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When
Dani Smiled
by
Athina Paris
Genre:
Romantic Suspense
Stranded
on the side of a highway, Dani, a young fashion designer and IT
expert, calls to reschedule an important interview, only to discover
that her future boss is in the hospital. Nicholas, playboy and heir
to Galfrey’s, can't help but be intrigued by the young woman's
voice on the phone and races to her rescue.
Attraction
is immediate and mutual, but whereas Nicholas has never waited for
anything in his life, Dani quickly dampens his enthusiasm by refusing
to be rushed into a casual liaison.
Sams
is handsome, ambitious, and rich, but also self-centred, with huge
self-entitlement issues, manipulative, and believes Dani belongs to
him. A master programmer, he is also no fool and realises that he is
about to lose what he has never had; Dani, and so begins a dangerous
stalking game. It is up to Dani not only to outsmart Sams, but also
save Galfrey’s and herself, as Sams is the keeper of a secret,
which he hopes will coerce her into submitting to his twisted
desires.
CHAPTER
ONE
Dani
clutched the portfolio pages tightly to her chest as she stepped out
the door and glanced at the January sky. It was clear in the east but
ominous clouds gathered in the west, broadcasting a possible
downpour. Typical Johannesburg weather, surprises every other hour.
She held the drawings closer, not prepared to lose years of hard work
to potential torrents. Better rush too if she planned to make it to
the art shop before ten; had to look professional at the interview. She
gazed at her Jack Russell sitting on Mrs. Brown’s windowsill, glad
the kind woman had offered to look after the little rascal whenever
she was out. She tapped the glass and there was an instant pricking
of ears and wagging of tail. She smiled at the furry face staring
back at her, ‘Coco, go play.’
Instead, Coco hopped around, pawed the pane, and licked it. Poor Mrs.
Brown, another slobbered window to clean. Coco had been a gift from Sams, and generally, she
regretted accepting anything from him, because every time she did, he
felt entitled to some part of her life.
She was convinced Sams was a freak of nature, because he was that one
thing so many men wanted to be but were not, and she could not
remember a time when he had not been number one at just about
everything he had put his mind to throughout their school years. As
far back as she could recall he had always been good-looking, smart,
charming, and excelled at sports, especially rugby. A lot of idolatry
had flown around that school. He thrived on it, she found it
disturbing. Her heart dropped as she
reached her car, there was a deep dent and crack on the Beetle’s
front bumper. She
peered at it, poked it, gave it a kick then looked around; trying to
find someone who might explain it, but
there was no one in sight. Now, when exactly did this happen, here,
or at some parking lot? Her father had bought it just two months
previously. ‘Ugh,’
she uttered. It was a new car with a scar and she with no idea how it
had been inflicted. She felt like crying but what would that
accomplish? She should have known then that this was not to be a
normal day but ever the eternal optimist she set forth into it as if
it were an adventure. The damaged bumper returned
her thoughts to Sams. Once, when they were still learning how to
drive, he had taken his mother’s car without permission and gone
over to her house. She hated it when he turned up unexpectedly
because he was constantly looking for things she did not intend
giving him. He
sort of kissed her... She labelled it sort of, because she had been
unresponsive. However, when he forced his tongue into her mouth, she
became responsive, by pushing him away and locking herself in her
bedroom. Sams did not understand or accept rejection easily and left
in a huff. She should rephrase that, he tried to leave in a huff but
proceeded to scratch a long ugly line all the way down the car’s
side as he drove past the gate, so instead, he left in a furious
mood. Something
curious happened to Sams that particular January morning. Just as he
was about to sit down to write an exam, he had the overwhelming urge
to call Dani, not a mere flicker of an idea, but a burning anxiety to
contact her. He glanced at the time. Nothing doing, that call had to
wait until he was done here, and that was at the very least two hours
away. Yet, the urgency persisted. He glanced at the clock again then
shrugged; there was nothing he could do about it now. Slowly, the
feeling waned, then, vanished, having lasted a total of two minutes. Sams
was not to know that two powerful forces were at work that morning;
the first endeavoured to give him another chance at attaining what he
wanted, and the second conspired to give Dani what she needed. He was not to know that had
he given up writing that exam and called her, the selfless gesture
would have finally shown him in the light he wished to be seen, and
worked favourably in his pursuit of Dani Marie Creswell. For at that
very moment, she stood on the side of a highway, cursing the damaged
bumper that had come off completely. She had ridden over the mangled
mess and it was now stubbornly stuck under the Beetle, with a sharp
edge dug deep into the front right tyre, which leaned at a strange
angle in shreds to the right. Now,
did she call to announce that she would be late for her interview,
get a tow-truck, inform insurance, or her father? Safe was probably
the best way to go about this. ‘Galfrey’s,
good morning,’ said a prim and proper voice. After
a quick greeting, she stated her business. ‘...I have an interview
with Mr. Ridley at eleven, but I would like to speak with him first,
if possible.’ ‘One
moment please.’ Prim and proper checked the schedule. ‘Are you
sure it’s today?’ ‘Yes.’ ‘Why
are you calling?’ Did
people not listen? ‘I have an interview but I’m in a bit of a
situation.’ Prim
and proper glanced at the schedule on the computer screen. She was
here three days and did not yet understand all the lists, rolls,
rosters, appointments, interviews, and consultations. And the name
Ridley... now what was it that she was forgetting? ‘Miss Creswell,
what are you coming in for? I don’t have a Mr. Ridley on my
register.’ ‘I’m
coming for...’ What was that absurd title? ‘Creative Virtual
Assistant,’ she didn’t think it had anything to do with fashion,
but Mr. Ridley had called because her former lecturer, Julia Morris,
had referred her. He had not divulged much else either, except to
mention that he was from Galfrey’s IT Department, as he had been in
a rush to get somewhere. The mere fact that he was from Galfrey’s
was exciting enough, but she would have preferred it if one of the
designing department heads had called. ‘Now
I know where to look.’ Prim and proper said, but she didn’t.
Removing the earpiece, she pressed speakerphone on, so she could talk
as she wheeled herself to the other computer. A
man sauntered over to the workstation and stopped, seemingly having
something of importance to impart. Becoming
aware of his presence, prim and proper blushed. Who could concentrate
with a man like him standing around? Besides, she had no clue what to
tell the young woman at the other end where her interview was, or
where to find Mr. Ridley. She pressed a few keys, but unable to find
the required information, glanced towards the man. Seeing
she was flustered and in some quandary, Nicholas decided to step in.
‘Is there something I can help you with?’ He asked and focused on
the name tag on her breast. ‘Simone.’ ‘Sorry
sir, but I can’t find Mr. Ridley on my roster.’ For
a moment he didn’t know if he should find it funny or simply a lack
of professionalism, then realising this was the new receptionist, who
had started mere days ago—without receiving much training as the
previous one had simply left for who knew where or what reason—he
accepted that she was probably not aware of much yet. ‘Simone, Mr.
