A Passionate Surrender
HELEN BIANCHIN
Ana had secretly hoped her marriage of convenience to Luc Dimitriades would turn into the real thing, yet one year after exchanging their vows he still seemed susceptible to the charms of his ex-mistress. Holding her head high, Ana knew she had to leave.Luc wasn't prepared to let his wife go. In fact, he seemed determined to blackmail her back into his bed! Ana fought to resist his passionate persuasion, but Luc held one last trump card: he knew she was carrying his child….
“I don’t want to sleep with you!”
“Perhaps not…tonight,” Luc insisted silkily.
“Not any night!”
“Brave words, Ana.”
Ana wanted to rail against him, hating the power he possessed and her inability to retaliate. She was caught in a web, tied to him by the child they’d conceived, and held there by family loyalty.
“Go to hell, Luc,” she said bitterly as he drew level.
Luc paused and caught hold of her chin, tilting it so she had little option but to meet his passionate gaze. “Careful, pedhaki mou. I might be tempted to take you there.”
Dear Reader,
Flowers signify so many emotions…they’re the gift of lovers, friends and family, in times of happiness, joy and sorrow. From the exotic to simple everyday blossoms, their textures, colors and perfumes blend together to bring pleasure to people all around the world.
I have an admiration for those who work in the floral industry, especially the talented florists whose skilled artistry turns varied blooms into beautiful bouquets. My writer’s imagination envisaged the lives of two sisters, Ana and Rebekah, who co-own a florist boutique in one of the trendiest suburbs of Sydney, Australia.
Ana is married to proud, powerful Luc Dimitriades—but one year into their marriage, his newly divorced ex-mistress returns, determined to reclaim Luc…
Rebekah is wary of men and determined to avoid falling in love again. But Luc’s cousin Jace Dimitriades plans to change her mind!
I hope you enjoy getting to know these two sisters, and the gorgeous tycoons who turn their world upside down!
With love
A Passionate Surrender
Helen Bianchin
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
For Helga,
friend and talented florist
CONTENTS
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER ONE
‘CRISTOS.’
The husky imprecation held an angry silkiness as Luc Dimitriades tossed the faxed report down onto his desk.
Detailed surveillance of his wife’s movements during the past nine days revealed few surprises, although one caused his eyes to narrow with contemplative suspicion.
Reflex action had him reaching for his cellphone and keying in a series of digits.
‘Put me through to Marc Andreas,’ he instructed curtly as soon as the receptionist picked up.
‘Doctor has a patient with him.’
‘It’s urgent,’ he said without compunction, and identified himself. ‘He’ll take the call.’
Minutes later he had official confirmation, and his expression hardened as he reached for the inter-office phone.
Clear, concise instructions set his plan in motion, and after replacing the receiver he stood to his feet and crossed to the large plate-glass window.
The city and harbour spread out before him in splendid panorama. Sparkling blue sea, tall office buildings in varying height and design of concrete, steel and glass. Expensive two- and three-level mansions nestled between trees and shrubbery on a carved-out rock-face overlooking the inner harbour.
Small craft moored in safe anchorage dotting inlets and coves. The bustling water-cats and ferries vying with a huge tanker being guided by tugboats into berth. The familiar arch of Sydney’s bridge, the distinctive architecture of the opera house.
It was a familiar sight. Yet today he didn’t register the view. Nor the expensive furnishings, the genuine art gracing the walls of his luxurious office.
There was no pleasure of the scene evident in his broad, chiselled features, little emotion in his dark brooding gaze as he lapsed into reflective thought.
A brief marriage in his early twenties to his childhood sweetheart had ended tragically with Emma’s accidental death mere months after their wedding. Grief-stricken, he’d thrown himself into work, putting in long hours and achieving untold success in the business arena.
Remarriage wasn’t on his agenda. He’d loved and lost, and didn’t want to lose his heart again. For the past ten years he’d enjoyed a few selective relationships…no commitments, no empty words promising permanence.
Until Ana.
The daughter of one of his executives, she’d often partnered her widowed father to various functions. She was attractive, in her mid-twenties, intelligent and she possessed a delightful sense of humour. What was more, she wasn’t in awe of him, his status or his wealth.
They’d dated a few months, enjoyed each other in bed, and for the first time since Emma’s death there was an awareness of his own mortality, his accumulated wealth…the need to share his life with one woman, have children with her, forge a future together.
Who better than Ana in the role of his wife? He cared for her, she was eminently suitable, and he could provide her with an enviable lifestyle.
The wedding had been a low-key affair attended by immediate family, followed by a few weeks in Hawaii, after which they settled easily into day-today life.
A year on, the only blight on the horizon was Celine Moore, an ex-mistress, very recently divorced and hell-bent on causing mischief.
Luc’s mouth tightened into a grim line as he recalled the few occasions when Celine had deliberately orchestrated a compromising situation. Incidents he’d dealt with with skilled diplomacy and the warning to desist. Something Celine refused to heed, and her persistence became an issue Ana found difficult to condone.
Less than two weeks ago an argument over breakfast had ended badly, and he’d arrived home that evening to discover Ana had packed a bag and taken a flight to the Gold Coast.
The note she’d left him declared a need for a few days away to think things through.
Except a few days had become nine, and the latter thirty-six hours of which had resulted in unreturned calls from voice-mail and text messages left on her cellphone.
Her father, upon confrontation, swore she wasn’t answering his messages either, and he had every reason not to lie.
Rebekah, her younger sister and business partner, also disavowed any knowledge of Ana’s whereabouts, other than to cite a holiday resort on the Gold Coast, from which enquiries revealed Ana had checked out within a few days of registering.
