The Pretense

Chapter 3

“This it?” Matteo pulled the car onto the shoulder of the road and Harper glanced up from following the GPS navigator on her smartphone.

                “Yes.” Harper read the plaque on the massive brick pillar that housed a set of enormous iron gates: Sunset Boulevard. So  typical of Callum’s delusions of grandeur, Harper thought tetchily.

                Matteo announced them through the security speakers, and the sports car crunched over loose gravel as he pulled around the circular driveway and stopped between an imposing front portico and burbling filled with frolicking cherubs holding gilded bows and arrows.

                “Who’s you client?”

                Harper didn’t answer. She was too busy staring at the enormous pink-tinged stone mansion that looked as if it had been airlifted directly from Amalfi Coast in Italy and set down in the middle of this American beach scrub – lime-green lawns and all.

                Her car door opened and she automatically accepted Matteo’s extended hand. And regretted it. A sensation not unlike an electric shock bolted up her arm and shot sparks all the way down her legs.

                Her eyes flew to his in surprise, but his expression was so black she felt slightly stupid. At least that answered her earlier unmasked question. No, he didn’t find her attractive; he’d just been enjoying himself at her expense.

                She registered the opening of a high white front door in her peripheral vision and felt her world right itself when Matteo dropped her hand.

                “Harper. You made good time.”

She glanced towards her boss.

“And I can see why,” Frank stared at Matteo and then cast his appreciative eyes over the silver bullet they’d driven down in.

A bulky figure followed Frank down the stone steps and she pasted a confident smile on her face when Callum Denver ambled forward like a cattle tycoon straight off the station.

“Well, now. Isn’t this a surprise?” he boomed.

Suddenly conscious of Matteo behind her, Harper nearly jumped out of her skin when she felt his large hand settle on her hip. Both men looked at him, eyes agog, as if he was the Dalai Lama come to pay homage.

“Frank, Callum – this is –“

“We know who he is, Harper.” Frank almost blustered, sticking his hand out towards Matteo. “Matt De Luca. It’s a pleasure. Frank Carter – partner at OCG. Oracle Consultancy Group.”

Matteo took his hand in a firm handshake and a cog shifted in Harper’s brain.

Matt?

“Maverick,” Callum said, addressing Matteo?

Maverick?

Had Callum and Frank mistaken Matteo for someone they knew?

Matteo smiled and accepted their greeting like an old friend.

No! He couldn’t possibly know her client!

“Harper, you dark horse,” Callum guffawed, slapping Matteo on the back. “You certainly play your cards close to your chest. I’m impressed!”

Impressed? Harper looked up at Matteo and just as her boss started asking him about the injury he’d incurred in a motor race in Germany last August, his name slotted into place in Harper’s head.