Never Leave Me by Harold Robbins Read Free Book Online

by another woman? And which betrayal is more wrong? The real or the imaginary? Her hand was stroking my hair, her voice was still whispering in my ear.

    I climbed into the car next to Jeanie. Marge looked down at us from the open doorway. “Try to get home early, Brad,” she called. “Dad’s coming up for dinner to-night.”
    “I’ll be early,” I promised. Dad came up every Tuesday night.
    Jeanie put the car into gear and we rolled down the driveway. We just skimmed the corner post and shot out into the street. I let out a sigh. “Someday you’re gonna hit that,” I said.
    She looked over at me and grinned. “Take it easy, Dad.” “You take it easy,” I said.
    She jammed on the brakes and stopped short for a traffic light. She turned towards me. “Have you thought about what I said?”
    “About what?” I asked, deliberately playing dumb.
    “About an anniversary present for Mamma,” she said patiently. “Oh, sure,” I said casually.
    She was immediately excited. “You did, Dad? Really? What are you getting her?” “The light changed,” I said deliberately ignoring her questions.
    “Bother the light, Dad,” she said, starting the car. “What did you get her?”
    “You’ll see,” I said. “When she gets it. It’s a surprise and I’m not going to have you blab it out.” “I’ll keep the secret, Dad. Honest.” Her voice had lowered to a conspiratorial whisper. “Promise?”
    “I promise.” “A mink coat.”
    “Golly! Dad, that’s terrif!”
    “Take your foot off the accelerator or neither of us will be here to give it to her,” I said quickly.
    She slammed on the brakes again. We were at her school. She opened the door, then she changed her mind and leaned across the seat and kissed my cheek. “Dad, you’re the greatest!”
    I watched her running across the street and then slid over under the wheel. Something bright on the floor of the car caught my eye. I bent over and picked it up.
    It shone brightly in the sunlight. It was a thin gold cigarette case. I turned it over slowly in my hands. There was a small block monogram up in the corner. One word.
    Elaine.

Chapter Eight

    MATT BRADY was a little man and I never saw him smile. His eyes were wide blue and unwinking. They looked right at you and through you. I didn’t like him. I don’t know why, but the minute I saw him I knew I wouldn’t like him.
    Maybe it was the suggestion of power that draped around his shoulders like an invisible cloak.
    Maybe it was the way all the other members of the committee acted towards him. Each was a big man in the business. Each headed a company that was worth many millions of dollars. Yet they bowed and scraped before him and called him Mister as if he were God. And he treated them as if they were his lowliest slaves.
    I glanced quickly at Chris to see how I was doing. His face was impassive. I cursed him silently for being right so righteously and turned back to Matt Brady.
    His voice was as cold as the rest of him. “Young man,” he said, “I don’t have time to waste in idle conversation. I’m a blunt man and I come right to the point. Nowhere in your exposition have I been assured that we can reach the people with the type of campaign you are suggesting. That they would even understand what we’re trying to say.”
    I stared back at him steadily. I was damned if I could see how Elaine could call him sweet. “Mr.
    Brady,” I answered, “I’m a public relations counsellor. You know what that is? A fancy name for the guy who comes to town ahead of the circus and puts up signs. Only I don’t tell them to go to the circus. I tell them how much fun there is in living because of the circus.”
    You couldn’t sidetrack the old buzzard. Words meant nothing to him. His mind worked like a machine. I was beginning to understand how he’d got where he did. “I don’t doubt your abilities, young man,” he said. “I just question your campaign. It seems sketchy and poorly thought out to