Blue Steal Read online

  And that flirty electric connection they’d shared was gone. That kiss, that heart-pounding, stomach-twisting, intoxicating kiss, was going to have to last her a lifetime.

  She dragged her gaze away from his face. They’d reached the Yarra River and were winding their way along the tree-lined Boulevard. It was a sunny, gusty spring day—she’d almost forgotten it was spring, she’d spent so much time in the hotel—and Jack dropped the roof.

  She really only needed a scarf to come loose and flutter away to feel like something from a 1950s movie. She put her hands up, let the breeze break around her fingers. He cut her a quick grin and she smiled back, and she could almost imagine they were Grace Kelly and Cary Grant. A golden couple, the two of them—young, good-looking and rich. In love, despite the jewels between them.

  She wanted to reach out, run her fingers through the heavy, bronze-blond hair ruffling in the breeze, but despite her uncharacteristically overactive imagination, she knew that would hardly be welcome.

  As to why he’d invited her on this little jaunt … She’d come to the conclusion that his main motivation must be to prevent her from searching the hotel in his absence, now that she had the master key and all. Despite the fact that she’d exhausted her possibilities last night and she’d told him she wasn’t looking anymore.

  He didn’t trust her, and she could hardly blame him.

  Feeling her eyes on him, he glanced at her quickly, then looked back at the road.

  ‘I wish …’ she started, but couldn’t finish her own sentence. She looked away, stared instead at the river.

  What did she wish anyway? That she’d met Jack in different circumstances? It wouldn’t have made any difference. She would have dismissed him as hot but totally unsuitable.

  That she could go back in time? If she’d known she wouldn’t find the necklace … If she’d known that within twenty-four hours she wouldn’t need it …

  Maybe what she really wished was that she could go forward in time. Change things, so that she could meet Jack for the first time as a Holloway, unfettered by all the limits her life to date had imposed on her. She’d be free to choose the man she wanted, and she’d choose him. They could explore the connection they had, with no stupid necklace between them. Yes, maybe that’s what she wished.

  Who was she kidding?

  She’d done what she’d had to do. She didn’t like it, but like many things in her life, it couldn’t be helped. She’d do the same again, if it was her shot to help her sister. Maybe that was why he didn’t believe her apology.

  She spent the rest of the drive in contemplative silence, lost in visions of an imagined future where she met Jack for the first time in her dreams.

  South Yarra was only a short distance from the city, so it wasn’t long before Jack pulled up in front of a house straight from an interior design magazine. A glittering palace of modern architecture; all white-rendered curves and angles and acres of glass.

  ‘We’re talking to a guy called Keith Turnbull,’ Jack said as he cut the engine. ‘People can be funny about talking to detectives, so I told him I’m researching a book on Melbourne’s old hotels.’

  ‘And he agreed?’

  He shrugged. ‘I went to school with his son.’

  He sounded vaguely cynical, but Selina couldn’t understand why since it had only helped him get what he wanted. As she stepped out of the car, the implication of his words struck her. Her head whipped to him. ‘That means you went to the same school Lewis and Andrew went to.’

  ‘Yep,’ he replied, hitting the lock on the keys.

  ‘You went to Wentworth Grammar?’ It was one of Melbourne’s most elite boys’ schools. She couldn’t imagine Jack there and struggled to work out why. Because he was a private investigator, lived in well-worn T-shirts and jeans, and had a dangerous edge to him?

  He shrugged. ‘Scholarship kid.’

  Ah … Jack was like her then. A guest in this sophisticated world, tolerated, as the girlfriend or the fiancée—in his case, as the scholarship kid—but not truly part of it.

  Though now that she was going to be head of the Holloway Empire, maybe that was about to change for her. After all, it was her world now, or it would be soon.

  Giving their details, they were passed through a security gate and walked up an impressive sweep of steps to the main door. A woman, not wearing a uniform but clearly staff, waited at the top, anticipating their arrival. She showed them through the enormous empty marble and glass foyer straight out onto a deep, wide balcony overlooking the Yarra River. A middle-aged man, Keith presumably, reclined on a sun-lounge, tapping away at a Blackberry.

