Daniel's Bride (2 page)

It was impossible she had someone with her. Daniel glanced
around the near deserted campground. Diane had assured him there were two dozen
people booked in for the week, and he counted three other tents and a couple of
campervans. Elderly people sat around on fold up chairs, chatting, laughing,
apparently having a good time. It was beyond him how they could. He waved a bug
away from his face. The urge to go camping had always eluded him, although the
silence held some appeal. Especially with what was going on in his life right
now.

He glanced back at the tent. A car was parked alongside, an
old hatchback boasting rust, missing hubcaps, chipped paintwork, and bumper
stickers promoting a Sydney football team. A blue plastic tarpaulin had been
rigged up between two trees and a solitary chair and camp table sat beneath it.
The chair was covered with a faded patchwork quilt.

What was he thinking of, coming here. What had possessed him
to think a spontaneous walk along a beach would do some good and clear his
mind? He had never done spontaneous in his life. Spontaneity messed with
control and he needed to be in control.

He turned, on the verge of heading back up to his car, when
he hesitated. He had never been a quitter, either. You did not run a
billion-dollar empire by leaping out of the fire when it started to burn. There
were, of course, exceptions to every rule and right now would be a good time to
exercise that exception.
So, go home, Christie.

He hesitated, then turned back to the tent. Against his
better judgment, he ground out, “Excuse me.”

The voices in the tent stopped. Seconds past and his
irritation grew. He gave it one more shot. “I know you’re in there. Would you
come out?” As an afterthought, he added, “Please.”

He’d never been particularly good with apologies. They were
mostly unnecessary, although if he screwed up, he’d admit it. He just didn’t
screw up. Yet he’d driven away from the beach in those wet jeans and that wet
shirt, with sand in his shoes, and five minutes down the road Mel’s image had
refused to budge. She hadn’t even attempted to correct his assumption she was
the mother of those children. Why?

“I need to talk to you.” He’d give her ten seconds. Then
he’d get the heck out of here and put it out of his mind.

There was movement in the tent, the zip opened and she
thrust her head out.

“Oh, it’s you,” she announced with disapproval.

“Obviously.” She had brown eyes. Dark brown eyes that
watched him with a “Who do you think you are?” intensity. Interesting. Normally
people watched him with trepidation or respect. Or if they were women, blatant
expectation. They did not look at him as if he were the scum of the earth.

“I need to talk to you,” he repeated.

She didn’t move and he wondered if he was going to end up
humiliating himself even further, getting on his hands and knees and crawling
in to the tent.

“My head,” she told him, “is insisting I tell you where to
get off because I’m familiar with your type. You don’t listen to anyone and you
expect people to do your bidding as if you were some Prince of British
royalty.”

The comparison with British royalty amused him. Although,
the Christie family had once been called the royalty of Australian business. He
said, “You’ve had a bit to do with British royalty, have you?”

“No.” She crawled out, straightened with a grunt until she
stood in front of him, and braced her hands on her hips. She was average, he
decided. Average build, average height. If she smiled, her looks would probably
skyrocket away from what he could only describe as a very grim scowl that
overshadowed everything else about her. She had a faded football jersey on over
jeans.

She suddenly exhaled. “I just have – shall we say - life
experience that I use as a gauge for certain situations.”

For an instant he was close to asking, “What life
experience?” The less you know the better, he cautioned himself in the same
breath.

She squinted. “So I guess you know Brits and Eli aren’t my
kids?”

“Diane told me. I’m at a loss to understand why you never
mentioned it.”

She shrugged. “It was irrelevant because you were right. I
couldn’t control them. They were in my care and look what happened. End of
story.”

He narrowed his eyes. She was putting on a good front but he
wasn’t buying it. Not that it was his concern. He was here for one thing only.
“I came back to apologize for my behavior.” He hesitated, then ground out, “For
which, I’m sorry.” It hadn’t been her fault the kid had been a terror on two
legs.

Her gaze suddenly slipped to his waist and he frowned. “What
are you looking at?”

“You’ve changed clothes. I thought you didn’t carry spare
clothes around.”