Ridley is in the hospital, he was involved in a serious car
accident five days ago.’ Prim
and proper gasped, that’s what she had forgotten. But she heard of
it on her very first day, while trying to assimilate all that was
going on and, well... ‘Miss Creswell, I have terrible news.’ Dani
caught prim and proper’s gasp loud and clear, just been unable to
follow the discussion that preceded it, so resigned to disaster for
the rest of the day, she retorted annoyed. ‘Well, what can you do,
just give them to me. Can’t be worse than what I’m looking at.’ Nicholas
grinned at the sarcasm and leaned against the granite counter. Now
this he had to hear. ‘Mr.
Ridley had an accident and is in hospital. When his PA called to
ask for the list, I emailed it back, so I don’t...’ She opened a
file on the PC and clicked a few times. ‘Oh bother, there were
three pages, the first only had two names, the second was blank, so I
didn’t see yours on the third.’ She muttered. Dani
was upset. If they had checked their appointments properly, they
could have called and avoided all of this. ‘What am I supposed to
do now? I’m stuck, and alone. Are you coming to keep me company?’ Prim
and proper’s face turned red. ‘Excuse me?’ ‘I
am stuck on the side of the highway, on my way to a place I shouldn’t
have been on my way to, some careless person damaged the front
bumper, so it has now fallen off and become lodged under the car,
there is a punctured and destroyed tyre, and I can’t do anything
until a tow-truck gets here. I also need to call the insurance. I
just thought I should let Mr. Ridley know first.’ Intrigued
by venting lungs, Nicholas decided to step in again. ‘Who is that?’ ‘Please
hold,’ Simone muted the line. ‘Miss Creswell, sir. She was
supposed to see Mr. Ridley today, but her interview wasn’t
cancelled... so this.’ She made an apologetic gesture and pointed
to the phone. ‘Ask
her where she is and we will send someone to pick her up and take her
home. It’s the least we can do. Then, check with Mr. Ridley’s PA
to reschedule the interview.’ He advised. ‘Miss
Creswell,’ she repeated Nicholas’ message. ‘But...
you don’t understand. When will they come, before or after the
tow-truck gets here? And what if I have to wait until dark? You know
people do whatever they want, when they feel like doing it nowadays.
I don’t want to waste anyone’s time, I can’t take the chance of
someone stealing my car, and I definitely cannot loiter around here
alone for an entire day either. I need to call my father. Ugh daddy,
you are so busy... Drat it.’ Dani continued talking to herself. Nicholas
smiled. When last had he heard such a mild curse, or a woman who
wanted to call her father? And now that annoyance had transformed
into worry, he could hear the warm tones in her voice. Without
thinking and forgetting why he had stopped there, he asked for a
connection to another phone. ‘Let me take care of this.’ ‘Thank
you, sir.’ Simone sighed with relief. ‘Miss
Creswell,’ Nicholas began. ‘Yes,’
the male voice surprised her. ‘Where
are you?’ ‘Huh.’
Dani looked around. ‘Almost across Melrose Arch, facing south. I
came down Grayston Avenue.’ Why she had gone to Benmore Gardens for
the few items that were hardly necessary then headed for the highway,
she didn’t know either. ‘I
know where that is. Are you safely off the yellow line, cones set
out, hazards on, etc,’ ‘Yes.
What a horrible morning.’ She sighed deeply. ‘But wait, it could
be getting worse.’ ‘What
is wrong now?’ ‘There
are three men walking towards me.’ ‘Miss
Creswell, get into your car and lock yourself in, I’m on my way.’ ‘But...‘ ‘Give
me your cell number, and I’ll call you right back.’ He wrote
quickly, grabbed the paper, and dialled from his own phone, as he
made his way back to the lift. ‘Hello,’
Dani answered. ‘There
you are. Where are the men?’ ‘Still
walking.’ ‘Are
you safe?’ ‘I
think so.’ Reaching
his floor, he went into the office, grabbed his jacket, and car keys.
‘Are you scared?’ ‘Not
really.’ Thank
goodness. It
would be so much worse dealing with a fearful or hysterical woman.
‘So, how long have we been chatting and we still haven’t been
properly introduced?’ ‘Ten.’ ‘What?’ ‘You
asked how long, ten minutes.’ ‘Miss
Creswell, are you trying not to give me your name?’ He grinned,
thinking he felt her smile. ‘But
you have been calling me Miss Creswell all this time.’ She pointed
out. ‘Yes,’
he agreed, but the point was to make her feel at ease until he got to
her. ‘I meant your name. We don’t have to continue so formally.’ ‘It’s
Dani.’ He
liked it instantly and imagined a tomboy. She probably loved pants,
short hair, male sports, and had climbed trees as a child. ‘Short
for?’ He asked as he got into his car. ‘Nothing,
it’s Dani Marie Creswell. Mom liked Kylie and Dannii Minogue when
she was younger. I think she said she flipped a coin, so there it
is.’ He
laughed, a happy laugh, as if he were having a conversation with an
old friend. ‘I like it.’ ‘Thanks.’
She couldn’t see him but she also liked the way he sounded. ‘Marie?’ ‘My
grandmother’s name. What's yours?’ ‘Nicholas.’ Her
first image was of Saint Nicholas, and she wanted to giggle as she
imagined a man in a red suit pulling over on the side of the road in
a sleigh. ‘Do you like it like that, or another version?’ ‘You
mean Nick or something? No, just plain Nicholas.’ ‘Oh
no...’ ‘What?’ ‘The
men stopped to see what is happening.’ She opened the window.
‘I’m...’ she began. She
must have either dropped the phone onto her lap or muted it because
he couldn’t hear the rest. He might not know her but suddenly, he
was concerned for her safety. She
took a few seconds to return to the call. ‘I’m back,’ ‘Dani,’
he exhaled with relief and realised that saying her name gave him a
rush. He wondered if this was what men felt when they called those
hotlines late at night, where the voices held so much more promise
than looks ever would. ‘Are you okay?’ ‘Yes.
They were concerned about me sitting here alone, and offered to
change the tyre, until they saw what it looks like. They moved on
when I told them someone is on their way.’ ‘Nevertheless,
stay alert. By the way, what do you drive?’ ‘A
Beetle,’ In
his mind’s eye, he saw fading yellow, a brighter hue on a door,
pink daisies on the bonnet and side, and an accompanying incredible
racket. No wonder the thing was falling apart. ‘Nicholas,’ It
felt as if she had wrapped his name in silk and slowly unwrapped it
again. He couldn’t wait to see what she looked like. A silence
followed. ‘I
forgot what I was going to say.’ She admitted. ‘Oh yes, what car
should I expect?’ ‘A
white Audi,’ he gauged traffic, trying to figure out how long it
would take to get to her. ‘Are the men gone?’ ‘Yes.
