Ruthless Awakening

by Sara Craven

  As soon as she could she made her own excuses and left too. Sitting in the back of a cab, she let herself think about Diaz—how he’d looked, what he’d said, and the way his lightest touch could make her feel—until she tingled all over, wondering how soon she would see him again. Praying she would not have to wait too long. Teasing herself that she ought to be ashamed of her eagerness. Hoping that he would not be too disappointed when he realised she didn’t have the experience he expected.

  All the lights in the flat seemed to be on when she let herself in, and she halted abruptly, brows lifting, when she saw the dining table laid for two with her nicest lace placemats and crystal, and tall ivory candles already lit in their ceramic holders.

  As Donna came in, carrying the salt and pepper shakers, Rhianna turned on her. ‘Just what is going on here?’

  ‘Simon’s coming over.’ The other girl’s face had a sharp, intense look. ‘He rang earlier, sounding completely different, and said he wanted to talk.’

  ‘And you’re cooking him dinner—here—in my flat?’ Rhianna fought the sheer rage welling up inside her. ‘Knowing how I feel about all that’s happened—about him?’ She punched a clenched fist at the ceiling. ‘How dare you?’

  She took a deep breath. ‘Well, that’s the end, Donna. From now on you’re on your own. You can give me back the key you’ve been using and go.’

  ‘Rhianna, please—let me stay—just one last time. Simon and I can’t talk properly, not in that shoe box I live in, and I simply have to see him—don’t you understand?’ Donna’s voice trembled. ‘Something’s changed with him. I know it has. And I have a really good feeling about it.’

  ‘Which makes one of us.’ Rhianna walked to the mantelpiece and took the embossed invitation wedged behind the clock. ‘Recognise this?’ She flung it on the table. ‘The wedding is still going ahead, whatever you may think.’

  She saw the other woman flinch, and, remembering her charged emotional state, made herself speak more gently. ‘He’s messing you around, Donna. Playing with your head. He won’t give up Carrie and he wants you to go ahead with the termination, as agreed. In your heart you must know that.’

  ‘Heart!’ Donna spat the word. ‘What would you know about hearts?’

  ‘More than you think, perhaps.’ Rhianna stalked to the bedroom, pulled out an overnight bag and began to fill it, swiftly and economically.

  ‘What are you doing?’

  ‘Getting out of here and going to a hotel. I can’t throw you out physically, though I’d like to, but I’m damned if I’m going to hang around as if it’s all right when it’s all wrong.’ Rhianna zipped her bag and swung it off the bed, giving Donna the look with which Lady Ariadne regularly curdled men’s blood—and never to better effect.

  ‘As it is,’ she went on, ‘you’ll kindly get both of yourselves out of here when you’ve eaten. I’ll be back by seven a.m. tomorrow, and I’d better not find you here.’

  The hotel she went to had only a suite available, but as Rhianna slapped down her credit card she told herself it was worth every penny.

  In the end she waited until gone nine o’clock the following morning before staging her return, to find the flat deserted and her bed ominously stripped.

  She would consider the implications of that later, she told herself, drawing a deep breath.

  The dinner table, however, had not been cleared, and although Rhianna wrinkled her nose at the used plates and cutlery, the crumbs and dribbles of wine, and the candle wax that had been allowed to spill down the holders, at least it was a mess she could deal with. Besides, it seemed a small price to pay in order to be rid of that precious pair and their squalid affair.

  But don’t rejoice too soon, she thought with sudden grimness. If Simon has changed his mind and they really are together permanently, how am I going to cope with the fallout? And how can I possibly explain my part in it all to Carrie? Come to that, what the hell will she do?

  She went into the bathroom and began to run water into the tub.

  ‘Survive,’ she said aloud. ‘That’s what women do when they’re dumped by the only men who’ll ever matter to them. When they’re torn and bleeding and stumbling around. They survive. Somehow.’

  But please—please don’t let it come to that…

  She was clean, dry, scented and in her robe, making coffee in the kitchen, when the buzzer sounded.

  Donna? she wondered ironically as she went to answer the door. Come back to lend a hand with the washing up, or offering to take the sheets to the launderette?

  But it was Diaz who was waiting outside.

  Diaz as she had never seen him before—heavy-eyed, unshaven, and still in the clothes he’d been wearing the previous night, minus the silk tie, and with his waistcoat and shirt unbuttoned.

  ‘My God, what’s happened?’ She took a pace towards him and he stepped back, flinging up both hands as if to ward her off.

  ‘Don’t touch me,’ he grated. ‘Or I might do something we’ll both regret for the rest of our lives.’

  ‘I don’t understand.’ She stared at him. ‘What’s wrong?’

