Cruel Legacy (19 page)

'Mark, I'm sorry...'

'Sorry for what?' he demanded bitterly. 'Making me look a fool in front of Ryan? Well, so am I, and '

'What.. .what are you talking about? I was just going to say I
Was
sorry I hadn't managed to let you know I'd be working late... How did your meeting with Peter go?'

'Working... in the wine bar? Come off it—you know as well as I do what he's up to... and he must think he's in with a damned good chance otherwise he wouldn't bother wasting his time, would he?' Mark accused her angrily.

He caught her fiercely indrawn breath and knew he had gone too far, knew that his accusation was baseless and unfounded, but his own emotions were too raw for him to be able to draw back from it and admit that he was wrong, too raw for him to explain. Any minute now and Ryan would come striding into the corridor flashing that wolfish grin of his, throwing his weight around.

'Haven't you got to go?' he asked Deborah tensely, adding sarcastically, 'After all, we mustn't keep your date waiting, must we... ?'

'Problems?' Ryan asked Deborah when she walked back into the office.

'No,' she denied.

'Mmm... I just thought poor old Mark didn't look too pleased.'

'I'd forgotten that we'd arranged to go for a meal,' Deborah lied.

'Ah, I see... Well, then, since you're missing out on a meal as well as his company, perhaps I'd better feed you as compensation.'

He knew damn well she was lying about the reason for Mark's bad temper, Deborah was sure of it, and now she was trapped into having a meal with him, which was the last thing she wanted.

Why on earth had Mark behaved like that? Why hadn't he listened to her... let her explain?

From longing to be with him to talk over her day and her feelings about the liquidation, she was now almost dreading going home.

Dreading going home to Mark? But that was impossible. Unthinkable!

'Another
drink?'

Deborah shook her head, starting to tense as Ryan leaned across the table and asked her, 'What's wrong? Not still worrying about the boyfriend having a sulk, are you?'

'Mark
wasn't
sulking,' Deborah denied quickly. 'He isn't that kind of person.' But she suspected that her body language was betraying her as she moved uncomfortably in her seat and saw the knowing look in Ryan's eyes.

'You can't afford to give this job anything less than one-hundred-and-twenty-percent commitment. Let Mark do his own worrying. You can't solve his problems for him.' He gave a brief dismissive shrug. 'He made the wrong choice and now he's paying for it.. .tough. OK, so no one likes being demoted, but he must have seen what was coming, and in his shoes...'

'Demoted... ?' Deborah stared at him.

'Ah, he hasn't told you yet...' He gave another small shrug. 'Look, let me get you that drink and we can-------'

'No...no, I really can't stay.'

If what Ryan was saying was true, then no wonder Mark had seemed so on edge and touchy. But
why
hadn't
he said
something to her.. .why hadn't he
shared
his feelings with her the way she had always done with him? As Ryan had just said, Mark must have had some inkling of what was going to happen.

Now pride battled against anxiety as she fought down the temptation to ask Ryan exactly what was going to happen.

Mark would hate the thought of her discussing him with Ryan, she knew that, aud yet surely he must have realised that Ryan was likely to say something to her. Hadn't it oc-

curred to him how hurtful it would be for her to hear something like that from someone else?

'It bothers you, doesn't it?' Ryan asked softly now, causing her to focus unhappily on him and be betrayed into insisting otherwise.

'No...I...'

'Yes, it does,' Ryan insisted. 'After all, if he can keep something like that hidden from you, just think of the other things he might not have told you.'

As she, gritted her teeth Deborah tried to remind herself that Ryan was being deliberately manipulative; that situations such as this were meat and drink to him; that he loved pitting people against one another, that he loved confrontation.

'He only saw Peter this afternoon,' she pointed out, trying to remain calm. 'He hasn't
had
much opportunity to tell me.'

Ryan laughed. 'Nice try, but it won't work. Think about it, Deborah. Either the man's so much of a fool that he didn't know what was coming, or he knew and chose not to tell you; either way... You're a very intelligent woman, Deborah, and a very beautiful one. You need a man who can match you... help you... teach you... not a boy still crying for his mother.'

Deborah could hear his contempt for Mark in his voice and she could hear something else as well. Up until now she had always put Ryan's sexual flirtations towards her down to a simple, meaningless flexing of his male muscles, an automatic showing off of his sexuality, and she had accordingly distanced herself from it and ignored it, treating it as a facet of her working life which was irritating rather than dangerous.

Now she wondered a little uneasily if she had been too sanguine. There had been a very definite sexual warning in the way Ryan had just looked at her, the way he had spoken to her, and the way she herself for a moment had felt that small dangerous awareness of coming close to being flattered by his interest in her, Ryan was a very experienced

seducer, she reminded herself, who well knew a woman's vulnerabilities and how to play on them.

He was also her boss and a married man, and, even if all her love and her loyalty had not been given to Mark, that combination was surely so notoriously explosive that no woman who valued either her emotional or financial security would ever risk getting involved.

Ninety per cent of her appeal to Ryan was the fact that she was unavailable, and almost all of the remaining ten per cent was probably caused by the fact that he enjoyed putting one over on another man... in this case Mark, she told herself wryly. The fact that Mark had not discussed his work problems with her was a personal issue to be discussed between the two of them, and she was no gullible girl, to fall into the tempting trap Ryan was setting for her.

'It's kind of you to offer me a fatherly shoulder to cry on, Ryan,' she said firmly now. 'But I know you didn't bring me here to discuss my personal affairs.' She gave him a wide, disingenuous smile, concealing her amusement as she watched his brief tell-tale reaction to her description of him as fatherly.