Hence Luc had no hesitation in engaging the services of a private detective, whose verbal updates were now detailed in a faxed report.
Ana’s actions merely confirmed Luc’s suspicions. A newly leased apartment and employment weren’t conducive to a temporary break.
However, he could deal with that, and numerous scenarios of just how he’d deal with it occupied his mind. Foremost of which was the intention to haul her over his shoulder and bring her home.
Something, he decided grimly, he should have done within a day or two of her leaving, instead of allowing her the distance, time and space she’d vowed so desperately to need. Yet she’d done the unexpected by attempting to cover her tracks…without success.
Surely she couldn’t believe he’d let her separation bid drag on for long?
The inter-office phone rang, and he crossed to the desk to take the call.
‘The pilot is on standby, and your car is out front.’
Smooth efficiency came with a high-priced salary.
‘Petros will have a bag packed by the time you reach the house.’
‘Thanks.’
An hour later Luc boarded the private jet, sank into one of four plush armchairs, and prepared for take-off.
‘Go take a lunch break.’
Ana attached the ribbon, tied a deft bow, utilised the slim edge of the scissors to curl the ribbon ends, then set the bouquet of roses to one side.
It was her third day as an assistant at a florist shop in the trendy suburb of Main Beach. She’d entered the shop on a whim, bought flowers to brighten her newly acquired apartment, and, noticing the owner’s harassed expression, she’d jokingly asked if the owner required help, citing her experience as a florist. What she didn’t impart was that she co-owned her own business in an upmarket Sydney suburb.
Incredible as it seemed, acquiring a job had been as simple as being in the right place at the right time.
Fate, it seemed, had taken a hand, although eventually she’d have to address her sojourn from Sydney, her marriage.
A hollow laugh escaped her throat as she caught up her shoulder bag and walked out onto the pavement.
It was a beautiful early summer day, the sun was warm, and there was a slight breeze drifting in from the ocean.
The usual lunch crowd filled the many cafés lining Tedder Avenue, and she crossed the street, selected an empty table and sank into a seat.
Efficient service ensured almost immediate attention, and she gave her order, then sipped chilled bottled water as she flipped through the pages of a magazine.
An article caught her eye, and she read the print with genuine interest, only to put it to one side as the waitress delivered a steaming bowl of vegetable risotto. There was also a fresh bread roll, and she picked up a fork and began eating the delectable food.
The chatter from patrons seated at adjoining tables provided a pleasant background, combining with the faint purr of vehicles slowly cruising the main street in search of an elusive parking space.
Expensive cars, wealthy owners who strolled the trendy street to one of several outdoor cafés where lunch with friends was more about being seen than satisfying a need for food.
Ana liked the ambience, enjoyed being a part of it, and the similarity to equally trendy areas in Sydney didn’t escape her.
It was relatively easy to tamp down any longing for the city where she’d been born and raised. Not so easy to dismiss the man she’d married a little more than a year ago.
Luc Dimitriades possessed the height, breadth of shoulder and attractive good looks to turn any woman’s head. Add sophisticated charm, an aura of power, and the result was devastating.
Australian-born of Greek parents, he’d chosen academia and entered the field of merchant banking, rising rapidly through the ranks to assume a position that involved directorial decision-making.
Inherited wealth combined with astute business acumen ensured he numbered high among the country’s rich and famous.
For Ana, all it had taken was one look at him and the attraction was instant, cataclysmic. Sheer sexual chemistry, potent and electric. Yet it was more than that…much more. He affected her as no man ever had, and she fell deeply, irretrievably in love with him.
It was the reason she accepted his marriage proposal, and she convinced herself it was enough he vowed his fidelity and promised to honour and care for her.
THE CATCH OF THE DECADE one national newspaper had captioned when Luc Dimitriades had taken Ana Stanford as his bride.
Maybe, given time, his affection for her would become love, and a year into the marriage she was content. She had an attentive husband, the sex was to die for, and life had assumed a pleasant routine.
Until Celine, always the temptress, re-entered the scene, newly divorced, and hunting…with Luc as her prey.
Subtle destruction, carefully orchestrated to diminish Ana’s confidence. The divorcee was very clever in aiming her verbal barbs out of Luc’s hearing. Implying an affair, citing dates and times when Luc was absent on business or when he’d extended a business meeting to include dinner with colleagues. Merely excuses given in order to be with Celine.
Doubt and suspicion, coupled with anger and jealousy built over a period of weeks.
Even now, the thought of Celine’s recent contretemps made Ana grit her teeth. Despite Luc’s denial, where there was smoke, there were embers just waiting to be fanned into flame. And infidelity was something she refused to condone.
Angry words had led to a full-scale argument, and afterwards Ana had simply made a few phone calls, packed a bag and taken the midday flight to the Gold Coast.
Apart from the note she’d left him, her only attempt at contact was a recorded message she’d left on Luc’s answer-machine, and she doubted it would appease him for long.
‘Ana.’
The voice was all too familiar, its inflexion deep and tinged with a degree of mocking cynicism.
There had been no instinctive sixth sense that might have alerted her to his presence. Nothing to warn of the unexpected.
Ana slowly raised her head and met her husband’s steady gaze. Unwanted reaction kicked in, and she banked it down, aware on a base level of the damning effect he had on her senses.
She felt vulnerable, exposed, and way too needy. It wasn’t a feeling she coveted, at least not now, not here, when she’d vowed to think with her head, not her heart.
Fat chance. All it took was one look, a few seconds in his presence, and her emotions went every which way but loose!
How was it possible to love, yet hate someone with equal measure?
She could think of any number of reasons to justify the way she felt… Ambivalence, out-of-whack hormones. The desire to hurt, as she hurt.