Have you ever been stuck?’ ‘I
think twice.’ ‘Recently?’ ‘No,
when I was a student.’ ‘Who
helped you?’ ‘My
friends,’ ‘Are
they still your friends?’ He
could not understand why this felt like the best conversation in the
world. ‘Two of them are, Andrew and Leon,’ ‘It’s
funny how that happens. Nicholas,’ She
had to stop doing that. ‘Yes,’ ‘About
the insurance and tow-truck—‘ ‘Just
hang on, I don’t want to disconnect. And we’ll decide what to do
when I get there.’ ‘That
thing is wedged tight and I’ll damage much more if I ride over it
again. Never mind that, the tyre is not only flat, but beyond repair,
and I doubt changing it is the solution anyway, the rim looks twisted
and bent. Do you know how much longer you will be?’ He
glanced around, getting his bearings. ‘I’m on Katherine Street;
so it could take fifteen or fifty minutes. It’s not as if I can
drive at two-twenty.’ ‘No,
you can’t do that.’ ‘Did
you ever get a speeding fine?’ ‘Not
for speeding. But I did get a ticket for failing to stop at a stop
sign.’ ‘Why
on earth would you do that? Was anyone else at the intersection at
the time?’ He asked curiously. ‘Not
driving. But the van that made me get the trick ticket.’ ‘The
what?’ ‘There
was never a stop there. So in the morning I drive, nothing. In the
afternoon, I never saw the new painted line or the sign because of
the parked van.’ He
grinned. ‘Oh, I see. Did you complain?’ ‘I
did, but paying less wasn’t what I was after. I wanted to explain
that it was unfair to catch people like that.’ ‘And
you know where fair lives.’ Goodness, but he was enjoying himself.
‘Sorry about your day, it shouldn’t have turned out like this.’ ‘I
needed to know the thing was going to fall off, so I guess today was
as good a day as any other.’ ‘How
did that happen?’ ‘I
don’t know. When I got to the car, I noticed someone had bashed it.
I just didn’t realise it was that loose. I have no idea if it
happened where I live or somewhere else.’ ‘Was
there a note?’ ‘No,
and that is what really upset me. Whether they can pay or not is
beside the point, I have insurance. I just wanted someone to say
sorry.’ ‘Are
you big on apologies?’ ‘Sorry
is a wonderful word, it fixes many things, especially when meant
sincerely.’ ‘And
people lie all the time.’ ‘A
cynic, huh?’ ‘Not
about everything, but I know many liars.’ ‘Sadly,
so do I,’ and how was it possible that she was having such a
natural conversation with a complete stranger? ‘Ugh, imagine this
on Oxford, Corlett, or Nelson Mandela Drive... during rush hour. The
nightmare I’d have caused then.’ ‘You
would be famous, but more likely infamous,’ he grinned. ‘During
the traffic report. And get many evil eyes.’ She
laughed. Looking in the rear-view mirror, she noticed the lanes
emptying of traffic, except for a white spec in the distance. ‘I
see a white car coming towards me, is that you?’ ‘Yes,
that’s me.’ Her
face scrunched up in surprise as the vehicle approached. That was no
sleigh, and what were people earning at Galfrey’s? ‘Oh,’
he said as he peered into the distance and realised it was a recent
model Beetle, not a 1960 battered jalopy. ‘Do you want to wait in
the car or get out and stretch your legs?’ What nonsense, he was
debating how he wanted to meet her. Dani
decided. Getting out quickly, she then ducked back for her handbag.
Say
he’s a weirdo, pervert, or psycho? She
wondered, but somehow, didn’t think so. Then taking a deep breath,
she readied herself to meet her rescuer. Nicholas
turned the Audi’s hazards on and pulled up behind the Beetle. All
he could see as she leaned into the car was a pretty ankle-length
summer dress, dainty flat sandals, and light brown hair tumbling over
her left side; so much for the tomboy idea. Alighting from the car,
he grinned and took a few steps. She
straightened her back, turned and smiled. She had learned early but
specifically around her teenage years, that she possessed two smiles.
Number one was a somewhat pasty grin for strangers. And two... there
was something about that smile that made people, but especially men,
lose their heads. Now, relieved that he was here, she forgot about
such things and simply expressed her gratitude. The
grin disappeared from Nicholas’ face. What was this walking towards
him? He could half-see and the rest imagine as a breeze toyed with
the delicate fabric of her dress and light brown hair. She was on the
short side, but had the nearest to perfect face he had ever seen. He
gulped as his heartbeat scaled a wall, must be an erotic
hallucination because he had never seen anything as... a bunch of
adjectives flew through his mind and he discarded every one. Somehow,
and he could just tell, she was neither a dish nor a possession,
definitely no bird and much less a sport. What she was, was just
right, and he felt like falling to his knees at her feet. Dani
was having a similar experience, just not as carnal. She had imagined
Nicholas to be a regular office guy—and he might still be that
guy—but there was nothing regular about him. His clothes were
impeccable; light blue cotton shirt, well-cut blazer, and a pair of
jeans that sat perfectly. That
is why we designers bother, she
thought. But clothes were secondary, he was well-defined. Insipid
word; he obviously looked after himself, had dark hair, an expressive
face, brown eyes that danced, and a friendly smile. How
apt, she
thought. Why
shouldn’t a knight rescuing a damsel in distress look like a knight
in shining armour? Now,
how did they greet? Nicholas
made that decision. He offered his hand. ‘Dani,’ She
took it willingly and smiled again. ‘Hello, Nicholas.’ He
couldn’t help himself and simply stared, then, shaking himself back
into reality, he turned to look at the damaged vehicle. ‘So, this
is the dilemma.’ He walked the short distance, bent down, and
peered under her car. ‘Yep, you have it quite right.’ Then he
went to the front of the Beetle. ‘Bummer,’ ‘Don’t
you mean bumper?’ He
laughed. ‘So,
what do we do?’ ‘As
you said, we can’t touch this car again. Okay, what’s the
tow-truck’s number? I’ll call them and you deal with the
insurance.’ She
searched for a card and gave him a reference number to quote. ‘Right,’
he walked towards the embankment, then returned a few minutes later.
‘They'll be here shortly.' He announced. ‘Or so they said. Grab
your things and put them in my car.’ She
realised then that she had not thought this thing out properly,
because now, she was at his mercy. Perhaps she should have called
Sams... Her eyes returned to Nicholas in a flash, willing to take her
chances with him. Besides, he didn’t look dangerous. Actually, he
did, but it was a different kind of danger that he presented. Seeing
her expression, he knew where her thoughts had gone. ‘I’m not
going to attack you.’ A
blush rushed up her face. When
last had he seen one of those? Then again, the women he mixed with
were world wise, sophisticated, and classy. This... this was a
wondrous woman child who was doing strange things to his senses. He
wondered how old she was. ‘Can I help you?’ ‘There
is only my portfolio.’ Returning to the Beetle, she realised that
she had been holding her breath. Was it even normal to get
butterflies when looking into a strange man’s eyes? Glancing at him
through the rear-view mirror, she wondered what he was thinking, or
feeling because he seemed to be going through something himself. Never
in his thirty years of life had he imagined that he would meet
someone who looked like her, and for him, there were no two ways
about it. Who cared about magazine perfect? That she wasn’t tall
enough? In his eyes, she was perfect. And those green eyes... forget
about blue ponds, lakes, rivers, and seas where men drowned
themselves. These were a meadow, soft and gentle, with the promise of
life. She
clutched the loose pages carefully. ‘Drat,’ she said, half
talking to herself, and half to him. ‘Now, I can’t go to the art
shop.’ ‘Is
that where you were headed?’ He asked as he opened his car’s
door. She
nodded as she placed her things neatly down. ‘Coco, my Jack
Russell, ate my folder and I wanted to get a new one before the
interview. To look professional. Not arrive with piles of stuff in my
hands.’ ‘Your
dog ate your bag?’ He asked amused. ‘Well,
she didn’t eat it all at one go, but she sure chewed every corner,
handle, and strap. Which is funny as she never touched anything at
home.’ He
didn’t understand something, if she was seeing Adam Ridley, who was
in IT, why was she carrying her portfolio around? ‘Right,’ he
said as he glanced at the top page of her work, which was an
interesting take on the military look. ‘You mentioned dad before,
is there also mom, boyfriend, anyone?’ It
was possible she was in the presence of the fastest moving playboy in
Johannesburg, or... sneakily she darted her gaze to his left hand.
