The Helen Bianchin Collection (Mills & Boon E-Book Collections) (141 page)

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.

H
OW
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 ho
tels, 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?