Betrayed - By Ellie Jones Page 0,12
silly things. I’m dead beat and there’s nothing left in me.’
She started to secure the door but stopped. Damn! They’d made no arrangements for another meeting.
Chapter 3
A microphone assaulted him. The media could be allies or enemies. Rafael used them at times, at others, they used him. He thought he recognized the man behind the mike, recalled the face from university days. A jack-the-lad, never part of his circle, couldn’t think of the name.
“Señor Saval, the cat-walk season will soon be on us again. Do you feel you are shaping up?”
Rafael Saval looked at his watch. “I’m looking forward to the scrimmage.”
“You seem to be making noises about corruption. Are you making an issue?”
“I’ve never liked the idea of people abusing their status. I’ve always fought against injustice. If I suspected you of corruption,” he said pointedly, “I’d fight the crap out of you.”
He had the name now, Jose Benavente; a nasty person, once so drunk he soiled his pants, always on the edge of trouble, always shifting blame onto others; called himself Jose Rica now, doubtless wanted to forget his roots.
Benavente said, “Won’t this make you a target?”
“Why should it? Las Modas Ibéricas has never been involved in corruption.”
“What do you think about the opposition claiming they don’t consider Las Modas Ibéricas a serious contender, that your company is a spent force?”
Rafael shrugged. “I need to get to a meeting. This isn’t the time.”
“To have Las Modas dismissed before you even start must be galling.”
Rafael put on a smile for the benefit of the camera; glad he looked smarter than Benavente. As he remembered, he’d been a jumped up prick at university, the type who hated students having the pedigree he craved. He was probably power-crazy now he had this job. The knob-head certainly knew how to grind a finger into a sore spot. Couldn’t let him know, though. He cleared his throat. “I hope it’s correct.”
“Why do you say a thing like that?”
“If they don’t take us seriously, it’ll make our job easier.”
“In what way”
Rafael glanced at his watch again. Benavente smirked. The prick enjoyed this, mustn’t let him get at him. Rafael made his voice confident. “I’ve never been one to underestimate rivals, but perhaps the opposition are different.”
“What about the ‘playboy’ image we hear about? Do you think the public will be turned off by your character?”
Rafael assessed Benavente carefully. “Malicious gossip and you know.”
“But does it bother you?”
“I believe the common sense of the public always prevails.”
“But do they believe in you?”
Rafael shrugged. “I think they show more wisdom than you give them credit for.”
“And what credit do you give them?”
“I give them credit for thinking for themselves. You believe it’s within your power to sway public opinion. I say not. It can happen, there’ll always be gullible people, but I don’t believe that to be the case in general. People know what they like, and know what they want.”
Benavente smiled deceitfully. “Is that what you really believe, Señor Saval?”
“I believe I need to get to the meeting.” Rafael took a breath. “But I also believe today’s people have been brought up in a culture of awareness. People nowadays think for themselves, they don’t need telling what to do. They don’t need prejudiced opinions, just balanced facts.”
“It’s said you prefer woman and wine to business.” The reporter tapped his clipboard to make the point. “You’ve gained a reputation of being the archetypal playboy. How true would you say this is?”
Rafael bit back his fury; kept his voice quiet. “I think you’ll agree its unsubstantiated garbage.”
The interviewer opened a file displaying several pictures of Rafael with women. “And these? Would you say these women are unsubstantiated?”
“This is ridiculous. I have friends. Is that so dreadful?”
“There seems a lot.”
He shrugged, angry. “I’ve had acquaintances over the years; some were women. It has nothing to do with how we run the company.”
“But you’re in the public eye, Señor. Don’t celebrities have a duty to be honourable?”
“Like, reporters you mean...” Rafael glared. “I recall you had plenty of women before you married, maybe you have them still?”
For a moment Benavente averted his eyes, a mistake, showed he was shaken. Rafael went for the jugular.
“Perhaps you’ve forgotten we were at university together. Perhaps you thought changing your name would confuse me. I remember what you were like, Jose Benavente. I remember your women, your drunken orgies, and your wild ways.” Rafael flicked through the pictures. “You’re being ridiculous. Most of these women are business associates. This is my mother’s lawyer,