Breaking the Rules (35 page)

As they stepped into the lift, Linnet said, ‘Horrible news, almost unbelievable. We’ll have to do something drastic, and pretty damned quick, Simon. I’m particularly worried about my mother: she’s going to take this to heart, and she’s a bit frail these days.’

‘Try not to worry, Linnet. Jack’s got some clever plans and so do I. And I agree it has to be dealt with at once.’

Out in the side street, Simon hailed a taxi, helped her into it, told the cabbie to head for the Dorchester, and took the other corner of the cab.

There was a sudden awkward silence between them, and after a second Simon cleared his throat several times, finally said, in a hoarse voice, ‘I think we must get security for M and Larry…’

‘Oh, but they have it,’ Linnet answered, and looked at him quickly, then glanced out of the window. She was so conscious of his close proximity, his physical presence, she could hardly bear it. She had fallen in love with him months ago, much to her amazement. Even though she tried to tell herself it was mostly physical desire, an overwhelming sexual
need
for this tall, handsome, blond hunk, she knew deep within herself that it was much more than that.
Much more.

Simon Baron was one of the most intelligent and sensitive men she had ever met. She had been drawn to him for years, long before he had worked at Harte’s, always finding his company pleasant. She found him compatible, considerate and charming. He had a good sense of humour; it was a little bit dry, and certainly self-deprecating. On the other hand, she knew he was catnip to women, and that he played the field, and so why would
he
be interested in
her,
when he could have a twenty-two-year-old hanging on his arm and in his bed? On the other hand, the reality of the cruel and deadly world they lived in had brought
her to a decision. Why not let him know how she felt? What did she have to lose?

The cabbie swerved unexpectedly to avoid a car drawing too close and Linnet was flung across the seat, landing almost, but not quite, in Simon’s lap. He grabbed hold of her, trying to steady her, and she clung to him tightly.

‘Wow!’ she exclaimed, as the cabbie righted the vehicle and drove on. She stared up at Simon. ‘Sorry about that…’ She couldn’t finish her sentence. Her mouth went dry and her heart started to pound. He was looking at her so intensely, and there was such desire in his light blue-grey eyes that she was in no doubt how he felt. Oh my God! The same way she did. ‘Oh, Simon, Simon, darling,’ she whispered, and reached up, brought his head down to hers, kissed him fully on the mouth. He kissed her back, and passionately so, then drew away, literally gaping at her and looking slightly stunned.

She smiled, her eyes dancing with laughter. ‘I’ve been wanting to do that for months, Simon Baron. And finally I
did.
’

Staring into those mesmerizing green eyes, Simon realized that she most definitely shared his feelings. He grinned and said, ‘And so have I, and I want to keep on doing it, don’t you?’

‘Absolutely.’ Linnet shook her head. ‘I’m not quite sure how I’m going to get through this lunch with Jack.’

Simon groaned. ‘I know exactly what you mean. But we have to; there are some very serious matters to discuss.’

‘Oh, God, yes.’ Linnet sat up straighter but remained close to him, leaned against his body, took hold of his hand and gave him a very pointed look. ‘Is there any possibility of seeing you later, Simon? Much later, I mean. Like this evening. Could you come to dinner at my house?’

‘Try and keep me away. But I do think you should know I have serious intentions.’

‘I’m glad to hear it. And, you know what, so do I. Very serious intentions.’

They had arrived at the Dorchester Hotel, and Simon alighted first, paid the cab, helped her out, squeezing her hand as they headed up the front steps together. ‘We’d better play it cool,’ he murmured. ‘Jack knows us both extremely well, he’ll spot something if we’re not careful.’

‘Yes, perhaps he will, but does it matter?’ she asked.

‘I
think I’d like a drink,’ Linnet said, once they had been seated in the library area of China Tang, the popular Chinese restaurant downstairs at the hotel.

‘What would you like?’ Simon asked, reaching out, placing his hand over hers on the table, filled with joy that he could actually touch her.

‘A glass of pink champagne, please.’

‘
Champagne,
’ he repeated, raising a blond brow.

‘Yes. To celebrate.’