Okay, no ring, but that didn’t mean he was single. ‘Yes.’ She
told him ambiguously. ‘Then
pick a number and let someone know you are safe.’ She
was travelling in the clouds, better come down fast. ‘Thank you for
reminding me.’ She dialled. ‘Hi
honey, how did it go?’ ‘It
has been postponed.’ She imagined they would do that much since Mr.
Ridley was in hospital. ‘Mom, something happened to my car...’
and she explained. ‘Then
what are you doing now?’ Carol asked concerned. ‘Waiting
for a tow-truck,’ ‘Alone,
on the side of the road... do you know where you are?’ ‘Mom,
I’m fine.’ Dani assuaged as she noticed Nicholas watching her.
‘And a friend is here with me.’ ‘Sams?’ ‘No,
Nicholas.’ Carol’s
interest was instantly pricked. ‘Who’s Nicholas?’ Dani
pressed the mute button and asked. ‘Who are you? My mom wants to
know.’ He
had wondered whom she would call. ‘May I speak to her?’ Dani
was surprised but said, ‘sure,’ and gave him the phone. ‘Mrs.
Creswell,’ he began politely and walked away for a few minutes,
then came towards her again. ‘Don’t worry Mrs. Creswell, and I’ll
see that she is not stuck without transport. And if she needs to see
you before her car is repaired, I will either take her myself or let
her borrow mine.’ Dani
stared at him. Was he serious? Then she stared at the car. Was he
mad? She did not have to know much about cars to know that that model
was obscenely expensive. She definitely could not chance getting
anything stuck under there. So
it seemed as if there was only one way she was seeing her parents in
the near future if she wanted to. She looked at him again. Was it
okay to like the idea so much? ‘Goodbye,’
he handed the phone back. ‘I think she’s okay about me. I don’t
blame her, so many ugly things can happen on the side of a road.’
He shivered, relieved that he was the one standing here. ‘Are we
going to stand outside until we bake, or can we at least sit in my
car while we wait?’ Right
behind her, he opened the door so she could get in. As he did, she
turned around and it was as if she were in his arms. He restrained
himself from reaching out. ‘Thank
you, Nicholas.’ He
could smell her; perhaps jasmine, but subtly diluted. He leaned in to
test if the scent became stronger, but no, it stayed in that alluring
plane. He felt lecherous, but imagine a creepy man here... No, he
couldn’t leave her alone; especially while she was without a car. Dani
watched his face as something was obviously going through his mind,
as if he were planning something quite complicated but also
stunningly simple. And how was it possible that one could become
attracted to a stranger in so short a time? She had never felt
anything as acute as this. Was this what Sams felt? Then she felt
very sorry for him because it would never be reciprocated. Her eyes
found Nicholas’, if he moved another inch, he could touch her. Her
heartbeat accelerated, making her feel dizzy. ‘Have
we met before?’ He asked unexpectedly. She
shrugged, uncertain, also thinking there was something vaguely
familiar about him. ‘Maybe we have walked past each other at a
fashion show.’ She suggested. ‘Maybe,’
he told her but was unconvinced. ‘Oh, look, they actually kept
their word. Then again, they are never far from calamities.’ He
said as a tow-truck rolled out in front of the Beetle. The
man was helpful and friendly and had the car ready quickly. After
having her sign the required papers, he climbed back into the
tow-truck, waved at them, and drove away. ‘So,’
Nicholas said as they watched the Beetle disappear. ‘Where to my
lady?’ She
smiled. ‘Am I not holding you from something important?’ ‘You
don’t want me here?’ ‘You
were busy at work and now you’re not.’ ‘I
was leaving the office when this exciting episode of Johannesburg
life happened. I also heard you tell Simone to give you the bad news
and then asked her if she wanted to come keep you company. It made me
curious.’ ‘I
spoke that loud?’ She asked embarrassed. ‘The
entire reception area heard you.’ Colour
suffused her cheeks. He
grinned. ‘I’m teasing, the speakerphone was on and no one else
was around. So, where is this art shop?’ ‘Is
it really okay for you to be here?’ ‘Absolutely,’
Love
& Madness
by
Athina Paris
Genre:
Romantic Suspense
Benjamin
Powell believes
he has begun an empire. He has three sons and owns the most
successful construction company. But it all begins to crumble when he
chooses to manipulate their lives. Twenty-seven years later, the
consequences of his decisions are still being felt.
Three
women enter this world and fall in love with the Powell men – Sofia,
Christie,and Gloria –
they will suffer, fight, win, and lose. Can one or all find their way
back to happiness; whether with the man she loves, or with someone
else?
CHAPTER
ONE
1975
‘Sofia,’ a little
concern seeped into Sister Margareta’s voice. ‘Are you sure you
want to be doing this? It’s such a beautiful day,’ she pointed to
the heavens. ‘Shouldn’t you be outside doing something more
appropriate to your age?’ Sofia smiled. ‘But
I love marking the little ones’ books,’ she held the basket up,
where about twenty exercise books sat in a neat pile. ‘And I am so
thankful that you find the time to help me. I am inundated with all
these problems... Mother Superior is under immense pressure. We are
not doing as well as we should, and there is even talk of possible
closure.’ Sofia’s brown eyes
widened in surprise. ‘Oh, I’m so sorry to hear it, I didn’t
realise.’ ‘Well,’ Sister
Margareta gave her a reassuring smile. ‘Whatever happens, it will
only be by year’s end as we are committed to all our girls until
then. So, at least you will be able to finish your school career in
peace.’ ‘I thank you for
that.’ Sofia gazed at the high convent walls where a creeper
tumbled indolently over the thick wall, the cobbled path she had
walked thousands of times wound gently round the bend, and the
cypress trees stood guard. She felt sad at the possibility that it
could all simply end. ‘You know, it is
true,’ Sister Margareta continued. ‘When doors close in one place
others open elsewhere.’ Reaching the gate, she swung its wide mouth
open and with a caress, let her hand run along its weather-beaten
wood and metal studs. ‘I had a good time
here,’ Sofia sighed. ‘And I always thought that after I qualified
I would teach here.’ ‘Yes, that was
something I was also looking forward to. But those children who will
eventually get you have no idea what a blessing you will be to them.’ Sofia dropped her
gaze shyly. ‘Thank you Sister Margareta, you have always been
encouraging.’ ‘I still think you
should be swimming or doing something fun,’ Sister Margareta
pointed to the basket. ‘This is fun.’ A
gorgeous smile spread across Sofia’s face. ‘And it’s hardly
hard work.’ ‘Okay then, go
enjoy your afternoon.’ Sister Margareta held the gate open. ‘And
don’t forget to write all those positive little messages. The
children love it when you mark their books.’ She laughed. ‘And
they are all doing better in English because they want to impress you
so hard.’ ‘That is sweet.’
