Lions Walk Alone

by Susanna Firth

  'In the meantime, take care of yourself.' Maria's voice dropped conspiratorially. 'Remember what I told you about Leon. I can see a predatory gleam in his eye when he looks in your direction. He—'

  'Maria?'

  Emilio summoned her at that point, so Nita never heard what further advice she had to offer. There was a flurry of goodbyes and then she was alone in the car again with Leon, speeding through the dimly-lit streets back towards the Hotel Cristobal and her father's apartment.

  'I liked your friends,' she said.

  'Yes, they're a nice couple. Maria talks a bit too much, as you no doubt noticed, but she's very goodhearted. I've known them both for years. In fact, I was—'

  'Best man at their wedding. Yes, she told me that.'

  'Did she indeed?' In the half light she saw faint amusement in his face. 'And what else did she confide in you about me?'

  'Who says she confided anything?'

  'Call it masculine intuition,' Leon said cynically. 'I'm one of her favourite talking points among her female acquaintance. She's been trying to marry me off for years—I've lost count of how many friends and relatives of hers have been paraded hopefully in front of me on the occasions when I've visited them.'

  'Christians thrown to the lion?'

  'Something like that,' he agreed calmly. 'They certainly embraced the venture with some fervour!'

  'I can imagine,' Nita said darkly. 'And you didn't take to any of them? You amaze me!'

  'I took to any number. But I wasn't prepared to sign on for a life sentence.'

  'Is that how you see marriage?'

  'It's what it turns out to be in most cases.' He was silent for a moment as he negotiated an overloaded lorry that was hugging the centre of the road in front of them, then continued, 'With the right woman, of course, a man is a willing prisoner. Or so Maria reliably informs me.'

  'You don't believe her?'

  'Do you?'

  'I don't know. It's what every woman hopes for, at any rate,' she said.

  Leon laughed briefly. 'There's usually quite a large gap between expectation and reality.'

  'And that's the woman's fault for expecting too much, I suppose.'

  'I didn't say that.'

  'You didn't need to.' She had heard it in every arrogant note of his voice. 'It's what you think, isn't it?'

  'It's usually the female sex that asks for the moon and then cries when it isn't available.'

  'Whereas men are more realistic, of course,' she said sarcastically.

  'They make the most of what comes their way.'

  'A sound doctrine.'

  'I'm so glad you agree with me.'

  They were nearly at the hotel. Leon had just turned into the narrow side street that led up to it, but, instead of driving on, he swung the car suddenly towards the kerb and brought it to a halt by the sidewalk.

  'What—what are you doing?' Nita asked.

  'Practising what I preach,' he said as he reached across for her and pulled her into his arms.

  She tensed, prepared to struggle, although she knew it would be a hopeless contest. His superior strength would overpower her instantly. But this time he chose a more devastating weapon. It was his gentleness that conquered her in the end. The caressing movement of his thumb against the soft skin of her upper arm, the feather-light touch of his lips against hers, made her tantalisingly aware of him, incapable of resistance.

  It was a slow, insidious invasion of her senses. Apprehension faded, to be replaced by excitement and growing desire. She could feel a glow spreading through her, a mindless ecstasy that banished independent thought and made her strangely reluctant to do anything other than give herself up to the sheer erotic pleasure of the moment.

  She wanted Leon as a parched plant wants water. She could feel herself coming alive as his hands made a leisurely exploration of her body, teasing, stroking, arousing her to fever pitch, her breath coming in quick gasps as sensation pulsed through her. She pressed herself closer to him, revelling in the hard strength of his body against hers.

  'I want you, Nita.' The words were a low, urgent mutter as his mouth found hers again in a long, devouring kiss. She felt a shudder run through him. 'God, but I want you!'

  Nita said nothing, but her body gave its own answer, her willingness all too apparent, her arousal complete. She wanted him to go on, to give her the final fulfilment that her senses craved. Nothing else mattered.

  When he put her roughly aside and turned away from her, she was conscious only of that inner voice, begging, pleading for him to continue that mind-bending rapture.

