‘You’ll get it back…’ Tears were streaming down her cheeks unchecked now. The thought of telling Jake, the thought of him telling Beth, the horrible reality of it all was unbearably close now, making her desperate. But her tears didn’t move him. If anything they just compounded his disdain. ‘I’ll sign anything—the day the exchange happens you’ll get the money back…’
‘If you’ll excuse me?’ He glanced at his watch and pressed a button on his phone. ‘I’m running behind schedule.’ He smiled as his secretary opened the door, gave her a sort of wide-eyed look that acknowledged yet another tearful woman was leaving the building, and asked if she could please arrange that it was done quietly. ‘Could you show Ms Hayes to the lift, please?’
As easily as that he dismissed her. His cold eyes made it clear there would be no further discussion, and the distaste was evident in the set of his face as he held open the door.
And who could blame him for what he must be thinking? Emma thought as the lift plummeted downwards—her parents were barely cold in their grave and she wanted her hands on their money with no questions asked, if that could possibly be arranged!
Clearly it couldn’t.
She could feel her phone vibrating in her bag, knew it was Jake. For a tiny second she was almost relieved. Relieved that she couldn’t help him. Relieved that the problem was no longer hers…
But then she heard his voice.
‘Maybe Beth will understand…’ Emma attempted as she told him the hard news. ‘Maybe it’s time to come clean, Jake—time to lay it all out in the open…’
‘It’s not what Beth’s going to say that I’m worried about.’ She could hear the fear in her brother’s voice. ‘Oh, God, what have I done, Em?’ He was sobbing so hard he could barely get the words out. ‘I can’t face this! What are they going to do to me? What if they turn on her, on the kids? I’d be better off out of it.’
She was half walking, half running through the foyer. She could hear the desperation in his voice and knew she had to get to him and turned, wild-eyed, when the receptionist stopped her in her tracks.
‘Mr D’Amilo will see you shortly.’
Emma briefly closed her eyes in frustration before answering. ‘I’ve already seen Mr D’Amilo.’ She gave a very short smile, tempted to add, for all the good it did. She turned her attention back to her brother, but the receptionist persisted.
‘I’m aware of that. Mr D’Amilo has asked that you wait while he considers your proposal further. If you’d like to take a seat, he’ll send for you in due course.’
She had no idea what game Zarios was playing—the only thing she was certain of was that it was a game! How she would have loved to ignore the command to sit. But Jake was still on the line—or rather, Emma thought, Jake was at the very end of the line.
‘Just hold on, Jake.’ She put the phone back up to her ear. ‘Just calm down. I’ll sort out something. I’ll talk to Zarios again.’
Despite the air-conditioning, sweat was beading on his forehead. Zarios felt as if his tie was choking him. Loosening it, he pulled open the top button of his shirt and tried to kick his stalled brain into some sort of action.
In an attempt to make things work with Miranda he’d relegated all the good things that he had shared with Emma to the recesses of his mind—had ignored the wonderful parts in the short life of their relationship and focussed solely on the death of it. He had replayed Emma’s finishing words like a mantra every time his mind had wandered in that dangerous direction. But even if he had discounted their lovemaking, their passion, long before today, no matter how he had tried he hadn’t been able to discount her.
And now she was back.
From the second he’d heard she was trying to make contact Zarios had been bracing himself—warning himself not to overreact, that if she did tell him she was pregnant he would stay calm…Except she wasn’t pregnant.
Opening his office drawer for the first time that week, he pulled out the hand-sized teddy bear, with its smiling face and black button eyes, and managed to really look at it. He remembered the mawkish pride that had filled him when he’d paid for the little thing and had looked forward to sharing it with Miranda.
Just the thought of Miranda made his jaw clench.
The slurs, the innuendoes, the filth that had been reported this past week should have had him shouting the truth from the rooftops—should have propelled him to come out of his corner fighting. Except in the abyss of his pain the slights of the press had barely touched the sides.
