The Helen Bianchin Collection (Mills & Boon E-Book Collections) (45 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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‘That sort of action would get you long service, perhaps even life, in gaol.'
‘Not for the sort of death I have in mind.' His features assumed a pitiless mask.
He had the power, the influence, to financially ruin an adversary. And he would do it without the slightest qualm.
A light shivery sensation feathered over the surface of her skin. She needed time out from all the madness that surrounded her. Somewhere she could gain solitude in which to think. A place where she had an element of choice.
‘I'm going to move into the house for a few days.'
The words emerged almost of their own accord, and she saw his eyes narrow fractionally.
‘It's the house, or a hotel,' Aysha insisted, meaning every word.
He wanted to shake her. Paramount was the desire to wring Nina's neck. Anger, frustration, irritation... each rose to the fore, and he banked them all down in an effort to conciliate.
‘If that's what it takes.'
‘Thank you.'
She was so icily polite, so remote. Pain twisted his gut, and he swore beneath his breath.
‘We're due at the ballet in an hour.'
‘Go alone, or don't go at all, Carlo. I really don't care.'
Aysha walked into the bedroom and caught up a few essentials from drawers, the wardrobe, aware that Carlo stood watching her every move from the doorway.
For one tragic second she felt adrift, homeless. Which was ridiculous. The thought made her angry, and she closed the holdall, then slung the strap over one shoulder.
‘Aysha.'
She'd taken only a token assortment of clothing. That fact should have been reassuring, yet he'd never felt less assured in his life.
Clear grey eyes met his, unwavering in their clarity. ‘Right now, there isn't a word you can say that will make a difference.'
She walked to the doorway, stepped past him, and made her way through the apartment to the front
door. She half expected him to stop her, but he didn't.
The lift arrived swiftly, and she rode it down to the car park, unlocked her car, then drove it up onto the road.
 
Carlo leaned his back against the wall and stared sightlessly out of the wide plate-glass window. After a few tense minutes, he picked up the receiver, keyed in a series of digits, then waited for it to connect.
The private detective was one of the best, and with modern technology he should have the answer Carlo needed within days.
He made three more calls, offered an obscene amount of money to ensure that his requests...
orders
, he amended with grim cynicism, were met within a specified time-frame.
Now, he had to wait. And continue to endure Aysha's farcical pretence for a few days. Then there would be no more room for confusion.
He moved away from the wall, prowled the lounge, then in a restless movement he lifted a hand and raked fingers through his hair.
Yet strength wasn't the answer. Only proof, irrefutable proof.
In business, it was essential to cover all the bases, and provide back-up. He saw no reason why it wouldn't work in his personal life.
A
YSHA was hardly aware of the night, the flash of headlights from nearby vehicles, as she traversed the streets and negotiated the Harbour Bridge. She handled the car with the movements of an automaton, and it was something of a minor miracle she reached suburban Clontarf.
Celestial guidance, she decided wryly as she activated the wrought-iron gates guarding. entrance to the architectural masterpiece Carlo had built
Remote-controlled lights sprang on as she reached the garage doors, and she checked the alarm system before entering the house.
It was so quiet, so still, and she crossed into the lounge to switch on the television, then cast a glance around the perfectly furnished room.
Beautiful home, luxuriously appointed, every detail perfect, she reflected; except for the relationship of the man and woman who were to due to inhabit it.
A weary sigh escaped her lips. Was she being foolish seeking a temporary escape? What, after all, was it going to achieve?
Damn
. Damn Nina and the seeds she'd deliberately planted.
A slight shiver shook her slender frame, and she resolutely made her way to the linen closet. It was
late, she was tired, and all she had to do was fetch fresh linen, make up the bed, and slip between the sheets.
She looked at the array of linen in their neat piles, and her fingers hovered, then shifted to a nearby stack.
Not the main bedroom. The bed was too large, and she couldn't face the thought of sleeping in it alone.
A guest bedroom? Heaven knew there were enough of them! She determinedly made her way towards the first of four, and within minutes she'd completed the task.
In a bid to court sleep she opted for a leisurely warm shower. Towelled dry, she caught up a cotton nightshirt and slid into bed to lie staring into the darkness as her mind swayed every which way but loose.
Carlo. Was he in bed, unable to sleep? Or had he opted to attend the ballet, after all?
What if Nina was also there? The wretched woman would be in her element when she discovered Carlo alone. Oh, for heaven's sake! Be sensible.
Except she didn't
feel
sensible. And sleep was never more distant.