  'Leon?' Her voice broke as she spoke his name. She stretched out a hand to him, but he pushed it rudely away.

  'Don't touch me, Nita, or I won't be responsible for what happens next,' he warned her in a ragged tone that told her how far he was from his usual cool control of himself.

  She felt as if she had suddenly been dropped from a great height. Her head reeled with reaction.

  'Leon, why?' she asked after a moment.

  In the darkness she couldn't see his expression, only the dim outline of his head and the rapid rise and fall of his chest as he fought to steady his breathing.

  He didn't answer immediately and she thought he hadn't heard her. Then he said in a semblance of his normal sardonic tones, 'If I hadn't called a halt I'd have taken you here and now on the front seat of the car within yards of your father's hotel, just like any woman of the street. Is that what you wanted?'

  She was silent. Shame flooded through her. She had behaved like a wanton; she couldn't deny the charge.

  'It's what I wanted,' Leon said harshly. 'You go to my head, Nita. I want to possess you as I've never wanted to possess a woman before.'

  'So what stopped you?'

  He paused deliberately. 'Perhaps I couldn't bear the thought of the recriminations afterwards.'

  'Who says there would have been any?'

  'Wouldn't there?' he asked. 'Your body I know I have. But your mind? Are you quite sure?'

  She put her hand up to brush away a strand of hair that clung to her damp forehead. 'I'm not sure about anything at the moment.'

  His hand went to the ignition and the car sprang into instant life. It took only seconds to reach the Hotel Cristobal where the night porter came hurrying down the steps to open the car door for her.

  Nita turned to Leon. Conventional thanks for a pleasant evening seemed out of place in the light of what had just happened.

  'I don't know what to say.'

  'Don't say anything.' His eyes were enigmatic. 'But perhaps you'll do a little hard thinking about what you really want before we meet again.'

  She got out and slammed the door behind her. And then, with a squeal of tyres, he was gone.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Nita slept badly that night. In her dreams Leon's dark figure pursued her endlessly down long, narrow corridors in a house that she had never visited before. His face was an implacable mask that held no sympathy for her. 'I want you!' he shouted after her as she fled from him. The words echoed all around her, mocking, taunting her until she put her hands up to her ears in an effort to blot them out.

  'I want you, Nita.' She could still hear his voice behind her. It was coming closer. She tried to run faster, desperate to get away from him, but her feet were like lumps of lead and they wouldn't obey her. She opened her mouth to scream, but no sound came out. He was just behind her now. He was going to catch her and she didn't want him to. She mustn't give in; she must struggle. But she couldn't.

  She woke with a jerk, her body damp with perspiration. The sheets were tossed about in wild disorder, testifying to the sort of night that she had had. She sat up weakly and pushed her hair away from her face with a hand that trembled slightly. On the table beside her bed the picture of the Aztec god mocked her. He had Leon's face. She stretched out a hand and turned him firmly to the wall. Damn the man! She punched her pillow viciously and wished it was Leon Calveto's head.

  She wouldn't t
hink about last night, she told herself. She went into the small bathroom that adjoined her bedroom and turned on the shower. But, as she stood motionless under its cool, refreshing spray, her mind rioted with a kaleidoscope of images that refused to be pushed away.

  The pyramids bathed in that unearthly light and herself watching them, clutching Leon's jacket to her like a talisman; Maria and Emilio, their faces registering happiness and pleasure at the spectacle; the bright lights and conversation afterwards at the restaurant; the dimness of the car as Leon had driven her home. And then the memory of his touch, inviting, urging a response that she had been incapable of denying him.

  'Your body I know I have,' he had told her. And it was true. Nita soaped herself vigorously as if the action could wash away her awareness of the fact. The effect he had on her was like a flame to dry tinder. In his arms she forgot everything. Pride, self-respect, reputation; none of them mattered in the least when Leon kissed her.

