The Bride Fonseca Needs(8)

His eyes were very blue, and twinkled benignly at her, but she could  see the steeliness in their depths. A tall woman stood at his side, very  elegant and graceful, with an open friendly face and dark grey eyes.  Her hair was silver and swept up into a classic chignon.

'Please-let me introduce you to my wife, Jocasta Montgomery.'

'Pleasure...' Darcy let her hand be engulfed, first by Montgomery's and then by his wife's.

It was only when they were walking into the restaurant that Darcy  realised Max hadn't actually introduced her as his PA-or had he and she  just hadn't heard?

She hadn't had anything to do with Montgomery herself, as he and Max  had a direct line of communication, so it was quite possible he still  thought she was Max's date. The thought made Darcy feel annoyingly  self-conscious.

They left their coats in the cloakroom and were escorted to their  table, the ladies walking ahead of the men. The restaurant oozed  timeless luxury and exclusivity. Darcy recognised Italian politicians  and a movie star. The elaborate furnishings wouldn't have been out of  place in Versailles, and even the low-pitched hum of conversation was  elegant.

Jocasta Montgomery took Darcy's arm and said sotto voce in a melodious  Scottish accent, 'I don't know about you, my dear, but I always find  that places like this give me an almost overwhelming urge to start  flinging food around the place.'

It was so unexpected that Darcy let out a startled laugh and something  inside her eased out of its tense grip. She replied, 'I know what you  mean-it's an incitement to rebel.'

They arrived at a round table, the best in the room, and took their  seats. To Darcy's surprise the conversation started and flowed smoothly.  Max and Montgomery dominated it, with talk of current business trends  and recent scandals. At one point between starters and the main course  Jocasta rolled her eyes at Darcy and led her into a conversation about  living in Rome and what she liked about it.

They skirted around the edges of the fact that this dinner was really  about whether or not Montgomery was going to hand his precious life's  blood to Max to manage until coffee had been served after dessert.

Darcy had almost forgotten why they were there, she'd enjoyed talking  to Jocasta so much. But now there was a palpable buzz of tension in the  air and Darcy saw the very evident steely gleam in Montgomery's eyes as  he looked at Max, who was unmistakably tense.

It was slightly disconcerting to recognise how keenly she felt Max's  tension as Montgomery looked at him over his coffee cup before putting  it down slowly.

'The fact is, Max, quite simply there is no one I can imagine handling  this fund and making it grow into the future better than you. As you're  aware I'm very concerned about philanthropy, and your own brother's work  has been inspirational to me.'                       
       
           



       

Max inclined his head towards the older man, but his face was expressionless.

'My one reservation, however, is this...'

Darcy tensed and avoided looking at Max.

'You have been leading a committedly single lifestyle for a long time.'  He glanced at Darcy and said half apologetically, 'Present company  notwithstanding. My fund and my life's work has been built upon and  developed with family in mind. My family, primarily, of course, but also  for the benefit of many others. This would never have happened if I  hadn't had a very strong sense of family values running through previous  generations. That's why the Montgomery fund has lasted as long as it  has, and grown so strong...'

Darcy was barely aware of Montgomery's continued misunderstanding about who she was. He was going on...

'And you, Max-you come from a broken home... For years you were  estranged from your father, you didn't speak to your own twin brother,  and you are not close to your mother.'

Darcy's mind boggled. Max's brother was a twin?

She looked at him now and could see his face was still expressionless,  but a vein popped slightly over one temple, near his scar, which stood  out against that dark olive skin. The scar he'd got because his own  mother had forgotten about him. Left him defenceless on the streets.

'You've done your research,' Max said easily, but Darcy recognised the edge of something dangerous.

Montgomery shrugged. 'No more than you yourself have done, no doubt.'

'My relationship with my brother, my mother, has no bearing on my ability to manage your fund, Cecil.'

A lesser man would have quailed at the distinct threat in Max's voice. Not Montgomery.

