It was approximately eleven o’clock on a Tuesday night in Kings Park. The highest point in the gentlest city of Australia, Perth. A mild breeze whispered through the shadowed trees. Occasionally a car could be heard in the distance and a brief explosion of noise would interrupt the eerie silence. The night was balmy and the air, soulless. No sign of life disturbed the peace. And then…

Softly the steady fall of lazy footsteps seemed to permeate the air. The languid tread upon the dark footpaths grew louder with each forwarding step until the shadow of a man passed beneath the memorial for the Great War.

He was tall and well built. His manner was assured yet relaxed. As he continued, crossing under a park lamp, his handsome countenance was briefly illuminated. The firmly chiseled features were dark and well defined. Raven brows were set upon heavily lidded eyes that glinted enigmatically. His mouth held no expression, yet the turn of his lips was firm and confident. His dress was somewhat formal. He wore no less than a tuxedo, partly concealed by a large black trench coat. The darkness enveloped him again as he stepped from the safety of the light. It was evident from the character of his walk that he was in no hurry to make it to wherever he was going. As he sauntered down the path the trees thinned, revealing a view of the city below, so breathtaking it was almost magical.

He didn’t spare it a second glance.

The rogue came upon him from behind, leaping unoriginally from behind a tree as the gentleman followed the path around. The thief was a large beefy fellow with an evil looking switchblade in his right hand. He wrapped one sinewy arm around the stranger’s neck pulling him back hard against his shoulder so that he might lay the tip of his knife meaningfully against the gentleman’s throat.

"G’day Mr Castairs," he growled.

Mr Castairs did not appear to think it unusual that the man knew his name.

"Good evening." he said, his voice a low and husky timbre, "I am afraid you have me at a disadvantage. I don’t believe I know you."

"What’s that?" The thief was momentarily taken aback by the seeming calmness of his victim. Suddenly he chuckled, "Nah mate. You don’t know me, but I know a very good friend of yours."

"Somehow that doesn’t surprise me."

The thief frowned and tightened his hold about Mr Castairs neck, "I don’t think you realise the danger you’re in right now Mr Castairs."

"I’m sure you’re dying to enlighten me."

"I tell ya what I’ll do for ya, Mr Castairs." The beefy man threatened darkly near his ear, "I won’t kill you if you write me a cheque for one million buckaroos."

The movement was so quick that the thief had no time to counteract it. One second he was whispering a deadly threat in his victim’s ear and the next he was on the ground with Mr Castairs’ knee on his chest and his hand at his throat. The switchblade had gone spinning and lay in some bush a few feet away. Mr Castairs’ voice was no longer languid when he murmured, "I’ll tell what I’ll do for you… mate." His mouth curled into a mocking smile. "I won’t kill you."

On these words his fist connected to the beefy man’s jaw with shocking force. The unfortunate rogue completely blacked out. Seeing that his ambusher was unconscious, Mr Castairs rose to his feet, dusting his pants and hands in disgust. He reached inside his trench coat and withdrew a mobile phone. With practiced ease he held the phone in one hand and dialed the number with his thumb, then setting the phone to his ear, he waited for the receiver to pick up. When it did he said,

"Yes, good evening Max… no everything’s fine. I just remembered however that I left Julia’s gift in my office… yes I know, don’t know how I managed to forget it. Do you think you could send the car around with it… mmm… I’ve decided I don’t really want a walk after all." He glanced down disgustedly at his assailant, before returning his attention to Max’s question. "… Yes… I’m in Kings Park near the lookout… Thank you my friend." The phone clicked and the conversation was over.

The unconscious man at his feet started to groan. He spared the man a cursory glance before kicking him once in the head. A little blood trickled out of the assailant’s nose but the groaning sharply subsided. Mr Castairs moved away to stand beneath a park lamp. He did not have to wait beyond five minutes before a black limousine glided to a halt in front of him and a rat-faced little man jumped out of the car.

"Good evening, sir. Mr Sauyor said you’d be needing me." He scurried past Mr Castairs and opened the back door of the limousine for him.

"Did you bring Julia’s gift?"