Sofia lifted a hand in greeting. ‘Goodbye Sister Margareta, see you
tomorrow.’ Turning left, Sofia
stopped then walked to the end of the block. Unexpectedly, a boy on a
bicycle flipped around the corner, clearly out of control. She
screamed, he screamed, and his three friends, all on bicycles,
screamed. She threw herself against the wall, dropping everything she
was carrying, and within seconds, the exhibitionists disappeared. She
sat there a moment, a hand on her chest, feeling her pounding heart.
About to get to her feet, she saw a hand outstretched to her. Glancing up, she
recognised the young man she had noticed a couple of times during the
last few months in the park across the convent. ‘Are you all
right?’ Pulling her to her feet, he gave her a quick appraisal. She
was almost certainly from one of the Mediterranean countries. Not
what one would call exotic but pretty, with beautiful dark hair and
kind brown eyes. ‘Friends of yours?’ ‘No, just school
kids. Robert Thomas Powell.’ He liked to say his entire name when
introducing himself. It made him feel important to carry his two
grandfathers’ names. She watched the blue
gaze intently, light hair blowing in the wind, and a nice smile. She
placed her hand in his. ‘Sofia Andriotti.’ ‘Pleased to meet
you,’ he quickly gathered the pile of exercise books into the
basket again, grabbed her discarded school bag, and handed them to
her. Then sauntering across the street, he got onto his motorcycle
and rode away. Robert leaned against the
tree, stretched his lithe legs over the motorcycle seat, and gazed
upward. Gnarled branches swayed and nodded in the breeze, revealing
intricate web-like patterns against the pale blue sky, as if it were
a living puzzle. Quite possibly, this was the last season the oak
would stand here. Ancient and decayed, exposed roots gave it a
crab-like appearance. Feeling pity for the wasted giant, he pulled a
drawing pad from the saddlebag and captured some of its last moments
of glory. A noise across the
street interrupted his concentration. Amused, he watched as the same
four boys arrived. Five minutes later, the convent’s metal-studded
gate swung open, pouring out dozens of schoolgirls. Seeing the boys,
they did what girls do to valiant heroes, pretend to ignore them.
Robert smiled, understanding the game rules well. Laughter and giggling
floated towards him as some threw him furtive glances. Over the
months he had been coming here, a few had been bold enough to start
conversations but he had quickly and politely let them know that he
had neither the time nor the inclination to support teenage
fantasies. As the street became vacant, the boys started spinning and
flipping again. Hearing the gate
swing its wide mouth almost shut, Robert glimpsed Sofia slip through
the gap and grinned when the boys disappeared at the sight of her.
Beyond sight, a woman’s voice said something and both laughed,
then, closing the gate, she went about her duties behind its
comforting protection. He watched Sofia with interest. Every day, she
did exactly the same thing. She stood there a moment, as if she went
through her walk home plan mentally, before she tackled it
physically. ‘Sofia,’ He greeted
days later, as he turned the corner on foot. ‘Hello. Where’s
your bike?’ She tried to balance a pile of books under one arm. ‘Hopefully still in
the park. May I carry some of those?’ She gave him part of
the load. ‘Where’s your
basket?’ ‘Sister Margareta
needed it for something.’ She dismissed with a hand. ‘Robert,
right?’ He nodded and fell
into step beside her. ‘I’ve never seen you walk home with
friends, don’t you have any?’ ‘I stay behind to
help Sister Margareta. She says it’s part of my training.’ ‘Don’t tell
me...’ A hint of a smile
crossed her lips. ‘I want to be a teacher.’ He sighed visibly. ‘I
thought you were about to say nun.’ ‘Strangely,’ she
told him conspiratorially. ’It never crossed my mind.’ They chatted about
nothing in particular and he noticed that she was curious and smart. ‘Do you have
brothers or sisters?’ She asked. ‘Two younger
brothers, and you?’ ‘I have one older
brother, Andrea. He and his wife Sarah live in England. But right
now,’ she told him brightly. ‘I want to hear about yours.’ ‘Charles,’ Robert
took a deep breath. ‘There’s a crazy for you. Will try anything
at least once and is afraid of absolutely nothing. Before mom died
she used to say that he would be the death of her.’ ‘I’m sorry.’
She commiserated and placed a finger on his arm. It felt as if a
ladybird had made a pit stop. ‘One gets used to it.’ ‘So, was Charles
the death of her?’ ‘No, she had
cancer. Now William... William is a sensitive boy and tragedies
affect him deeply; maybe because he lost her so young. He is also
very talented, an exquisite poet.’ ‘I live here.’ Glancing at the
freshly painted house and manicured garden, Robert nodded approval. ‘After helping me
carry these books I feel awful that I can’t invite you in, papa’s
rules.’ She told him apologetically. ‘Not to worry, my
lady.’ He bowed. She giggled. ‘Thank
you, Robert.’ ‘Have a nice day
and I’ll see you tomorrow.’ Waiting until she was in the house,
he returned to the park.
Knight
Kisses
by
Athina Paris
Genre:
Contemporary Romance
After
losing her mother to cancer, Gabrielle swears off love. Because
loving hurts too much when things go wrong. Then, she travels to
Africa to meet her father - a man whose existence she was oblivious
to. Before long, there is also a baby sister to look after, and
intuitively she knows that she needs to protect her. Promptly, there
is another tragedy, and more than ever, Gabrielle realises how wise
she is to lock away her heart. But that was before she met Jonathan
Knight, a man who amuses and confuses her, and Paul, his best friend,
who is just as smart and funny. Through an unfortunate sequence of
events, she finds herself in a troublesome situation, but being who
she is, she tries to handle it alone, unwittingly sinking into a
morass of danger. A solution comes in the form of Paul, who makes a
harebrained suggestion, which Jonathan - for reasons of his own -
grabs and presents her with the providential arrangement.
Instinctively, she declines the proposal, but Jonathan is persuasive
and paints a wonderful picture of security. She accepts out of need,
but soon, Jonathan’s ulterior motives unravel, and nothing is as it
should be. But she can’t disclose the truth, for her secret could
undo the safe future she is trying to create for her little sister.