  ‘Jack the lad! Long time, no see,’ Keith exclaimed. He rose off the low chair and shook Jack’s hand, patting him on the shoulder in an over-the-top display of male jocularity she’d witnessed many times before.

  ‘Good to see you, Keith. Selina, meet Keith Turnbull. Keith, this is my … associate, Selina Migliore.’

  She offered her hand to Keith, recognising him instantly because he was every single man she’d ever dated. A little older perhaps, but not by much. Well-pleased with his life, fit enough in a pink polo shirt and pale chinos, but sporting the paunch of the too-well fed. His deep tan was a reminder he was privileged enough to spend winters away from cold, grey Melbourne. He held her hand a little too long, ended with a squeeze, and then waved them into a cane sofa opposite him.

  She had to admit it was lovely here, drenched in the glorious warmth of the afternoon sun. She dipped her head back, soaking it up, and when she raised it again, it was to find Keith’s gaze raking up and down her body.

  ‘How’s Mrs Turnbull?’

  Selina bit back a smile. Jack’s tone was deceptively casual, because she could feel his tension. The protectiveness was unnecessary—she was more than used to dealing with the Keith Turnbulls of the world. She’d already figured there was a Mrs Turnbull.

  ‘Mary is visiting James in London for a couple of months, waiting till the weather here improves.’ He looked down at his arms, checking how his tan was developing perhaps. ‘Today’s the first decent day of spring so far, and we’re back to the misery tomorrow. I’m thinking of heading north, taking the yacht out on the Reef. Need to find someone to come with me, of course.’ He all but winked in her direction.

  Jack’s arm snaked around her shoulder. She wasn’t expecting it, and her heart rocketed into overdrive. Her eyes were drawn to the long, strong fingers curled casually around her shoulder. It might just be a back-off signal that Keith couldn’t miss, but she liked the way it looked there. Liked the way it felt.

  ‘Yes, the weather’s been appalling. Selina and I are thinking Hawaii, aren’t we, bella?’

  She flicked a quick glance in his direction. ‘I’ve got a bikini you’re not going to believe.’

  Jack squeezed her shoulder lightly, a warning to behave. She shot him a smile and he shot one back. Her heart skipped a beat, and in that moment she knew exactly what she wished. That this was for real. That Jack was her boyfriend and they were just about to jet off to Hawaii for some sun-drenched, surf-crashing, tropical-scented romance.

  Keith got the message, almost visibly shelving his interest now that she was clearly not available. ‘So, what’s this about writing a book? Last I heard you were working for Orson Winfield.’

  ‘I gave that up a while ago. Decided to pursue other interests. Writing. Interiors.’

  ‘Jewellery,’ she added. Another squeeze.

  ‘And you wanted to know what I can remember about the Holloway twins. I’m not sure I’m going to be that much—’

  His Blackberry trilled aggressively. Keith answered it, turning slightly in his chair but making no other effort to prevent them from hearing his conversation. Since he was practically shouting, there was no way to miss it.

  ‘What do you mean, it’s fallen seven per cent?

  ‘How can this be happening? You told me this couldn’t happen.

  ‘Don’t give me that bullshit!’r />
  Finally, he stood, and covered the mouthpiece of the phone. ‘This’ll only take a second.’ He stalked off through the glass doors, ranting the whole time at the hapless soul on the other end.

  Keith had gone but Jack didn’t remove his hand, stroking lightly up and down her upper arm in a way that made her squirm.

  ‘Keith’s …’ he started.

  She waited but he left it hanging.

  ‘Sleazy and married?’ she supplied.

  He made a movement that was half shrug, half nod and totally uncomfortable.

  She took pity on him. ‘It’s fine.’

  He didn’t look any happier. She smothered a smile. Keith’s lecherous looks and not-so-subtle suggestions were worrying Jack a lot more than they were worrying her. ‘I can handle it. It’s been happening all my life.’

  He didn’t say anything, just frowned, shifted his gaze to the sparkling river.

