The Helen Bianchin Collection (Mills & Boon E-Book Collections) (115 page)

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Authors: Helen Bianchin

Tags: #Fiction, #Romance, #Erotica, #Collections & Anthologies, #Contemporary Women, #General

BOOK: The Helen Bianchin Collection (Mills & Boon E-Book Collections)
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She should suggest the more formal surroundings of the lounge, but the last thing she wanted to do was indulge in meaningless conversation.
‘Do you intend laying charges?'
Her eyes widened slightly. Oh God, that meant involving the police, filing a complaint. The facts becoming public knowledge. Jeremy's parents, her parents, their friends...
‘I don't think so,' she said at last.
His piercing regard unsettled her, and after what seemed an age she averted her gaze to a point somewhere beyond his right shoulder.
‘What about the next time he lays in wait for you?' Nikos queried relentlessly.
Michelle's eyes snapped back into focus. there won't
be
a next time.'
‘You're so sure about that?'
‘If there is, I can handle it,' she reiterated firmly.
‘Such confidence.'
‘I handled you.'
His smile lacked any pretense at humour. ‘At no time did my motives stem from a desire to frighten or harm you.'
‘I didn't know that.' Any more than she knew it now.
‘No,' he qualified, and glimpsed the way her body jerked imperceptibly, and the defensive tightening of her arms as she sought to control it. He wasn't done, and he derived no satisfaction or pleasure in what he
intended to say. ‘Don't presume to judge the son by his parents.'
‘Hidden messages, Nikos?' Her eyes were clear as they met his.
The unexpected peal of the telephone startled her.
‘Aren't you going to answer that?'
She moved to the handset and picked up the receiver.
‘Michelle.'
Jeremy.
Her fingers tightened. ‘I have nothing to say to you.' She hung up without giving him the opportunity to utter a further word.
A minute later it rang again, and she ignored it for several seconds before snatching the receiver.
‘I'm sorry.' His voice was ragged, and came in quick bursts. ‘I was jealous. I didn't mean to hurt you.'
She didn't bother answering, and simply replaced the receiver.
Within seconds the telephone rang again, and she caught up the receiver, only to have it taken out of her hand.
‘Call once more, and I'll ensure Michelle notifies the police,' Nikos directed brusquely. The tirade of abuse that followed was ugly. ‘What you're suggesting is anatomically impossible. However I'm quite prepared to get a legal opinion on it. Would you care for me to do that?'
It was obvious Jeremy didn't want anything of the kind, and she watched as Nikos replaced the receiver.
‘Does he have a key to your apartment?'
‘No.' Indignation rose to the fore, and erupted in angry speech. ‘No, he doesn't. No one does.'
‘I'm relieved to hear it.'
Michelle fixed him with a fulminating glare. ‘What I do with my life and who I do it with is none of your business.'
He admired her spirit, and there was a part of him that wanted to pull her into his arms and hold her close. Except he knew if he so much as touched her, she'd scratch and claw like a cornered cat.
‘Tonight I made it my business.'
‘I didn't leave the Gallery until half an hour after everyone else,' Michelle flung at him. ‘How come you happened to still be hanging around?'
‘I was on foot, remember? I noticed Jeremy sitting in a car he made no attempt to start.'
Nikos didn't need to paint a word picture. She got it without any help at all, in technicolour.
‘I should thank you.'
His mouth tilted fractionally. ‘So—thank me.'
Her eyes met his. ‘I thought I just did.'
‘And now you want me to leave.'
‘Please.'
She watched as he extracted his wallet, withdrew a card, scrawled a series of digits and placed it onto the countertop.
‘My mobile number. You can reach me on it anytime.'
She followed him from the kitchen, paused as he caught up his jacket, then crossed the lounge to the front door.
Nikos lifted a hand and brushed his fingers down her cheek. ‘Goodnight,
kyria
.'
He didn't linger, and she told herself she was glad. She closed the door, set the locking mechanism in place, and threw the bolt.
Then she crossed to a comfortable chair and activated the remote.
Cable television provided endless choices, and she stared resolutely at the screen in an effort to block out what had transpired in the past hour.
She focused on the Gallery, its success, Emilio, until it became increasingly difficult to keep her eyes open, then she simply closed them, uncaring where she slept.
M
ICHELLE woke at dawn to the sound of male voices and lifted her head in alarm, only to subside as realisation affirmed the television was on and the voice belonged to actor Don Johnson as Sonny in a rerun of ‘Miami Vice.'
Her limbs felt stiff, and she stretched in an effort to ease them, then she checked her watch.
There was time for a swim in the indoor pool, then she'd shower and change, grab some breakfast, and drive to the Gallery.
It was almost nine when she swung the Porsche into a parking bay, and she used her key to unlock the outer Gallery door.
‘Buon giorno.'
‘Hi,' she greeted, and cast Emilio an appreciative smile as she saw the fruits of his labour in highly polished floors and everything restored to immaculate order. ‘You're an angel.'