"Of course sir, it’s on the seat." the driver replied.

"Excellent," Mr Castairs approved and made as if to step into the car but the driver seemed to have caught sight of something out of the corner of his eye. He gasped noisily, "Sir wait!"

Mr Castairs paused and then turned slightly with an air of resignation, "Well?"

The driver gave a slight cough and said with some difficulty. "Sir, if I might be so bold there appears to be a body on the road."

"Yes I know. Rather large isn’t it." He turned away to step into the car again.

The driver’s voice stayed him, "Shouldn’t we do something sir." He asked.

Mr Castairs reluctantly returned his bland gaze to survey the agitated man. "I think I’ve done all that needs to be done. Unless of course you want to kill him."

The driver blanched, "No sir, that is, we can’t just leave him there."

"Are you proposing I take him to Julia’s party?" Mr Castairs said satirically, "I don’t think she invited him Tim. And besides he’s not the sort of man she would like."

Tim frowned. "Of course not sir."

"That individual has put me through enough inconvenience as it is and I would rather we not bother ourselves about him a second longer."

Tim shrugged doubtfully, "Very well sir."

Mr Castairs inclined his head and stepped into the limousine.

"Happy Birthday Julia." Grace Cunningham threw her arms around her best friend and hugged her with fever. "My goodness you look stunning!"

Julia Whitby laughed delightedly, "Not however," She grinned "I think, as beautiful as you."

The truth be told, both girls were extraordinarily pretty, though in different ways. Grace Cunningham unlike her dark haired friend had a head of gold. Where Julia intrigued with her sultry looks and curvy figure, Grace could be better likened to an angel with her innocent smile, free of guile. Julia’s eyes were a cat-like green that beckoned and hypnotised. Grace’s eyes were a clear and fathomless blue that gave her an aura of fragility that was the undoing of many men.

"How do you like it?" Julia asked.

"It’s fabulous, I’ve never seen anything to equal it." Grace glanced around herself with awe. They were standing within a crowded ballroom situated on top of one of Perth’s most exclusive hotels. The room was lined with mirrors and fresh flowers. Everywhere smelt heavenly. Waiters in white waistcoats were gliding through the guests carrying silver trays loaded with fancy finger food and flutes of champagne. A band situated on a slightly raised platform was playing softly under a chandelier hanging from the ceiling that glittered gorgeously. But then it seemed to Grace that everything sparkled. "It must have cost your parents a fortune." She breathed.

"What can I say?" Julia spread her hands before her. "They love me."

Grace giggled. Suddenly her face became serious. "Hey, is Pat here yet?"

Julia frowned, "Is he ever? He’s brought her you know."

"I guess… how could he not? I mean the invitation says to bring a partner if you have one and I mean, I couldn’t ask you not to write that on the invite could I, it wouldn’t be fair to all those others who..."

"Grace, " Julia touched her arm, "You’re rambling."

Grace sighed, "I am so annoyed."

"Yes, I know."

"It’s all my fault. I’m too cautious. I should have made my move ages ago. Instead I waited around until some other woman snatched him up. What am I?"

"Human."

"I was thinking, stupid." Grace grinned, "But thanks, that’s far more flattering."

"You know, " Julia winked, "It’s not over until the fat lady sings."

Grace wrinkled her brow, "I’m sorry I don’t follow you."

"They’re not married darling, he’s still fair game."

Grace shook her finger as she passed away from her friend. "Naughty, naughty." She said, wishing she was as lighthearted as she appeared to be.

~

It was not long before Grace spotted Patrick Nelson. He was standing with a group of other rich socialites with his arm around Penny Harris. Penny was a nice young lady, a petite Italian with a shock of curly chocolate coloured hair. She was also generous, smart, pretty and friendly. In fact she was hard to fault, yet Grace could not like her for the simple reason that she had the man she wanted. Patrick Nelson was very good looking. He had the kind of face that put anyone at ease, and a cheeky, devilish sort of grin that made Grace’s heart flip over every time he looked at her. They had met six months ago.