  ‘You are,’ he said. ‘My sweet, treacherous Rhianna. Stringing me along. Encouraging me to make a total fool of myself. You’re what’s wrong. You—and Rawlins, of course.’

  ‘You—you must be mad.’ Her mouth was dry, her heartbeat quickening into panic. He knows—but what does he know?

  ‘I was,’ he said. ‘But fortunately my sight wasn’t affected. I saw him arrive last night, and let himself in with his own key. A very convenient and intimate arrangement.’

  A key? Donna actually gave him his own key?

  His eyes were on her face. He said harshly, ‘It’s all right, Rhianna, don’t look so shocked. I know he’s not here now, because I also saw him leave just after dawn. I was sitting in my car across the street, so I was able to time his visit to the minute.’

  He threw back his head. ‘And now I’m back again, to take a long look at you in daylight. No lamps, no candles, no moon, and no shadows for you to hide in.’

  She could feel the anger radiating from him, hot and dangerous. She tried to say his name, but no sound would come.

  He walked past her into the flat, into the living room, his mouth curling in distaste as he surveyed the debris on the table.

  ‘A cosy dinner,’ he observed flatly. He walked across to her bedroom, glancing at the unmade bed. ‘Followed no doubt by an ecstatic end to a perfect day? I do hope, Rhianna, that you weren’t also planning to share that bed with me?’

  She found words. ‘It’s not what you think…’ Oh, God, couldn’t she have come up with something better than that hackneyed formula, usually employed when someone had been caught bang to rights? As he assumed she had.

  ‘Did you tell him I wanted you too, Rhianna? Did you share that with him during pillow talk, or were you too preoccupied?’ He shook his head. ‘You should have dumped him for me, darling. I’m a very rich man and I’d have paid a great deal for the pleasure of you. Actresses, even with bodies as lovely as yours, are two a penny. You could have made a small fortune allowing me access to that treacherous, delectable little body of yours. Used it as your pension fund when your other work eventually dried up.’

  He added mercilessly, ‘You’ve used me. Just as your mother used my father, years ago.’ He gave a short mirthless laugh. ‘Past history’, you said. The pair of you, mother and daughter, unable to keep your greedy, selfish hands off other women’s men, and I wouldn’t let myself see it.’

  He drew a breath. ‘All this time—cheating on Carrie. Pretending to be her friend when you were out to steal her fiancé. I should have remembered that you’re an actress, trained to deceive. You’re even better in real life than you are on television.’

  Last night’s receipted hotel bill, she thought, showing the hot chocolate she’d ordered last thing from Room Service and this morning’s breakfast, was in her bag. She only had to show it to him to throw his accusations back in hi
s face.

  Except that it wouldn’t stop there, she realised just in time. Because if she hadn’t been with Simon last night, then someone else clearly had. And he would want to know who that was.

  She swallowed. ‘Are you going to—tell Carrie?’

  It was all she could ask. She’d been drawn into this disaster by the need to shield her friend from the knowledge that Simon had enjoyed a blatant and cynical affair only weeks before their wedding. She still needed to do that. Now she had to discover the terms.

  ‘No,’ he said. ‘How can I? I hold no brief for Rawlins, but it’s the fact that he cheated on Carrie with you that sticks in my gullet. Although I can’t blame him, or any other man, for being tempted. I haven’t exactly been immune myself,’ he added curtly. ‘I’ve seen the way you move, the shape of your mouth. Those eyes a man could drown in. Who wouldn’t want to get you into bed?’

  He shook his head. ‘But you were supposed to love her, Rhianna. You should have said no. I can’t bear her to know how you’ve betrayed her.’

  She said quietly, ‘No, I can see that. Thank you.’

  She saw him look past her and realised that the wedding invitation was still lying on the table, where she’d tossed it earlier. Diaz picked it up and tore it into small fragments, which he dropped on to a dirty plate.

  ‘You will not come to the wedding,’ he said, his eyes cold steel. ‘Do you understand me? You’ll make some excuse. I don’t care what it is. But you’ll bloody stay away—from my home and my family. And especially from Carrie, before and after her marriage. That friendship ends now. Because I don’t trust you, Rhianna. This might have been a casual fling for Rawlins, but you’re still sleeping with him, which makes me suspicious that you might have your own agenda where he’s concerned. Not on my watch. You keep your distance, and your mouth shut, Rhianna, or you’ll be sorry. Don’t say you weren’t warned.’

  He walked to the door. ‘I’ve decided to return to South America tomorrow,’ he said. ‘So with luck we won’t meet again.’ His smile made her shiver. ‘Just pray that we don’t.’

  And he went out, leaving her standing in the ruin of her life, her arms wrapped defensively round her shaking body.

