chapter 3
A microphone assaulted him. The media could be allies or enemies. Rafael used them at times, at others, they used him. He thought he recognized the man behind the mike, recalled the face from university days. A jack-the-lad, never part of his circle, couldn’t think of the name.
“Señor Saval, the cat-walk season will soon be on us again. Do you feel you are shaping up?”
Rafael Saval looked at his watch. “I’m looking forward to the scrimmage.”
“You seem to be making noises about corruption. Are you making an issue?”
“I’ve never liked the idea of people abusing their status. I’ve always fought against injustice. If I suspected you of corruption,” he said pointedly, “I’d fight the crap out of you.”
He had the name now, Jose Benavente; a nasty person, once so drunk he soiled his pants, always on the edge of trouble, always shifting blame onto others; called himself Jose Rica now, doubtless wanted to forget his roots.
Benavente said, “Won’t this make you a target?”
“Why should it? Las Modas Ibéricas has never been involved in corruption.”
“What do you think about the opposition claiming they don’t consider Las Modas Ibéricas a serious contender, that your company is a spent force?”
Rafael shrugged. “I need to get to a meeting. This isn’t the time.”
“To have Las Modas dismissed before you even start must be galling.”
Rafael put on a smile for the benefit of the camera; glad he looked smarter than Benavente. As he remembered, he’d been a jumped up prick at university, the type who hated students having the pedigree he craved. He was probably power-crazy now he had this job. The knob-head certainly knew how to grind a finger into a sore spot. Couldn’t let him know, though. He cleared his throat. “I hope it’s correct.”
“Why do you say a thing like that?”
“If they don’t take us seriously, it’ll make our job easier.”
“In what way”
Rafael glanced at his watch again. Benavente smirked. The prick enjoyed this, mustn’t let him get at him. Rafael made his voice confident. “I’ve never been one to underestimate rivals, but perhaps the opposition are different.”
“What about the ‘playboy’ image we hear about? Do you think the public will be turned off by your character?”
Rafael assessed Benavente carefully. “Malicious gossip and you know.”
“But does it bother you?”
“I believe the common sense of the public always prevails.”
“But do they believe in you?”
Rafael shrugged. “I think they show more wisdom than you give them credit for.”
“And what credit do you give them?”
“I give them credit for thinking for themselves. You believe it’s within your power to sway public opinion. I say not. It can happen, there’ll always be gullible people, but I don’t believe that to be the case in general. People know what they like, and know what they want.”
Benavente smiled deceitfully. “Is that what you really believe, Señor Saval?”
“I believe I need to get to the meeting.” Rafael took a breath. “But I also believe today’s people have been brought up in a culture of awareness. People nowadays think for themselves, they don’t need telling what to do. They don’t need prejudiced opinions, just balanced facts.”
“It’s said you prefer woman and wine to business.” The reporter tapped his clipboard to make the point. “You’ve gained a reputation of being the archetypal playboy. How true would you say this is?”
Rafael bit back his fury; kept his voice quiet. “I think you’ll agree its unsubstantiated garbage.”
The interviewer opened a file displaying several pictures of Rafael with women. “And these? Would you say these women are unsubstantiated?”
“This is ridiculous. I have friends. Is that so dreadful?”
“There seems a lot.”
He shrugged, angry. “I’ve had acquaintances over the years; some were women. It has nothing to do with how we run the company.”
“But you’re in the public eye, Señor. Don’t celebrities have a duty to be honourable?”
“Like, reporters you mean...” Rafael glared. “I recall you had plenty of women before you married, maybe you have them still?”
For a moment Benavente averted his eyes, a mistake, showed he was shaken. Rafael went for the jugular.
“Perhaps you’ve forgotten we were at university together. Perhaps you thought changing your name would confuse me. I remember what you were like, Jose Benavente. I remember your women, your drunken orgies, and your wild ways.” Rafael flicked through the pictures. “You’re being ridiculous. Most of these women are business associates. This is my mother’s lawyer, and this is my cousin.”