Perhaps she did fall into a fitful doze, although it seemed as if she'd been awake all night when dawn filtered through the drapes and gradually lightened the room.
She lifted her left wrist and checked the time. A few minutes past six. There was no reason for her to rise this early, but she couldn't just lie in bed.
Aysha thrust aside the covers and padded barefoot
to the kitchen. The refrigerator held a half-empty bottle of fruit juice, a partly eaten sandwich, and an apple.
Not exactly required sustenance to jump-start the day, she decided wryly. So, she'd go shopping, stop off at a café for breakfast, then come back, change, and prepare to meet Teresa at ten. Meantime she'd try out the pool.
It was almost seven when she emerged, and she blotted off the excess moisture, then wrapped the towel sarong-wise and re-entered the house.
Within minutes the phone rang, and she reached for it automatically.
‘You slept well?'
Aysha drew in a deep breath at the sound of that familiar voice. ‘Did you expect me not to?'
There was a faint pause. ‘Don't push it too far,
cara
,' Carlo drawled in husky warning.
‘I'm trembling,' she evinced sweetly.
‘So you should be.' His voice tightened, and acquired a depth that sent goosebumps scudding over the surface of her skin.
‘Intimidation isn't on my list.'
‘Nor is false accusation on mine.'
With just the slightest lack of care, this could easily digress into something they both might regret.
With considerable effort she banked down the anger, and aimed for politeness. ‘Is there a purpose to your call, other than to enquire if I got any sleep?' She thought she managed quite well. ‘I have a host of things to do.'
‘
Grazie
.'
She winced at the intended sarcasm.
‘Prego,'
she concluded graciously, and disconnected the phone.
On reflection, it wasn't the best of days, but nor was it the worst. Teresa was in fine form, and so consumed with her list of Things to Do, Aysha doubted her own preoccupation was even noticed. Which was just as well, for she couldn't have borne the string of inevitable questions her mother would deem it necessary to ask.
‘You're looking a little peaky, darling. You're not coming down with something, are you?'
‘A headache, Mamma.' It wasn't too far from the truth.
Teresa frowned with concern. ‘Take some tablets, and get some rest.'
As if rest was the panacea for everything! ‘Carlo and I are attending the sculpture exhibition at the Gallery tonight.'
‘It's just as well Carlo is whisking you away to the Coast for the weekend. The break will do you good.'
Somehow Aysha doubted it.
 
The Gallery held a diverse mix of invited guests, some of whom attended solely to be seen and hopefully make the social pages. Others came to admire, with a view to adding to their collection.
Carlo and Aysha fell into a separate category. A close friend was one of the exhibiting artists and they wanted to add their support.
‘Ciao, bella
,' a male voice greeted, and Aysha
turned to face the extraordinarily handsome young man who'd sent his personal invitation.
‘Bruno!' She flung her arms wide and gave him an enthusiastic hug. ‘How are you?'
‘The better for seeing you.' He lowered his head and bestowed a kiss to each cheek in turn. ‘Damn Carlo for snaring you first.' He withdrew gently and looked deeply into those smoky grey eyes, then he turned towards Carlo and lifted one eyebrow in silent query. ‘Carlo,
amici. Come stai?'
Something passed between both men. Aysha glimpsed it, and sought to avert any swing in the territorial parameters by tucking one hand through Carlo's arm.
‘Come show us your exhibits.'
For the next half-hour they wandered the large room, pausing to examine and comment, or converse with a few of the fellow guests.
Aysha moved towards a neighbouring exhibit as Carlo was temporarily waylaid by a business acquaintance.
‘Your lips curve wide with a generous smile, yet your eyes are sad,' said Bruno. ‘Why?'
The wedding is a week tomorrow.' She gave a graceful shrug. ‘Teresa and I have been shopping together every day, and nearly every night Carlo and I have been out.'
‘Sad,
cara
,' Bruno reiterated. ‘I didn't say tired. If Carlo isn't taking care of you, he will answer to me.'
She summoned a wicked smile and her eyes sparkled with hidden laughter. ‘Swords at dawn? Or should that be pistols?'
‘I would take pleasure in breaking his nose.'
She turned to check on the subject of their discussion, and stiffened. Bruno, acutely perceptive, shifted his head and followed her gaze. ‘Ah, the infamous Nina.'
The statuesque brunette looked stunning in red, the soft material hugging every curve like a well-fitting glove.
Bruno leant down and said close to Aysha's ear, ‘Shall we go break it up?'