After studying for four years at the University of Western Australia Grace had finally achieved her academic goal. She was the proud recipient of a degree in civil engineering. It had not been an easy course, mentally or emotionally. Grace had been one of five girls in a class of fifty. But she had made it through and enjoyed showing some chauvinistic pigs that it wasn’t just a man’s world after all. In fact she had graduated with first class honours and distinctions in most of her subjects.

Immediately after graduation, unlike some of her friends who had hopped on the nearest plane bound for Europe, Grace had gone looking for work. She had a great enthusiasm to be out there, proving that she was what she had studied to be. She wanted to use her degree immediately. Holidaying could wait until she had enough money to enjoy it better.

It was not long before Pamsley Corporation had accepted her as a graduate civil engineer. Pamersley was a multi-disciplinary, multi-national, multi-million dollar engineering firm, which as it happened … Patrick White also worked for. Actually, they had both been in the same boat. Pamsley Corporation had an extensive graduate program and took on at least fifteen graduates for their Perth based office each year. It was a marvelous opportunity. Grace was thrilled to have acquired it. Things however were not so rosy once she got started. People were not rude. They were not mean. They were just hard to convince. Although Grace was twenty two years old she often found it hard to look sixteen years. Her manner was endearing and her baby blue eyes so innocent and deceivingly devoid of intelligence that it was no wonder any manager that crossed her path refused to take her seriously. It wasn’t like University. Grace could not prove herself by getting top grades any more. What she had to do was a good job but how could she do that when no one ever gave her anything but the easiest of work.

Patrick seemed to be the only one who understood this. He was the only one who seemed to see her. Really see her. Their cubicles were right next to each other. They shared stories, he sympathised, he laughed at her jokes, and he gave her advice. They made light of each other’s problems and made a pact that if one of them got fired the other would quit in protest. In short, they took an instant and unadulterated liking to each other.

After all, they had so much in common. It was like they’d known each other forever. They laughed at the same things, they liked the same things, they wanted the same things and they helped each other. The last six months for Grace had been the most blissful she’d ever spent. She was convinced she had met her soul mate. Patrick and her spent so much time together. Even out of work. It was like they were dating but they weren’t. People would remark on her "new boyfriend" and Grace would have to correct them and say that they were just good friends. Patrick would shake his head and put his arm around her and say, "No, more like brother and sister." It gave her a warm fuzzy feeling in her chest. Grace felt loved. In fact she was so sure that any day soon he would come out and tell her. "I want more." Admit the secretly held feelings that she held herself. But he didn’t. Instead he had dropped Penny on her. Gorgeous, perfect, darling little Penny. A girl that had made bile rise up in Grace’s throat the second she had laid eyes on her.

They had been officially going out for two weeks now and Grace had felt every day like a small shaft in her heart. She found that she wasn’t herself any more when she was with him. She constantly wore a mask to hide her inner hurt. Julia had helped, but Grace still felt that she never really understood. She and Patrick had never been an item as such, so it was hard to conceive her that Grace would feel any heartache. As a result she was forced to make light of it to her best friend. There was another reason why Grace kept her feelings hidden. She was not going to lose face. There was nothing she could think of that would be worse than Patrick finding out that she had secretly held feelings for him. She would save her pride if nothing else. So it was, that she walked up to Patrick with a twinkle in her eye and a gorgeous smile for his girlfriend.

"Hey, Pat." She said, "Fancy meeting you here."

"Grace, you’re late," Patrick’s grin appeared, he released his hold on Penny and came over to hug her. "Some people get fired for things like that."

"I shall have to be more careful," Grace joked back. She turned to Penny. "Hi, how are you?"

Penny returned her gaze with warmth. Grace noticed that it was Penny’s policy to like any one that Patrick liked with unabashed trust. It made her sigh inwardly. If she had met Penny somewhere else, in some other way, they probably would have become very good friends. Nonetheless, Grace maintained her distance. The last thing she needed was to become best buddies with Patrick’s girlfriend.

"I’m fine thank you, Julia is so lucky! I cannot remember having any thing this big for my 21^st." Penny smiled.

"It’s fantastic isn’t it?" Grace grinned, "How many people would you say are here?"