***
It was another of Francine’s parties. Francine liked nothing better than rooms heaving with people. Several of their old friends had been invited. Fran said regard it as a reunion. A lot were married now, and although Katrina ought to have been glad to see them, she could have done without. She flopped onto her haunches in a niche beneath the stairs, and reached for a toy car that had been left there. A little boy came to shyly claim it and pushed it back and forth. She wondered for a moment whose son he was. Did she know the mother, an old friend perhaps? The manoeuvring of the car was obviously a serious task to be conducted in an appropriate manner, and she was coerced into playing with it for a while.
Kat didn’t feel like partying. Normally she did, she’d be in middle; dancing, flinging herself around the room, but not now. She was more exhausted than she could remember, felt like the biggest party-pooper born, which was why she was tucked under the stairs.
Fran said the get-together would help bring her out of herself. She was wrong. All these shuffling people made her feel more isolated than ever.
The little boy snuggled against her, his eyes drooping a shade, a tiny smile on his lips. The house was crowded with bodies and noise, the party existing on two independent levels. At the top it was populated with laughing, drinking adults, speaking in loud voices and not listening to what others said. At the bottom, by children dodging between adult’s legs, or stuffing food into whatever crevice they could, ears, mouths...
Kat preferred the lower level with the children. It seemed safest. Kids she could cope with, adults were a different matter. They might make inquiries, and she didn’t want to share her thoughts. Predominant among those thoughts were Las Modas Ibéricas. Dad had taken Rafael around the factory yet Rafael hadn’t contacted them to take it further. What the hell was the matter?
Was there a problem? Were they going to back out?
“Fancy a drink? I saw you hiding, and squeezed the last drop of chardonnay from the box.” Francine squatted by Kat’s side. She wobbled little. “Phew! I’ve had too many cocktails.”
“You’ve a right to. It’s your party.”
“I think I shall rinse some glasses soon. This is the last one.” Fran waggled the wineglass for her to take. “Why are you down here? You’re usually letting it hang out by now.”
“I’m enjoying the kids.”
“Meaning you’re already pissed. Everyone else is.”
“Not really.” Kat’s lips fluttered into a smile “Your parties generally end that way though. You’re way too generous. I’ve noticed most people drink more than they bring.”
“I wouldn’t have it any other way… Now what’s the problem with you?”
“Nothing.”
“Must be something. Not enough male bottoms to squeeze?”
“More than enough.”
“So?”
“I can’t stop thinking about work.”
“Well you should. Work isn’t the be all and end all, you know.”
“It is when it’s the only thing you’ve got. I’m worried Ibéricas might withdraw from the equation.”
“Ah! We’re talking Rafael?” Fran patted her hand. “He’s an absolute hunk isn’t he; though he can be a tartar. He phoned me the other day. I hadn’t realised you were dealing with him. You never mentioned it was our Rafael.”
“Our Rafael?”
“Our man of the moment.”
“He phoned you… about me?”
“Of course not, idiot. Why should he phone me about you?”
“How do you know Rafael?”
Francine propped her back against the wall against the wall. “Rafael, I’ve worked with him several times. He’s talking about using me to source models for a catwalk, back in Spain. He might want me to stage-manage the whole show.” She sat back thoughtfully. “I think that’s the way I want to go, a total package. What’s the new buzzword… turnkey? You know the thing.”
“You never told me you’d met.”
“Was I supposed to?” Francine eyed her curiously. “Is there something I should know?”
Fran was right, of course, there was no reason she should have mentioned it. Since Kat found Rafael was involved with Las Modas Ibéricas, he’d got inside her skin. She fiddled with the toy car. “Come on,” she said abruptly. “I’ll help you wash a few things. I know there must be stacks.”
Francine waved her hand, dismissing the idea. “And crap to that. There’s a dishwasher to handle dirty glasses.”
“I’ll help collect them.”
“Now this smacks of trying to steer the conversation away from where I want to go.”
“Of course, it isn’t.”
“Are you up to something with our Rafael? If you’ve got a yearning to fondle the inside-leg of his trousers, be warned; think shady characters. He can be decadent.”
“You sound like you have first-hand experience.”
Fran gave a laugh. “I’ll tell you some time!”
“Sounds interesting.”
