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The Valentine Affair. Mary LyonsЧитать онлайн книгу.

The Valentine Affair - Mary  Lyons


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her handbag and extracting a white business card, which she placed firmly on the desk in front of him.

      ‘I’m simply not interested...’ he snapped, irritably flicking the card away as he lifted the receiver of his phone, angrily punching some numbers on the dial.

      ‘Oh, I think you will be interested,’ she countered swiftly, leaning forward and firmly cutting off his call. ‘Because, while I use the name of Alex Pemberton for professional reasons, I was actually christened Alexandra Rothstein.

      ‘Not that it really matters,’ she continued bleakly as he slowly put down the phone. ‘Because, as far as you are concerned, Leo, my real name is Nemesis!’

      CHAPTER THREE

      GAZING up at Leo’s tall frame, which had suddenly stiffened, his dark brows drawn together in a frown as he stared down at her, Alex found herself wondering why the name of Nemesis—the mythical Greek goddess of retribution and revenge—should have so suddenly come into her mind.

      As he replaced the phone and slowly sank back down into his seat, Alex realised that deep down, within the dark recesses of her subconscious, she must have been waiting for an opportunity to finally confront Leo face to face. Not ever really knowing exactly how, when or where, of course. But now the strong feelings of anger and injustice, which she’d so firmly suppressed for the past eight years, were swiftly rising to the surface and demanding to be heard.

      Alexandra Rothstein...? ‘Well, well...’ Leo murmured, leaning back in his chair, regarding her intently from beneath his heavy lids.

      ‘Surprise, surprise!’ Alex murmured, taking the opportunity to steady her nerves as she bent down to retrieve her business card, which he’d so arrogantly flicked down onto the floor by her feet.

      ‘It certainly is a surprise to see you again after such a long time,’ he agreed slowly. ‘Especially since you seemed to have completely dropped out of sight for the past eight years. In fact, I can hardly believe...’ He paused, staring at her silently for a moment. ‘I take it that you really are “The Bolter”’s daughter?’

      Alex gave him a cool smile. ‘I’m afraid so.’

      ‘So, what’s your mother up to these days?’ he enquired sardonically. “The last I heard of Gina, she’d run away from a rich Italian prince—was he her fifth or sixth husband?—and “bolted” off with a young Argentinian polo player. However, I imagine that she must have married and discarded several more husbands by now.’

      ‘She might well have done so,’ Alex agreed stonily. ‘Unfortunately, my mother and her husband died in an aeroplane crash some years ago.’

      ‘Oh, Lord—I’m sorry!’ Leo exclaimed, grimacing in self-disgust and clearly wishing that he’d kept his mouth shut as he brushed a hand roughly through his dark hair.

      Alex shrugged. ‘Apparently, it seems the young Argentinian was far more skilled at handling his polo ponies than he was at managing the controls of his private plane.’

      ‘I really am very sorry,’ Leo assured her earnestly. ‘What I said about your mother was completely uncalled for and desperately unkind. Believe me, I had no intention of...’

      ‘Yes, well, it all happened a long time ago,’ she said quickly, determined to avoid a discussion on Gina’s obvious defects as a wife and mother.

      Besides, it had been a generous and handsome apology from Leo, who certainly had no reason to think well of her mother.

      His stepfather, Sir Geoffrey Lucas, had only been Gina’s second husband for a very short time. Barely a year after their wedding she’d run off with a French pop star, leaving Sir Geoffrey to subsequently marry Leo’s mother, Eleanor Hamilton, then a widow with a young ten-year-old son.

      Leo glanced down at his watch. ‘I really do have a lunch appointment with some bankers. However, I think our “family reunion” calls for a quick gin and tonic—don’t you?’ he murmured, rising from behind his desk to move lithely across the room. He opened a large bookcase to reveal a well-stocked drinks cabinet, and Alex noted that, while busy mixing her an alcoholic drink, he was pouring himself a large glass of plain water.

      Suddenly feeling strangely nervous, Alex quickly reviewed her basic strategy for the forthcoming interview. There had been no reason why it shouldn’t work. Back at the newspaper office, she’d been quite certain—provided she could get access to the rotten man—that gaining his cooperation would be a fairly straightforward matter. But now, rising to her feet as he strode back across the thick carpet, she was beginning to have severe doubts about her ability to carry out her plans.

      Not only did he appear to be taking her unexpected reappearance in his life far too calmly, but it was also proving difficult to ignore the almost overpowering aura of forceful, aggressive masculinity surrounding the man now standing so close to her. As he placed the heavy crystal glass in her hand she almost jumped at the light touch of his fingers, which seemed to send a quick electric shock tingling through her body.

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