  ‘You can’t honestly say you don’t notice the va-va-voom.’

  He gave her a half-smile. ‘Believe me, I notice it plenty.’ Another squeeze to her upper arm. ‘It’s not what I like most about you.’

  Was he trying to break her heart?

  She made an effort to keep it light. ‘You don’t like me, remember? I spiked your wine.’

  ‘Yeah, I remember. It stopped me trusting you, didn’t stop me liking you.’

  ‘You didn’t trust me anyway.’

  ‘No.’

  They swapped another grin. A grin full of camaraderie and flirtation, and she melted. She wanted to lean into the man at her side, put her hand on his waist and her mouth on his.

  Shit, this was not good.

  He was confusing her with his solicitousness and humour, making her believe something that couldn’t be true. That he didn’t hate her. More, that he cared, at least a little, about her. But he couldn’t. He didn’t. She’d been there last night, she’d seen the look on his face when he frisked her down for the necklace. Somewhere between hate and disgust, and now, less than twenty-four hours later, all was forgiven?

  It was too much for her to work out, in a day that had already been too much. Before this week, she’d known exactly who she was, exactly what her life was about. Two men, one of them her only family, the other a man she could easily fall for if he didn’t hate her, had changed all that. She knew nothing anymore.

  And Jack’s hand, still tracing up and down her arm, leaving little thrills in its wake, wasn’t helping. She launched off her lounger, walked to the railing and looked out over the river. She took a deep breath in, getting gum trees, the murky, muddy Yarra, and sunshine.

  Jack joined her, lightly tanned, muscled forearms resting against the rail.

  School girls in sculls, arms working in unison, made rapid progress as they sculled their way through the river below. Several of Melbourne’s private schools had their own boat-houses only a little way downstream towards the CBD. A far-cry from the overcrowded, underfunded public school she’d attended. While she still could.

  ‘Nice work if you can get it,’ she commented wryly, trying again for light.

  And then it struck her: she’d never gone to a school like that, but maybe Anna would. In fact, maybe the rowers were from the exact school Lewis had mentioned Anna might attend if they ended up moving into Lewis’s apartment building. Private schools could have long waiting lists, but probably not for Holloways. Anna would never be a competitive rower, but she would enjoy participating.

  And of course, Jack had attended a school that had its own rowing facilities. ‘Was that you, fifteen years ago?’ she asked, as a male team came into view.

  Jack shifted beside her, looked down at her with a guarded expression, then glanced away. ‘I didn’t row.’

  She looked him up and down. He was a born athlete. She failed to believe he hadn’t been a sports star. ‘Rugby, then. Isn’t that what private school boys play?’

  He looked at her again, taking in her tone, half snarky, half jealous. He shifted on his forearms again, his mouth twisting, and she could feel him wrestling with something, deciding on whether to say what he wanted to say.

  ‘What?’ she prompted.

  ‘You know it’s not real, right?’ he said eventually.

  ‘What’s not real?’

  ‘All this.’ He indicated Keith’s mansion behind them. ‘All that.’ His arms swept over the rail towards the school girls below. ‘Lewis’s business empire, even.’ Hooded eyes met hers. ‘None of it’s real, Selina.’

  ‘Looks real to me.’ As real as her crappy falling-down house in Maribyrnong. ‘You think just because something’s less shiny it’s more real?’

  He didn’t answer. But she knew, that was exactly what he was saying. She couldn’t stand it, that attitude, from people who had no idea, that there was some kind of nobility in being poor. There wasn’t. Every day was a battle, and it sucked, pure and simple. ‘I must be stupid, mustn’t I? To want it.’

  He turned to face her, still leaning against the railing. ‘You want to know something, Selina?’

  She was going to find out, whether she wanted to or not.

  ‘I spent half my life desperately trying to claw my way into this world. The scholarship was supposed to be my shot at a first-class education, but all it did was make me envy everything I didn’t have. I wasted years, years and years, where my only aim in life was trying to fool everyone into thinking I was worth something because I came from money.’ He shifted, facing her instead of the river, eyes serious as they rarely were. ‘You know what I did before I started working for de Crespigny?’