“Come to think of it, you might just be the challenge he needs. You could be a match for him. You two could go well together.”
“Like gas and sparks, you mean?” Kat grimaced. “Boom!”
“It could be exciting. He’s very sexy.” Francine gave a wistful smile. “It could be endless exhilaration until the explosion. Just think. Unadulterated pleasure all the way then whoosh! Bits of excitement and sex splashed all over the place.”
“And bits of broken heart too. I’ve been down that road. I really don’t want it.”
“Are you sure? That’s the problem with us women, we’re pitiful creatures really. We persuade ourselves we want security; we tell everyone we’re looking for a nice little house and a nice safe partner; when what we really want is rip-roaring sex.
“Speak for yourself.”
“Don’t tell me you wouldn’t love to have bodice-tearing pleasure all day. We want it on tap, twenty-four hours a day. We want to be too sore to walk. We crave exhilaration. You find me a woman who wouldn’t exchange every bit of her safe life, for dangerous, body-gutting decadence, and I’ll show you a liar.”
Kat screwed her nose. “Sometimes, Fran, you talk absolute garbage. Come on, I feel like doing things. Let’s get the washing collected and out of the way.”
“Forget that and dole the dirt.”
“There’s no dirt to dole. Come on, let’s tackle those glasses.”
Francine put her hand on Kat’s arm. “I’m going to change the subject before I forget. If you’re putting on a catwalk for this Ibéricas lot, I’d like to volunteer my services. I understand how to squeeze the titillating best out of things. Sex sells, you know. Forget explaining niceties to them. They aren’t interested in how clever you are. Show your stuff as raunchy, and you’ll sell. I’ve a few girls hoping to get on the books. They’ll do it for peanuts to get the experience. I might even show a leg myself.”
“I’d love you to. Thanks Fran. Mind you, Ibéricas have cooled, but if they want a show I’d be grateful for your input. I haven’t a clue how to go about it.”
“My pleasure.” Francine caught her hand. “Look Kat! If you’re getting tied into with this because you believe in it, fine. If you’re doing it to save your dad’s arse, then it isn’t. Don’t sell your soul to save his.”
Katrina glanced at her sharply. “It isn’t like that.”
“Isn’t it? Remember, you are important as well. If it’s for the right reasons, then give it everything. I’ll be right behind you. But I believe you spend too much of your time running after your father. You’re always doing what others want.”
“It isn’t like that. You’re wrong, Fran.”
“Well, whatever, I hope you’re careful, especially when dealing with the lascivious Rafael.”
“I’m always careful.”
“Take advice from an experienced woman. A sex-god Rafael might be, but don’t cross him. Be an indecent bitch, be a real strumpet if you like, but make sure you stay in control.”
“Come on.” Kat jumped to her feet. “Let’s see to those glasses.”
She threaded her way to the kitchen, politely smiling and nodding to friends and strangers alike. At one point she had to disengage herself from a man she barely recognized, who for some curious reason carried a spare glass of wine and insisted on her tasting it.
When she got to the kitchen, it was empty except her and Francine. She started to pile things into the dishwasher whilst Fran stacked glasses and side plates. Kat held a plate up between her thumb and forefinger as if contagious. “These are too grungy, they need a rinse first.”
“They’ll be all right. Shove them in.”
“It’ll be better if I rinse them.”
Francine shrugged. “As you wish.”
Kat dumped them into a bowl and filled it with hot water and squirted dishwashing detergent over. The dish mop made a satisfying swirl as she sloshed it in the soapy water. She didn’t see the need for a dishwasher; it was just as quick to do things by hand.
She stared out of the dark window. Was Fran right? She hadn’t wanted to drink the wine the man had pushed at her, but she had. Why? Did she really spend all her life doing what others wanted? The idea was preposterous. Surely she was her own woman, always had been, she just didn’t like upsetting people for no good reason.
Francine broke into her thoughts. “There isn’t another soul here who would dream of doing this, you know.”
“I’ve already told you I want to do something. My hands are too idle. Anyway, you have enough to do without this.”
“Listen babe,” Francine swayed drunkenly. “I realize it’s nothing to do with me, but something you said the other day has been niggling at me. You said something about blaming your mum for your dad’s problems.”