‘Ah, from you that is indeed a compliment.'
‘I mean it.'
The corners of his eyes crinkled with humour, and his smile was warm and generous. ‘I know you do.'
‘As you've cleaned up, I'll do the book work, enter the accounts, make the phone calls.'
‘But first, the coffee.' He moved towards her and caught hold of her shoulders, then frowned as he saw
her wince. His eyes narrowed as he glimpsed the shadows beneath her eyes. ‘Headache, no sleep, what?'
‘A bit of all three.'
She bore his scrutiny with equanimity. ‘Elaborate on the
what
, Michelle.'
Emilio called her
darling, honey, cara,
but rarely
Michelle.
‘It was such a successful evening,' she prevaricated.
‘Uh-huh,' he disclaimed. ‘We've achieved other successful evenings, none of which have seen you pale, wan, and hollow-eyed the next morning.'
She opted to go for the truth. Or as much of it as he needed to know. ‘I watched a film on cable, then fell asleep in the lounge.' She arched her neck, and rolled her head a little. ‘I'm a little stiff, that's all.'
He didn't say anything for several long seconds. ‘Nice try,
cara
.'
‘You mentioned coffee?'
Michelle took hers into the office, and set to work entering details from yesterday's sales into the computer. She double-checked the receipts and entries before printing out the accounts, then stacked them in alphabetical order. A few of their regular clientele had paid by personal cheque, and she organised the banking deposit sheet.
She made telephone calls and arranged packing and delivery, then checked with the clientele to ascertain if the times quoted were convenient.
When the intercom beeped, she activated it. ‘Yes, Emilio?'
‘Jeremy Bateson-Burrows is here. Shall I send him in?'
‘No.' Her refusal was swift, and she breathed in deeply before qualifying, ‘I don't want to see him.'
A minute later the intercom beeped again. ‘He says it's of vital importance.'
Michelle cursed beneath her breath. ‘Tell him I'll be down in a minute.'
Her stiletto heels made a clicking noise on the polished floor, and she saw Jeremy turn towards her as she drew close.
Emilio was within sight some distance away arranging a display of decorative ceramic urns.
‘Jeremy,' she greeted with cool formality.
‘I wanted to apologise in person.'
Careful, an inner voice cautioned. ‘It's a little too late for that,' she said evenly. ‘If you'll excuse me, I have a considerable amount of work to get through.'
‘I need to talk to you, to explain. Have lunch with me. Please?' He was very convincing. Too convincing. ‘I don't know what came over me last night,' he said desperately.
‘I'd like you to leave. Now,' Michelle said quietly.
He reached out a hand as if to touch her arm, and she stepped back a few paces.
‘Michelle.'
Emilio's intrusion was heaven-sent, and she turned towards him in silent query.
‘I'm in the middle of an international call,' Emilio announced smoothly. ‘Nikos Alessandros has arrived
to arrange delivery and payment. Can you attend to him?'
He held the mobile phone, and she almost believed him until she glimpsed the dark stillness apparent in his expression.
‘Yes, of course.'
Nikos watched as she walked towards him, and controlled the brief surge of anger as she drew close. She looked as fragile as the finest glass.
‘Good morning.' Or was it afternoon? Hell, she'd lost track of whether it was one or the other.
His eyes met hers, dark, analytical, unwavering, and her eyes widened slightly as he leaned forward and cupped her face with both hands.
His mouth covered hers with a gentleness that made the breath catch in her throat, and she was unable to suppress the shivery sensation scudding down her spine as his tongue softly explored the delicate tissues, slowly traced each abrasion, then tangled briefly with her tongue before withdrawing.
He let both hands drop to his side, then he circled her waist and drew her close.
‘What's going on? Michelle?' Jeremy's voice was hard and filled with querulous anger.
Nikos' arm tightened fractionally in silent warning, and the look he cast down at her was warm and incredibly intimate. ‘I don't see the need to keep it a secret, do you?' He shifted his attention to Emilio. ‘Michelle and I have decided to resume our relationship.'
She heard the words, assimilated them, and didn't
have a chance to draw breath as Nikos soundly kissed her.
Why did she have the feeling she was one of three players on a stage, with an audience of only one? Because that was the precise scenario, and it came as no surprise when Jeremy brushed past them and exited the Gallery.
Emilio locked the door after him and turned the “open” sign round to read “closed.”
‘You can't do that,' Michelle protested.
‘I just did. So what are you going to do about it?' Emilio queried lightly, adding m jest—‘Sue me?'
She looked from one to the other, then fixed her gaze on Nikos. ‘You've really put the fat in the fire now.' Reaction began to rear its head. ‘Do you realise the news will probably reach my parents? What will they think?' She closed her eyes, then opened them again in the knowledge that her darling
maman
would undoubtedly be delighted. Another thought rose to the fore, and her expression became fierce. ‘This situation plays right into your hands with Saska, doesn't it?'
‘Who is Saska?' Emilio asked with interest, and Nikos informed him urbanely.
