AllFreeNovel
Share Us
She had heard Kevin Riordan boast that his son intended to run for City Council in this year’s local body elections, with an eye to contesting the Mayoralty some time in the future. Logically, that meant Matthew Riordan had almost as much of a vested interest in keeping compromising photographs out of the public eye as Rachel did.
It was that ‘almost’ which gave him his ruthless edge. He was prepared to subject himself to public humiliation and rely on his PR clout for damage control afterwards…but surely only as a last resort. At the moment the primary value of the photographs to him must be as a weapon to hang over her head.
All Rachel had to do was keep cool and try to exercise some damage control of her own.
If only she had known what she was getting into she would never have taken on the job of watching over Merrilyn Freeman’s wretched dinner party!
CHAPTER THREE
‘YOU’VE got to do something!’
Rachel jumped as Merrilyn glided up behind her and hissed urgently in her ear.
‘About what?’ Relaxed yet alert, Rachel thought everything was going swimmingly. A string quartet played exquisitely civilised Baroque on the terrace, the champagne was flowing, the caviare circulating, the conversation buzzing, and there had not been a hint of a problem with gatecrashers, light-fingered guests or suspiciously wandering staff.
Merrilyn’s fingernails bit into her bare arm as she tugged her out of the way of a passing white-jacketed waiter. A slim redhead in an arresting green taffeta dress, she vibrated with nervous anxiety. ‘He’s going to ruin everything, I just know it!’ she whispered frantically. ‘I’ve spent months planning this! My first big formal dinner party and it’s going to end up a total disaster!’
Rachel had been Merrilyn’s fitness trainer for a year, and she was well acquainted with the young woman’s propensity for worrying over trifles. The exclamation mark might have been invented with Merrilyn in mind.
‘What on earth are you talking about?’ she murmured soothingly, transferring her dangerously tilted champagne glass to her free hand. ‘Everyone’s having a great time.’
‘I’m talking about him!’
Rachel followed her agonised gaze to the archway between the huge lounge and the sunken dining room, expecting to see some ill-bred, loutish interloper dipping his fingers into the caviare bowl.
‘Matthew Riordan?’ she said incredulously.
‘Oh, God, just look at him…’ Merrilyn moaned.
Rachel looked, ignoring the shivery frisson that lifted the fine hair on the back of her bare neck. She always instinctively bristled when she saw Matthew Riordan, and had learned not to take any notice of the uncomfortable sensation, which was normally a harbinger of trouble.
Viewed from the side, in formal black he looked leaner than usual, but otherwise impeccable, his knife-sharp profile tilted down as he poured champagne into the glass of a young society matron from a bottle which he had produced from under his arm. Whatever he was saying made her blush, and her middle-aged husband stiffen at her side.
‘You see!’ hissed Merrilyn, her nails stabbing at the nerve in Rachel’s elbow. ‘He’s at it again.’
‘At what?’ asked Rachel reluctantly, easing her arm out of her clutches. She had done a sterling job of avoiding Matthew Riordan so far tonight, and would prefer to keep it that way.
‘Saying wickedly provocative things to people.’ She sounded on the verge of tears.
‘Matthew Riordan?’ Rachel said again, just to check that they were indeed discussing the same person. The man who was renowned for his cool reserve and deadly civility?
‘Yes, Matthew Riordan,’ moaned Merrilyn, her hand fluttering up to pluck at her diamond choker. ‘Oh, God, John will never forgive me if he starts a fight—’
‘Matthew Riordan?’ gaped Rachel, beginning to feel like a maniacal parrot. ‘For goodness’ sake, Merrilyn, take a deep breath and calm down,’ she said astringently. ‘He’s a merchant banker, not a lager lout. I’ve met the guy—he’s intelligent and articulate, but abnormally controlled; I bet he knows exactly how far he can go.
‘He would no more get into a stupid fight than he would pick up the wrong fork at dinner. He’s certainly not going to insult his hostess or make a fool of himself by creating a scene. And none of your other guests are going to risk offending someone so influential—certainly not to his face.’
‘You haven’t heard the shocking things he’s been saying!’ Merrilyn despaired.
‘Come on, Merrilyn. Give the guy a break.’ Rachel couldn’t believe that she was actually defending the man who was directly responsible for Weston Security Services losing two lucrative corporate contracts within the past month, but the important thing right now was to curb her client’s hysteria. ‘Everyone lets their hair down a bit at parties. Don’t you want him to enjoy himself?’
‘But he’s not enjoying himself; that’s the whole point!’ Merrilyn’s exquisitely made-up face was a mask of tragedy. ‘He’s drunk!’
Rachel almost laughed at the ludicrousness of the idea. ‘I doubt it. He hasn’t been here long enough to have had more than a couple of glasses of champagne—’
‘No. You don’t understand!’ Merrilyn moaned. ‘He was drunk when he arrived. And to think I was panicking because he hadn’t turned up. Now I almost wish he hadn’t…!’
The disgusted admi
