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Authors: Sara Craven,Chieko Hara

Tags: #Comics & Graphic Novels, #Graphic Novels, #Romance

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Had she any real justification for depriving him of them?

She thought wistfully how lonely life would be without Nicky. At just

over two and a half, he was beginning to talk quite fluently, and enjoy

the nursery rhymes and stories she read to him. The thought of losing

that close and loving relationship for ever—of abandoning him to

people who were strangers, who even spoke an alien

language—chilled her. to the bone.

If the relationship between Kostas and his brother had been a normal

one, the situation could have been so different, she thought sadly. But

the Marcos family had never even acknowledged Becca, and the

feelings of her younger sister would have no significance at all in

their reckonings. The fact that they had cynically offered her a sum of

money to induce her to part with Nicky without a fuss proved how

little they estimated her.

Poor Kostas, she thought. He had always been reticent on the exact

nature of the quarrel which had driven him to England, away from his

family, but if it was to escape an unwanted marriage with a

comparative stranger, then it was quite understandable.

When he and Becca had met, it had been several months before he

had even told her that he was related to the Marcos family. In fact

their romance had nearly ended when Becca discovered the truth,

because she felt almost overwhelmed by it. She was a gentle girl, and

the jet-setting lifestyle of the man who was to be her brother-in-law

repelled and frightened her. It took all the persuasion and all the

assurances that Kostas was capable of to convince her that his was a

very different personality.

Harriet suspected that the unconcealed hostility of the Marcos family

to the marriage had almost come as a relief to Becca. Kostas was

working as an accountant and earning sufficient to provide for their

needs, and that was all she wanted.

Harriet sighed. If only Alex Marcos or his mother had seen them

together, she thought passionately, had seen how much they loved

each other, then they must have relented. But at the same time, a

small cold voicedeep inside her told her that she was being

sentimental. A man as ruthlessly successful as Alex Marcos would

regard any such change of heart as a sign of weakness.

She got up, brushing a few stray crumbs from her navy pleated skirt,

and began to walk along the street, not hurrying, looking into the

windows of shops she passed with unseeing eyes.

There was a danger, and she could see it, of making Nicky the centre

of her world. She rarely went out now in the evenings. For one thing,

baby-sitters cost money, but more importantly it seemed wrong not to

spend as much time as possible with Nicky at the only time it was

possible—after work. She had never grudged him one minute of her

time, or felt deprived, but sometimes when she heard the other girls

she worked with chatting animatedly about boy-friends and outings,

she felt as if she occupied another world.

At twenty-one, she was hardly likely to be written off as a spinster,

the archetypal maiden aunt, she knew. She wasn't conceited, but she

was aware that her pale fair hair and wide grey eyes had an attraction

all their own. But she also knew that Nicky's existence in her life was

a drawback as far as men were concerned. Roy, for instance.

She flushed slightly as she remembered that she had actually been

considering becoming engaged to Roy. Then the accident had

happened, and her life had changed overnight, and somehow Roy

wasn't there any more. She'd been bewildered, and more than a little

hurt, because she had counted on his support. But he had been almost

brutally frank.

'I'm sorry, love,' he'd said, 'but I didn't bargain for a ready-made

family. I don't want to have to share your attention with a kid who

isn't even my own.'

Harriet had told herself she was well rid of him, and knew that it was

true, but the hurt still lingered, and made fier chary of accepting such

invitations that did come her way.

Claudia who occupied the adjoining desk at the office pool was

always trying to make dates for her, and urging her to go out more,

insisting that she owed it to herself. But Harriet felt that it was Nicky

who was owed—owed as settled and secure an environment as she

could create for him, at least for the time being.

Claudia was waiting agog for her return. 'What happened?' she

hissed.

Harriet shrugged. 'We talked. I lost my temper.'

Claudia grinned. 'It's amazing,' she said. 'You are the image of a cool

blonde, and yet it's like an ice-cap over a volcano. Was it the great

man himself?'

Harriet shook her head, and Claudia made a frustrated noise.

'Damn, there goes my last chance of finding out what a really sexy

man is like! I expected you to come reeling back here with stars in

your eyes and no buttons left on your blouse.'

'You're joking, of course.' Harriet was acid.

'Not really,' Claudia grinned. 'After all, he must have something.

Look at the birds he pulls!'

Harriet smiled cynically as she wound papers and carbons into her

typewriter. 'Oh, he's got something all right,' she agreed. 'Money.'

Claudia snorted. 'Bet it's more than that. Haven't you ever seen a

photograph of him?'

Harriet shrugged. 'The odd newspaper one. But they don't tell you

much except he hasn't got two heads. It's a pity he hasn't, really,' she

added thoughtfully, 'then everyone would know what a monster he is.'

'Miss Masters!' The typing pool supervisor materialised beside.

Harriet's desk, looking severe. 'Miss Greystoke has buzzed. You're

wanted in the chairman's suite.'

Harriet's fingers stilled on the keys of her machine. She was a good

efficient worker, and she had sometimes taken dictation for the

managing director and the company secretary when their own girls

were away, but the chairman was another kettle of fish altogether.

None of the typing pool ever filled in for the remote and efficient

Miss Greystoke. And anyway, if Miss Greystoke had buzzed, it was

reasonable to suppose that she was there, and not requiring a

substitute.

'When you're quite ready, Miss Masters,' the supervisor reminded her

sarcastically.

