Forgiven but Not Forgotten? (7 page)

Lying through her teeth, and trying desperately not to look at the succulent lump of meat he was taking out of the fridge, Siena said loftily, ‘I’m not hungry anyway. In fact I’m quite tired. It’s been a long day. I’m going to go to my room, if you have no objections.’

Andreas looked up from his ministrations and said easily, ‘Oh, I object all right. I think you could do with being forced to watch me eat after your pettish spoilt behaviour, but the expression on your face might put me off my food.’

He went on coolly. ‘As it happens I have some work to continue here this evening...so feel free to entertain yourself. You don’t have to confine yourself to your room Siena, like some kind of martyr.’

She turned and walked out, not liking the way Andreas was dealing with preparing himself dinner so dextrously. It caused something to flutter deep inside her. She didn’t like these little signs that Andreas couldn’t be boxed away so neatly.

She was about to go towards her room when she found herself seeking out the more informal sitting area that Andreas had shown her the previous evening. She forced herself to relax in front of the TV, even though she really wanted to escape to her room and avoid any more contact with Andreas.

* * *

A short time later Andreas gave up any attempt to work. It was impossible when he knew that Siena was somewhere nearby. He shook his head again at her spoilt behaviour. He didn’t know why it had surprised him, but it
had.
It was as if some stubborn part of him was still clinging onto the false image of that sweet girl in Paris, before she’d morphed into the spoilt heiress.

He got up and put his cleared dinner plate in the dishwasher in the kitchen, noticing as he did that nothing else had been touched. His mouth flattened into a hard line at this further evidence of Siena’s stubborness. She was too proud for her own good. He walked back out and stopped when he heard the faint sound of canned laughter. He followed the sound and found Siena curled up on the couch, fast asleep. Her lashes cast long dark shadows on her cheeks.

Absently Andreas found the remote and switched the TV show off. Siena stirred but didn’t wake. He’d been blocking out how it had felt to see her in his kitchen when he’d come home earlier. Dressed in softly worn jeans and a T-shirt. Hair in a ponytail. Bare feet. He wasn’t sure what he’d expected but it hadn’t been that. He wasn’t used to women dressing down, but told himself that she was obviously making a petty point, refusing to make an effort for him.

He knew Siena had seen the beautician, and inevitably his mind wandered to the parts of her body that would be sleek, smooth. He hadn’t noticed any discernible physical difference but then, he reminded himself cynically, it was hard to improve on perfection. And even as she was now, asleep on a couch in jeans and a T-shirt, she
was
perfection.

Andreas saw her hands now and bent down. They looked softer already, and he could see that her bitten nails had been cleaned up, but they had been filed very short. He felt that constriction in his chest again at noticing that.

And then suddenly she was awake, looking up at him with those huge startling blue eyes. For a moment something crackled between them, alive and powerful. And then he saw Siena register where she was and with whom. The way she grew tense and her eyes became wary. He straightened up.

Siena struggled to a sitting position, more than discomfited to find Andreas watching her so coolly while she slept. ‘What time is it?’ Her voice felt scratchy.

He flicked a glance at his watch. ‘After midnight.’

Siena stood up and only realised then how close she was to Andreas, and how tall he was when she was in bare feet. ‘I should go to bed.’

‘Yes,’ he observed. ‘You seem to be extremely tired. It must have been all that pampering and choosing dresses today.’

Siena was about to protest at the unfairness of his attack, and inform him of just how hard she had been working, but the words died in her throat. He was too close all of a sudden, those dark navy eyes looking at her and reminding her of another time when they’d stood so close and she’d breathed,
‘Andreas...’

She moved back suddenly, but forgot about the couch behind her and felt herself falling back. With the reflexes of a panther Andreas reached out and circled her waist with his hands, hauling her against him.

The breath whooshed out of Siena’s mouth. Her hands were on his chest and he felt hot to the touch even through his shirt. ‘What...’ Her mouth went dry at the thought that he might kiss her. ‘What are you doing?’

‘What I’m doing, Siena, is...’ He stopped and the moment stretched between them.