Why, then, did she possess this crazy urge to feel the sanctuary of his arms and the brush of his mouth on her own? The heat of his body…
A silent screeching cry rose from somewhere deep inside. Don’t go there.
Instead, she forced herself to subject him to an analytical appraisal, deliberately noting the broad facial bone structure which lent his features a chiselled look that was enhanced by piercing dark eyes, a firm muscled jaw, and a mouth to die for.
Well-groomed hair as dark as sin grew thick on his head, and he wore it slightly longer than was currently in vogue.
Attired in a three-piece business suit, deep blue shirt and impeccably knotted silk tie, he exuded an aura of invincible power.
Tall, dark and dangerous was an apt descriptive phrase, she perceived, sensing the ruthlessness hovering just beneath the surface of his control.
‘Mind if I join you?’
‘What if I say no?’
He offered a faint smile, and wondered if she knew how well he could read her. ‘It wasn’t a rhetorical question.’
Ana held his gaze. ‘Then why ask?’
Luc took the seat opposite, ordered black coffee from a hovering waitress, then focused his attention on his wife.
She looked pale, and she’d lost a few essential kilos from her petite frame. There were faint shadows evident, as if she hadn’t been sleeping well, and her eyes were dark with fatigue. Instead of its usual attractive style, her honey-blonde hair was pulled back into a pony-tail.
His silent appraisal irked her unbearably. ‘Are you done?’ Her voice sounded tense even to her own ears.
He resembled a sleekly powerful predator deceptively at ease. Except his seemingly relaxed façade didn’t fool her in the slightest. There wasn’t any doubt he’d pounce…merely a matter of when.
‘No,’ Luc intimated as she pushed the bowl of partly eaten food to one side.
‘Eat,’ Luc bade quietly, and she threw him a baleful glare.
‘I’ve lost my appetite.’
‘Order something else.’
She barely resisted the temptation to throw something at him. ‘Should I ask how you discovered my whereabouts?’
His gaze didn’t waver, and his eyes were cool, fathomless. ‘I would have thought the answer self-explanatory.’
‘You hired a private detective.’ Her voice rose a fraction. ‘And had me followed?’
‘Did you think I wouldn’t?’
Hadn’t this scenario haunted her for the past few days? Invading her sleep, unsettling her nerves?
The waitress delivered his coffee, and he requested the bill.
‘I’ll pay for my own meal.’
He shot her a hard glance. ‘Don’t be ridiculous.’
She checked her watch. ‘What do you want, Luc? I suggest you cut to the chase. I’m due back at work in ten minutes.’
Luc selected a paper tube of sugar and emptied it into his cup. ‘No, you’re not,’ he declared silkily.
Her gaze locked with his. ‘What do you mean…no?’
‘You no longer have a job, and your apartment lease has been terminated.’
She felt as if all the breath had suddenly left her body. Angry consternation darkened her eyes, and faint pink coloured her cheeks. ‘You have no right—’
‘Yes.’ His voice was deadly quiet. ‘I do.’
She badly wanted to hit him, and almost did. ‘No, you don’t,’ she reiterated fiercely.
‘We can argue this back and forth, but the end result will be the same.’
‘If you think I’ll calmly go back to Sydney with you,’ she began heatedly, ‘you can think again!’
His gaze seared hers. ‘This afternoon, tonight, tomorrow. It hardly matters when.’
Ana rose to her feet, only to have his hand close over her arm, halting her intention to leave.
Without pausing for thought she picked up the sugar container and hurled it at him, watching with a sense of horrified fascination as he fielded it neatly and replaced it on the table, then calmly gathered up the scattered tubes.
‘I intend to file for divorce.’ Dear heaven, where had that come from? Until now it had been a hazy choice she’d considered and discounted a hundred times during the sleepless night hours since fleeing Sydney.
His gaze seared hers. ‘Divorce isn’t an option.’
She stood trapped as the silence stretched between them, a haunting entity that became more significant with every passing second, and there was little she could do but comply as he exerted sufficient pressure to ensure she sank down onto the chair.
‘Don’t you have something to tell me?’ Luc prompted with deceptive mildness, and glimpsed her apprehension before she successfully masked it.
‘Go away and leave me alone?’ Ana taunted in return.
‘Try again.’
A muscle twisted painfully in her stomach, and she barely suppressed the instinct to soothe it with her hand.
He couldn’t possibly know. Could he? She went suddenly cold at the thought. For the past few weeks she’d alternated between joy and despair.
‘I’ll make it easy for you,’ Luc ventured with deadly softness. ‘You’re carrying my child.’
‘A child that is also mine,’ Ana said fiercely.
‘Ours.’ His silky tone sent shivers down her spine. ‘I refuse to be relegated to a weekend father, restricted to sharing my son or daughter on a part-time basis.’
‘Is that why you came after me? Because I suddenly have something you want?’ Her eyes darkened to the deepest sapphire, her anger very real at that precise moment. Yet inside she wanted to weep. For the child she’d conceived. For herself, for wanting the love of a man who she doubted would ever love her.
‘I’d rather be a single parent than attempt to raise a child in a household where its father divides his time between its mother and his mistress. How could the child begin to understand values, morals, and integrity?’
‘Mistress?’ His voice was quiet.
Too quiet, she perceived, and suppressed a faint shiver.
‘You accuse me of having an affair?’
‘Celine—’
‘Was someone with whom I shared a brief relationship three, four years ago.’
‘According to her, the affair is ongoing.’
‘Why would I need a mistress when I have you?’
Remembering their active sex life, the sheer delight they shared in bed, brought a tinge of colour to her cheeks. ‘For the hell of it?’ she ventured carelessly, adding, ‘Because you’re insatiable and one woman isn’t enough?’