“Did I?”
“You know you did. You once told me your mum left when you were little. So how come you think she’s responsible?”
Kat lifted her shoulders. “It’s nothing.”
“I think it is. You were very… passionate. I haven’t seen you like that before. You worried me.”
“It was long ago.”
“So maybe it’s time to get it off your chest.”
Kat twisted her fingers. “Dad was drinking with a friend one night, that’s all.”
“And?”
“I was just a kid. I’d crept onto the stairs. You know what kids are like. I overheard things I shouldn’t have.”
“Well eavesdroppers never like what they hear.”
“More like, it opens your eyes. It explained a lot of things.”
The kitchen door opened and a man Kat hadn’t met stuck his head around. He said, “There you are, Fran. Sorry to interrupt but another guest has arrived and he’s asking for you.”
Francine shrugged apologetically to Kat.
Kat said, “No problem. See to your guests.”
Francine dried her hands. “Another male. Aw! No one understands the problems of a hostess, all these toy-boys to attend to and keep happy. No one knows the hassle we have. Look, I’m sorry about this. Dry your hands and come back to the party with me.”
Kat shook her head.”
“This really isn’t like you. You’re normally so full of life.”
“No, I’ll stay here. Honest. I’m okay.”
Kat turned to the untidy pile of washing; glad to be free of the inquisition. She stifled a yawn. She would finish them then slip quietly away. No one would even know.
She slopped the mop haphazardly around the water, watching bubbles spiral. She really would have to pull herself together. Just lately she’d been in a permanent daze.
“I take it, rinsing dishes is more interesting than partying?”
Kat jerked up. Rafael’s reflection stared at her from the darkened window. She dropped her eyes quickly. “What are you doing here?”
The air around her seemed to turn pernicious. She took dishes from the water, put them into the dishwasher and plunged another pile into the bowl
He said, “Why shouldn’t I be? I was invited and told to mingle. Weren’t you?”
Kat scoured unnecessary at the plate she held, aware of how nervous she had become. She said, “I have done.”
“But you thought this the better choice? I suppose I’m inclined to agree. I don’t know a soul except our host. One or two people recognise me, though. They’re a little intrusive.”
Scraps of food floated on the water and Kat screwed her nose, tipped it out of the bowl, wiped it and replaced it with more steaming lather.
He said, “When you’ve finished, maybe we could stick together, unless you have other plans.”
“I do.”
“It would save me having to talk to these people.”
“That’s not a nice thing to say.”
“Well I’m fed up of trying to find something to say to people I’ve never met, and pretending to be interested in what they’re saying.”
“So you’d use me as a crutch.”
He grinned. “Who knows, it might make for a pleasurable evening, and after all, it would be odd not to be seen together. As far as I can tell, most people know what’s going on.”
Kat felt too vulnerable for stuff like this. She sagged. “Except I don’t think it’s a good idea, Rafael.”
“I do. It makes sense. I don’t want to mix, and neither do you. We could keep them at bay together. We could avoid awkward questions that way. You could even pretend to enjoy my company. That would really fool them.”
“Except, I’m not in the mood for company, yours included.”
He leaned on the draining board. “And that’s why you’re in here instead of out there?”
“Correct.” She took a steadying breath. “I’m about to leave.”
She kept her eyes lowered. In casual clothes he looked amazing. A twist of hair poked from an open shirt neck, strong shoulders tapered to a neat waist, trousers, elegant and fashionable, were full of him. A breadth had been added to his upper body, which hadn’t been there years ago. Something elemental exuded from the male chic of the man.
He said, “Then I’ll just have to change your mind, because I’ve just arrived and it wouldn’t seem right for me to go yet.”
Where was this heading? She needed to make her excuses, disengage herself before things became uncomfortable. Tonight wasn’t the night for unplanned incursions. She felt low, too exposed. She said carefully, “I never mentioned you leaving.”
“But if you go, then so shall I.”
“Not with me, you won’t.”
“I only came because Francine assured me you’d be here. I’ve already explained I can’t stay long; there’s a load of work waiting. I realise if I go too early it might raise a few eyebrows, but it’s up to you.”