CHAPTER
ONE
‘Hello,’
Gabrielle called, as she entered the house and dropped her bag and
car keys on the hall table. Classes had been a mad rush today and she
was truly bushed, but now, she had to go sit with Charles Dickens,
and write a paper on why his novels still influenced modern day
society. ‘Hi honey,'
Eleanor said from the study. ‘Please come see me after lunch.’ Gabrielle knew days
like this; in fact, they were becoming quite common. After making
lunch, Eleanor would go lie on the sofa in the study, exhausted for
the rest of the day. Gabrielle worried a great deal, but the more she
tried to probe and query, the more Eleanor clammed up. ‘I had a sandwich
earlier,’ Gabrielle said from the doorway, then walked in, leaned
over, and kissed her mother’s brow. ‘Mom, you look so pale, you
have to go see a doctor.’ Eleanor dropped her
gaze, as if caught in an indiscretion. ‘I have already been to see
a few.’ ‘What? Then...
what did they say?’ Gabrielle sat in the armchair closest to the
sofa. ‘I’m very
sick.’ Eleanor took a laborious breath. In contrast,
Gabrielle’s suspended for a second. ‘What’s wrong? What do you
need, what can I do?’ ‘I have cancer.’ Fear sprung forth
like a hidden monster, making Gabrielle feel weak and numb. She
grabbed the chair’s armrests, digging her fingers in. ‘It’s
treatable, right? Do you need surgery, chemo, radiation...?’ Eleanor shook her
head. ‘I’m beyond that. It’s just too late— I’m dying.’ A world-crushing
hand grabbed her heart, flipped her over, and made her feel as if she
were dying herself. Tears filled her eyes as she fell on her knees
before her mother, dropping her head into her lap. ‘No mommy, you
can’t.’ ‘I’m sorry
baby, but there is nothing more to do. And you know it too.’
Eleanor caressed her child’s hair. ‘But you will always have the
happy times, the joy and laughter we brought each other. I’ve put
everything is in order, and Charles is aware of it, so when—’ They did not have
many friends in Switzerland, but there was one constant visitor, when
he was in the country. Charles Knight was somehow related to Eleanor
by a flimsy in-law thread, but he had taken it as his duty to see to
their comfort and safety. Gabrielle liked him very much and she
figured that he must like her too because he always brought her
gifts, treated her like a daughter, and never told her to stop
calling him daddy, which she had started doing when she was ten.
Consequently, Eleanor often turned to him for advice. She hated being
scared, but right now, she was petrified. ‘Stop talking like this,
you are not going to die.’ Tears flowed freely. ‘Listen to me.’ Eleanor said softly. ‘It is going to happen, so you have to accept
it and prepare for when it does.’ ‘I don’t want
to, I need you.’ Gabrielle hiccupped, feeling so much like a little
girl that she wanted to curl up into her mother’s lap. ‘Charles and I
have already discussed everything.’ Eleanor paused. ‘We have
decided that the best course of action is for you to go to South
Africa.’ ‘What?’
Gabrielle exclaimed. Not only was her mother dying, but she was going
to be uprooted as well. ‘You can’t stay
here alone.’ ‘But... Anna and
Luc are here.’ Anna was the cleaning, nanny, and everything else
lady, and Luc, her seventeen-year-old son. Gabrielle and Luc had
always been close; she had kept an eye on him throughout school, made
sure he did not mix with the wrong crowd, and been his emotional
support when he lost his father. Eleanor took her
daughter’s chin, looking into the beautiful hazel eyes. ‘You need
to live, not be concerned and afraid, or alone.’ ‘I dreamt of
going to Africa, where I should have been born, but not like this,
and... What about my studies?’ ‘You know those
can be continued and completed anywhere. Charles loves you just as if
you were his child, so he will keep you safe. But if you don’t want
him to...’ Eleanor stopped. Even through the
tears, the bad news, and the utterly helplessness she felt, she knew
something much worse was about to happen. ‘Mommy,’ she could
barely say the words. ‘Please tell me you are not dying today.’ Eleanor attempted a
smile and failed. ‘Not so soon, but I do have to unburden my heart.
Naturally, Charles is completely against it.’ She moved on the sofa
with some difficulty. Gabrielle sobbed.
‘Please, mommy, please don’t talk like this.’ ‘I am sorry I
lied but I wanted to protect you.’ Eleanor took a deep breath. ‘If
you had known, if he knew— well, I don’t know.’ Gabrielle looked
up. ‘What are you talking about, mommy? Please don’t tell me
daddy— Uncle Charles.’ She corrected herself. ‘Is my real
father.’ ‘You should be so
lucky my darling, but no, Charles is not your father. And as much as
it pains me, I have to finally make a confession.’ ‘Yes, that you
told me a terrible joke and that you are not dying.’ Gabrielle
wiped her face furiously. ‘Gaby,’ Eleanor
said gently. ‘I have kept something from you, something I wished
you would never hear, never see, never experience, but now... I hate
the way I feel because I believe the earth will refuse to eat my
bones if I don’t tell you.’ She paused to catch her breath and
find new words. ‘Your father is not dead. I told you he was so you
would never try to see him. And he doesn’t know that you exist
either because I left before you were born.’ This was the
epitome of a speechless moment, because what could anyone possibly
say to that? In the same day she hears her mother is dying, she finds
out that her dead father is not dead. Emotions she had never
experienced coursed through her. Why this horrid lie? She could not
think, so all she did was fall over and break into heart-wrenching
sobs. ‘I am sorry baby
and if I meant to rip out your heart, I have succeeded. But you have
to understand—’ Gabrielle’s
beautiful hazel eyes swam with unstoppable tears as she got to her
knees again. ‘I have a real father? How could you not tell me all
these years? And— you are dying and I’m going to lose you, and
there is a father I don’t know... why mommy?’ ‘If only I could
undo so many things. But you, the meaning of my life, I could never,
I would never want to undo, even if your father was the worst
criminal.’ ‘My father is a
terrible man?’ ‘Not terrible
that way, but the results turn out the same. If you do meet him, be
prepared, because he will eventually disappoint you. It’s just how
he is, and no one can change him.’ ‘But why don’t
I know him?’ ‘Because I did
not want him disrupting your life as he did mine.’ ‘None of this is
fair,’ Gabrielle cried. ‘How— I don’t know what to do.’ ‘Know what you
can do?’ Eleanor told her encouragingly. ‘Continue making those
cute videos you like to send to Charles, but now, make them for
yourself. And we will record our last times...’ Eleanor’s voice
broke. Catapulting to her
feet, Gabrielle tore through the house, out the back door, and
smacked straight into the property wall, unaware that an agonising
scream had ripped through the tranquil afternoon. Then, sinking onto
her knees, she buried her face in her hands. Those who said
someone’s life could change in a second had probably undergone
something similar, for during the course of a few minutes, everything
she knew, everything she had believed in, disintegrated.
All
I Ever Wanted: Jessie
by
Athina Paris
Genre:
Contemporary Romance
When
Jessie meets John at college, they begin a friendship that should
have never happened, for the Stevens and Barrymores parted ways 60
years ago, under acrimonious circumstances.