His features hardened and assumed an implacable mask. ‘Don’t tempt me to say something I might regret.’
‘Go back to Sydney, Luc.’ She was like a runaway train that couldn’t stop. ‘There’s nothing you can say or do that’ll persuade me to return with you.’
‘No?’
She sensed the steel beneath the dangerously silky tone, and suppressed an illusory premonition.
‘The last time I heard, coercion carries no weight in a court of law.’
He held a trump card, and he had no hesitation in playing it. ‘However, embezzlement does.’ He paused, watching her expressive features in a bid to assess whether she had any prior knowledge William Stanford had indulged in creative accounting over a six-month time span.
‘Excuse me?’
Luc chose his words with care, weighing each for its impact. ‘The bank’s auditors have discovered a series of discrepancies.’
‘How can that involve me?’ she queried, genuinely puzzled.
‘Indirectly, it does.’
Even a naïve fool could do simple arithmetic, and she considered herself to be neither. ‘You’re implying my father is responsible?’ she demanded in disbelief. ‘I don’t believe you.’
He reached inside his jacket, withdrew a folded document and placed it in front of her. ‘A copy of the auditors’ report.’
Ana touched the paper hesitantly, then she opened the document and read the report.
It was conclusive and damning, the attached spreadsheet listing each transaction lengthy and detailed.
She felt herself go cold. Embezzlement, theft…they were one and the same, and a punishable crime.
Luc studied her expressive features, witnessed the fleeting emotions, and anticipated her loyalty.
‘It was very cleverly done,’ he revealed with a degree of cynicism. So much so, it had been missed twice. He wasn’t sure which angered him more…the loss of trust in one of his valued executives, or the fact William Stanford had relied on his daughter’s connection by marriage to avoid prosecution.
‘How long have you known?’ Ana queried with a sense of dread, unwilling to examine where this was going, yet desperately afraid her wildest suspicion would be proven true.
‘Nine days.’
Coincidentally the time she wrote him a note and took a flight north. Did he think that was the reason she left?
Men of Luc’s calibre always had a back-up plan. And this was personal. Very personal.
‘What do you want, Luc?’
‘No divorce. Our child.’ He waited a beat. ‘My wife in my home, my bed.’
‘Go to hell.’
One eyebrow rose in mockery. ‘Not today, agape mou.’
Pink coloured her cheekbones and lent her eyes a fiery sparkle. ‘You think you can make conditions and have me meekly comply?’
‘Meek wasn’t a descriptive I considered.’
Dear heaven, he was amused. She stood to her feet, gathered her bag and slung the strap over her shoulder, then she turned in the direction of the florist shop, aware that Luc fell into step at her side.
‘I intend explaining to the letting agent and my employer that you’re a presumptuous, arrogant bastard with no right to dictate my life.’
‘And your father will go to jail.’
Her step faltered as she threw him a look that would have felled a lesser man. ‘How come you get to make the rules?’
‘Because I can.’
‘And I get to choose whether to resume my marriage to you, in return for no charges laid against my father.’ There was no doubt Luc viewed this as just another business proposition. Well, damn him. She’d do the same. ‘What of restitution?’
‘It will be taken care of.’
‘And his job?’
‘Already terminated.’
She was dying inside, inch by inch. ‘His references?’ she pursued tightly.
‘I have a duty of disclosure.’
Something that would make it almost impossible for her father to gain a similar position anywhere in Sydney…possibly even the country.
‘I’ll think about it,’ Ana conceded, endeavouring to ignore the prickle of apprehension steadily creating havoc with her nervous system.
His eyes were hard, their expression implacable. ‘You have an hour.’
She closed her eyes, then opened them again, and released the breath she’d unconsciously held for several seconds.
‘Are you this diabolically relentless in the business arena?’ Stupid question, she mentally castigated. His steel-willed determination and ruthless decision-making had earned him a reputation as one of the city’s most feared negotiators.
His silence sent an icy chill feathering the length of her spine, and she cursed him afresh.
They reached the florist shop, and she turned towards him, her eyes gleaming with hidden anger as she met and held his dark gaze.
‘There are a few conditions.’
His gaze hardened, and he resisted the urge to shake her within an inch of her life. ‘You’re hardly in a position to stipulate conditions.’
Did he know how much she hurt? Just looking at him caused her physical pain, remembering the hopes and dreams she’d held, only to have them shatter one by one.
She began counting off the fingers of one hand. ‘I want your word you won’t attempt to deny me my child once it’s born.’
Something moved in his eyes, an emotion she didn’t care to define. ‘Granted.’
‘Your fidelity.’
‘You’ve had that since day one.’
She looked at him long and hard, then lifted an eyebrow in silent query. ‘Not according to Celine.’
‘Naturally, you choose to believe her over me.’ His dry tones held a damning cynicism she chose to ignore.
‘There’s just one more thing,’ she pursued.
It was impossible to tell much from his expression, and she didn’t even try.
‘And that is?’
‘I want it all in writing and legally notarised before I give you my answer.’
As an exit line it took some beating, and she didn’t look back as she stepped into the florist shop.
‘I wasn’t expecting you.’
Stiff formality replaced a former easy friendliness, and Ana silently cursed Luc afresh.
‘I’m responsible for my own decisions,’ she assured evenly. Her gaze was steady as the silence stretched into seemingly long seconds before the shop’s owner offered,
‘He doesn’t look the type of man who’d take no for an answer.’
Wasn’t that the truth! ‘I can give you this afternoon, if that’s OK?’
‘I’ve already put in a call to the employment agency.’
What else did she expect?
‘Are you going to return to Sydney with him?’