“Hey, I’m not responsible for your actions.” She turned back again to the washing-up bowl and began to rinse the plates.
“Do you really want that on your conscience?”
“There’s no reason for you to leave, so don’t make out there is.”
“I’ve no reason to stay if you’re not here.”
“And that makes you sound really mature, I must say.”
“I’d really like you to stay with me.”
“So what?” Kat felt the intensity of his gaze on the back of her head. Eventually she said, “You always did like to take over. Things don’t change much, do they?”
“It was usually by consent, or don’t you remember?” He moved dangerously close. “The party has scarcely begun. Our host might be upset if you leave.”
“I hardly think so.”
“I remember you as a party animal, always in the centre, and thriving on it.”
“Maybe your perception is clouded by time.”
Rafael cleared his throat. “Are you leaving because of me?”
“Don’t be so ridiculous.” She stared into the soapy water. At the edge of her vision she saw him watching. She said, “Why do you think I’d leave because of you? I think you’re beginning to believe your newspaper hype.”
He moved closer, his voice soft. “And maybe I’m beginning to believe I’ve done something really bad.”
“Don’t be stupid.”
“Why have I the impression you don’t want me near?”
“Now you’re being ridiculous.”
“So I’ve done nothing bad?”
She shook her head.
“So tell me just this once, Kat. Why did you dump me? What terrible thing did I perform all those years ago?”
Damn him for raking it up. “Nothing.” Her voice sounded awkward, even to her own ears.
“I wonder; will you really be able to work with me if we go ahead with the purchase of your factory?”
Now he was using blackmail. Her breath caught. “Look!” she said, refusing to face him. “I’ve told you, I’m not in the mood for this, not this evening. I really don’t want to be here. I would have left even if you hadn’t arrived. It’s nothing to do with you.”
He held his hands up. “I’ve upset you again. Okay, you go. I’ll remain for a decent time and make myself miserable. I think I might have enjoyed your company, but there it is.”
Was she overreacting? Would this ruin things for dad? It might not be blackmail but it felt dangerously close. Raf screwed her head. She said, “You won’t be miserable, there are tons of people. Enjoy yourself with them. Fran won’t even notice I’ve gone.”
“Don’t trivialize yourself, Kat.”
She forced herself to look at him. His face seemed filled with animal vitality. Suddenly, she was uncertain. Maybe if she stayed a little while, it wouldn’t do any harm. “If I stick around,” she sighed helplessly. “You’ll have to find me a glass of wine. Mine’s gone, and I only drink chardonnay,” she added, hoping it might rate as an excuse.
“Now that’s easy. I brought half a dozen bottles of wine with me, and there are at least two chardonnays.” He gently removed the washing mop from her hand, passed her a towel then picked up two glasses and cleaned them. She dried her hands with reluctance and followed him into the lounge. Rafael found a drink for each of them. He reached for a side plate. “Hungry?”
She shook her head. “I’ve eaten.”
“Well I haven’t so if you’ll excuse me I’ll grab a bite.”
After he’d filled a plate with quiche, chicken wings, slices of ham, and sausage rolls they moved to an empty corner whilst he ate. Someone put on an old CD of the Bolero. Rafael wiped his fingers on a napkin, took the glass from her hand, and placed it on a small table. “Let’s dance.” He jumped up, pulled her to her feet, swallowed away the last morsel from his mouth and wiped his lips on his napkin. “This has to be my music. We once moved well together. I’d hate not to claim a dance after such a long time.”
He tossed the napkin aside then guided her to the centre of the room to join the other couples. He clicked his heels then poised theatrically, one arm curved over his head, the other around her waist.
She said with alarm. “People are watching.”
“So what’s the problem?” He started to move with dignified grace. They danced in silence for a time, concentrating on the music; whirling and spinning then he leaned to her. “Now tell me how I offended you.”
They were close. For a moment, she could have sworn he was breathing the scent of her hair. She looked up sharply to warn him off, but he reeled away, but as quickly they came together again.
Kat was obliged to arch over backward into his arms. “Well?” he said as she curved over.