Grief was the only thing that consumed him now.
A grief he couldn’t understand and one he certainly couldn’t explain—even to himself.
Resting his head in his hands, Zarios forced himself to breath evenly, to hold it together, to rise above it as he always did.
He had business to attend to.
And now, waiting downstairs, was the one woman who could possibly make his father believe that he had changed. Zarios’s frozen brain was leaping into action now. He could even tell his father Emma was the real reason he had ended things with Miranda.
Stuffing the teddy back in the drawer, he slammed it shut, annoyed with himself for indulging in sentiment. The time for mourning was over.
Straightening his tie, he pressed on the intercom and told Jemima, his receptionist, to send her back in. After all…how could you mourn something that never even existed?
It was well after five before she was summoned. Way too late, Emma figured, for Zarios to do anything. The banks would have long since closed. Again the receptionist swiped her security tag for the lift and Emma headed to Zarios’s floor. The only difference was that this time his snooty PA wasn’t there to greet her. The sumptuous waiting area was empty, and Emma took a tentative seat, unsure what to do. She was also unsure what Zarios could possibly want with her now, so absolute had been his refusal to help.
She jumped slightly when his heavy office door opened and Zarios himself wordlessly gestured for her to come inside.
‘You waited.’
He stood at the window, staring out at the darkening Melbourne sky that was thick with rain despite the summer month. Threatening droplets splashed onto the window and she knew that in a few moments, when he’d finished playing whatever his little game was, there was no doubt she’d be out there.
‘I had no choice but to wait.’
‘There are always choices.’
‘Not always.’ She took a seat uninvited, angry now. What choice had her parents had? What choice did she have now other than to sit and wait to see what the master had to say?
‘You will have read about my break-up with Miranda?’ He didn’t turn to see her response; there was just a natural assumption that she had. ‘My father and the board are less than impressed.’
As they should be, Emma thought, but didn’t have the nerve to say it. Her voice was shaky when, after a moment, she found it. ‘Is it true?’ Emma swallowed. ‘That you left her because she couldn’t have your babies?’
‘Why do you owe so much money?’ Zarios countered, and when she didn’t answer he gave a wry smile. ‘We both have our own set of excuses, I am sure. When I first started working for my father it was a small company—building and refurbishing, here in Melbourne and in Rome. I found a property in Scotland—a castle that had the potential to be renovated into a top-class boutique hotel, ideal for weddings, that type of thing…’
Her head pounded with neuralgia. Why the hell was he telling her this? She didn’t need a history lesson, she needed cash!
He must have sensed her impatience. ‘Don’t worry—I am as loath as you are to be in conversation. Believe me, this is not idle chatter!’
‘Good.’ She accepted the glass of water he poured, draining it in one gulp, not caring whether or not it was ladylike.
‘For that to come to fruition we had to borrow, or bring investors on board. My father chose the latter option, and when the situation was repeated he brought in more investors. Ten years ago I was a year younger than you are now—twenty-four years old and still somewhat intimidated by father. The company was divided, with my father retaining a twenty-five percent stake, myself twenty-four. I strongly advised him to make his share twenty-six, mine twenty-five—are you still with me, Emma?’ He must have seen her eyes glaze over, because he snapped her to rapid attention. ‘Had he listened to me then, we would not be having this conversation now.’
‘I can do the maths.’ Emma gave a tight smile.
‘Good—then you will know how important that two percent share is now, when D’Amilo Financials is worth billions. Once my father retires our directors want to rename it, and for my father’s stake in the company to be spread between all the directors rather than passed to me—naturally, I am opposed.’
‘What about your father?’ Emma blinked. ‘Surely it’s up to him…?’
‘He wants what is best for the future of the company, and on recent form he is not sure that is me. As he has said, whatever happens I am still a majority shareholder.’ He registered her frown. ‘My relationship with my father is not the same as the one you had with your parents. He is more a business partner to me than a parent.’