Siena fancied she could hear both their hearts beating in unison. In that moment she wanted him with a sudden fierce longing deep in her abdomen. She was mesmerised by his mouth. She wanted him to kiss her. And that knowledge burned inside her...

‘...letting you go to bed.’

CHAPTER FIVE

A
NDREAS
HAD
PUT
Siena away from him before she’d realised what he was doing and instantly she felt foolish. She blushed and he raised a brow.

‘That really is some skill—to be able to blush at will. But you forget that it’s wasted on me, Siena. I’m a sure thing. You don’t have to pretend with me.’

Siena’s betraying flush increased—with anger now. ‘That’s good to know. I won’t waste my energy, then.’

She whirled around to leave but was caught when Andreas reached out to take her hand. Electricity shot up her arm. She looked back warily.

‘Actually, I have something for you. Come with me.’

Curious, Siena followed Andreas into his huge dimly lit study. It was a beautiful room, very masculine, with floor-to-ceiling shelves that heaved with books. He had the latest high-spec computers and printers.

He’d gone to a picture in the corner and pulled it out from the wall to reveal that it hid a safe. He entered the combination and pulled out a long velvet box. He came over and opened it, so that Siena could see that it was a stunningly simple yet obviously very expensive diamond bracelet.

Her heart thumped once, hard, and she felt a little sick. Andreas was taking it out and reaching for her wrist so that he could put it on. He said coolly, ‘You’ve been here for one night already. I don’t see why I can’t reward you.’

Feeling very prickly, and not liking the way the cool platinum and stones sat against her pale wrist, winking brilliantly, Siena said acerbically, ‘You don’t have to reward me as if I’m a child, Andreas.’

He dropped her wrist and looked at her, his eyes turning dark. ‘I know you’re not a child, Siena. I’m rewarding you because you asked me to. Tomorrow evening we are going to a charity function in town...tonight will be the last night you sleep alone.’

Trepidation and fear were immediate. The thought of being seen and recognised, having people point and whisper about the disgraced DePieros... But Siena wouldn’t let Andreas see how much it terrified her, or let him see how even more terrifying she found the thought that this time tomorrow night she would be in his bed...

Siena backed away. ‘I can’t wait.’

She’d almost got to the door when Andreas called her name again. She took a deep breath and turned around.

‘I’ve arranged for one of London’s top jewellers to come to the apartment tomorrow morning.’ His jaw tightened. ‘You can choose a selection of jewels to your hard little heart’s content.’

Siena said nothing. She suddenly looked starkly pale and whirled around, walking quickly out of the room. Andreas watched her go and had to relax his hands because they’d clenched to fists. Once again he wasn’t sure what kind of reaction he’d expected, but it hadn’t been that.

He had to take a deep breath, and he wondered why he wasn’t following his base instincts and taking her here and now. Either on the couch earlier, or here in his office. Or following her to her bedroom. She was here. She was his. She was making him pay for it. But he wouldn’t do it now. Because she made him feel a little wild and out of control.

She reminded him far too easily of the raw, ambitious young man he’d once been. Desperate to be a part of the world she’d so easily inhabited because he’d believed that if he was, then he’d truly be as far away from stagnating in his home town as he could possibly be. But he’d changed since then. Being forced into exile had made him appreciate his home and where he came from. It had given him a more balanced view.

He might not want to be a part of his family’s cosy, settled world, but he respected it and their choices. A tiny voice mocked him, reminding him that sometimes when he went back now he found himself feeling a pang when he saw the interaction between his sisters and their husbands and children. It even made him feel slightly threatened—as if, if he stayed too long, everything he’d worked for would disappear and he’d become that young man again, with nothing to his name.

He would not let Siena bring back those memories or reduce him to such baseness. She’d done it once before, before he’d even realised what was happening, and she’d torn his world apart.

No, he would be urbane and civilised—all the things he’d become since he’d stood before her in Paris and been made to feel utterly helpless, at the mercy of the huge emotions seething inside his gut. She didn’t have that power over him any more and she never would.