‘Possibly.’ Ana deposited her bag out back, and checked the order book, then she set to work.
Concentration was the key, but all too frequently it wavered as she examined one scheme after another, only to discard each of them. Where could she go that Luc wouldn’t find her?
A faint shiver raised the fine hairs on the back of her neck. If he’d had a private investigator following her every move, it was feasible the man was still on duty. It gave her a creepy feeling, and made her incredibly angry.
Luc had played the game with consummate skill in presenting her with a coup de grâce.
But the game had only just begun, and she intended to play by the rules…her own.
CHAPTER TWO
HOW long would it take Luc to consult a lawyer and have the requested paperwork completed? With his influence and connections, she doubted he’d have a problem.
The shop was busy, there were several phone orders, and people walked in off the street to select purchases. Single roses, bouquets, cut flowers for a special hospital visit…the requests were numerous and varied.
She was in the middle of assembling decorative Cellophane and gathering baby’s breath when the door buzzer sounded for the umpteenth time. She automatically glanced up from her task to greet the new customer, and saw Luc observing her actions.
There was an element of formidability existent, a sense of purpose that was daunting, and Ana was conscious of an elevated sense of nervous tension.
Her hands paused as her gaze locked with his, then she bent her head and focused on fashioning pink and white carnations into an elaborate spray.
Ribbon completed the bouquet, and she attached the completed card, the instruction slip, then transferred it to the delivery table.
‘Are you done?’ Luc queried silkily, his gaze caught by a tendril of hair that had worked its way loose from her pony-tail, and he restrained the urge to sweep it back behind her ear.
She shot him a cool glance. ‘I finish at six.’
The atmosphere in the room seemed suddenly charged, and she could almost feel the latent electricity apparent.
His eyes narrowed with a chilling bleakness. ‘You can do better than that.’
‘We’re busy.’ Hot damn, she was so polite it was almost comical. She made a thing of checking the time. ‘I’m sure you can manage to fill in a few hours.’
He could, easily. However, he didn’t feel inclined to pander to her deliberate manipulation. ‘One hour, Ana,’ he warned in a voice that was deadly soft.
‘Are you mad?’ the older woman queried the instant Luc left the shop.
‘Certifiably,’ Ana agreed imperturbably.
‘Gutsy, too. I admire that in a woman.’
She was a fool to think she could best him. Except she was damned if she’d allow him to set down terms and expect her to abide by every one of them without a fight.
‘I’m going to be sorry to lose you, honey. We were just beginning to get along.’
‘I could be back,’ Ana said with humour, and heard the other woman’s laughter.
‘I doubt he’ll let you get away again. Now, why don’t you go finish up? I can manage the rest.’ Her eyes twinkled with mischief. ‘Besides, I’m not averse to a woman stirring a man up a bit.’
Leave, and not be here when Luc returned? ‘You’re wicked.’
‘Good luck, honey. If you’re ever back up this way again, call in and say hello.’ She withdrew an envelope from her pocket. ‘Your pay.’
‘Keep it in lieu of notice.’
‘Some would. I won’t. Now go.’
It took five minutes to walk to her apartment, and once inside she headed straight for the kitchen, extracted bottled water from the refrigerator, uncapped the lid and drank until her thirst was quenched, then she made for the bedroom, stripped off her clothes and hit the shower.
She washed her hair, then dressed in jeans and a singlet top, opted to forgo make-up and piled her damp hair into a loose knot atop her head.
Packing would probably be a good move, but somehow achieving it indicated her imminent return to Sydney, and sheer stubbornness ensured she put off such a task for as long as possible. Besides, how long did it take to empty a few clothes and possessions into a travel-bag?
It was five when the intercom buzzed, and Ana’s stomach did a quick somersault at the sound. It had to be Luc. No one else knew her address.
She cleared him through security into the main lobby, and then waited for the lift to reach her designated floor.
Her doorbell rang all too soon, and she took a calming breath as she crossed the lounge.
He stood looming large in the aperture, dark and vaguely threatening. He’d removed his jacket and hooked it over one shoulder, his tie was missing, he’d loosened the top few buttons of his shirt and folded the cuffs back from each wrist. It lent him a casual air that was belied by his deliberately enigmatic expression.
Ana met his gaze with fearless disregard, and ignored the increased thud of her heartbeat. ‘I refuse to be treated like a runaway child on the verge of being dragged home by its parent.’
He didn’t move so much as a muscle. ‘Whatever happened to hello?’
She drew in a deep breath, then released it slowly. ‘You want polite?’
One eyebrow assumed a mocking slant. ‘Shall we start over?’ Luc countered coolly.
‘Not in this lifetime.’
He let his gaze rove slowly over her slim form, then pinned her blue eyes with his own. ‘For the record, my relationship with you is hardly paternal.’
His drawling tone caused her resentment to resurface. ‘You’re setting down rules, taking away my freedom of choice,’ she retaliated, watching as he remained in the doorway.
‘I’ve given you an option,’ Luc corrected silkily.
‘Sure, you have.’ She speared him with an icy blue glare. ‘With only one possible answer!’
He stepped into the lounge and shut the door. ‘Did you imagine I’d have it any other way?’
Ana closed her eyes, then quickly opened them again. ‘You’ve made it quite clear the child I carry is the main issue.’
She watched as he withdrew an envelope from the inside pocket of his jacket and extended it towards her. ‘The legalities you requested.’
Stark legalese held an awful clarity she was loath to accept. Yet what other course did she have?
She lifted her head and met his steady gaze. There was a glimpse of something faintly dangerous in those dark depths she didn’t care to define, and she returned her attention to the printed pages.
There were further clauses outlining conditions that covered every eventuality…and then some.
‘You expect me to sign this?’