‘Celebrate what?’

‘Kissing you,’ she murmured, looking at him flirtatiously out of the corner of her eye. ‘As far as I’m concerned, that was something special, and therefore something to celebrate. That’s what champagne is for.’

He laughed, enjoying her, as he always had in the past when there had been occasions for them to see each other on a social level with Jack, her parents and the rest of the family. He had known her for many years—
forever,
it seemed like to him—and had always found himself attracted to her. But she had only had eyes for Julian, her childhood sweetheart. It was different. At last.
Now she was alone, and available, and she obviously had strong feelings for him, as he did for her. It was up to him now to make her well and truly his. For always. That was what he wanted.

When the waiter appeared at their table, Simon ordered two glasses of pink champagne, and once they were alone again, he leaned into her, kissed her neck, muttered against her ear, ‘Got to make the most of it before Jack gets here.’

‘Yes, we do,’ she replied and stared at him, her face turning serious. ‘We’re in danger, aren’t we, Simon? From Ainsley?’

‘Yes, and we have to pinpoint his whereabouts as fast as we can. I agree with Jack, though, who thinks it’ll be like looking for a needle in a haystack.’

‘These last few years have been so peaceful, not having to look over our shoulders all the time. Now it starts again.’

The waiter returned with their drinks, and Linnet lifted her flute, as did Simon. They touched glasses and Linnet said, ‘Here’s to that very special kiss I’ve waited so long to give you.’

He smiled at her, his eyes loving. ‘It was special for me too.’ After taking a swig of the champagne, Simon said, ‘Before Jack gets here, I would like to ask you something.’

Linnet nodded. ‘Yes, ask me.’

‘Did you mean it when you said you had serious intentions?’

‘I did. Why?’ She frowned, her auburn brows drawing together.

‘Because I know how
I
feel about
you,
and I have known for a very long time…I’m serious about you.’

‘I’m glad we feel the same. Aren’t we a couple of fools? Harbouring the same feelings for each other for so long and never saying a word.’

‘We’ve wasted a lot of time, Linnet.’

‘But we’ll make up for it, and then some…’ Linnet stopped abruptly, removed her hand, placed it in her lap, and murmured, ‘Here comes Jack.’

A second later he was being shown to the table, greeted them both, and sat down. ‘That looks good,’ Jack said, eyeing the
champagne, ‘very refreshing. I think I’ll have a glass.’ Motioning to the waiter, he ordered, and then said to Linnet, ‘M got James Cardigan on his cell, told him about me, and yes, we did meet in Hong Kong. But this is the thing, when she was talking to him she said the Hartes had a serious problem and did he know any hackers? I couldn’t believe my ears—she’s very clever.’

Simon exclaimed, ‘That’s what I said to you this morning. I had the same idea as M. Let’s get some hackers working. Maybe it would be tough to hack into Ainsley’s computers, but they might be able to get into the computers of his partners, some of those chaps he does business with. Possibly we could get information about him through a few leads.’

‘That is exactly what I discussed with Zhèng in Hong Kong last week. However, it sounds a lot easier than it is and, remember one thing, the Hartes can never be involved in anything criminal.’

‘But we can break a few rules, don’t you think?’ Linnet said. ‘I bet Emma broke some, and what about my great-grandfather Blackie O’Neill? I’m sure he must have stretched things a bit at times. And David Kallinski, their willing partner, too. M is prepared to break the rules all the way, and so am I.’

Jack laughed. ‘But that was then, and this is now, and we’re going to toe the line. Understood?’

Linnet nodded and winked at him.

Smiling, Simon said, ‘For the time being anyway.’ He moved his leg closer to Linnet’s, slipped his hand under the table and found hers resting on his thigh. He removed it gently, since he felt the first signs of arousal, an unexpected reaction over a lunch table for him. He was usually in control of himself in every way.

‘Linnet, I want to discuss something,’ Jack began. ‘And it’s about the things we can do through Wen Li.’

‘What things? How can he help?’ she asked.