* * *

Back in her room, Siena struggled to get the diamond bracelet off but refused to go and ask Andreas for help. She was far too volatile when in close proximity to him. Finally it sprang free and Siena put it down with a kind of fascinated horror. He’d given her a diamond bracelet—just like that. Tomorrow he’d be giving her a lot more. And tomorrow night...

Siena sank back down onto the end of the bed and crossed her arms over her belly.

She wanted to hate Andreas for this...but she had no real reason to hate him. So he’d used her five years ago, when she’d all but thrown herself at him...? What young red-blooded man wouldn’t have done the same? It wasn’t his fault it had meant nothing to him. She was the one who had imbued the situation with a silly fantasy that something special had happened between them. Had he deserved to lose his job and be beaten up over it?
No.

She shivered when she thought of that young beaten man, getting on his bike to ride away that dawn morning, and the man he’d become now. For a second that morning, despite his anger, Siena had had a fantasy of getting on the back of that bike with him and fleeing into the dawning light. If she hadn’t had to think of her sister she might well have done it.

Siena knew very well that if Andreas hadn’t stopped kissing her the other night in her flat he would have had her there and then, realised that she was woefully inexperienced, and most likely walked away without a backward glance, having satisfied his curiosity and his desire for revenge. Treacherously, that thought didn’t fill her with the kind of relief it ought to.

What happened to her when he touched her was scary. It was as if he short-circuited her ability to think rationally. When she’d woken on the couch earlier and found him staring at her she’d reacted viscerally: her blood humming and her body coming alive. There hadn’t been a moment’s hesitation in that acceptance. And then she’d realised where she was and why and reality had come tumbling back...

Andreas’s restraint towards her told her that he was in far more control of this situation than she was. The thought of going out in public...the thought of Andreas making love to her... Siena would have to call on that well-worn icy public persona—the one her father had so approved of because it made her seem untouchable and aloof. Desirable. Unattainable.

She clenched her hands to fists. The only problem was, she was all too attainable. The minute Andreas touched her
aloof
and
icy
went out of the window to be replaced with heat and insanity.

* * *

Much to Siena’s relief, when she woke and went exploring in the morning there was no sign of Andreas initially—but her skin prickled with that preternatural awareness that told her he was somewhere in the apartment. She figured he might be in his study, and made sure to avoid going near it.

To her added relief there was an array of breakfast things left out in the kitchen, but she didn’t like the way her belly swooped at the thought that he’d done this for her. She poured herself some coffee, which was still hot, and took a croissant with some preserves over to the table and sat down.

‘Nice of you to join the land of the living. I was beginning to think I might need a bucket of cold water to wake you.’

Siena looked up and nearly choked on her croissant. She hadn’t even heard him coming in, and to see him dressed in jeans and a dark polo shirt moulded to his impressive chest was sending tendrils of sensation through every vein in her body.

She swallowed with difficulty, but before she could say anything Andreas was looking at his watch and saying, with not a little acerbity, ‘Well, it
is
ten a.m., I expect this is relatively early for you?’

Siena fought down a wave of hurt as she thought of how hard she’d been working for the last few months. Usually by now she’d have done half a day’s work. But of course he was referring to her previous life. In fact she’d always been an early riser, up before anyone else. What she wasn’t used to, however, was the current exhaustion she was feeling, thanks to the unaccustomed hard work. And that made her angry at herself for being so weak.

She kept all of this hidden and said to Andreas sweetly, ‘Well, I’d hate to disappoint you. Tomorrow I can make it midday, if you like?’

He prowled closer, after helping himself to more coffee, and said, ‘I’d like it very much if we were in bed together till one o’clock.’

It took a monumental effort not to react to his provocative statement. He was so
audacious.
He sat down at the table, long legs stretched out, far too close to Siena’s. She fought the urge to move her own legs.

‘Yes, well, I can’t imagine you neglecting your business to that level.’ After all, she knew well how her father had consistently relegated his children to the periphery, only to be trotted out for social situations.

She looked away from that far too provocatively close rangy body and concentrated on eating the croissant.

‘Don’t worry,’ Andreas commented drily, ‘my business is doing just fine.’

Siena flashed back, ‘At the expense of all those poor people who are losing their jobs just because of your insatiable ambition.’