‘A legal agreement was your idea.’ Luc’s tone was silk-smooth.
He was right. But that didn’t make it any easier to attach her signature beneath his.
Luc took the document from her outstretched hand and tucked it into his jacket pocket. ‘Do you want to eat out, or order in?’
Food? ‘I thought you’d want to head back—’ She paused, unable for the life of her to say home. ‘To Sydney.’
‘We,’ Luc corrected, adding quietly, ‘And you need to eat.’
‘Such solicitousness is touching.’
‘Don’t be facetious.’
She spared him a long, thoughtful look, assessing the latent power, his innate sensual chemistry and its degree of sexual energy.
For the past nine days he’d filled her mind, invading it in a manner that was tortuous as she reflected on his long strong body, the feel of sinew and muscle, skin on skin, as his lovemaking transcended the physicality of mere sexual coupling.
It was there in his arms where she lost herself to any rational thought, and became a witching wanton eager to gift and receive each sensual delight.
For then she could qualify a one-sided love, content that it was enough not to have love returned in kind. She could even accept his heart remained locked in the memory of Emma, his first wife, hopeful that with time affection might become something deeper, more meaningful.
At no stage had she envisaged the existence or presence of a mistress.
And now there was to be a child…
She desperately wanted the marriage to survive. But there had to be trust, and honesty.
Was Luc’s word, verbally and noted in legalese, sufficient?
After all, words were only an expression of intention, and easily disregarded or broken without honour.
‘Are you done?’
The silkily voiced query held a slight edge which snapped her back to the present, and her chin tilted in silent defiance. ‘No.’
As long as she lived, she’d never be done with him. The trick was never to allow him that edge of knowledge.
His eyes narrowed slightly. ‘How long will it take you to pack?’
She’d brought few clothes with her, bought less, and the little personal touches she’d added to the apartment would have no place in Luc’s elegant Vaucluse mansion.
‘I can be ready in fifteen minutes.’ She could do cool. At least for now.
Without a further word she crossed into the bedroom, placed the empty bag onto a chair, and began the task of transferring her belongings.
Luc moved to the kitchen, opened the refrigerator and extracted bottled water, filled a glass and swallowed the chilled liquid.
Then he retrieved his cellphone, keyed in a series of digits and instructed his pilot to be on standby for the return flight.
There was, he decided grimly, no point in delaying the inevitable.
Don’t look back, Ana bade silently as she walked at Luc’s side to the car. He stowed her bag in the boot as she slid into the passenger seat, then within minutes he fired the engine and eased the car out from its parking bay.
Luc chose a restaurant at one of the upmarket hotels, and confirmation of their reservation indicated he’d phoned in ahead.
Her appetite seemed to have fled, and she picked at the starter, nibbled a few morsels from the artistically presented main, and chose fresh fruit in lieu of dessert.
‘Not hungry?’
Ana spared him a level glance. ‘No.’ If he suggested she should eat more, she’d be hard pressed not to tip the contents of her plate into his lap.
Luc deferred to her preference for tea and ordered coffee for himself from the hovering waitress.
She watched as he spooned sugar into the dark brew, noting the shape of his hand, the skin texture and the tensile strength evident.
He had the touch, the skill, to drive her mindless with a tactile slide of his fingers, and she hated herself for the sudden increase in the beat of her heart.
Sexual chemistry. It had a power of its own. Damning, lethal.
It took considerable resolve to sip her tea with a semblance of calm, and she felt a sense of relief when he signalled the waitress for their bill.
Three quarters of an hour later they crossed the Tarmac and stepped aboard the luxurious Gulf-stream jet, whose gently whining engines increased in pitch the instant the outer door closed.
Smooth, very smooth, Ana conceded minutes later as the jet wheeled its way out onto the runway, then cleared for take-off, gathered speed and rose like a silver bird into the sky.
The light was fading as dusk approached, and there was an opalescent glow as the sun slipped beneath the horizon in a brilliant flare of orange tinged with pink.
Darkness descended quickly, and all too soon there was nothing to see except an inky blackness and the occasional pinprick of lights as the jet followed the coastline south.
Ana made no attempt at conversation and simply leaned back against the headrest and closed her eyes, successfully shutting out the sight of the man seated at her side.
It didn’t, however, shut out her chaotic thoughts.
A return to Sydney meant the re-emergence of the lifestyle she’d sought to briefly escape. There was her father, Rebekah, the florist shop.
Worst of all, there was Celine Moore. Her nemesis and her enemy.
Absenting herself for more than a week hadn’t solved a thing. The problems remained. A hollow laugh rose and died in her throat. All that had been achieved was a metaphorical stay of execution.
Who would win? The wife or the mistress?
CHAPTER THREE
‘GOOD evening, Ms Dimitriades.’
Ana returned the greeting and offered Petros a faint smile as she slid into the rear passenger seat, aware that Luc crossed behind the vehicle and slipped in beside her.
Within minutes Petros eased the car forward, cleared the private sector and joined the flow of traffic vacating the airport.
At this time of night they’d make good time to Vaucluse, and she sank back against the soft leather upholstery, intent on viewing the passing surroundings.
Bright lights, coloured flashing neon…the muted noise of a big, cosmopolitan city.
To her it was home, where she’d been born and raised, with an endearing sense of the familiar.
A blustery shower sprang up, splattering the windscreen with fine rain-spray and diminishing visibility.
It seemed to close in, heightening the close confines of the car and her proximity to the man seated at her side.
Silence stretched between them like a yawning chasm, and she thought of a safe topic of conversation, only to discard it. Why pretend? 34
Vaucluse was a prestigious suburb with magnificent views over the inner harbour, and Ana’s nerves tensed as the car turned in between the electronically controlled gates leading to Luc’s architecturally designed home.
