To Wear His Ring Again. Chantelle Shaw

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      Constantin shrugged as he glanced at the picture that had been taken a week ago. The only reason he remembered that particular evening was because it had been the night he had returned to Rome from London after his unexpected visit from Isobel. He had been in a foul mood, he recalled. The image of her walking out of the house in Grosvenor Square and climbing into a taxi, without once looking back, had been stuck in his mind. He’d felt churned up inside and, unusually for him, unable to rationalise his thoughts.

      Lia had been phoning him for weeks, ever since they had met at a social event the details of which he did not remember. When he’d received a call from her as his jet had landed in Rome he had agreed to have dinner with her purely to take his mind off Isobel. The trip to the casino had been Lia’s idea, and he suspected that she had tipped off the paparazzi, knowing that a picture of her with one of Italy’s wealthiest businessmen would give her valuable media exposure that might boost her modelling career.

      ‘This is not the image of the company that the board wishes to see advertised around the world,’ Alonso said, tapping the photo with his forefinger. ‘The public’s perception of DSE must be of a company that delivers excellence, reliability and honesty. But how can the public trust that the company believes in those values, when the CEO, despite being married, leads a playboy lifestyle?’

      ‘My private life has no bearing on my ability to run DSE,’ Constantin growled. ‘Shareholders are only interested in profits, not in my personal affairs.’

      ‘Unfortunately that is not true, especially as you seem to have so many affairs.’

      ‘You know how the press like to exaggerate.’ Constantin’s jaw clenched. ‘If you are seriously considering not appointing me Chairman, who else do you have in mind?’

      ‘My sister’s son, Maurio. Since I have no son of my own,’ Alonso continued when it became evident that Constantin was too stunned to comment, ‘I have taken great interest in your younger cousin. I believe Maurio has many qualities that make him suitable for the role of Chairman, not least the fact that he is a happily married family man who is never likely to be photographed staggering out of a casino, clutching a bottle of Scotch in one hand and a half-naked bimbo in the other.’

      ‘Maurio is spineless. He would be completely out of his depth as Chairman,’ Constantin said harshly.

      He swung away to stare out of the window while he fought the temptation to shake some sense into his uncle. He was the best person to take on the combined role of CEO and Chairman. It was what he had been born to do.

      DSE was more than a business; it was his life, his identity. After he had witnessed the deaths of his father and stepmother when he was seventeen, Constantin had focused exclusively on the company as a way of preventing himself from thinking about the shocking tragedy. For ten years he had planned for the day when he took absolute control of DSE, but now there was a real danger that his destiny was going to be snatched away from him.

      The hell it was, he thought grimly. DSE was his, and he was not going to lose it. He turned back to his uncle. ‘So, if the only problem you and the board have is with my image, I’ll change it. I’ll become a recluse. I’ll live the life of a hermit if that’s what it takes for you to choose me as your successor.’

      Alonso looked at him steadily. ‘I don’t expect anything quite so drastic, Constantin. I simply ask that details of your love life are not a matter of media curiosity and titivation. I suggest that you resume your marriage. Prove that you can uphold the personal commitment you made when you married, and you may convince me that I can entrust complete control of DSE to you rather than your cousin.’

      Constantin’s eyes narrowed. ‘That sounds like blackmail.’

      His uncle’s gaze did not falter. ‘I don’t care what it sounds like. The responsibility of appointing the next chairman is mine and mine alone, and unless I see you change your lifestyle to reflect the core values of DSE, I cannot be certain you are the right man for the job.’

       CHAPTER THREE

      IT WAS A PITY, Constantin thought bitterly later that night as he let himself into the house in Grosvenor Square, that the conversation with his uncle had not taken place a week ago, before he had made it clear to Isobel that their marriage was over.

      It was past midnight and Whittaker had retired for the night, but the butler had left a decanter of malt whisky on the table in the sitting room with a note informing him that there were sandwiches in the fridge. Constantin had not eaten since lunch, but it had been a hell of a day, with meetings in Milan, Paris and London, and he had no appetite for food. He poured himself a large drink, sank down onto the sofa and picked up the television remote to flick through the channels.

      How could Alonso consider handing the chairmanship of DSE to Maurio? His cousin was a pleasant enough young man, but he wouldn’t last five minutes in the cut-throat corporate world. Constantin took a long swig of whisky and savoured its subtle warmth at the back of his throat. Nerve, daring and vision were the qualities required to head the billion-pound business that DSE had grown to be since he had become CEO. He had great plans for the future development of the company, but if his cousin was made Chairman, certain board members who were set in their ways would undoubtedly try to influence Maurio against him.

      He took another gulp of whisky, and it occurred to him that maybe he drank too much. He shrugged. Alcohol worked well as an anaesthetic when he needed to blank out painful memories. If he drank enough, he might be able to snatch a few hours’ sleep. Ever since Isobel’s visit a week ago, his old nightmares had returned to haunt him and remind him of why he could not risk being with her.

      He frowned as he recalled her strange reaction to the phone call she had received as she had been about to walk out of the door. He had not imagined the fearful expression in her eyes, although when he had asked her about the call she had denied anything was wrong. Beneath her air of self-confidence he had seen her vulnerability that had reminded him of the shy young secretary who used to watch him with her big, hazel eyes when she thought he was not aware of her.

      He swore, and swallowed the rest of his drink before refilling his glass. He accepted that he bore most of the responsibility for the disintegration of their marriage, but Isobel was not completely blameless. He had lost count of the times he had come home from work to an empty house, and spent the evening alone while she had been singing with her band in pubs and clubs. Isobel had accused him of not understanding how important music was to her, and if he was honest he had resented the fact that the Stone Ladies had become an increasingly big part of her life.

      When she had left him two years ago, he’d told himself it was best for both of them. Isobel had gone on to establish a hugely successful career. But now his career was under threat and the only way he could secure his rightful position as undisputed head of DSE was to persuade her to come back to him, days after he had admitted that the only reason he had married her was because she had been pregnant with his child. The irony of the situation was not lost on him. The expression that he had ‘burned his bridges’ could not be more apt, Constantin thought sardonically.

      The wildlife documentary on the television failed to hold his interest. He flicked over the channel to a popular chat show and his attention was suddenly riveted on the screen.

      ‘The Stone Ladies are arguably the most successful British folk-rock band of the past five years,’ the chat-show host said. He went on to list the band’s numerous music awards, but Constantin was only half listening as he stared at the image of Isobel that filled his СКАЧАТЬ