Then,
John complicates things further by taking her to the family home and
hiding her identity from his family. She meets his three brothers,
and soon finds herself embroiled in four very different
relationships.
Which
one will be the love of her life? James, the heir to the Barrymore
fortune. Mathew, the heartbreaker. Mark, the one who gives her
sleepless night, or John, her best friend?
But
can anything meaningful come out of these fateful encounters, when it
has all been started on the shaky ground of subterfuge?
“Tell me again what I was on when I agreed to this?”
Jessie asked as they neared the estate. “Pizza. And, they think we’ll soon be hitched.” “Nice,” sarcasm laced the word. “I can’t
imagine who planted the seed and then fuelled the idea. Is it too
late for me to wonder about insanity in your family?” “There is the question of Grandma Margaret, who
was known for bizarre behaviour, but that’s another tale
altogether. Just a hug here, a kiss there, one of those looks…” “I’ll give you a look all right. I’m not
implying they’re incapable of acceptance, but how did you explain
my visit?” “I told them your name is Lewis.” “What?” Horror spread on her face. “You got
me here under false pretences! How am I going to avoid awkward
questions now?” “You worry too much.” “Hah!” She tried to calm the uneasiness that
crept over her. “You know perfectly well people such as our parents
always ask questions, lots of them. They want to know
everything—including blood groups.” John roared with laughter. “When the charade blows in our faces, and it
will, I’ll hold you personally responsible. Now, I also know I’m
going to regret it dearly but for some reason I can’t demand you
take me back.” She flashed her eyes angrily at him. “Let’s see,
James: twenty-eight, dark blond, brown eyes. Mathew: twenty-five,
brown hair and eyes. Mark: twenty-three, dark blond, I don’t recall
the eyes. John, the maddest twenty-one-year-old I know.” He pointed to the tall iron gates in the distance. “Oh, gosh, it’s so much grander up close.”
She placed a hand on her chest. “I think I’m developing a heart
condition.” “You’ll be fine. You know, people have come,
pretended to rearrange the furniture, didn’t bother throwing
anything out, and left it as crammed as ever. I wish mom would ask
you to do something about it. But it’s a waste of time, father
won’t let her. Or more correctly, Aunt Monica would have a
conniption.” “And I’m hardly qualified to give advice on a
house this size.” It was old, grey, and magnificent, all four wings
of it. The view instantly transporting her to an unforgettable summer
she had spent in England with her family when she was fourteen. “When
they ask, what shall I say my father does?” “Make something up.” “And that’s exactly when they’ll ask
questions I can’t answer. Can’t you see what we’re doing?” “Yes, having an adventure.” Stopping the car,
he turned to her. “Obviously, we can’t tell them who you are
because then they’d be suspicious of everything you did and I’d
have to fight everyone, ruining a perfectly good weekend. To save
ourselves unnecessary grief, we’ll be slightly deceitful, and you
get to tour the museum.” He smiled encouragingly. “It’s just…” The lies started at the front door when John
introduced her to the butler, Mr Adams. She felt terrible, hoping she
could be truthful, but imagining how her family might receive him one
day, she bit her tongue and followed his example. The interior was everything she imagined, and more,
precious pieces on every surface and she felt almost dizzy as she
tried to catalogue eras and centuries mentally. She saw Grace Barrymore, the short blonde bob a
perfect frame for the still beautiful face, who although looking
younger, Jessie knew that like her own mother, was fifty-five. The
curious and interested gaze regarded her firmly, making her feel shy.
Not much flew past that powerful blue scrutiny. “Mom, my best friend,” “Hello, Jessie,” Grace smiled warmly, extended
a hand, and eyed the young woman with interest, liking the demure
look of her. “Welcome to our home.” “So, this is she.” Monica said from a wingback
and an intense appraisal followed. The girl was casually dressed in a
pair of jeans and silk blouse, and her expert eye told her those were
designer labels. She also had a pair of Nine West shoes on, a
matching belt, and a pretty decent handbag. None of the items were
new, so she had not rushed off to buy them to impress. Good, she
might have some means and taste. Tea was served in the Louis XIV salon and Jessie
struggled to keep her gaze on the two older women, simply wanting to
look at and absorb everything. It was a gorgeous room; polychrome
commodes, bureaux, gilded chairs, mirrors… No, she could barely
focus on Grace Barrymore, who was enchanting, entertaining, and an
absolute gem as a hostess and enjoying the company of another woman
who was not Monica. Now there was an extremely critical individual. If
something wasn’t to her liking, it was wrong, and this applied to
every avenue, be it yard paving or the way one turned a collar. From
the little Jessie had gleaned and John harped on, Monica sounded
exactly like Margaret, who had been another strange character. Naturally, it was Monica who asked what her father
did. She was silent for a second and then told her that he was in
plastics. Which was not a lie; Taylor had recently acquired
Amalgamated Plastics in Durban. Mark trudged in, draped himself over a velvet
sofa, started on some interior decor conversation, and asked if she
would be willing to do his penthouse in New York. No one had to tell her interior design had not yet
entered his mind; the blue eyes were hard to read and yet, it was all
so easy to understand. Those designs were not what she wanted to
inspire. He beckoned to James, who appeared in the doorway,
and told him to come have an audience. She took a deep breath, trying to ignore the
annoyance she felt. James was quiet and polite, but after a few
minutes, excused himself and disappeared. “Mom, is tonight very formal?” John asked. “It’s such lovely weather that I asked for the
summer dining-room. Something light will do, and the gentlemen don’t
have to wear ties.” The look of disapproval on Monica’s face was
instantaneous. John saw it too. “Aunt Monica, if you’re not
careful, traditions and rituals will take you to the grave. But I
appreciate the gesture, mom. Come, Jessie,” he took her hand. They walked through salons, chambres, salles, and
corridors, stopping often to touch and study. Jessie wondered who, in
prior generations, had been so taken with French décor, although,
some rooms were the epitome of 40’s and art deco. They reached a
passage where 19th
century animal paintings adorned the panelled walls and she was
delighted to recognise the artist’s name. When they reached the
end, her hand ran over a wrought iron balustrade then stopping on the
landing, her fingers slid up a marble column. “It’s exquisite.” “Thought you’d like it, and I’ll show you
more after dinner and tomorrow morning.” Pausing outside a
beautifully polished door, he told her. “From today this is your
room.” She made an incongruous sound. “Ah, the youthful
dreamer. Please come in and show me what your mother meant by light.” “After I introduce you to Mathew,” Their colouring was different, but Mathew was
John’s taller, mature, and more handsome version. “Hello, Jessie.” He neither smiled nor offered
a hand. She did likewise. “Mathew.” “When did you get here?” Mathew asked John. “In time for tea.” Mathew’s brows rose. “Are you ill?” Jessie suppressed a giggle. It was common knowledge
at college that he would rather die than touch the liquid. John laughed. “I had to keep her company as Aunt
Monica grilled and Mark gawked. You know how intimidating the
Barrymores are.” “Absolute ogres,” Mathew agreed then turned to
her. “But don’t let any of them frighten you. And I apologise,
but I have to make a call.” He smiled, raised a hand, and continued
down the passage. As soon as they entered the room, John threw
himself onto the four-poster bed, and fixed his gaze on the sunburst
roof. “I’ve always liked this room, and it suits you. What do you
think?” She glanced around the well-proportioned room,
velvet sofas, delicate silk bedspread, Adam open armchairs, and
exquisite ornaments. “Straight out of a fairy-tale.” He patted the place beside him and stretched out
his arm in invitation. As her head dropped on it, she queried. “What are
we doing?” “This,” turning his head, he kissed her. All the ingredients were present for a perfect
romantic interlude; gorgeous setting, handsome boy, beautiful girl,
and he did everything right, his mouth sweet and gentle. Jessie
snapped an eye open and looked at him, he was as much in this as she
was. Over the past year, she had vacillated between
wanting and not wanting at all, and at times imagined he might be in
the same boat. Now, it felt forced, contrived, put on, and
uncomfortable. Something was wrong between them but right now, she
didn’t care. In fact, a wave of relief flooded her and before he
did anything else that was even more stupid than that kiss, she
caressed his face, smiled, and sat up. “I do love you but also knew it would be like
this.” “Some things aren’t meant to be, and lovers is
not for us.” “You didn’t feel anything either?” He asked
between concern and relief. “It was like kissing one of my brothers and we
never have to do it again.” Squeezing his arm reassuringly, she got
off the bed, opened the small suitcase, unpacked the few items she
had brought, and held up two dresses. “Which is it?” John was good at putting outfits together, as he
excelled in textile studies and pointed to what she should wear. Then
after a few minutes, he announced. “I’m bushed, going to rest.
