Who Rides A Tiger. Anne Mather

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      ‘Well?’ he said, somewhat mockingly. ‘What do you think?’

      Dominique stiffened. ‘It’s beautiful, of course. But you don’t need me to tell you that.’

      ‘Agreed. However, I would like your honest opinion.’

      ‘That is my honest opinion. Can we go now?’

      ‘Madre de Dios!’ he swore angrily. ‘Relax, damn you! I’m not a monster. This is my apartment.’

      ‘I gathered that.’ Dominique hovered by the door.

      ‘Then come and sit down.’

      ‘I’d rather not.’

      ‘Why not?’

      ‘If – if John knew I was here – well – obviously he wouldn’t like it.’

      Vincente stared at her incredulously, and then he burst out laughing. ‘Oh, God!’ he exclaimed, at last. ‘You knew your inestimable fiancé would not care for you to spend an evening in my company long before you left the hotel, didn’t you?’

      Dominique flushed. ‘So?’

      ‘So you took that risk and here you are!’

      ‘What do you mean?’

      Vincente loosened his tie and pulled it off. ‘What do you think I mean?’

      ‘I warn you, Mr. Santos, my fiancé—’ she began hastily, glancing round at the door.

      ‘Oh, grow up!’ he muttered in disgust. ‘Contrary to your beliefs, I do not attempt to seduce every female that comes within my orbit.’

      ‘Then why have you brought me here?’

      He shrugged. ‘To talk to you.’

      Dominique looked sceptical. ‘About what?’

      ‘You.’ He removed his jacket. ‘Come and sit down. It’s hot, and you must be feeling the heat. Come on. Take it easy. Play it as it comes. Stop trying to anticipate something that may never happen.’

      Dominique heaved a sigh. Obviously the whole of this floor was leased by him. What chance would she have if he decided to take advantage of her? He had sent the lift away. She would not have time to summon it as a means of escape. She might as well accept that for the moment she had been foolish enough to place herself within his power.

      As though aware of what thoughts were passing through her mind he said: ‘No, you can’t escape, so you might as well enjoy it. Come and sit down. I’ll make you a drink.’

      Dominique ventured down the steps and seated herself in one of the armchairs with the leopardskin seats. They were superbly comfortable, and she wriggled back comfortably, wishing she could kick off her shoes and relax completely. But that would have been like betraying herself, and she had no intention of doing that.

      He handed her a drink, flung himself into a chair opposite and offered her a cigarette. When they were both lighted, he said:

      ‘There, it’s not so bad, is it?’

      ‘Why have you brought me here, Mr. Santos?’

      ‘Make it Vincente,’ he said easily. ‘Mr. Santos sounds ridiculous when you consider our situation. And your name is Dominique. I like it. It suits you.’

      The way he said it, with a faintly foreign inflection, made it sound different from the way she had heard it before, and she liked it.

      ‘Tell me, Mr. Santos,’ she said, ignoring his edict, ‘why did you come back to the hotel tonight?’

      ‘I was curious.’

      ‘About me?’

      ‘Hmm. You intrigued me. You’re frankly not the sort of woman I would have thought would find a man like Harding attractive.’

      Dominique was staggered. He made outrageous remarks sound so ordinary.

      ‘You don’t know anything about me,’ she exclaimed annoyedly.

      ‘Don’t I?’ He drew on his cigarette lazily. ‘I know you are what Sophia said you are – young and unsophisticated. Such a combination is a novelty to me. The women of my acquaintance acquire knowledge at a very early age.’

      ‘Don’t you mean experience?’ asked Dominique tautly.

      He shrugged. ‘If you like,’ he agreed equably.

      He swallowed the remainder of his drink and left his seat to get another. As he did so, Dominique’s eyes were drawn to a photograph on the low table nearby. It was the picture of a girl of perhaps nineteen or twenty. She was very attractive with short black curly hair and a small heart-shaped face. She wondered who it was a photograph of. Certainly it bore no resemblance to the woman Sophia.

      He turned from the cocktail cabinet and intercepted her interest. ‘And what thoughts are penetrating your devious little mind now?’ he asked, a little harshly. ‘That is my sister!’

      ‘Oh!’ Dominique took a sip of her drink. ‘She’s quite beautiful.’

      ‘Yes, isn’t she?’ His mouth twisted sardonically. ‘Beautiful – but unhappy.’

      ‘Unhappy?’ Dominique looked up.

      ‘That is perhaps too weak an expression,’ he said bleakly. ‘Devastated is maybe nearer the truth.’

      ‘But why?’ Unwillingly, Dominique was curious.

      ‘She fell in love with a man who was merely playing with her emotions,’ replied Vincente grimly. ‘When she discovered his true character she was distraught. She refused all offers of sympathy, and has locked herself away in the convent of St. Teresa.’

      ‘I see.’ Dominique stood down her glass. ‘I’m sorry.’

      He studied her thoughtfully. ‘Are you? Are you, Dominique?’

      Dominique ignored his penetrating gaze with difficulty. She glanced at her watch. ‘Heavens! It’s after one,’ she exclaimed. ‘I must go!’

      ‘After one,’ he mimicked her lazily. ‘So late! You are tired?’

      ‘Of course.’ Dominique stood up.

      ‘There are plenty of beds here,’ he remarked mockingly.

      Dominique turned a little pale. ‘Please, Mr. Santos! Don’t tease me!’

      Vincente Santos stood down his own glass and came round to her side. ‘Did I sound as though I was teasing?’ he asked huskily.

      Dominique stood her ground. ‘I chose to take it that way,’ she said, her own voice rather small and insignificant.

      He СКАЧАТЬ