His Delicious Revenge: The Price of Retribution / Count Valieri's Prisoner / The Highest Stakes of All. Sara Craven

       CHAPTER FOUR

      ‘YOU had dinner with him?’ Della stared at her, open-mouthed. ‘With the Demon King? How—and why?’

      Tarn shrugged. ‘I was working late, he came back for his briefcase and we met. It was just—happenstance.’

      ‘If one can believe in such a thing,’ Della said with a touch of grimness. ‘So tell me about it.’

      ‘He took me to a wonderful restaurant, great food, fabulous wine—and he came on to me.’

      ‘In what way?’ Della leaned against the kitchen worktop. ‘The direct approach? “My place or yours?”’

      ‘Far from it.’ Tarn poured herself some coffee, and refilled Della’s beaker. ‘A well-practised speech full of love, romance and “the first time I saw you” stuff.’ She gave a contemptuous snort. ‘My God, even if Evie wasn’t involved, I’d want to see him get his comeuppance. It shows how little respect he has for women. He must think I’m a total idiot if he expects me to fall for that old routine.’

      Della’s eyes widened. ‘So, your life has been punctuated by men laying their lives at your feet, is that what you’re saying?’

      ‘No, of course not.’ Tarn frowned. ‘But—oh, hell, you know what I mean.’ She paused, then added casually, ‘Besides, the entire world knows he’s seeing Ginny Fraser from the “Up to the Minute” show.’

      ‘Seeing each other’s brains out, by all accounts,’ Della agreed cordially. ‘Therefore you haughtily rejected his unwanted advances and swept off into the night. Right?’

      Tarn shifted uncomfortably. ‘Not exactly.’

      ‘What then?’

      ‘He asked if he could have dinner with me again, and, naturally, I said I’d think about it.’

      ‘Well, naturally,’ Della echoed ironically. There was a silence, then she sighed. ‘Tell me something, Tarn. If Evie didn’t feature in this scenario, and you’d simply met Caz Brandon at a party and you’d spent time together, and he’d suggested another meeting, would you have said “Yes” to him?’

      ‘No,’ Tarn said passionately. ‘Never in a million years. Because I don’t go for arrogant, all conquering men.’

      ‘Hmm,’ said Della. ‘Some might say you’re being a trifle picky, but that’s your choice.’ She paused again. ‘However, I’ve always had a bad feeling about this scheme of yours, and, somehow, it’s getting worse all the time. So—if you do go out with him again—what then?’

      ‘Nothing,’ said Tarn. ‘Not next time, the time after that, or any time at all. I give him enough encouragement to keep him interested, but he stays strictly at arms’ length until he’s actually desperate. And then I choose the time and place to tell him that he’s an uncaring swine and why I wouldn’t have him if he came gift-wrapped.’

      ‘But do you really think he’ll care—given that he’s apparently one of the major bastards of the western world? Maybe he’ll just shrug and walk away.’

      ‘That would depend on how many other people are around at the time. And mud sticks. He’ll find himself being talked about in ways he won’t like. So I hit him twice—firstly in his belief he’s sexually irresistible. Secondly in his self image as the great publishing tycoon. He’ll know I’ve been laughing at him all the time, and he’s going to have to live with that for the rest of his life.’

      ‘Sweet suffering saints,’ said Della. She shook her head wonderingly. ‘You really intend to go to those lengths? A public denunciation?’

      ‘Of course,’ Tarn said defiantly. ‘Ever since I re-read Evie’s letters, and saw how much in love she’d been with him. When I realised exactly what he’d done. How appallingly he’d treated her.’

      ‘And do you also realise how easily you could come unstuck?’ Della demanded roundly. ‘He’s not a boy but an experienced and very attractive man, so you may not find him as easy to distance as you think. And when he finds he’s been made a fool of, things could get even trickier.’

      Tarn shrugged. ‘It’s a risk worth taking. Besides, as I’ve told you, he doesn’t appeal to me.’

      There was a loaded silence, then Della said quietly, ‘Honey, it’s still not too late to ditch the plan and run.’

      ‘Don’t tell me you’re concerned for him!’

      ‘I’m concerned for you. Tarn—this is all so out of character. You’re not the vengeful type.’

      ‘I’m learning to be.’

      ‘Then stop now, while you can, before any real damage is done, to you or him. Hand in your notice, head back to the States, or, if you feel like a change, find a place to rent in Europe and resume real life.

      ‘Evie may have had a rough time, but she might get over it much more easily if you’re not there dispensing sympathy and muttering vengeance.’

      ‘You didn’t see her.’ Tarn spread her hands. ‘See the terrible state she was in—and all down to that utter bastard.’

      ‘But you can’t spend your future protecting Evie from unsuitable men,’ Della objected. ‘Or dealing with the consequences if she gets drawn in. She’s got to learn to look after herself—to discriminate between the decent guys and the rats.’

      ‘She hasn’t anyone else.’ The same words she’d used earlier to Caz Brandon.

      ‘That is so not true,’ Della said firmly. ‘Actually, if you did but know it, she does have a mother. Who rang up earlier, as it happens, in a state over Evie’s flat. It seems the landlord wants it cleared out if she’s not coming back, and there’s some rent owing too. Apparently La Mère Griffiths is passing up this belated but golden opportunity to take on some of the responsibility for her daughter and wants you to sort it out instead. So no surprises there.’

      ‘It’s not altogether her fault,’ Tarn said, with a faint sigh. ‘Uncle Frank took care of everything. Until he died, I don’t think she’d ever had to pay a bill or speak to a bank.’

      ‘And he passed the over-protective mantle on to you.’ Della nodded. ‘Well, that makes a kind of sense.’

      ‘And Caz Brandon has got to learn that having power and money does not absolve you from all sense of decency,’ Tarn added fiercely. ‘Before he destroys some other poor girl’s life.’

      ‘Then I just hope you’re not numbering Ginny Fraser among his unfortunate victims.’ Della finished her coffee and rinsed the beaker. ‘In the ruthless ambition stakes, she could probably leave him standing.’ She moved to the door. ‘Sweet dreams, honey, and tomorrow, please wake up cured. Or even slightly more sane would do.’

      But