The car came to a stop outside one of Rome’s most exclusive restaurants. It took lesser mortals about six months to get a table, but Max had a table whenever he wanted.
He helped her out of the car, and even though Darcy wanted to avoid physical contact as much as possible she had to take his hand or risk sprawling in an ungainly heap at his feet.
She’d just stood up straight, and Max was still holding her hand, when a genial voice came from nearby.
‘You didn’t mention that you were bringing a date.’
Darcy tensed, and Max’s hand tightened on hers reflexively. But almost in the same second she could tell he’d recovered and his hand moved smoothly to her arm as he brought her around to meet their nemesis.
Cecil Montgomery was considerably shorter than Max, and considerably older, with almost white hair. But he oozed charisma, and Darcy was surprised to find that on first impression she liked him.
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.’