‘Let's do that.' The smile she proffered didn't reach her eyes, and her heart hammered a little in her chest as she drew close.
Nina's tapered red-lacquered nails rested on Carlo's forearm, and Aysha watched those nails conduct a gentle caressing movement back and forth over a small area of his tailored jacket.
Nina's make-up was superb, her mouth a perfect glossy red bow.
‘Want me to charm her?' Bruno murmured, and Aysha responded equally quietly.
‘Thanks, but I can fight my own battles.'
‘Take care,
cara
. You're dealing with a dangerous cat.' He paused as they reached Carlo's side. ‘Your most precious possession,' Bruno said lightly, and inclined his head with deliberate mockery, ‘Nina.' Then he smiled, and moved through the crowd.
Wise man, Aysha accorded silently, wishing she could do the same.
‘Darling, do get me a drink. You know what I like.'
Aysha began a mental countdown the moment Carlo left to find a waitress.
‘I imagine you've checked the photographs?' Nina raised one eyebrow and raked Aysha's slender frame. ‘Caused a little grief, did they?'
‘Wasn't that your purpose?' Aysha was cold, despite the warmth of the summer evening.
‘How clever of you,' Nina approved. ‘Have you decided to condone his transgressions? I do hope so.' Her smile was seductively sultry. ‘I would hate to have to give him up.'
Her heart felt as if it was encased in ice. ‘You've missed your vocation,' she said steadily.
‘What makes you say that, darling?'
She needed the might of a sword, but a verbal punch-line was better than nothing. ‘You should have been an actress.' A smile cost her almost every resource she had, but she managed one beautifully, then she turned and threaded her way towards one of Bruno's sculptures.
‘Who won?'
Bruno could always be counted on, and she cast him a wry smile. ‘You noticed.'
‘Ah, but I was looking out for you.' He curved an arm around the back of her waist. ‘Now, tell me what you think about this piece.'
She examined it carefully. ‘Interesting,' she conceded. ‘If I say it resembles my idea of an African fertility god, would it offend you?'
‘Not at all, because that's exactly what it is.'
‘You're just saying that to make me feel good.'
He placed a hand over his heart. ‘I swear.'
She began to laugh, and he smiled down at her. ‘Why not me,
cara
?' he queried softly, and hugged her close. ‘I'd treat you like the finest porcelain.'
‘I know,' she said gently, and with a degree of very real regret.
‘You love him, don't you?'
‘Is it that obvious?'
‘Only to me,' he assured her quietly. ‘I just hope Carlo knows how fortunate he is to have you.'
‘He does.'
Aysha heard that deep musing drawl, glimpsed the latent darkness in his eyes, and gently extricated herself from Bruno's grasp. ‘I was admiring Bruno's sculpture.'
Carlo cast her a glittering look that set her nerves on edge. How dared he look at her like that when he'd been playing
up close and personal
with Nina?
‘Don't play games,
cara,
' Carlo warned as soon as Bruno was out of earshot.
‘Practise what you preach,
darling
,' she said sweetly. ‘And
please
get me a drink. It'll give Nina another opportunity to waylay you.'
He bit off a husky oath. ‘We can leave peaceably, or not,' he said with deceptive quietness. ‘Your choice.' He meant every word.
‘Bruno will be disappointed.'
‘He'll get over it.'
‘I could make a scene,' Aysha threatened, and his expression hardened.
‘It wouldn't make any difference.'
It would, however, give Nina the utmost pleasure
to witness their dissension. ‘I guess we get to say goodnight,' she capitulated with minimum grace.
Ten minutes later she was seated in the Mercedes as it purred across the Harbour Bridge towards suburban Clontarf.
She didn't utter a word during the drive, and she reached for the door-clasp the instant Carlo drew the car to a halt. It would be fruitless to tell him not to follow her indoors, so she didn't even try.
‘Bruno is a friend A good friend,' she qualified, enraged at his high-handedness. ‘Which is more than I can say for Nina.'
‘Neither Bruno nor Nina are an issue.'
Her chin tilted as she glared up at him. ‘Then what the hell is the issue?'
‘We are,' he vouchsafed succinctly.
‘Well, now,' Aysha declared. ‘There's the thing. Nina is quite happy for you to marry me, just as long as she gets to remain your mistress.'
His eyes filled with chilling intensity. ‘Nina has one hell of an imagination.'
She'd had enough. ‘Go home, Carlo.' Her eyes blazed with fury. ‘If you don't, I'll be tempted to do something I might regret.'

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