"Two hundred at least." Patrick nodded. "I can’t say I know many though."

"That’s cause you don’t have enough money in the bank." Grace laughed.

"Don’t I know it!"

The ballroom was full to the brim of some of Western Australia’s most affluent society. Julia’s parents owned a statewide mining company and just about every influential contact they’d ever had was present. Mr and Mrs Whitby were also members of a very exclusive social charity club. The entire organisation was present in addition to all Julia’s friends from university and high school. Considering both were among the most expensive institutes in WA, it was no wonder that half the money in the state was concentrated in this one ballroom.

"Have you heard the latest?" Patrick inquired.

"No, that is, I don’t think so." Grace replied.

"Well," he threw a cheeky grin at Penny his arm snaking around her waist again, "There’s a rumor going round that James Castairs is going to be here tonight."

"Is that all!" Grace groaned.

"But…" Penny’s brown eyes widened.

Patrick flicked his blonde hair out of his eyes and said, "Grace doesn’t like James Castairs."

"Oh," Grace gave a dismissive wave of her hand. "It is not that I don’t like him. I haven’t even met him. Only I’m so sick to death of him. It’s all any one ever talks about, reads about and watches on television."

"Yes, well given all that, wouldn’t you like to be able to say that you’ve actually met him." Patrick asked, "I know I would!"

"And let’s face it," Penny pitched in, "This is likely to be our only chance. It’s not like I get invited to parties like this every day."

"Nor do I," Grace agreed, "But I’m not about to go out of my way to meet someone who doesn’t give a damn about me or… if the newspapers are correct, anyone else for that matter."

"I think you’re alone in that opinion," Patrick said with joking sternness, "I for one think he would be a fascinating person. Imagine what it would be like to be a multi-millionaire by the age of twenty seven."

Grace gave a flick of her blonde hair. "Spoilt rotten that’s what." She turned away to talk to the other people in Patrick’s little circle, but the conversation always seemed to return to the notorious James Castairs. Grace had heard his story a million times; she practically knew it off by heart. With grim resignation, she succumbed to the discussion of his extraordinary early life with as much bored interest as she could muster.

James Castairs was an abandoned child prodigy. He had been left on the doorsteps of a supermarket as a newborn baby. He had gone from foster parent to foster parent and never been formally adopted. He seemed to scorn help or protection. His mind apparently moved too fast for stability. No person could hold him down and soon none wanted to. By the age of 16, he had left home. He had one degree but his thirst for knowledge was so great that he had continued to study earning another degree and doctorate qualifications. At the incredible age of 20, he had decided that he had had enough education and moved on to found one of Australia’s biggest and fastest growing Engineering Corporations. This he had christened Castairs Inc. Yes, Grace agreed this was a phenomenal achievement certainly. He was a great asset to Australia. But no, this was not the sort of life she would want for herself. Not at all. How lonely he must have been, how friendless. It was no wonder that the ruthless dealings that characterised every paper in the city were so devoid of any decent human feeling.

It was well known that if James Castairs wanted something he took it. This was the truth with regard to anything: business, women and power. He had many enemies, few friends and a personality that few people could understand. In short Grace argued with the astonished women beside her that he was worthier of pity than admiration.

It was not long before Julia arrived on the scene and was immediately accosted for news of her special guest. She pouted, "He is not here yet."

Grace laughed, "Poor Patrick shall die of disappointment."

"No I will not." Patrick grinned, "I must admit I don’t know what I will say to him if we do happen to meet him."

Julia nodded knowingly, "I have met him, he is the strangest person. He looks at you like… well… funny like. It’s hard to do anything but stare. You will see what I mean when he gets here. His secretary rang and told us he’d be late."

Grace raised her eyebrows. "How polite," she commented and then made as if to move away from the group to get herself a drink. She was nauseatingly bored of James Castairs and so highly-strung from the strain of being friendly and happy with Patrick and Penny that she had to get away.

Patrick’s voice stayed her, "Grace wait! I’ll come with you." He disengaged himself from Penny and followed her through the crowd to the drink table. Grace sighed. However, she could do nothing but accept his company. They collected a glass of punch each and Grace turned to lead him back to the others.