'No,' said the other man, looking at Max assessingly. 'I think for the  most part you are right. But my concern would be the risks you'd be  prepared to take on behalf of my fund-risks that you might not consider  taking if you had a different perspective on life. My fear is that,  based on your experiences, you might actually be biased against the very  values I've built this fund upon, and that it would influence your  decision-making process because you have only yourself to worry about.'

Darcy's insides had turned to stone. Cecil Montgomery, with a ruthless  precision she'd never even witnessed in Max, had just laid Max's life  bare and dissected it with clinical and damning detachment.

She felt a very disturbing surge of something like protectiveness. A need to defend.

Even Jocasta Montgomery had put her hand on her husband's arm and was saying something indistinct to him.

Darcy looked at Max, who had carefully put his own coffee cup down. The restaurant was largely empty by now.

'You are right about almost everything, Cecil.' He smiled, but it was a  thin, harsh line. 'I do come from a broken home, and my brother and I  did suffer at the hands of two parents who really couldn't have cared  less about our welfare.'

Jocasta broke in. 'Please, Max, don't feel you have to say-'

But Max held up a hand, not taking his gaze off Montgomery. 'I said  that your husband is right about almost everything. There's one thing  his research hasn't shown up, however.'

Montgomery raised a brow. 'I'm intrigued. What is it that I've missed?'

Max's jaw clenched, and to Darcy's shock he reached over and took her hand in his, holding it tight.

'Darcy.'

Darcy looked at Max, but he hadn't said her name to call her attention and speak to her.

He was still looking at Montgomery and gripping her hand tight as he  said, 'You can be the first to congratulate my fiancée and I on our  engagement.'

Darcy might have enjoyed Montgomery's almost bug-eyed response if she  hadn't been so afraid that her own eyes were bugging out of her head at  the same moment.

'But... But...' Jocasta Montgomery said, 'Darcy told me she's your PA...'

Max looked at Darcy briefly and through waves of shock she could see  something implacable in his expression that forbade her from saying  anything.

He looked back to the couple on the other side of the damask-covered table. 'She is. That's how we met...again.'

'Again?' asked Montgomery sharply.

Max nodded. 'Darcy and I went to the same school-Boissy le Chateau in  Switzerland. That's where we first met. She came to work for me three  months ago...' Max shrugged, 'And the rest, as they say, is history.'

'Oh, Cecil.' Jocasta Montgomery put her hand over her husband's and  looked at him with suspiciously bright eyes. 'That's how we met.'                       
       
           



       

Darcy felt it like a punch to the gut. She remembered that small detail  now. Jocasta had been his secretary in the seventies, in Edinburgh.

Cecil Montgomery was looking at Max through narrowed eyes. Obviously  suspicious. And then he turned his gaze on Darcy and she could feel her  cheeks grow hot.

'Well, then, my dear, it would seem that congratulations are in order. When did this happy event occur?'

Max's hand tightened on hers as he inserted smoothly, 'Some weeks  ago... I knew after just a few weeks that Darcy was unlike any other  woman I've ever known. We had a bond at school...and it was rekindled.'

Darcy was still too shocked even to consider saying anything, but she tried to pull her hand out from under Max's-to no avail.

'My dear, are you quite all right? You look a little ill.' Jocasta Montgomery was leaning forward with concern.

Darcy sensed Max's tension beside her, reaching out to envelop her,  inhibit her. She knew that she should pull away, stand up, throw her  napkin down and say that it was all untrue. This was her chance. She  should walk away from Max right now and not look back.

And put a nail in the coffin of his chance to get this deal with Cecil Montgomery.

If she wanted revenge for what he'd just done that was what she'd do.

But she couldn't get out of her head the way Montgomery had so brutally  assessed Max's background, casting doubts on his ability. And she  couldn't get out of her head the way she'd felt that instinctive need to  defend him. And right now the instinct was still there, in spite of the  rage bubbling down low at having been put in this untenable position.