‘He has a grandson, Richie Zhèng—he’s a wonderful-looking young man, a Eurasian—aged about twenty-five. He went to the Wharton School of Business, and spent some time growing
up in the States. Anyway, he’s very Americanized and a he’s a computer genius; also a brilliant banker, according to Wen Li. Extraordinarily talented with figures. Wen Li is going to propose to Ainsley that Richie Zhèng goes to work with Ainsley, as Wen Li’s representative.’

‘But why would Ainsley agree to have Richie Zhèng in his company?’

‘Because Wen Li is planning to invest a hundred million dollars—American dollars—with Ainsley. The proviso is that Richie is brought into the company. In a sense, he would be looking after Wen Li’s money, although Wen Li’s not saying that.’

‘Good God!’ Linnet sounded flabbergasted. ‘That’s a fortune.’

‘However, he won’t invest that amount if Ainsley says no deal, regarding Richie being part of the company. That’s a must.’

‘A piece of cheese to catch a rat, eh?’ Linnet laughed grimly.

‘You could call it that, Beauty. Anyway, Wen Li wants Richie to work at Belvedere, that’s Ainsley’s new company in Hong Kong, and it can’t do us any harm.’

‘I understand everything,’ Linnet said, ‘and it’s an awful lot of money to invest. Wen Li must believe he can double or treble it with Ainsley.’

‘I believe he does think that, although one of his chief motivations was finding a way to get Richie inside Ainsley’s organization as a mole. Belvedere is a holding company, and although it’s based in Hong Kong, it’s an umbrella for Ainsley’s worldwide investments. And there is another reason.’ Jack paused. ‘He wants to help
us.
’

Linnet stared at Jack in disbelief. ‘M is going to be really surprised when I tell her all this. Why would he risk all that money for us, Jack?
That
I don’t understand at all.’

‘He isn’t risking it, not really. Wen Li knows what he’s doing; he’s a shrewd banker. Anyway, let’s hope the rat eats the cheese, to borrow a phrase from you.’

Simon said to Linnet, ‘Shall we order?’ and, turning to Jack,
he added, ‘Actually, Jack, I think it might be a good idea if we let you order lunch, since you’re such an old Hong Kong hand.’

Picking up the menu, Jack scanned it, and said to Linnet and Simon, ‘How about wonton soup to start with? Soup’s nice on a damp day—comforting, wouldn’t you say? Then I love their minced squab wrapped in lettuce leaves. They also make delicious shrimp dumplings—and another thing I enjoy are the spring rolls. Any preferences?’

‘Whatever you say, Jack,’ Linnet answered. ‘But I do happen to like wonton soup and minced squab. So those would be fine.’

Simon said he’d have the same, and that Jack should order whatever else he thought they would like. As Jack conversed with the waitress who had come to take their orders, Simon squeezed Linnet’s hand under the table, and gave her a long, loving look.

Paula O’Neill stared at herself in the mirror, straightened the skirt of her tailored, navy blue silk dress and adjusted the string of pearls around her neck. Satisfied with the way she looked, she stepped away from the cheval mirror and went over to her dressing table, where she picked up her pearl earrings and put them on.

She smiled to herself as she turned away from the dressing table, thinking that, as usual, she was dressed in what she termed one of her ‘uniforms’: today it was the simple dress in a dark colour.

When she had run Harte’s, she had always worn a well-cut black suit with a white shirt or blouse. Her daughters Linnet and M were the same, had followed in her footsteps, choosing similar ‘uniforms’ to wear during the day. Not Tessa, of course. She had her own inimitable style, favouring white mostly.

Her mind focused on M, her youngest daughter, and the one who looked the most like her in appearance. She was proud of her, the way she had gone off to New York and done it on her own, without their help. But then that was a Harte characteristic,
wasn’t it? In many ways M had always been the most independent of her three daughters, sure of herself and what she wanted to do with her life. And to think the world’s new top supermodel, appearing on every magazine cover, had once protested about putting on makeup and washing her hair; said she had no desire to look smart, preferring instead to muck out the stables and care for the horses, like a stable lad.