“Well what?”
“Why don’t you want to stay here?”
She said defiantly, “Nothing. I just don’t feel like whooping it up. I’ve already told you.”
“You feign composure, but something’s bubbling away. Careful it doesn’t burst out.”
They were spinning again. Swinging together, she said, “You’re wrong! I’m the epitome of calm. I always have been.”
“Superficially, but in reality?”
“Look! I hate amateur psychologists. If you’re going to analyse me, I shall change my mind and leave.”
“I will learn. Make no mistake.”
Rafael shifted position, placed his hands on her swaying hips, and tried to lock eyes. Kat dropped her eyes out of reach, but her body unconsciously softened. Damn, he would doubtless home on it. Knowing it made her feel slightly crazy. No one except Rafael made her feel crazy.
The music ended, but his hand fluttered perilously close to her breast. She struggled to push him away but he wouldn’t allow it. “Let me go,” she hissed.
“And if I don’t?”
Kat stared at him. For a moment, while they danced, her guard had almost dropped. She must never be complacent, not with Rafael. She said rigidly, “Señor, I want to sit.”
“That was a dance and a half.” Rafael at last released her. “I don’t think you could be second best at anything. But there again, I always enjoy being with you, so I may be biased.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” she said stiffly. “How can you say such a thing? We haven’t seen each other for years.” His voice had been hungry. Kat clasped her arms around her chest in a subconscious, protective move.
“I’m glad you stayed and danced.”
“And I think we know why.”
“And why’s that?”
“You know why.” She was perhaps too snappy, but fear made her that way.
“Tell me.”
Kat took a deep breath. “You have a reputation for notching-up scores on the bedpost.”
“Not justified.”
“Well, I have no intention of becoming another notch. Incompatible don’t you think? As you’ve already pointed out, you like to tackle the contradictory, so I don’t suppose you’d understand.”
“I’m no saint. There have been women, but if I performed as people say, I would have time for nothing else.” His brow furrowed. “Is that why you’ve been behaving strange? I can assure you, you have it wrong.”
Kat snorted. “Right or wrong, it’s of no interest to me.”
“Isn’t it?”
“I don’t care what you think or what you do.” She spun and made her way to the side. Damn, she was doing it again. What was she playing at? She was going to affect his decision if she wasn’t careful. No matter what he said, it was bound to have some effect. Why couldn’t she be more amenable?
“Señorita Bligh.” He caught with her. “Take care; your persona is on show.”
Katrina tightened her lips.
Rafael smiled with amusement. “With an attitude like yours, I’m surprised the business needs help. I’m amazed you haven’t pushed yourself to the very top, just to spite people.”
“Just listen to yourself. What do you know about struggle? Your life is gilt-edged.”
“Gilt-edged?” He laughed aloud. “Wealth is relative. Goals are always frustrated at the flip of someone else’s coin. No one is immune.”
“But the landing of your coin is softened by cotton-wool. You’ve been protected all your life.”
He studied her curiously. “We rarely get what we want out of life. I’m a past expert on that, believe me. Not having control of your own destiny is the curse of humanity. We all want independence, but no one has it. We sometimes fool ourselves we have, but we don’t.”
“That’s rubbish.”
“You think so? Being forced into doing things is a cross we have to bear. Do you imagine you’re the only one to suffer coercion?”
Suffer coercion? Was that his intention, to coerce her? Kat went cold. So far she hadn’t dared put it into words, but the unimaginable was happening. She wet her lips. “Is this your way of getting back at me?”
“For what?”
“For the past?”
He clicked his tongue with disapproval. “I wouldn’t ever let my life affect business.”
“Are you sure?”
“Certainly not.”
“You didn’t think to make arrangements to take the deal to the next stage though. Are you waiting for me offer something to persuade you? You said you’d contact me, but you didn’t. Don’t you think that tells me everything? I suppose you want to see me squirm.”
“Things don’t always go the way we expect.”
His eyes wouldn’t let go of hers. Finally, she spun and made her way to the toilet, locked the door, and leaned on it. She wanted to be angry, yet his eyes filled her with craving. Too much oestrogen zipped around her body for her own good.