‘The recently widowed wife of a very close friend.'
‘Whom Nikos suggested I collaborate with him to deceive,' Michelle added.
‘Ah,' Emilio commented with a shrug in comprehension. ‘But you wouldn't play, huh?'
‘No, she wouldn't,' Nikos said smoothly.
A wide smile showed white teeth and lent dark
eyes a lively sparkle. ‘I think you should,
cara
. Play,' Emilio added quizzically. ‘It would do you good.'
‘Emilio,' Michelle warned. ‘I don't find this in the least amusing.'
‘No, darling, I don't expect you do.' His expression sobered slightly. Jeremy was the catalyst, and Nikos, unless he was mistaken, was a man with a hidden agenda. ‘You'll forgive me if I say I shall enjoy the show?' He didn't give her the opportunity to respond.
‘I don't need to tell you that your secret is safe with me. Now, why don't you go have lunch together, and fine tune your strategy?'
‘Yes,' Nikos agreed. ‘Why don't we do that?'
She cast him a discerning look, opened her mouth to argue, then closed it again. ‘I'll get my bag.' She crossed to the office, retrieved it, then swung back to the entrance.
Emilio was talking into the mobile phone, and she fluttered her fingers at him, checked her watch, and silently indicated she'd be back at two.
‘I suggest somewhere close by in air-conditioned comfort,' Nikos indicated silkily as they walked into the midsummer sunshine.
Michelle slid down her sunglasses, and was aware he mirrored her actions. ‘Fine. You choose.'
Ten minutes later they were seated in seclusion at a table overlooking an outdoor courtyard filled with potted flowers and greenery plants of numerous description.
‘Your parents have invited Saska to their home this evening.'
Michelle looked at him over the rim of her glass. He looked relaxed and at ease, and far too compelling for his own good. ‘
Maman
is the consummate hostess,' she said evenly. ‘I'm sure you'll both enjoy yourselves.'
She replaced the glass as the waiter delivered their order.
‘I'll collect you at five to six.'
‘I have other plans.'
‘Change them.'
‘Those plans involve other people. I don't want to let them down at such short notice.'
His eyes speared hers. ‘I'm sure they'll understand if you explain.'
Yes they would, but that wasn't the point.
Michelle picked up her fork and stabbed a crouton, some cos lettuce, and regarded the poised fork with apparent interest. She was bargaining for time, and it irked that he knew. ‘Surely the charade can wait a few days?'
‘Antonia and Emerson Bateson-Burrows are fellow guests,' Nikos intimated. ‘Won't they think it a little strange if you're not there?' He waited a beat. ‘And Saska is seen to be my partner?'
She had to concede he had a point. ‘I guess you're right.'
Why did she feel like she'd just made a life-changing decision? How long would this pretense need to last? A few weeks? A month? It wasn't as if they had to attend every party and dinner in town. It was likely she'd only have to see him a couple of nights a week.
Just keep your emotions intact
, a tiny voice taunted.
Michelle took a sip of mineral water, then speared another morsel of food. The salad was delicious, but her appetite diminished with every mouthful.
What about the chemistry? The way she felt when he touched her? Each time he kissed her, whether in sensual exploration or passion, she'd just wanted to die.
Dear heaven, she'd experienced more emotional upheaval in the past two days than she had in...a long time, she admitted.
Nikos observed each fleeting expression, and wondered if she realised how expressive her features were? Or how easily he was able to define them?
‘I guess we should set down some ground rules.' That sounded fair, she determined. How had Emilio put it?
Fine tune your strategy.
‘What did you have in mind?'
Michelle looked at him carefully, and was unable to see beyond the sophisticated mask he presented. Oh God, was she
mad
? She wasn't even in the same league, let alone the same game. So why was she choosing to play?
‘You don't make decisions for me, and vice versa,' she began. ‘We consult on anything that involves the both of us.'
“That's reasonable.'
So far, so good. ‘No unnecessary—' She was going to say
intimacy
, but that sounded too personal. ‘Touching,' she amended, and missed the faint gleam in those dark eyes.
‘I'll try to restrain myself, if you will.'
He was amused, damn him! ‘This isn't funny,' she reproved, and he proffered a crooked smile.
‘My sense of humour got the better of me.'
‘Do you want to put a time limit on this?'
One eyebrow slanted. ‘Lunch?'
‘Our supposed relationship!'
‘Ah—that.' He expertly wound the last of his fettuccine onto his fork and savoured it. ‘How about...as long as it takes?'
Of course. That was the entire object of the exercise. She'd had enough salad, and she pushed the bowl forward, then sank back in her chair.
‘I'm intrigued,' she ventured. ‘To discover how you knew I'd studied at the Sorbonne?'
He looked at her carefully. ‘I endeavour to discover background details of the people who claim to want to do business with me. It's a precautionary measure.'
Michelle's eyes narrowed slightly. That meant being able to access confidential data on file. Although with the right contacts and connections, it wouldn't be difficult.

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