The chairman's suite and the other executive offices were one floor

up, and Harriet walked up the . stairs, trying to tuck errant strands of

hair back into the smooth coil she wore on top of her head. What on

earth could Sir Michael want her for? she wondered in alarm. In the

two years she had been with the company, she had never even spoken

to him. When Kostas and Becca had been killed, it had been the

company secretary Mr Crane who had dealt with her, and he had been

kindness himself. But perhaps Sir Michael didn't think she was worth

the time and the money she had been allowed. But if so, was it likely

he would summon her to tell her so himself?

She was totally mystified by the time she reached Miss Greystoke's

office. Miss Greystoke was looking at her watch ostentatiously when

she knocked politely and went in.

'At last,' she said coolly. 'You're to go straight in.'

'Yes.' Harriet hesitated. 'Do—do you know by any chance what it's

about?'

Miss Greystoke looked as if she was about to be withering, then

suddenly relented, perhaps noticing for the first time Harriet's pallor.

'I haven't the slightest idea. There was a message waiting when I got

back from lunch.' She smiled. 'But don't look so worried. He's not a

bad old stick, you know,' she added, lowering her voice.

Harriet returned the smile nervously. She walked over to the door of

the inner office, squared her shoulders resolutely, pressed the handle

down and went in.

Unlike Miss Greystoke's office, which was artificially lit, the

chairman's room had windows the length of one wall, and the sudden

glare of sunlight almost dazzled Harriet as she stood hesitating, just

inside the door.

For a moment, all she was aware of was a man's figure standing at one

of the windows, and then as he turned and came towards her, she

realised in an odd panic that whoever this was, it wasn't Sir Michael.

For one thing, this man was at least twenty years his junior,

black-haired with a dark, harshly attractive face. He was tall too, and

expensive tailoring did full justice to the breadth of his shoulders and

his lean hips and long legs.

Harriet took a breath. 'I'm sorry—there's been some mistake,' she

began, backing towards the door.

He held up a swift authoritative hand, halting her.

'Oh, don't run away, Miss Masters.' His voice was as harsh as his face,

with a faint foreign intonation. 'You were brave enough to my lawyer

not so long ago. What do you dare say to my face, I wonder?'

Oh God, Harriet thought in anguish. It can't be true! It can't be him.

Trying to sound cool, she said, 'Am I supposed to know who you are?'

'We'll dispense with the games, if you please,' he said. 'We're both

well aware of each other's identity.'

Harriet swallowed. 'How—how did you know where I work?'

'I know everything I need to know about you,' he said cuttingly.

'Including the fact that you are not a fit person to be in charge of my

brother's child.'

Harriet gasped..'You have no right to say that!'

'I have every right,' he said. 'Every word you said to Philippides

revealed your immaturity, your headstrong foolishness. You

destroyed any case you might have had for retaining Nicos in your

care with your own silly tongue.'

'Mr Philippides didn't waste any time in making a full report,' she said

furiously. 'Did he use a tape recorder?'

'No, Miss Masters. I saw and heard you myself.' He paused. 'The

mirror in that room has another function apart from allowing young

girls to preen themselves in it.'

A two-way mirror. Harriet had only heard of such things.

She said, 'That's the most despicable thing I've ever heard!'

'But then your experience had been so limited.'

'No wonder your brother was glad to get away from you,' she said

recklessly, and halted, appalled at the expression of molten rage on

his face.

She said in a voice that didn't sound like her own. 'I—I didn't mean

that.'

'I should hope not.' His face was grim.

Harriet made a little helpless movement with her hands. 'I don't think

you understand how upset I've been—about Nicky. He's all I have in

the world.'

'At present, perhaps,' he agreed. 'Apart from the fact that you have a

tongue like a shrew, you shouldn't find it hard to attract a husband,

particularly with the money I have offered you as a dowry.'

Harriet's newly acquired cool went up in smoke. 'I wouldn't touch a

penny of your bloody money!'

'Your language is unbecoming,' he said icily. 'If you think to force me

into making a higher offer by your intransigence, then forget it.

You're not worth what I have already suggested, but I wish to have

the matter settled quickly. The child's grandmother wishes to see

him.'

'The child's grandmother could have had every opportunity of seeing

him over the. past two years.' Harriet's voice shook.

'Was that what your sister counted on?' he asked. 'That the birth of her

child would give her the entree into our family? How mistaken she

was! Let me advise you not to fall into the same error, Miss Masters,

of playiiig for stakes that are beyond you. You will only lose.'

She took two hasty steps forward, her hand swung up, and she

slapped him hard across his face.

The sound was like a shot going off in the quiet room, and it was

followed by a terrifying silence. Harriet stood in horror, watching the

marks of her fingers appear across his swarthy cheek. She saw an

almost murderous flare in his eyes and braced herself for some kind

of retaliation, to be shaken perhaps, or slapped in her turn, but none

came.

At last he said, 'Violent as well as insolent. What have you to say

now?'

She said, 'If you're waiting for me to apologise, then you'll wait for

ever! You can report me to Sir Michael if you want—I don't care. I

suppose you must be a friend of his or he wouldn't have let you use

this room. But whatever you do, I'm not prepared to hear you say

things like that about Becca. You—you didn't know her, and that was

your loss, but she wasn't interested in your family for the sort of

mercenary motives that you think. There was nothing about the way

you lived your lives that attracted her. She wanted Kostas and Nicky

and they were enough. But she saw that the— estrangement between

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