Kat shivered. Her palms were clammy and she rinsed them under the cold tap. She really would have to be careful.
She couldn’t allow herself to get caught up in something she couldn’t handle, yet it would be disastrous if the deal fell through because of her. Dad would be furious if he found out. She simply had to do something to keep Rafael at bay, yet encourage him keep the deal moving.
She sprayed herself with perfume and reapplied her makeup. After she’d done it, she wondered whether it was wise. Maybe she should scrub it off again. Finally, she got angry with herself, because she didn’t know what to do to appear natural.
When she eventually came out Rafael was waiting. She marched past him and made her way toward an empty seat. A few minutes later he joined her. He said. “I understand how you feel.”
Kat tried to ignore her taut stomach.
He said, “I know you think it isn’t fair, but I’m not sure of anything yet. I’m certainly not promising things just to satisfy your female ego. However, I suppose I can tell you I’ve informed Papá and he wants to be at the presentation when you give it. He’ll probably bring a few line managers along as well.”
Her heart skipped. “You haven’t even said you want a presentation.”
“And I haven’t told you I don’t.” He hesitated. “Just who does the factory belong to, Kat?”
“Dad, of course.”
“Would he appreciate my going over his head?” A smile flickered at the corners of his mouth.
She frowned.
He said, “I suppose I ought to mention that I talked to your father earlier this evening. I was late arriving because he took me on another tour of the factory. He’s pencilled in a date for your extravaganza but nothing’s fixed. He’ll probably talk to you later.”
A puddle of excitement began in her gut. “Are you telling me you’re going ahead after all?”
He shrugged.
“What’s going on, Rafael? Is this some ghastly game you’re playing? Are you trying to string me along?”
“I’m not at liberty to say more, so don’t press me. Nothing’s in the bag, but I think we need that presentation soon, to see what you’re offering. I mean all of it, the cream, as well as the bread-and-butter. Let’s have a good look at that new line of yours.”
A wave of relief washed over Kat. It hit her, how close she might be to presenting her outfits onto the international scene. Italian Concept might never be in her name, but she’d make damn sure everyone would know she was responsible.
Making loads of money had never been the main issue. For her, it was something else, nothing that could be deposited in a bank, nothing that could be lavishly flaunted; it was something that fed her soul. She was proud of what she did. When others endorsed what she did, it was the finest fix she could think of.
Kat could hardly contain her tumbling emotions. Fulfilment, that’s what her creations gave her. It made up for what went wrong. When it came together it was good. It wasn’t over yet, but now she felt a mile high. She said, “Wow, it’s suddenly quite nerve racking.”
“I’m not surprised. It feels that way for me, too.”
A surge of complex feelings swept through her. Success was almost on the doorstep. All the waiting, all the nail-biting, the knocking on doors, all of these might soon be over.
The thrill of it made her highly aroused. She realised that in this mood, she would probably spend the night with him.
“I guess from the look on your face that you’re quite pleased.”
“It’s… good.” Kat lifted her face. Her body secretly moistened at the thought of what might come. She smiled as she conjured up the memory of his naked body lying against hers; the secret taste of him; the feel of his skin; it was easy, she’d practised several times over the last few days.
He bent his head, swiftly touched her forehead with his lips then stood back. That was all. Kat felt a stab of disappointment.
He said, “And now I must go and say my goodbyes. I really have stayed longer than intended. There’s a pile of work to catch up, but I’ll be in touch. And please don’t let other people’s judgement of me get in the way.”
“Of course not.”
“We don’t want anything sabotaging this. There’ll be a lot of hard work ahead if we decide to go ahead. You do realise don’t you? You are prepared for it?”
Kat folded her hands. She resented the fact that he was walking away while she felt like making love, but it was for the best. This was how it should be. Becoming entangled would be stupid. He’d done her a favour by not bedding her. She would soon be back in control. She must never again be vulnerable. She was sexually excited, but no one would know.