  But kissing wasn't enough. She wanted it all. She wanted to feel the thrust of his body against hers as he showed her what physical love was all about. And he would be an expert tutor—she had no doubt of that. Would he be surprised, she wondered, to discover exactly how inexperienced she was?

  What was she thinking of? He wasn't going to find out, Nita told herself as she stepped out of the shower and towelled herself briskly dry. When she gave herself to a man she wanted more than Leon Calveto was prepared to offer—a short-term affair leading nowhere.

  That was all he had in mind. He wanted her, yes. And he wanted everything—not just her body, but her mind as well. And her heart too, if she was fool enough to show him that she had one to give. He would take the lot. But only until he tired of her. And then he would move on, she had no illusions about that; on to another lover. Or to marriage with one of his carefully chosen short list of suitable brides. He wouldn't be faithful to her either, thought Nita cynically.

  She dressed and brushed her hair and applied her make-up more carefully than usual in an effort to conceal the ravages of last night. But she was only partially successful. Diego Lopez was a keen observer.

  'You've got shadows under your eyes,' he told her bluntly, studying her across the breakfast table. 'Is something wrong?'

  She wished she could have told him, poured out all her doubts and fears then and there. But he couldn't do anything to help. No one could. It was something that she would have to sort out for herself. There was no point worrying him unnecessarily.

  She laughed convincingly. 'Nothing that a few early nights won't cure. I didn't get back until late.'

  'A good evening?'

  'Lovely. I must take you out to Teotihuacán some time. It's worth it.' She launched into a long description of the Sound and Light show and told him about Emilio and Maria. She thought her voice sounded strained and over-bright, but her father didn't appear to notice anything amiss. She must be a better actress than she thought she was.

  'How was your evening?' she asked when she had run out of things to say on her own account.

  'Hm? What?' Diego's mind seemed to be elsewhere.

  'You're woolgathering!' she accused him. 'I don't believe you've heard a word I was saying!'

  'I'm sorry, I was thinking about—'

  'Business, I suppose. I knew it was a bad idea for you to spend last night with your lawyer. I should have stayed and insisted that he left at a reasonable time.'

  Diego Lopez gave a shout of laughter. 'I'd like to have seen you ordering old Fernando off the premises! He isn't used to liberated women. His daughters couldn't say "bo" to a goose.' He paused, then admitted, 'We did get through a fair amount of business. But it didn't take very long to sort out, as it happened.'

  'He really shouldn't be bothering you with that sort of thing just now,' Nita scolded. 'What do you have a deputy for?'

  'To make heavy weather of things that I used to do with one hand tied behind my back,' he grumbled. 'Oh, Jose's all right and he's as honest as they come. But he's a plodder and he lacks flair.'

  'Not a whiz-kid like you, you mean.'

  Diego laughed. 'Like I was once. I ate up the competition for breakfast! Whereas Jose lets everyone run rings round him while he works out his strategy.' He sighed. 'Oh, well, it won't be for much longer.'

  'What won't he? You mean you're going to take over again?'

  'No.' He hesitated, then told her, 'Nita, I've faced facts all my life, and I'm not going to start dodging issues now. These last few years I've been conning myself. I told myself I was as good as I ever was, that I'd go on in harness until I was ninety. I was a fool. I wouldn't let up.' He shrugged. 'And look what happened! I worked myself into a heart attack. And now—'

  'And now what?' Nita was suddenly scared. 'Papa? You are all right, aren't you? Have you been keeping something from me? Did the doctor say something to you about—'

  'Calm down!' he smiled. 'I'm not at death's door or anything like it. The doctor reckons I'll live to plague him for a good many years yet. If I take good care of myself, that is.'

  'But?' she prompted him. 'There is a but, isn't there?'

  'But there's a big difference between taking care of oneself and trying to run a multi-million-dollar operation the way that I've always run it. I never thought anyone could do things as well as I could. I never delegated. The pressure never let up. It needs a younger man, a fitter man, someone who can take stress and hard work in his stride and not let it get him down.'

  'So?' Nita asked. 'What have you decided?'