Stretching over two blocks of land, the elegant double-storeyed mansion possessed imposing lines, archways, and high-domed windows. It was set in well-kept grounds, the sculptured gardens maintained by Petros, who resided in rooms above the garages, and whose duties covered numerous chores supplemented by twice-weekly household help.
The car drew to a halt beneath the wide portico, and Ana emerged before Petros could move round to open the door, thereby incurring his faintly pained expression.
She stood as Luc disabled the security system and unlocked the panelled double doors. He swung them wide and she entered at his side.
Marble floor tiles in varying shades of cream bordered by dark forest-green covered the spacious foyer, and there were expensive works of art gracing the walls. Formal lounge and dining-room were positioned to the right, informal rooms and a spacious study lay to the left. The focal point was a wide, sweeping marble staircase leading to the upper floor which held no fewer than four bedrooms, each with ensuite, the master suite, and a private sitting-room.
‘I’ll serve refreshments,’ Petros indicated as he moved into the foyer after securing the doors.
‘Not for me.’ Ana softened her refusal with a slight smile, and made for the stairs. She felt disinclined to extend the fac¸ade any longer than necessary.
Luc followed in her footsteps, and she turned to face him as they reached the landing.
‘I’d prefer to have a room of my own.’
His expression didn’t change. ‘No.’
Resentment flared. ‘What do you mean…no?’
‘I would have thought my answer held sufficient clarity.’
‘I don’t want to sleep with you.’
‘Perhaps not…tonight,’ he amended silkily, and caught the flicker of pain in those deep blue eyes before it was successfully hidden.
‘Not any night!’
‘Brave words, Ana.’
He moved ahead of her with indolent ease, her bag in hand, and she watched in silence as he entered the master suite only to emerge seconds later empty-handed.
She wanted to rail against him, hating the power he possessed and her inability to retaliate in kind. She was caught in a web, tied to him by the child she’d conceived, and held there by family loyalty.
‘Go to hell, Luc,’ she evinced bitterly as he drew level.
He paused, and caught hold of her chin, tilting it so she had little option but to meet his steady gaze. ‘Careful, pedhaki mou. I might be tempted to take you there.’
Her eyes widened at the silkily voiced threat, and her lips shook slightly as his hand slid to cup her cheek. ‘I don’t scare easily.’
The edge of his mouth quirked. ‘One of your admirable qualities.’ He released her and moved towards the head of the stairs.
He would, she knew, check with Petros for any messages, make the required calls, scan his electronic mail, and deal with the urgent stuff…all of which could take half an hour, or more.
It gave her time…to do what? Settle in? The thought was laughable.
Ana entered the master bedroom and came to a halt a few steps into the large room. Nothing had changed…had she really expected it to?
The king-size bed with its dark, richly patterned duvet and numerous pillows was a focal point. Furniture comprised matching sets of multi-layered chest of drawers in varying heights, and there were dual ensuites, dual walk-in wardrobes. A deep-cushioned sofa and a chaise longue completed a room that was designed for comfort and pleasure.
Sensual pleasure.
A feathery sensation scudded the length of her spine, and she cursed beneath her breath as memories of what she’d shared with Luc in this room rose damnably to the surface.
Vivid, sexually electrifying, and shameless.
Dear heaven. How could she slip beneath those covers and pretend everything was the same?
It didn’t bear thinking about. Yet she had to face the situation.
But not tonight, she determined as she crossed to the upholstered stool at the foot of the bed, caught up her bag and retreated to another room, where she unpacked an oversized T-shirt, toiletries, then crossed to the adjoining en suite.
She should phone her father, then her sister to let them know she was home. Although if either opted to call, it would be to her cellphone, and there was time enough tomorrow to apprise them both of her return.
Now all she wanted to do was undress and slip into bed. Although there were too many thoughts chasing through her brain to promote an easy slide into sleep.
She was wrong. The events of the day, the flight, each took their toll, and combined with the effects of pregnancy ensured she was asleep within minutes of her head touching the pillow.
Ana woke slowly, drifting pleasantly towards consciousness, unaware for a few disoriented seconds of her whereabouts.
Then it all came flooding back…the flight, Sydney, Luc.
Her eyes widened as she recognised the master suite, the large bed…and the familiar dark-haired male head resting on the pillow beside her own.
How could she be here when last night…?
‘You were asleep.’ Luc’s voice was an indolent drawl, and her gaze became trapped in his for a few heart-stopping seconds, then he shifted, moving that powerful frame into a sitting position with fluid ease.
Ana closed her eyes, then opened them again. There was too much warm olive-toned flesh moulded into enviable shape by muscle and sinew.
The smattering of chest hair made her fingers itch to tangle there, and she longed to reach up and curl her hands round his nape and drag his mouth down to hers.
Except she did none of those things. Instead anger rose to simmer beneath the surface as she sought to inch away from him.
‘You have no right—’
‘Yes, I do.’ He lifted a hand and brushed back a swathe of hair from her cheek.
She scrambled to the side of the bed, only to have him reach out and halt her flight.
‘Let me go!’
‘No.’
She lashed out at him, and struggled wildly as he pulled her onto his lap. Not a good position, she discovered. She was too close, much too close. And the dictates of her brain were at variance with the demand of her senses.
The thought of succumbing was more than she could bear, and she stilled, aware that fighting him was a futile exercise.
‘Don’t.’ The single negative held a beseeching anguish. ‘Please.’
It was the heartfelt plea that got to him, and he caught her chin between thumb and forefinger, tilting it to examine her features.