“There was a menswear store down the road.”

“Oh.” She looked down at her feet, kicked at the dry grass. “Well,
I…I’m sorry too. For you getting wet. For not telling the truth straight away.”
Something flickered across her eyes at the word truth. She added, “For you
having to go and buy a new outfit.”

He shook away her apology and gestured to her tent. “I heard
voices.”

“The radio was on talkback. I’ve got a small transistor.”

“Did I drag you away from anything interesting?”

She shook her head. “I wasn’t really listening, to be
honest. I think there was a gardening expert on debating the merits of growing
organic broad beans. I just…” She squinted against the sun. “Had it on. For
company. I like some background sound while I…while I think about life. I come
here sometimes when I need to do that.”

In that instant her jaw tightened and she looked as if she
wished she could retract the statement.

“You stuck up for your friend,” he commented. “You let me
think they were your children.”

She waved her hand dismissively. “Diane just broke up with
her husband. She’s got two children, she’s pregnant with a third and she’s
trying to get her life back together. All I did was mind her kids for an hour
so she could go up to the town on her own and do some shopping. You can see
what it would be like going anywhere with Britney and Eli.”

“That was an honorable thing to do.” He meant it too.
Especially considering the dearth of honor permeating the Christie clan.

Mel shrugged. “I don’t really know her. We only met two days
ago when she arrived at the campsite. We have – similar things…” She hesitated,
added, “Going on in our lives.”

Had her own marriage broken up as well? It would be just his
misfortune to walk into a feminist pow-wow of women dumping on men. He glanced
around the site but could only see the old people in the campervans.

“I’d like to take you out to dinner,” he said suddenly.

Her eyes flashed with shock. “Sorry?”

He felt the shock himself. Since when did he invite
strangers out to dinner? “To apologize,” he said.

“You already have.”

Saying sorry didn’t seem enough. At the back of his mind, he
knew why he was doing it. He was making a grand gesture, if only to himself, to
rub in just how selfish his brothers were being; to him, to their grandfather,
to the business.
I’m the oldest brother, the one who cares, the one who
takes responsibility when I screw up.
Which only made him just as immature
as Sean and Everett but he could live with it just this one time.

He took his phone from his pocket. “I’ll take your number
and give you a call in a few days.”

“Look, that’s really not necessary,” she began.

He arched his eyebrows. “I screwed up back there.” Saying it
aloud made him wince. “It’s only dinner. We both have to eat.”

He saw her mind working, and he got the feeling she was just
playing with him, that she wasn’t about to accept dinner invitations from
strangers. Which suited him fine; he was not in a particularly social frame of
mind. She shrugged. “Okay.” She gave him her number and he wondered if it was
even real. Not his problem. He was making the offer, end of story. “My last
name is Green but I’ll only be at that number two more weeks. I have to… that
is, I’m... shifting.”

He caught the hesitation as he pocketed the phone. “Are you
moving away from Sydney?”

“No.” She bit down on her bottom lip. “I don’t know. I
haven’t decided.”

His interest piqued even further. She was leaving her home
in a fortnight and she had nothing arranged?

But then, if she was at a campsite in the middle of a
working week, maybe she was running from more than she was letting on. “I’ll
call.”

She hesitated. “Honestly, you don’t have to. I’m sure you’ve
got better things to do.” There was an element of “don’t bother” about it.

“Is there a good time?”

She stared at him with a none-of-your-business look. “I
don’t go out with strangers,” she told him.

“Then reject me. I can handle it.”

“I don’t even know your name.”

“Daniel,” he told her, as he strode away. He’d wasted enough
time here. “I’ll call.”

Daniel’s Rolex said three pm. Behind him, company lawyer
Hugh Devereaux closed the heavy oak doors and turned the lock. Daniel spared a brief
glance out through the tinted floor-to-ceiling windows of the Christie Group
boardroom, in the Christie Towers, on an enviable chunk of prime Circular Quay
real estate that had been in his family for over a century. It afforded him a
glimpse of the bridge, of the opera house, of the city he loved. He was in his
element.