"No, I need… I think we need to talk," he said grabbing her arm.

"Talk?" She could only repeat, her thoughts racing. About What?

"Let’s go outside on the balcony." He gestured with his hand, lightly clasping her elbow. There was nothing to do but allow him to usher her out. The air was very fresh outside and Grace felt the gentle breeze on her bare shoulders delightedly.

"You look really good tonight." Patrick remarked.

Grace had turned her face up to the sky to breathe in the freshness around her. At these words she looked at him again. "Thanks." She was wearing a very simple dress, pale blue, long and shimmery with spaghetti string straps. It took some of her innocence away but at the same time gave her an aura of unattainability.

"I’m concerned about you Grace." Patrick began, seating himself upon the wooden bench by the balcony edge. He gestured for her to follow suit but she didn’t. Instead she continued to stand there some distance from him, watching, waiting.

He returned her gaze steadily, "You haven’t been yourself lately. I know you think I haven’t noticed but I know you… I have to say you’re one of the best friends I’ve ever had."

"Best friends." Grace smiled the fakest smile she’d ever given Patrick. Yet as she gave it, she knew he could see right through it. Her smile wavered. Her lips trembled. But her resolve hardened. He must never know how she felt. Not when he obviously didn’t return her regard.

"Tell me what it is Grace, please."

She glared at him. "There’s nothing wrong with me. You’re being ridiculous."

"I’m not. When I’m with you sometimes I feel like you’re somewhere else…" he looked at her right in the eyes. "Ever since Penny came into my life."

Her eyes locked sharply on his. The exchange of emotion was so intense that she had to wretch her eyes away by sheer force.

"I don’t know what you’re talking about."

"Don’t you?" Patrick mused, "Even before I was going out with Penny there was tension between us. I felt it. But the truth is, I’m just not attracted to you Grace, not that way, never was."

She could only stare at him. His words were a shocking blow. How could he know and what did he gain by telling her this. If he knew that she loved him and he really was her best friend, he would not be torturing her like this.

"But I’ll tell you one thing," he continued, "I value our friendship, more than anything, Grace. I feel so comfortable when I’m with you. With you I don’t have to disguise my feelings. I can take my bad moods out on you and know that you’ll still be around the next day to laugh it off. I don’t want to lose that."

So she was really just a pin cushion to him. A lap dog, a person he could treat badly because it didn’t really matter. She’d always crawl back because she loved him. Grace was speechless. She had never been more wrong or more disillusioned about anyone in her entire life.

"You’ve got to get out of this depression you’ve sunk into Grace. You don’t laugh with me any more."

"Laugh with you?" These words finally wrung a choked response from her, "I’m sorry. Do you find me dull as well as unattractive?"

Patrick frowned, "I apologise. I can see I’ve made you angry. I didn’t mean to. I’m just trying to understand what’s going on with us."

Grace’s laugh was a dry cackle.

"Let’s just get one thing straight Pat. There is no us. You have one girlfriend, not two. And yes, maybe I’ve been a little depressed lately, but it’s nothing to do with you and Penny. Let’s just say, I’ve been taking out my bad moods on you." She turned away, "Don’t give it another thought."

"Grace, where are you going?" Patrick started, rising from his chair as she moved away towards the door.

"Back to the party of course," she smiled. This time she didn’t care if Patrick knew it was fake. "I can’t let Julia down. After all, she is my best friend."

On this parting shot, she disappeared through the arch without sparing him another glance. She didn’t know whether he tried to follow her or not. In truth she didn’t care. The second she was back in the ballroom, she went in search of Julia. This proved to be a harder task than she had first thought. As she weaved her way through the crowd she was constantly accosted by people who wanted to know how she had been since they had last spoken. How was her work? Was her mother well? Where had she purchased her dress? And most importantly, was it really true that James Castairs would be present that evening? Grace braved the tedium of small talk with tolerable composure for about an hour. After this she gave up on Julia, grabbed a much needed second glass of champagne and escaped from the ballroom into the hall. Not far off from another door, waiters were pouring out of the kitchen. Grace moved quickly away, not really sure where she was going. Eventually she found herself at the elevator door. Thinking she might as well go home. She deposited her empty champagne glass on a hall table by the elevator and then pressed the down button. The lift door slid open immediately. Framed in the doorway was a tall man, in a long black coat. His hands were stuffed deep into his spacious pockets and his head was bent in abstraction. As he lifted his eyes to hers they widened a fraction and he said,

"Well what have we here?"