Her eyes were deep enough to drown in, their emotions stark with a vulnerability that twisted his gut, and his gaze narrowed at the fast-beating pulse drumming at the base of her throat.
Her mouth shook a little, and he watched as she sought control. But it was the shimmering moisture in her eyes, and the single escaping tear running in a slow rivulet down one cheek that tore a husky imprecation from his lips.
With incredible gentleness he smoothed the moisture with his thumb, then he lowered his head and trailed his mouth over her cheek.
He let the palm of one hand slip down her arm and settle against the curve of her waist.
Their child grew there, a tiny embryo that would succour and gain strength. Its existence touched him as nothing else could.
‘Come share my shower.’
‘I don’t think so.’ He couldn’t know just how much it cost her to refuse. Yet to slip back easily into the relationship they’d shared would indicate she condoned his use of emotional blackmail…something she hated him for. And Celine…dear heaven, she didn’t even want to go there!
She slid from his grasp, aware it was only because he let her, and she gathered fresh underwear and retreated into the en suite.
Her stomach felt as if it didn’t belong to her, and she pressed a hand to her navel in an attempt to soothe the disturbance.
Fifteen minutes later, showered and dressed in tailored trousers, singlet top and jacket, she felt measurably better, and she caught up her shoulder bag and ran lightly down the stairs to the kitchen where Petros was preparing eggs Benedict and the smell of freshly brewed coffee was ambrosia.
‘Luc is in the dining-room. You will join him there.’ He spared her a warm smile. ‘I have made you tea.’
‘But I prefer—’
‘Tea. Caffeine is not recommended during pregnancy.’
Ana wrinkled her nose at him, feeling her spirits lighten a little. ‘Bossy, aren’t we?’ Hunger assailed her, and she took a slice of toast from the stacked rack Petros had just added to the breakfast trolley, nibbled on it, then filched a fresh strawberry and popped it into her mouth.
She curled both hands over the trolley handle. ‘Want me to take this through?’
‘Really, Ms Dimitriades,’ the man chastised with an aloofness that brought forth a smile. ‘Most definitely not.’
‘Don’t you think you could call me Ana?’ she cajoled, then added teasingly, ‘I’m almost young enough to be your daughter.’
He drew himself up to his full height. ‘You are the wife of my employer. I could not begin to be so familiar.’
A laugh bubbled up in her throat and escaped as a mischievous chuckle. ‘You call him Luc,’ she reminded, and met his level glance.
‘We have known each other a long time.’
‘So how many years do I have to wait before you accord me the honour of using my Christian name?’
‘Five years,’ he responded solemnly, skilfully transferring grilled bacon onto a heated platter and placing it on the trolley together with the eggs. ‘At least.’
‘In that case, I get to wheel the trolley.’
His mouth parted in silent protest, then he pursed his lips as he caught her cheeky grin, watching as she took care of the chore and leaving him to tidy the kitchen.
The informal dining-room was at the back of the house, overlooking the pool, and caught the morning sun.
Ana reached it in seconds and swept through the open door. ‘Breakfast…at your service.’
Luc was seated at the head of the table, the day’s newspaper spread out in front of him, a half-finished cup of coffee to one side.
His jacket hung over the back of his chair, on top of which lay his tie. A briefcase and laptop rested on the floor near by.
He looked up at the sound of her voice, cast the trolley a quizzical glance, then folded the newspaper.
‘How did you manage that?’
‘Feminine wiles and logical rationale.’ She shifted platters onto the table, added fresh coffee, tea, and toast, then she drew out a chair and sat down.
She poured herself tea, added milk, then helped herself to eggs and toast.
Heaven, she decided after the first mouthful. No one but Petros made eggs Benedict this good.
‘I imagine you’ll call your father and Rebekah this morning?’
‘Yes.’ She took a sip of tea, and felt her stomach settle. ‘Dad, as soon as I finish this.’ She indicated the plate with her fork. ‘Then I’ll go into the shop.’
‘Not to work.’
There was almost an edge of command apparent, and she paused in the process of transferring a portion of food to her mouth. ‘Of course, to work.’
‘There’s no need for you to work.’
‘Are we talking today specifically?’
‘At all.’ There was no mistaking the clarification.
‘Now that I’m pregnant?’ Her voice was quiet, too quiet.
‘I don’t see the necessity for you to be on your feet all day, put in long hours, and become overtired.’
She replaced her cutlery with care and pushed her plate aside. ‘Instead, you’d prefer me to join the social-luncheon set, shop a lot and rest each afternoon like a delicate swan?’
‘You can shift your interest in the shop to that of silent partner, and have Rebekah employ an assistant.’
‘No.’
‘I’m not giving you an option.’
His voice was silk-smooth with an edge of anger she chose to ignore.
‘Don’t try to manipulate me, Luc.’ Heat flared, turning her eyes into brilliant blue shards. ‘I won’t stand for it.’
‘Finish your breakfast.’
‘I’ve lost my appetite.’ She stood to her feet and tossed the napkin onto the table. ‘I have a few calls to make.’
He caught hold of her arm, halting her flight, and she had no illusions his grasp would tighten if she attempted to struggle.
‘Tell Rebekah to employ your replacement.’ Those who knew him well would have blanched at the silkiness in his tone, recognised the predatory stillness apparent…and quailed. ‘Or I will.’ He waited a beat. ‘Meanwhile, ensure your time at the shop is kept to a minimum.’
‘Go to hell.’
His gaze chilled. ‘Don’t push me too far.’
She ignored the urge to respond as he released her arm. Instead she chose dignified silence, and walked out onto the terrace and descended the few steps to the garden.
There, she extracted her cellphone and called her father, confirmed her return and suggested lunch, only to have it postponed due to a business meeting until the following day.
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