She lifted her chin “I know that it’s still early days. I know you could easily take another route, but there are things we need to clear up. Dad will probably have lawyers sorting legal jargon, but if you do go ahead, procedures will need establishing, things legal beavers won’t even think of. I shall want it including in the final substantiation, with signatures from both parties to verify it. Italian Concept is my baby, don’t ever forget it. No one takes the credit, except me.”
***
Kat waited for the delegation. She generally said that good clothes helped instil confidence. She wasn’t so sure now; she needed a pile of poise and there wasn’t a crumb to be found.
She fidgeted. Would it be good enough? Friends had helped put the presentation together, with a little cajoling from Fran. Someone’s boyfriend had brought along disco equipment and lasers, another had put the electric installation together, but would it be professional enough? Francine said it was, but it seemed hairy.
A light touch on her arm startled her. Rafael said softly, “Sorry to make you jump. The receptionist sent me up. Papá and the others will be along in a moment.”
“No problem. I’ll show you where we are.” She led him to the presentation room.
Rafael followed, watching her, eyes full expression. Kat saw it before he blanked it out. It would make no difference. She might fancy him like hell, but there was no way he was going to know. Not now. That flash of madness was gone.
Rafael spotted a video link. “All mod-cons, I see.” He picked up an agenda and nodded vaguely, apparently absorbed in the detail.
Her father arrived with Rafael’s papá and the other delegates and brought them to her. She took their hands. “Señor Saval, los señores, buenos días. I hope the flight hasn’t left you tired. I find long journeys exhausting. They make me grouchy, and I have to admit, I’d prefer you not to be.”
“Señorita, you drive away all thoughts of tiredness.”
“Thank you, Señor Saval. You’re too kind.”
A catering company had been hired for the afternoon, and a girl came and uncovered a table of canapés; then took orders for drinks.
Once the snacks were finished and the delegates comfortable settled, James Julian Bligh made his way to the podium at the corner of the room. The lamps dimmed, a spotlight centred on him, and he began a formal run-down of the business assets and liabilities. Using overheads, he explained the company. Projected sales were put onto clever graphics, profits were explained, and the corporate plan justified. Finally, it was time for Katrina to take the podium.
As she talked, fashion models displayed the garments across a centre-stage. They showed off the best of next season’s outfits. Kat explained manufacturing costs, a little about the methods, and about forward sales and the range of outlets that placed sales on them.
She paused dramatically and waited for silence, then said, “Los señores, I’d like to talk to you about our new line. We call the range, Italian Concept.”
The music surged. Francine strutted onto the floor in her inimitable way, her presence bringing immediate animation to the show. The dress embraced the cambers of her body exquisitely.
Some team began to whisper. Rafael watched intently, his expression difficult to read. Kat smiled inwardly. She knew they were more impressed than they expected.
As Kat talked on, a display of lasers began to imperceptibly emphasise her words. Another swaggering model appeared in an erotically fluid dress, and drifted around the room. They crossed each other’s paths like patches of haze, two sirens clad in vapour, taunting the assembly.
At the rear of the room a flourish of silk-curtains slowly spiralled. More models tumbled out to show off the seductive creations, mingled among the Las Modas Ibéricas team; chattered, twirled. Pyrotechnics flashed and banged, smoke curled around, music played, lasers zipped wildly.
Kat knew the show was gaudy, but the ostentation was deliberate. It contrasted the elite elegance of her designs. She didn’t need telling the creations were stunning. She knew from their faces they were all hooked. Francine and her sirens had done their job.
At the end of the show, Rafael’s papá beamed at Kat and walked to her with both hands held out. “Señorita, I am staggered. The dresses are quite stunning! I’ve never seen anything cling like them. Incredible. You’ve imprinted them on my mind forever.”
Kat smiled broadly and took his hands. Now that it was nearly over, her knees were shaky. She was running on adrenalin and it was nearly gone. She said, “I’m glad you liked the show.”
He said, “Rafael must show you around our organization in Spain to see what you think.”
Kat was on last dregs. It wasn’t what she wanted out of life but it would do for now. Nondisclosure forms would have to be drafted before they could go much further. Hundreds of tiny things would have to be reinvestigated; a lot of hurried work lay ahead, but it was nearly in the bag. She nodded wearily, “I think we can do that.”