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Authors: Anne Mather
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happened and prayed it was nothing to do with herself.
What's wrong?' she asked lightly, as she served up a light omelette and salad, done in the way John liked it.
John flung himself into his chair and looked at her moodily. 'Nothing much, you might think,' he muttered broodingly. 'Here, what do you make of this?'
He flung a white envelope on the table. With trembling fingers Dominique opened it and withdrew the white card that was inside. It was an invitation - from Vincente Santos!
She looked up before reading it, conscious of John's eyes upon her. 'What is it?' she asked.
'Can't you read?' asked John sulkily. 'It's an invitation, what do you think? Mr. Vincente Santos requests the pleasure of the company of Mr. John Harding and his fiancee, Miss Dominique Mallory, at a dinner party to be held on Monday evening, etc, etc!'
Dominique glanced down, unable to meet John's eyes as her heart began to flutter rapidly. 'Oh, yes?' she said uncomfortably.
'Oh, yes!' John got to his feet and swung her round to face him. 'What does it mean, Dominique?'
Dominique felt the hot colour flood her cheeks. 'What do you mean? It's nothing to do with me!'
'Isn't it? Isn't it? It just so happens I've never been invited to a dinner party at the Santos residence before! That's what it means!'
Dominique felt slightly sick. 'And - and you think he's sent this because of me?'
'Well, hasn't he? What other reason can there be? God-dammit, Dominique, what is there between you two?'
Dominique swallowed hard. 'Between us!' she echoed. 'There - there's nothing between us. I - I scarcely know the man!' Oh, God, she thought inwardly, forgive me for all these lies! But what can I say?
John flung himself across the room, and poured himself a generous measure of whisky. He flung the drink to the back of his throat, and turned to look at her again. 'Well, this settles one thing,' he muttered. 'I shan't be taking any permanent posts here!'
'John,' she began unsteadily. 'We don't have to go. We can refuse!'
'Can we? Can we? Oh, Dominique, don't be naive! We can't refuse. Vincente Santos is the chairman of the Santos Corporation!'
Dominique stared at him. 'But - but when I asked you whether he was your boss you said no!' she exclaimed.
'Well, it's true - in a way. Rivas does all the actual management. Santos works at the refinery as and when it suits him. Anyway, there are other plants about the country. He can't spend all his time in one place.'
'But why can't we refuse?'
'Oh, Dominique! Don't you realize? This is a royal summons! No one - but no one - refuses Santos's invitations!'
'Well, we will,' said Dominique firmly, going across to the cooker to make her own omelette. 'I'm not afraid of him!'
Yet" even as she said the words she knew they were not true. She was afraid of him - or rather of the reaction he produced in herself!
John was looking a little more amiable. 'I would have thought you would be eager to go,' he muttered reluctantly.
Dominique sighed. 'Well, I'm not,' she said shortly.
'No, I can see that.' John snorted angrily. 'But we'll still have to go.' He shrugged. 'It may not be so bad. I've wanted to see inside his place for some time.'
Dominique stared at him. 'But we can't, John!' she exclaimed.
John looked at her curiously. 'Why not?'
Dominique gave an exasperated movement. 'A moment ago you were cursing because you had to go. Now you say we're going. Why? Why? Are you afraid of him?'
'No, but he is the big man, after all.'
Dominique turned away, not trusting herself to look at him. She felt sick and confused. They were going. Santos had known they would. Oh, why was he doing this? Deliberately setting out to torment her!
John seated himself at the table and attacked his meal with enthusiasm. 'I'm glad you're not impressed by him, Dom,' he said, his mouth full of egg and lettuce. 'I might have known you weren't like the other women! Hell, half of them would give their eye-teeth for the opportunity to see inside
What's wrong?' she asked lightly, as she served up a light omelette and salad, done in the way John liked it.
John flung himself into his chair and looked at her moodily. 'Nothing much, you might think,' he muttered broodingly. 'Here, what do you make of this?'
He flung a white envelope on the table. With trembling fingers Dominique opened it and withdrew the white card that was inside. It was an invitation - from Vincente Santos!
She looked up before reading it, conscious of John's eyes upon her. 'What is it?' she asked.
'Can't you read?' asked John sulkily. 'It's an invitation, what do you think? Mr. Vincente Santos requests the pleasure of the company of Mr. John Harding and his fiancee, Miss Dominique Mallory, at a dinner party to be held on Monday evening, etc, etc!'
Dominique glanced down, unable to meet John's eyes as her heart began to flutter rapidly. 'Oh, yes?' she said uncomfortably.
'Oh, yes!' John got to his feet and swung her round to face him. 'What does it mean, Dominique?'
Dominique felt the hot colour flood her cheeks. 'What do you mean? It's nothing to do with me!'
'Isn't it? Isn't it? It just so happens I've never been invited to a dinner party at the Santos residence before! That's what it means!'
Dominique felt slightly sick. 'And - and you think he's sent this because of me?'
'Well, hasn't he? What other reason can there be? God-dammit, Dominique, what is there between you two?'
Dominique swallowed hard. 'Between us!' she echoed. 'There - there's nothing between us. I - I scarcely know the man!' Oh, God, she thought inwardly, forgive me for all these lies! But what can I say?
John flung himself across the room, and poured himself a generous measure of whisky. He flung the drink to the back of his throat, and turned to look at her again. 'Well, this settles one thing,' he muttered. 'I shan't be taking any permanent posts here!'
'John,' she began unsteadily. 'We don't have to go. We can refuse!'
'Can we? Can we? Oh, Dominique, don't be naive! We can't refuse. Vincente Santos is the chairman of the Santos Corporation!'
Dominique stared at him. 'But - but when I asked you whether he was your boss you said no!' she exclaimed.
'Well, it's true - in a way. Rivas does all the actual management. Santos works at the refinery as and when it suits him. Anyway, there are other plants about the country. He can't spend all his time in one place.'
'But why can't we refuse?'
'Oh, Dominique! Don't you realize? This is a royal summons! No one - but no one - refuses Santos's invitations!'
'Well, we will,' said Dominique firmly, going across to the cooker to make her own omelette. 'I'm not afraid of him!'
Yet" even as she said the words she knew they were not true. She was afraid of him - or rather of the reaction he produced in herself!
John was looking a little more amiable. 'I would have thought you would be eager to go,' he muttered reluctantly.
Dominique sighed. 'Well, I'm not,' she said shortly.
'No, I can see that.' John snorted angrily. 'But we'll still have to go.' He shrugged. 'It may not be so bad. I've wanted to see inside his place for some time.'
Dominique stared at him. 'But we can't, John!' she exclaimed.
John looked at her curiously. 'Why not?'
Dominique gave an exasperated movement. 'A moment ago you were cursing because you had to go. Now you say we're going. Why? Why? Are you afraid of him?'
'No, but he is the big man, after all.'
Dominique turned away, not trusting herself to look at him. She felt sick and confused. They were going. Santos had known they would. Oh, why was he doing this? Deliberately setting out to torment her!
John seated himself at the table and attacked his meal with enthusiasm. 'I'm glad you're not impressed by him, Dom,' he said, his mouth full of egg and lettuce. 'I might have known you weren't like the other women! Hell, half of them would give their eye-teeth for the opportunity to see inside
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