrist had held up. The second part of the program was much easier than the first, just the classic Andrew Lloyd Webber arias that most people loved.

  Now, as they reached the scream in Phantom of the Opera, Ma
rina looked around the interior of the concert hall which had been her professional ‘home’ for the last three years. The wooden panelling gave the grand setting a cathedral-type ambience, its high vaulted ceiling contributing to the outstanding acoustics. And yet, when it was filled to capacity, as it was now, the room retained an intimate feel.

  The lofty notes of the soprano wafted over her and Marina relaxed, determined to enjoy her last performance here as concertmaster. When she returned, it would be as a guest soloist, and Eli would be sitting in this chair.

  Her only disappointment was that her father couldn’t make it. But then, he was due to arrive in two weeks’ time for his first overseas holiday. That more than made up for him missing New Year’s Eve.

  And she was surrounded by friends tonight, her tribe. Most were members of the orchestra, others were seated among the audience, fellow teaching staff from the conservatorium.

  And then, there was Eli. She glanced his way, and he caught her eye, smiled. He was already a close friend, while Harmon, Vlad and Elena would form her friendship base in Europe.

  Life couldn’t get much better than that.

  Except she knew it could.

  Refusing to let thoughts of Dean Logan ruin her night, Marina raised her violin and prepared for the big finale.

  Every day was getting easier, though the nights were interminably long.

  And when she finally fell asleep, he was always there, waiting for her.

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  ‘How am I going to get all this home?’ asked Marina.

  The table in the concert hall change room was covered with flowers, chocolates and champagne.

  Eli scratched his head. ‘You’ll have to get a taxi.’

  ‘That’ll be easy, on New Year’s Eve!’

  The applause had gone on for ages, and afterwards she’d spent almost an hour backstage receiving wellwishers from everywhere, her peers, co-workers as well as some of the larger sponsors of the orchestra.

  Now, mostly everyone had drifted away to meet up with family or friends to welcome in the new year. There were hardly more than a dozen people left in this section of the building.

  Eli looked at his watch. ‘It’s already ten past eleven. I can pick up my car, come back here and load all this stuff in. Then we can join the others.’

  ‘Oh, would you Eli?’ Marina wandered over to the table. ‘There’s bottles of champagne and everything.’

  She peeked at a couple of the gift cards. There were flowers from her agent, her management team and the orchestra, as well as a huge magnum of champagne from a group of her friends.

  And over to one side, a little apart from the others, sat the most stunning bunch of deep orange roses she’d ever seen.

  Marina caught her breath. ‘Aren’t they divine?’

  Eli raised his eyebrows. ‘Who are they from?’

  Marina turned over a card which was attached to one of the long-stemmed roses with deep glossy foliage. ‘As long as it’s not Andreas, I don’t care.’

  ‘He’s a great conductor.’ Eli lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. ‘Pity he’s such a loser.’

  Marina smiled and stared at the card. It set out care instructions for the …

  ‘Son of a bitch,’ she whispered, her heart beginning a slow, heavy thump in her chest. ‘These are called Marina Roses.’

  ‘That’s classy.’ Eli’s face broke into a broad grin. ‘Who gave you those?’

  ‘The Marina Rose?’ She hunted though the blooms for the gift card. ‘I didn’t even know there was a rose called that.’

  ‘Well, someone did.’ Eli wandered closer, an intrigued expression on his face.

  Marina’s mouth turned dry and her stomach began a slow churn. It couldn’t be. Not after four months. And roses? Marina roses? It was such a personal gift, and apart from Dean, she hadn’t had a liaison with anyone for years.

  Hope, anger and anticipation mixed together and swirled around inside her. Finally, she located the gift card.

  Conscious of Eli’s eyes upon her, she opened the small envelope with shaking fingers.

  ‘Meet me afterwards? D.’

  A wail of frustration burst from her lips, loud enough to send a look of alarm across Eli’s face. ‘What? Who are they from?’

  Marina clutched the card, hand on her forehead, a slow anger burning inside her. On stage she’d glimpsed someone in the audience, someone who reminded her of Dean. And she’d looked away, refusing to torment herself any more. She was tired of looking. She’d spent the last four months taking a second look at every tall, dark, handsome man who passed her in the street.

  ‘Come with me, Eli.’

  She left the room and ran down the wide, granite steps, past the cleaners working in the bar, down the escalator, and finally out onto the Opera House steps. A flotilla of yachts crowded the harbour, and far below, festive partygoers were packed ten deep at the railing, holding their spot while they waited for the midnight fireworks.