Seating herself at the desk, Paula opened her appointment book and looked at the day’s engagements. Tea with Jack was the most important date. He was coming over at four o’clock. She hadn’t seen him for a few weeks, and was curious about the impending visit. Was he simply coming to tea to catch up with her on certain matters? Or was he about to impart bad news? After the bombing at the store she was certain he was not the bearer of good tidings. On the other hand, he had been in Hong Kong and perhaps he was bringing gossip and greetings from mutual friends whom he might have seen on the trip.

Well, whatever the reason for his visit, she was pleased she was going to see him. They had been friends for over forty years. She frowned. Where on earth had all that time gone? It just disappeared in the blink of an eyelash…it didn’t seem possible to her.

She had first met Jack Figg when she had gone to work for her grandmother at the store. Emma Harte had adored the young Jack, had seen such enormous potential in him; and as usual, Emma had been right. He had turned out to be a superlative head of security, as well as loyal and devoted. As it turned out, he had become her best friend over the years, and a member of the family as well, loved by all.

Sometimes Shane teased her a little bit about Jack and his extraordinary devotion to her, and hinted that Jack might well have been carrying a torch for her for many years. She always shrugged off that suggestion, because there had never been any indication of this. Not at all. Jack was always the perfect gentleman, had never taken one wrong step, ever.

Sitting back in the chair, Paula thought of what had happened in all those years which seemed to have passed with such speed: her marriage to Jim, the birth of the twins, Tessa and Lorne; and then the slow but terrible disintegration of her marriage to Jim Fairley. It was her recognition of her love for her childhood friend Shane O’Neill that had been a wondrous revelation. And then had come terrible sorrow and a mantle of guilt when Jim and her father had been killed in a fatal air crash in France. But this tragedy had been followed, eventually, by her marriage to Shane. From this she had drawn great peace as well as immense joy. The birth of their sons and daughters, Patrick, Linnet, Emma and Desmond had brought untold happiness.

She suddenly remembered the way she and Shane had ruefully admitted to each other that there could only be
one
Emma in the family. They belatedly had understood that her famous grandmother completely overshadowed the baby Emma, newly born. And so she had become Emsie, then Em, and finally M. Paula smiled in delight, thinking of her grubby little horse-loving child who had become this startlingly beautiful supermodel. And Larry. What a blessing he was—M was safe with him.

She sighed, and a sadness crept into Paula’s heart as memories of her darling Patrick rose to the surface…their beloved little boy, born with brain damage, who had been the sweetest and most loving child, adored by all. When he had unexpectedly died, and so suddenly, everyone in the family had been genuinely devastated and heartbroken.

Ah, yes, so many losses over these years, which she and Shane had shared…the death of his grandfather Blackie O’Neill, and of her grandmother Emma Harte; then Shane’s father Bryan had passed away, as had so many other family members…She thought of her great-aunt Edwina, Emma’s first-born child, and then laughed, remembering her. They had all likened her to a general, but they had truly loved her, the genuine eccentric in the family.

And what of the terrible mistakes she had made in business?
Paula cringed at the thought. Once she had put the stores at risk. To think that she had almost lost them to her cousin…but she had outwitted and defeated Jonathan Ainsley. And so very cleverly, thanks to Ronnie Kallinski, the man she had always addressed as Uncle Ronnie, referred to as her wise rabbi. Ainsley was dead and buried, and she had survived those troubles and moved on.

Despite all the mistakes, the losses, the deaths and tragedies, there had also been marriages and births as well, and new beginnings…more children to carry the banner, in honour of the famous name of Harte…to run her grandmother’s empire. There had been so many blessings, as well as troubles.

The happiness she had shared with Shane all these years, and still shared: that was truly something to treasure and to enjoy. How lucky she had been to be part of this man’s world. Life had often punched her in the face, but never mind that now. It did not matter. She had so much to be thankful for, had had more than most.

Rising, Paula left the bedroom and went downstairs to wait for Jack, still thinking of all the happenings and events that had marked the years.

Sometimes she had wondered if the Hartes were cursed, but she had inevitably dismissed this idea as being ridiculous. They were truly a large family, and life had spared none of them, and that was all there was to it. She didn’t believe in curses. Like her grandmother, she was far too much of a pragmatist for that nonsense.