You should do the same before dinner, which is at seven-thirty.
Promptly.” This was not how she envisioned the weekend
unfolding and she lay on the bed ruminating. The occasional fostering
of romantic notions came and went, as he never showed actual interest
in that avenue. So today, it wasn’t just the surprise that he
finally tried but that she had her concrete answer, numb disinterest.
Turning a few times, she watched the lace curtains float gently in
the afternoon breeze, a soft laziness enveloping her as her lids
drooped slowly. Being the only young woman at a dinner table had its
advantages and she smiled with amusement as four bachelors vied for
her attention, though, each had a different approach. James was
careful with his compliments, seeming to take more pleasure in
watching and listening. Mathew wasn’t outrageous or extravagant.
Mark had a way of giving double meanings to everything, which she
found disturbing, and John was plain ridiculous. After dinner, Mark annoyed her again when he asked
if she could estimate a vase’s worth. She had quickly realised
there were pieces of dubious origins scattered among the treasures, a
crazy practice from Margaret’s days as lady of the house. It was as
if he imagined she had come with a cash-register and put price tags
on everything already. She was in no mood for his nonsense. “Why does he do it?” She queried when John led
her down a garden path. “Because he thinks you’re after my money. I may
only be fourth in line but my inheritance is sizeable.” “Ah, of course,” she made an odd gesture. “So
is mine.” “But he doesn’t know that. And who’s ever
heard of a rich Plastics Baron?” He teased. “It’s usually Aunt
Monica’s job to scrutinise everyone with a magnifying glass, but he
sure gives her a run for her money lately. I say it’s grandma’s
fault; he was her favourite and she taught him weird stuff. But cheer
up, he’ll be gone on Monday so who cares what he thinks. How about
a swim?” She looked at the beautiful swimming pool area on
the side of the house, white marble statues standing guard next to a
fountain. “I have no wish to prance around half naked.” “Not here, we also have an indoor pool you
haven’t seen. And for your peace of mind, Mark is not into water
sports anymore.” Walking down the side of the house, he pushed open
two wooden doors. “What do you think?” “Not what I expected.” She stared at the pool
filling most of the room. “It used to be a courtyard, but when grandma
moved to the south wing after grandpa died, she requested all
passages, doors, rooms, and windows be sealed off. We were all at
school and in various swimming teams and mom hated watching us turn
blue in winter, so father had it built, with only that door leading
into the house.” He pointed. “And just so you know, no one goes
into the south wing, it’s creepy there. Therefore, I won’t be
showing you that.” The freedom they felt in each other’s presence
turned them into children as they laughed and raced each other, and
knowing they were making a racket, neither was surprised when Mathew
peered in. “Come join us.” John beckoned. “I don’t want to intrude.” “Pfft. Besides, I haven’t raced you in years.”
John grinned, which meant he had complete confidence in his own
abilities. Mathew drew closer and gave his brother a lopsided
smile. “If I win, what’s my reward?” John scratched his head. “What do you want?” “What did medieval heroes get?” Mathew asked
curiously. “I think they got a handkerchief. Or a kiss from
the princess, or some such silliness.” Jessie blushed as two pairs of male eyes turned to
her. She made a gesture, implying she didn’t know anything. “You’ll be sorry.” Mathew warned. Sitting on the edge to watch, Jessie was engulfed
in a blur. John wouldn’t give up and kept losing, Mathew laughed
and kept winning, and she reached a state of confused stupor. Not
only her cheek and lips were smacked, but also a calf and thigh
landed under his mouth. “How am I doing?” John gasped. She told him. “Not at all, shame on you.” “Is that so?” Reaching her, he pulled her into
the water. “Let’s see you do better.” She spluttered. “Wait until I get my hands on
you. And it’s unfair competition. Look at him, he’s taller,
stronger, broader, will be there long before me.” “Okay, two second head-start.” Mathew conceded. John laughed. “No way, she’s trying to sucker
you in. Ready…” Mathew discovered how right his brother was, Jessie
swam like a fish and was just as fast. “Now I know what you were
doing,” he wheezed. “You put me out of commission and then she
finishes me off. Clever.” Jessie climbed out of the pool and wrapped herself
in a towel. “Thanks for the workout, guys; I’m going to change.” “Thoughts?” John queried. “Interesting,” Mathew managed out of breath.
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Athina
Paris lives in South Africa but spent her formative years in
Mozambique, where she was born and went to school. Years in convents
and boarding schools prompted a deep curiosity and the need to
liberate her mind, which quickly developed into an avid interest in
reading and storytelling and led to a lifelong obsession with the
written word and books. By fifteen she had read most of the classics,
discovered ancient civilizations and became fascinated with various
mythologies; a love she has kept to this day.
Raised
in a culture where meddling is seen as 'caring', she became a
spectator of human nature. Quiet and shy, she preferred recording
conduct rather than participating in what she calls familial mass
hysteria, and so built a treasure-trove of relationship observations
from which she eventually drew backgrounds for the characters in her
romantic novels.
She
studied Interior Design, but soon felt the pull of her dormant talent
and turned to Creative Writing, as she realised the significance of
those notebooks packed with ideas. She soon followed it with
Scriptwriting.
Set
in faraway and exotic places, Athina's epic romantic work takes her
characters on voyages of self-discovery while dealing with
catastrophic love lives and an imperfect world.
A
stint as a high school English teacher polished her skills. However,
she has recently vacated the position to concentrate on her
professional goals of writing, editing and proofreading.
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