  ‘Surprise me.’

  He frowned at her sarcasm, but continued. ‘I was an actuary.’

  An actuary. That accounted for the super-quick brain.

  ‘You know why I chose that illustrious career? It had the highest graduate salary. That was it, my sole criterion.’

  Despite his dismissive attitude, she knew it took a lot of work to become an actuary; years of university, killer exams, and of course, you had to be smart enough to get in in the first place. ‘Your point being?’

  ‘It’s bullshit. I quit because it’s all bullshit. It’s just rich people making other rich people even richer. There was no value in it. No meaning. There’s no meaning in money.’

  Selina wanted to slap him. No meaning in money. God, he had no idea of the luxury of that statement, and she couldn’t let him get away with his ignorant flippancy. ‘Money’s only meaningless when you’ve got enough,’ she said. When you didn’t, it was life or death.

  ‘This is what I’m trying to tell you.’ He ran his hand through his hair in frustration. ‘It’s never enough. I earned all the dough I wanted and I dated loads of beautiful women and I had a job that could open any door. But in the meantime, I lost sight of what was really important in life. I lost my sense of right and wrong. I lost myself.’

  Poor baby. Must have been tough having too much.

  ‘Don’t let the façade fool you. Sure, it glitters, but underneath, there’s nothing there.’

  Arrogant jerk. ‘Don’t you want to chuck in something about money being the “root of all evil”?’

  He gave her a swift, strange look at that, and she was sure he was on the verge of adding something more to his diatribe, but instead he clamped his mouth shut and looked away.

  Good. She didn’t need any more of his sermonising.

  She wasn’t daft, she got what he was saying. Money can’t buy happiness. Maybe he was right about his own life, but she needed cold hard cash to fund her sister’s surgery. Money might not buy happiness, but it could take away some of the misery. And if Jack didn’t get that … ‘You know what I think? I think this is you and your experience, and you’re projecting onto me.’

  He shrugged. ‘Doesn’t make it less true.’

  Yes, it did. He had no idea what she was up against.

  ‘You know what else I think? You’re projecting her on to me.’

  ‘Who?’

  He knew. He k
new who she was talking about.

  ‘Whatever her name is. Your fatal weakness.’ That’s what he’d said on Monday night, when he had her trapped in the linen room: bad girls were his fatal weakness. No way there wasn’t a story there.

  He looked away. ‘Yeah, maybe. And believe me, that only makes it more true.’

  ‘So who was she then?’ she asked, suddenly curious about the girl who’d done so much damage to his heart.

  He was silent for so long, Selina was starting to think he wasn’t going to answer. Sick of the whole conversation, she’d almost decided to return to their sofa when he spoke.

  ‘Like I said, I was a scholarship kid. All through high school I felt like I’d never be good enough, I’d never be worth anything. And then I was out in the real world, making money as fast as I could, dating society princesses, proving to the whole world that I’d arrived. And then I met Dani.’

  Ah. She had a name. ‘Dani?’

  ‘Daniela Projkoska. Me, basically, in female form. She saw me for what I was, an intruder in the land of milk and honey, because that’s what she was too. But while I was still busting my arse trying to fit in, Dani was a step ahead. She’d already decided she didn’t just want to join them; she wanted to screw them over. Beat them at their own game and never become one of them. We started taking huge risks on financial markets, made plays that should have gone down, but they didn’t. We couldn’t lose, together we were invincible. We were making so much fucking money it was unbelievable.’

  And if it seemed too good to be true … Selina could almost guess what came next.

  ‘This one time …’ He paused, glance moving rapidly from his feet to the river to meet her eyes. ‘I don’t even know how I knew to ask. It was just one too many times … and I finally couldn’t look away any longer. I don’t know if it was something she said, or the way she said it, but I just knew.’

  Poor Jack. He still looked upset talking about it, and it had happened years ago. She almost stopped him—she could guess the rest of the story—but got the sense it was important to him to get it out, so she held her tongue.