He focused back on the men at the table as Hugh joined them.
Three members of the board of Christie Corp. The only members not present were
his grandfather who had suffered a relapse and was ensconced in his Vaucluse
mansion with his team of medical staff running around to patch him up.

And Sean and Everett. His lazy, irresponsible, utterly
selfish younger brothers.

Daniel turned back to the men. They were waiting for an
update, waiting expectantly for the acting head of one of Australia’s largest
corporations to tell them what was happening in their billion dollar world.

“Sean,” he began, his jaw tightening at having to mention
his brother’s name, “has not responded to my calls, emails, or texts. I suspect
he’s abandoned that number and doesn’t feel it necessary to enlighten us. As
long as his allowance is paid into the bank each month…” He reached for the
pitcher of water on the table in front of him, and poured a glass. The sound of
ice cubes clinking together in the Waterford was obscenely loud. “Unfortunately
the situation with Everett isn’t much better.” If it was his, Daniel’s, choice,
he’d cut them off from their allowance altogether, but it wasn’t his choice.
And he was not about to go against his grandfather’s wishes.

As he set the decanter down, his gaze caught the painting of
his great, great grandfather. William Christie had founded this company using
his own blood, sweat and tears, and none of them would ever forget it, would
ever be allowed to forget it. Loyalty gripped his chest. His brothers, however,
appeared to be the exceptions in over a century of Christie men. He had trouble
believing they were from the same pool of DNA, but oh yes, they were.

“Before my grandfather’s current relapse,” he continued, “we
talked at length about the future plans of Christie group. With our five year
plan, we are looking at becoming one of the most significant trading companies
in the Asia Pacific region.”

He glanced at each board member, men he respected, who
deserved to be here. Men as devoted to this company as if the blood of William
Percy Christie ran through their own veins.

“Your grandfather remains extremely concerned about Sean and
Everett,” Hugh commented, stroking his moustache.

Daniel glanced at him. His grandfather’s oldest friend and
confidante. If anyone knew what was going on behind the scenes at Christie
Group, it was Hugh. Their legal brain.

“I know.” He rapped the table with his fingers. “And his
health is declining because he’s worried. Their complete lack of interest in
Christie Corp beyond what it forks out for their allowance is breaking his
heart. He doesn’t show it but I know it. And even though they are fully aware
that Arthur’s time is…” Darn. Did his voice have to crack? He ground out, “That
Arthur’s time is limited, it seems it isn’t making a blind bit of difference.”
Daniel eyeballed each man one by one. “So we need to do something and something
fast for grandfather. I’ve given up on the redemption of those two but he
hasn’t and I do not want him going to his grave suffering the disappointment my
brothers are wreaking on him.” It would break his heart. Make him feel as if he
had failed the one person he owed so much to. He would do what it took to
ensure that did not happen.

Hugh pushed himself away from the table, rose abruptly to
his feet. “Daniel.” He walked to the window and with his back to them said,
“There is something we’ve discovered that you’re not aware of. We weren’t aware
of it until this morning.”

“What is it?

The older man came over, and gripped the back of a chair
with both fists. He paused, then shook his head. “We’ve learnt that Arthur has
hired two investigators to follow Everett and Sean. They’ve been on his payroll
for the past two months.”

Shock went through Daniel and for seconds, he couldn’t
speak. “Tell me you’re kidding.”

“Your grandfather knows exactly where they are and what they
are doing.”

The blood drained further from his body.
No
. It
wasn’t possible.

He hadn’t realized he’d said it aloud until Hugh shook his
head. “I’m afraid so.”

“All this time, we’ve been twisting the details to spare him
the truth.”

Hugh nodded. “I’ve no doubt he realizes we’ve done it to
protect him. And I’ve no doubt Arthur appreciates that. But the fact is, he’s
known. And known more than us.”

“But…” Daniel’s hand shook as he drank down water. What he’d
give for some scotch on that ice. “He never said anything. Never so much as
discussed the possibility. Never hinted he knew what they were up to.”