'I appreciate the help and advice you've given me professionally. I really have to leave now, though...'

'Running away... ?' Ryan taunted her softly, quickly rallying.

Deborah ignored him. 'I've got some reading up I want to do.'

He didn't make any further attempt to persuade her to stay but, as they left the wine bar, he turned to her and told her, 'Sooner or later you're going to have to make a decision—you know that, don't you? He can't keep pace with you, Deborah, and you're either going to have to accept that or risk losing everything you've worked for. You're not doing either yourself or him any favours by letting him cling to you. A real man wouldn't do it. He'd want to sink or swim by his own endeavours...'

'Mark is a real man,' Deborah told him, suddenly very, very angry with him, 'and he's all the man that I need and want...'

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'Then you're a fool,' Ryan told her brutally.

Her temper was still up when she let herself into the flat.

Mark was lying on the sofa, an empty glass on the floor beside him next to the foil dishes which had obviously contained a takeaway meal. The smell of it hung in the air. The sight of it, the message of solitude and defeat both it and he were screaming quietly and accusingly at her, darkened her anger to guilt.

Mark had neither spoken to her nor looked at her; he was leaning back in his chair, eyes closed as he focused on the music being fed to him through the earphones he was wearing. Was he sulking? Or punishing her?

She frowned, pushing the thought away, forcing herself to smile and sound cheerful as she stood in front of him and touched his arm. He opened his eyes but did not remove the earphones.

'Chinese... mmm... I'm starving too...'

'Didn't he offer to feed you? Perhaps he thought he wouldn't be able to push it through on his expenses...'

'I did say we were only going for a quick drink,' Deborah pointed out mildly as she bent down to pick up the detritus of his meal.

When she walked back into the sitting-room he was still lying on the sofa. She walked over to him, removing the earphones despite his protest, and demanded quietly, 'Mark, why didn't you tell me?'

'Tell you what?' he demanded truculently.

'About your...' she hesitated over using the word demotion and substituted instead 'your... job...'

'My job...' His mouth twisted bitterly as he sat up. 'What job?' he asked her. 'I don't have a job any more.. .just a share in someone else's... My God, when I think of what I gave up to come here... If I'd stayed on in London...' He got up, pacing the floor. 'No need to ask who told you,- '

'You could always have told me yourself,' Deborah interrupted him pointedly. 'Why
didn't
you tell me?' she asked him, her emotions getting the better of her as she pushed her hair back off of her face and sat down opposite him.

'When?' he asked her harshly. 'You've been far too busy to listen to anything I might have wanted to say recently.'

Deborah stared at him in disbelief as she heard the petulance in his voice, saw it in his face. She couldn't believe he was behaving so childishly. He had always seemed so mature, so secure.

'After all, why the hell should you listen to me?' he added bitterly. 'You've got far more important things to think about. My God, it's ironic, isn't it? When we first came here I was the one with the glowing future... the promised promotion...

'Do you know what Peter told me today? He said it wasn't good enough just to be an accountant; I had to be a salesman as well. A salesman... I can guess where that came from... your boss knows all about selling, doesn't he? After all, he sold himself when he married into the partnership. Well, if that's what it takes to succeed, I'd rather be a loser and '

'Mark, you aren't a loser!' Deborah protested, interrupting him. 'It's the recession that's responsible for the loss of business, not...'

'Not me personally. Thanks, yes, I do know that... Pity I didn't follow your example, isn't it? Then I might be able to brag about my promotion and my new company car.'

Deborah stared at him, her face starting to flush with anger.

'That's not fair... I can understand how you must be feeling, but '

'Can you...
can
you...?' Mark interrupted her. '
Can you
understand how it feels when a shit like Ryan stands there smirking at you, gloating... ?'

Deborah didn't know what to say. His behaviour was so out of character and unfamiliar to her. She could understand his being upset—anyone would have been—but his comments about her... about Ryan... they were not what she had expected to hear from him.

'It's only a temporary setback,' she told him. "Things are bound to pick up, and when they do...'

'Oh, for God's sake... Don't you understand anything? This isn't just about the recession... It's...' He stopped abruptly.

'It's about what?' Deborah pressed him.

Mark shook his head. 'It doesn't matter. I'm tired...I'm going to bed...'

Deborah watched him unhappily. His behaviour was childish and unfair.

'No,' she contradicted him quietly. 'You can't leave it like that, Mark, and you know it. I am sorry about what's happened and I felt very hurt this evening hearing about it from Ryan and not from you. I know I've been wrapped up in this liquidation, but...'

'Why shouldn't you be? After all, you've always made it plain enough how important your career is to you.'

Deborah caught her breath at the thinly veiled accusation behind his words. Now her compassion was being overtaken by anger.

'Yes, it is,' she agreed firmly. 'Just as yours is to you. We've both of us always known that—and always accepted it until now...'

Mark looked at her. What she had said was true. Until now they had both accepted the importance of the other's career; until now... until hers had suddenly and unexpectedly overtaken his. He pushed the thought aside quickly. His takeaway meal tasted sour in his mouth—or was it the mean bitterness of his thoughts that was turning his stomach over? How could he admit to her that it was jealousy that was fuelling his fear and sense of failure? How could he admit it to her when he dared not even admit it to himself?

'I'm sorry,' he told her wearily. 'I suppose I am overreacting. Even though I had guessed what might be coming, it was still a bit of a shock...'

'The recession won't last forever,' Deborah comforted him.

He gave her a twisted smile. 'Don't tell Ryan that,' he advised her.

'What exactly did Peter have to say?' she pressed him, ignoring his comment.