  'I'm selling out. I made my mind up a couple of weeks ago and the lawyers have been working it all out ever since. It can't be done in a hurry, that sort of thing.' He chuckled. 'And believe me, I've driven a fairly hard bargain!'

  'I'm sure of that,' she smiled.

  'The deal's all set up and there'll be an official handing over of power and signing of documents in a few days' time. I think it's for the best.'

  'I'm sure it is,' she said firmly. 'You've given it the major part of your life. That's more than enough.'

  'It's been my life, the business. At the cost of other things, I'm afraid. I realise that now.' He looked directly at her. 'You must have resented that in the past, Nita. I want to explain—'

  'There's no need.'

  'There's every need. I want you to understand the way it was, if you can. All those years ago when I started work first, I was determined to make money. I wanted to prove that I had it in me to get somewhere in life. I wanted to be a somebody. Nothing else mattered. I went to work in America and I met your mother there. I was doing well by then, well enough to support a wife and family, so we married and I went from strength to strength.'

  'And then?'

  'It should have been enough to come home in triumph. Local boy makes good. Rags to riches.' He laughed. 'It's strange how one's never satisfied.'

  Nita remembered Leon saying the same thing the previous night. But his goals weren't the same that her father had had.

  Diego shifted uncomfortably in his chair as if he found it difficult to voice his next statement. 'I was obsessed with the idea of having an empire that I could hand on some day to my son, when the time came for me to bow out.' He laughed bitterly. 'So much for making plans! We had you, Nita, and then the doctor said there could be no more children. Your mother was disappointed—she would have liked a large family—but she accepted it.' He looked down. 'I—I found it harder to live with.'

  An only daughter when he would have preferred an only son. 'Poor Papa,' Nita said softly.

  'You can understand that? I didn't think you would. It wasn't that I didn't love you, Nita—just that I was disappointed that you weren't a boy.'

  And girls rarely headed business empires in male-dominated Mexico, even in the second half of the twentieth century. It was a fact of life.

  'So you buried yourself in work to forget?'

  'What else was there to do? Besides, it was a habit by then, the only constant thing in life that didn't let me down or die. After you
r mother's death I think work was the only thing that kept me sane.' His eyes clouded. 'You know, everyone urged me to marry again. But I loved her too much to put anyone in her place.'

  Nita stretched out a hand to him in sympathy. 'I'm glad you didn't.' As a child she had had fantasies about being part of a family, with brothers and sisters and two parents. But reality had never intruded on the dream, never shown her the disadvantages. There could have been any number. It would have been a difficult adjustment for her to make, she realised now.

  Diego went on, picking his words with care. 'I neglected you shamefully when you were small. But, as you grew up, I saw the need to plan for your future. I thought you would marry some day, find a young man who could be groomed to take over the business—'

  'And then you took one step further and decided that you'd select my future husband yourself because you didn't think I was capable of choosing correctly if you left me to my own devices.'

  'Well, you weren't,' her father blustered. 'Antonio Diaz was a wastrel—admit it, Nita. He was interested in money, all right, but spending it, not making it. He'd have ruined the business inside six months if he'd ever taken over.'

  'Probably. And I'd have discovered that for myself if I'd been allowed to. But instead, you suddenly played the heavy father, forbidding me to see him, announcing that you had someone else in mind for me.'

  'What else could I have done?' he sighed.

  'You could have used a little sense and tact in handling me instead of flying into a rage the way you did.'

  'I was perfectly reasonable—'

  'Oh, Papa, you weren't! You know you weren't—'

  They glared furiously at each other across the table. Then Nita caught sight of their reflections in the mirror over the mantelshelf and saw the funny side of the argument. Two pairs of indignant brown eyes, two fiercely jutting chins, two scowls—identical in every respect. She began to laugh.

  'I don't see anything funny,' said her father crossly.

  'I do,' she said. 'What a picture we make, squabbling over something that doesn't matter now anyway. Climb down, Papa, and I will too. I really don't want another fight with you.'