  But up here the Opera House steps were sparsely populated, and about 3 metres away a tall, broad-shouldered man with familiar dark hair and brown eyes stood waiting. His hands were in his pockets, and he’d undone his black bow tie so it hung loosely around his neck. He wore a white shirt unbuttoned at the neck, an immaculately cut Armani suit and a guarded expression.

  Marina couldn’t move. She just stood there and drank him in. She had a million things to say, and yet she couldn’t speak. He was thinner, more drawn around the eyes than the day he ordered her off the yacht. Her throat closed over at the memory, and suddenly she wanted to scream and shout and throw herself into his arms all at once.

  She didn’t move a muscle.

  Eli looked from her to Dean and back again. ‘Is this the guy?’

  She turned to her friend and put her hand on his arm. ‘Can you wait for me inside, Eli? I’ll still need to get my stuff. I’ll only be five minutes.’

  There! That would show Dean Logan he couldn’t just show up here after all this time and expect her to drop everything on one of the most important nights of her life.

  ‘Sure.’ Eli took a long, hard look at Dean, and left.

  And then they were alone.

  She steeled herself as he came towards her, halting just out of arm’s reach.

  ***

  ‘So, am I the guy, Marina?’

  Dean held his breath. He wanted to be.

  He wanted to be the guy, so badly.

  He watched as she clenched her hands at her sides. As always, she was stunning, but there was turmoil beneath the radiance, and he feared any second she’d turn on her heel and flee back inside.

  ‘You goddamn jerk!’ She hissed the words, reminding him of the day he’d cast off with her on board. ‘How dare you turn up here after months of silence and ask me that.’

  She wasn’t going to let him off easily, maybe not at all. And he deserved that. He deserved every bit of her anger, every ounce of her disappointment. Hell. He welcomed it. It gave him heart, showed she was still affected by him, even if in a bad way.

  ‘What are you doing here, Dean?’

  He took a deep breath. He’d prepared for this. He’d worked it out.

  But suddenly the words seemed trite, inappropriate. He searched in his mind for something else.

  ‘You need to keep up your side of the bargain.’

  She blinked, frowned. ‘What are you talking about?’

  ‘The lesson. A guitar lesson for a swimming lesson. You owe me.’

  Her expression suggested he could be living in an alternate reality. ‘That was before you went radio silent.’

  ‘I’m sorry. Things have been—crazy. I know I screwed up.’

  She drew herself up to her full height and lifted her chin a little. ‘You couldn’t have spared two minutes to phone me every now and then?’ She continued on, not waiting for an answer. ‘I was forced to find out what was happening through Detective Mooney.’

  ‘I know.’

  �
��It’s not like I was going to demand anything of you. You made it perfectly clear you’re not in favour of long-distance relationships. But in view of everything we went through, I thought you’d at least keep in touch.’

  Jesus. She was killing him. And by the look on her face, she was just getting warmed up.

  ‘I’m not the kind of woman who will put up with being treated like that. I don’t have a high tolerance for “bad”, so I suggest you go find someone who does.’

  She turned to go.

  ‘Dory!’

  She stilled, turned her head and spoke over her shoulder. ‘What did you say?’

  ‘The fish who kept swimming, his name was Dory. And the song in Pocahontas, it’s ‘Colours of the Wind’, not colours of the rainbow. Colours of the wind doesn’t make any sense, but—that’s what it’s called.’

  Slowly, she turned to face him fully.

  He went on, desperate to make her stay. ‘I watched the movies, and I listened to your music. It’s the only way I could keep connected, keep you close …’ To his horror, his voice broke.

  Oh shit!

  He turned away, ran a hand through his hair. She’d think him a goddamn fool talking about a fucking fish when all he wanted was to tell her he loved her.

  ‘Dean?’

  He closed his eyes.

  There was a long pause. ‘Why did you take so long?’

  When he turned back, he was glad he did. Her face had softened, and there was the hint of a smile on her lips.

  He moved closer, hope growing with every step. ‘I told myself it was best to have no contact, for a while, that you needed to keep the trip to Italy a secret, and all that. I was trying to protect you, keeping up my end of the bargain.’

  She nodded.

  He gathered himself as best he could. Somehow he had to articulate this. She was the first woman he’d truly fallen in love with, and tonight nothing was being left unsaid.

  ‘As time went on, things got crazier and crazier. The extent of Li’s activities was mind-blowing, and the shock that it had all started because someone wanted to win a race. I couldn’t comprehend it.’

  He paused to take a breath. ‘This guy has everything, and yet, he was so desperate he was willing to destroy my company to achieve it. The whole thing was just … nuts, and … I was really missing you. I feared, if I heard your … voice …’