He put down the glass because he discovered that he suddenly did not need the whisky. Still trying to control the smile, he headed for the conference room instead, where a full day’s business awaited his attention. Where the hell he had got the idea that he could come to Brazil and play the hotshot banker and deal with Cristina he would never know.
While Anton was trying his best to lose himself in business matters, in a very sedate, very upmarket office in another part of Rio, an old man with white hair and immaculate grooming sat carefully filing his nails while he listened to the report being relayed to him by an unassuming young man with the unassuming name of José Paranhos.
Until now Senhor Javier Estes had been quietly satisfied with the information being relayed to him. All, it seemed, was going to plan. Senhor Scott-Lee had taken up the challenge, and the object of that challenge was making it difficult enough to keep him dancing on his toes. He’d even smiled when he heard that Cristina had spent the night with Scott-Lee in his suite.
It was the next part that lost Senhor Estes his smile and sharpened his attention. ‘Say that again?’ He prompted confirmation. ‘This woman accosted Senhorita Marques as she was exiting the elevator?’
José nodded. ‘Senhorita Lane
was very angry and very unpleasant,’ the younger man expressed. ‘She claimed that she and Senhor Scott-Lee are lovers and that they had slept together only the night before. Naturally, Senhorita Marques was upset.’ He went on to relay what else the secretary had thrown at Cristina.
Frowning now, Senhor Estes dropped the nail file to pick up his pen and scrawl a few terse notes on the file open in front of him. The indication that those few notes represented a black mark against Anton showed in the way with which the words were underscored.
‘Obrigado, José. You will maintain your observation and keep me informed.’
With a nod, José left the office, and Senhor Estes withdrew a sealed envelope from the file. The envelope was addressed to Cristina Ordoniz.
Cats set among pigeons, Javier mused, invariably caused mayhem…
CHAPTER SEVEN
LUIS was sitting at the conference table, attempting to concentrate on the information being fed to him. His two executives kept looking at him oddly when they constantly had to repeat themselves. He didn’t blame them for the odd looks. He felt odd, enlivened and distracted, too damn sexually aware that Cristina was on the other side of that door over there.
The telephone by his elbow began to ring. Remembering that Kinsella was not in the outer office to intercept all calls because he’d sent her to the bank to pick up some documents, he reached out and picked up the phone.
‘Scott-Lee,’ he announced himself briskly.
‘At last!’ Maximilian rasped down the line at him. ‘Where the hell have you been, Anton? I’ve been trying to contact you all damn day!’
Tensing up at the urgency in his uncle’s voice, Luis flicked a quick frowning dismissal at the two other men. ‘Why? What’s wrong, Max? Has something happened to my mother?’
‘You could say that,’ the older man answered dryly. ‘She’s on her way to Rio,’ he warned his nephew. ‘Should be setting down at the airport as we speak.’
‘Coming here? What for?’
‘To put a stop to this crazy marriage you are planning, of course. What else?’
His marriage? ‘How the hell did she find out about it so quickly?’ he demanded incredulously.
‘Far be it from me to want to put a spoke in Maria’s plans, Anton—I adore that woman like she was my own sister, and I have no wish to see you throw yourself away on some gold-digging widow—but—’
Anton stiffened like a board. ‘Watch your mouth, Max,’ he warned thinly.
‘You mean this woman is not the widow of Vaasco Ordoniz?’
Anton did not answer that. Something else far more disturbing had grabbed his attention. ‘You know Vaasco Ordoniz,’ he declared in a driven undertone. It had been right there in Max’s tone.
‘I’m not getting into that one,’ Max refused. ‘That’s up to your mother.’
His mother knew Cristina’s late husband?
‘But I will tell you this,’ Max continued. ‘There is something going on within the ranks of your team that quite frankly stinks. And, love Maria though I do, I refuse to stand back and watch while you are stitched up by some jumped up little secretary who is paid to keep her mouth shut about your movements, not ring up your mother with all the gory details. I mean, how can a man have a private life if some—?’
‘What are you talking about, Max?’ Anton thrust furiously into this bewildering tirade.
There was a moment’s silence while his uncle absorbed that fury. Then he said, very seriously. ‘Kinsella Lane
rang your mother yesterday to inform her of your intention to marry the Ordoniz widow. Your mother reacted like a demented chicken and caught the next flight she could get on to Rio.’