"I beg your pardon." Grace blinked. She stared hard at him for a moment. He seemed vaguely familiar to her. She knew she’d seen him somewhere before but the glass of champagne she had already indulged in seemed to be clouding her brain. It was probably unimportant anyway. She shrugged it off. He had observed her searching look but seemed undisturbed by it. In fact he was returning her gaze with one more thorough than her own. His eyes swept over her golden hair, glided down her smooth satin shoulders, narrowed calculatingly upon her face before sliding slowly over her slender figure.

"Miss Cunningham I presume." He drawled. Grace’s eyes widened slightly.

"Yes," she inclined her head, trying to shake the champagne fuzz from her brain, "Do I know you?"

The gentleman’s lips twitched slightly otherwise, his face remained without expression, "Apparently not."

Impatiently, Grace stepped into the elevator, gesturing with her hand for him to get out.

"I’m sorry, I’m a little distracted." She murmured, "Are you late? Julia’s inside I’m sure…’

The gentleman’s eyes flickered to the elevator door yawning open before him and the slim forlorn little figure standing beside him.

"Yes, I’m late." He pressed the button to close the elevator doors, "Very late… I assume you want the lobby." He pressed this button as well without waiting for her reply.

Grace frowned at him. The reason why she had left the party was to avoid small talk. The last thing she wanted to do was try and detach herself from some flirtatious stranger when she could be crying her eyes out at home. Then again was he flirting with her? It was hard to tell. He’d given her that look, but it hadn’t been suffused with admiration as much as it had with calculation and he hadn’t once smiled at her. The lift started to move and she peered at him through her eyelashes. He wasn’t smiling now either, nonetheless he was, she had to admit, potently good to look at. Her head jerked up as the lift doors opened and then to her utter astonishment he grabbed her calmly but firmly by the hand.

"Let’s get a coffee," he suggested, "There is much we need to discuss."

Grace tried to pull her hand away, put his hold was firm. His fingers laced through hers like they were lovers. Now she knew he was flirting.

"What are you doing? Let me go! I don’t want to have coffee!" When she finally found her voice he had already half dragged her across the polished lobby floors in the direction of the lounge.

"Life is full of disappointments, isn’t it?"

She gaped at him. He smiled at her in such a way that fear began to unfurl slowly in the bottom of her stomach. Swirling upwards, filling her ribcage and tightening her throat so that she was left utterly speechless.

"I am neither a murderer nor a rapist." He informed dryly, "Calm yourself."

Grace’s reply was prevented by the interruption of a waiter. Unbeknownst to her they had arrived at the entrance of the coffee lounge.

"Can I get you a table sir?"

"Yes," Grace’s abductor assented, "For two please."

Shortly, they were ushered to a table in the far corner of the room, romantically sheltered by a large indoor palm tree. The waiter left them to get two coffees, however Grace refused to sit down.

"I told you I don’t want any coffee. I was planning on going home. I want to go home!" she said tugging at her hand still warmly encased in his own. If only her brain wasn’t so intoxicated with champagne she would be able to think more clearly and do more than just whine like a child. She groaned inwardly, even to her own ears she sounded like a toddler.

The stranger pushed her gently into a chair, saying, "I think you should sit for a while before hailing a taxi, you don’t look up to it." When he had satisfied himself that she was not going to immediately jump out of her chair the minute he had sat down in his, he also took a seat. The fact was, the room had started to spin a little when Grace had sunk into her chair. She cursed herself silently as the waiter returned a few minutes later with two steaming hot coffees and a plate of shortbread. Gratefully, Grace sipped the dark liquid and felt a shudder of pleasure as the smooth hot fluid slid down her throat. They sat in silence for a good five minutes. Grace refused to look at him keeping her eyes steadily trained on the cup in front of her. She knew or felt that his eyes however never left her. Finally unable to bear it a second longer, she lifted her head and met his constant fathomless regard with a glare of her own.