Andreas’s eyes narrowed on her and Siena cursed herself. Now she’d exposed herself as having followed his progress.

‘So you read the papers? I would have thought that you should know better than to believe everything you read in print. And since when have you been concerned with the
poor people?
’

There was ice in his tone, but also something more ambiguous that sounded like injured pride, and Siena felt momentarily confused. A sliver of doubt pierced her. Weren’t those stories true?

Andreas uncoiled his tall length, and stood up, going to the sink, where he washed out his cup—a small domestic gesture that surprised Siena.

He turned and said, ‘The jeweller will be here shortly.’

He’d walked out before Siena could respond, and she watched his broad back and tall body disappear, radiating tension. She felt wrong-footed. As if she should apologise!

Siena took her things to the sink, where she washed up perfunctorily and thought churlishly that at least she could figure out the taps. Just as she was turning to leave an older lady walked in, smiling brightly. ‘Morning, dear! You must be Ms DePiero. I’m Mrs Bright, the housekeeper.’

Siena smiled awkwardly and said, ‘Please call me Siena...’

As accomplished as she was in social situations, Siena was an innately shy person and came forward faltering slightly. The older woman met her halfway and took her hand in a warm handshake, smiling broadly. Siena liked her immediately and smiled back.

Siena wisely took the opportunity to ask Mrs Bright about the kitchen, and liked the woman even more when her eyes rolled up to heaven and she said in a broad Scots accent, ‘I thought I’d need a degree in rocket science to figure it all out, but it’s actually very simple once you know.’

When Siena explained about the previous evening Mrs Bright said conspiratorially, ‘Don’t worry, pet. I couldn’t work out which one was the oven either at first.’

Unbeknown to the two women, who were now bent down by the oven, Andreas had come back to the doorway. He listened for a moment and then said abruptly, ‘The jeweller is here, Siena.’

The two women turned around and he could see the dull flush climbing up Siena’s neck. He flashed back to the previous evening, when he’d found her looking so defiant in the kitchen, refusing to put the meat in the oven.

She said thank you to the housekeeper and walked over to him. Andreas caught her arm just as she was about to pass and said,
sotto voce,
‘You didn’t know where the oven was. Why didn’t you just tell me?’

He could see Siena’s throat work, saw that flush climb higher, and felt curiously unsteady on his feet.

Eventually she bit out, avoiding his eye, ‘I thought you’d find it funny.’

Andreas didn’t find it funny in the least. He said, ‘You could have told me, Siena. I’m not an ogre.’

Siena was trembling by the time they got to the drawing room, where Andreas had directed her. Two small men were waiting for them, with lots of cases and boxes around them and an array of jewels laid out on a table before them. Siena noticed a security guard in the corner of the room. She felt sick.

* * *

Later that evening Siena was waiting for Andreas. He’d gone to his office that morning after the jewellery show-and-tell, and she’d been left with a small ransom’s worth of jewellery. A special safe had been installed in Andreas’s office just for her use.

She still felt jittery. Andreas had insisted that to fully appreciate whether or not the jewellery was suitable Siena should get changed into an evening gown. He’d led her, protesting, into her dressing room and picked out a long black strapless dress.

‘Put this on.’

Siena had hissed, ‘I will not. Don’t be so ridiculous. I’ll know perfectly well what will suit me and what won’t.’

‘Well, seeing as I’m paying for the privilege of your company this week, I’d like to see you try out the jewellery in more suitable garb than jeans and a T-shirt—which, by the way, I expect to be in the bin by the end of today.’

‘You’re just doing this to humiliate me.’ Siena had crossed her arms mulishly and glared at Andreas, who had looked back, supremely relaxed.

‘Put the dress on, Siena, and put your hair up. Or I’ll do it for you. I’ll give you five minutes.’

With that chilling command he’d turned and walked out of the room. Siena had fumed and resolved to do no such thing. But then an image of Andreas, striding back into her room and bodily divesting her of her jeans and T-shirt, had made her go hot. He wouldn’t, she’d assured herself. But a small voice had sniggered in her head.
Of course he would.