"If you’re looking for small talk you can forget it." She informed him coolly, "I am so sick of discussing the weather, and my dress, and work and that idiot James Castairs. I told you repeatedly that I did not want coffee, so you cannot blame me if I’m poor company! Thank you very much, but as soon as I am finished I’m going home."

"I never look for small talk." he replied nonchalantly, "It is meaningless jabbering. I have no desire whatsoever to talk about the weather with you, or your dress, though it is very lovely of course. I neither know nor care what you do for work. And as for James Castairs… I already know enough about him to be incredibly bored by the subject."

This speech managed to rouse Grace’s curiosity, she looked back at him and said just as pointedly.

"Then what is there left to talk about?"

The gentlemen’s gaze locked on her own, "Why are you going home unescorted in a taxi half drunk?"

Grace laughed at his audacity. It shocked and amused her, all at once. He sat there watching her, his manner arrogant and his character incorrigible. His posture told her that the world could do what it pleased as long as it did not inconvenience him. It sent a reckless thrill down her spine.

She replied airily, in what she hoped was the same degree of blunt suaveness, "I just broke my heart, now I’m trying to figure out a way to put it back together."

He nodded with approval, "Now that is a definitely more interesting than the weather. Would you like to tell me all about it Miss Cunningham."

"Call me Grace and no I would not," she sipped her coffee and then bethought herself of something, "But how do you know my name?"

"I guessed. Grace suits you very well by the way."

"Thank you, but how can you have…"

"But you were telling me… who broke it?"

Grace blinked, "Broke what?"

He smiled, "Your heart."

"A good friend, my... my best friend, a man called Patrick White. It’s very complicated."

The gentleman continued to regard her as he sipped his own coffee. Mesmerised, half with champagne, half by the striking combination of his glossy black hair, and dark blue eyes, she returned his steady gaze.

"Nothing, my dear… " He said with certain firmness, "… is complicated."

Grace gave a delicate shrug of disbelief, "It is very easy for you to say so."

He shook his head. "Life is a very simple game. I have found that there are only three rules. Take want you want. Discard what you don’t want. And lastly, don’t take no for an answer."

She raised an eyebrow at him. "What are you suggesting?"

He shrugged his shoulders, "Do you want Patrick White?"

"No… yes."

He waited.

"Yes, though I hate myself for it." She took another sip of coffee.

"Then take him."

She laughed giddily, "Oh thank you, you’ve made it all perfectly clear now."

"I see you have little faith in your ability to do this."

"He doesn’t want me!"

"Don’t take no for an answer."

She tipped up her nose at him, "I would never reduce myself to begging. I know when to give up."

"My dear girl! Who said anything about begging! That is the last thing I would recommend that you do."

"Then tell me," she folded her arms, "What exactly do you suggest I do."

"Make him jealous."

"Oh," Grace dismissed the idea with a wave of her hand, "That wouldn’t work. He really likes his current girlfriend and he’s already told me how unattractive I am."

"The man is plainly stupid. Are you quite sure you want him?" He frowned in some concern. A ripple of pleasure, shot down Grace’s spine. She laughed.

"I don’t know. I don’t really want him if he doesn’t want me. It is just so, so humiliating and annoying and yes, yes it is complicated!"

Suddenly, the gentlemen laughed a dark husky chuckle that had a similar effect on Grace as his previous comment.

"Now I see," he nodded, "You wish to teach this Patrick White a lesson."

Grace grinned, "How lovely that would be."

"You are quite obviously in dire need of my help" he held out his hand to her, "Come let us go upstairs and start teaching this Patrick White person a lesson."

Grace blinked, "Whaaa…aaat?"

"The best way to show Patrick that you don’t need him." The dark gentleman replied easily. "Is to replace him."

"With who?" Grace absent-mindedly placed her hand in his.

"With me of course."