  And now they had met again, and it seemed that she was going to have all the opportunities for regret that could possibly be crammed into one lifetime.

  Circumstantial evidence had amazing power, she thought bleakly. Seemingly incontrovertible facts, piling up against her like great stones. Crushing her and silencing her.

  Her only—her ultimate—defence had turned out to be the physical innocence she’d surrendered to him on that bed. Ironically, when it no longer mattered.

  But the fact that she’d been a virgin did not mean there’d suddenly be bluebirds flying over the rainbow.

  Because all the old problems between them hadn’t gone away. In fact they’d probably been compounded by her abject failure to keep him at arm’s length.

  And they still had no future.

  Sighing, she got to her feet. She couldn’t stay down here for ever, as if she was too shy or too scared to face him. Once she’d seen to her delayed packing she would go up on deck and do her best to seem calm and collected, as if the events of the past two hours had never occurred. Or were somehow no big deal.

  Smoke and mirrors, she thought. Playing a part she would never have chosen in a million years. So that soon, maybe within a day or two, she could walk away from him for ever, without looking back or letting him see how high a price she was paying for her departure.

  Diaz was sitting at the table under the awning, looking out to sea, but at her approach he rose politely. He’d changed too, she saw, into close-fitting chinos and a dark blue shirt, open at the neck, sleeves turned back.

  Realised too that just the sight of him was enough to send her spinning into some infinity of pain mingled with a desire that was no longer just a figment of her imagination but a recently experienced reality.

  God help her, she could still taste his mouth on hers, feel the warm arousal of his hands on her breasts and thighs. Could recall in every detail the sheer impetus of need that had driven her to surrender such a short time ago.

  It took all the courage she possessed to walk forward and join him now, wryly aware as she was that her swollen nipples were chafing against the confines of her bra, and that a soft languorous ache was coming to slow life deep within her all over again.

  As she sat, he indicated a jug filled with deep red liquid, clinking with ice cubes and afloat with lemon slices, that stood in front of him.

  ‘Enrique concocts a lethal sangria,’ he remarked. ‘Are you prepared to risk it?’

  She shrugged. ‘Why not?’

  It would make as good an anaesthetic as any other, and she needed all the help she could get, not just for the next few hours, but for the remainder of whatever time she had to spend in his company.

  I wish I could fall asleep, she thought, and wake up in London with all of this behind me, so that I could begin to put myself together again. Rebuild my life and plan for some kind of future. Find another dream—if that’s possible…

  In the meantime…‘Any more dolphin sightings?’ she asked brightly, trying not to gasp as the sangria hit home.

  ‘Sadly, no, but they may be waiting to catch another glimpse of you.’ He paused. ‘I like your dress.’

  ‘You’ve seen it before.’

  ‘Ah,’ he said lightly, ‘but perhaps I wasn’t in the mood to appreciate it at the time.’

  There seemed no answer to that, so she took another cautious sip of sangria.

  ‘Be careful,’ he warned lazily. ‘I don’t want you to pass out on me.’

  And there was definitely no answer to that, Rhianna decided, staring resolutely down at the table. She needed a neutral topic of conversation, and quickly.

  ‘What happens in the morning?’ she said. ‘When we get to Puerto Caravejo?’

  ‘We may have to wait for a flight,’ he said, after a pause. ‘So I thought I’d show you my house.’

  ‘Goodness,’ she said. ‘You have a castle in Spain as well?’

  ‘Is that what you’re expecting?’ His tone was dry. ‘Then you’ll be disappointed. It’s little more than a farmhouse which, unlike the rest of our family estate in the Asturias, managed to survive the Civil War. It’s been extended since then, but it’s still more comfortable than luxurious.’

  She digested that. ‘Do you spend a lot of time there?’

  ‘Not as much as I could wish,’ he said. ‘But all that will change when I finish disposing of our assets in South America.’

  She put down her glass. ‘But I thought that was where your real home was? Where you spent most of the year?’

  ‘It has been,’ he said. ‘But I decided some time ago that my life needed to be simplified. Racing from one side of the globe to the other isn’t much fun any more. And nor is being saddled with an armed guard much of the time,’ he added with a touch of grimness. ‘Besides, the mineral workings are coming to the end of their natural span anyway, and the land can be used for other purposes.’

  ‘But you’ll miss the travelling, surely?’

  He shrugged. ‘The consultancy is growing each year, and although I have a great team I’m still actively involved, so that should take care of any lingering wanderlust. For the rest of the time I plan to put something back into my land in Spain. Plant more apple orchards, maybe some vines. A friend of mine made the Rioja we drank the other night, and he offered a while back to teach me the wine business. So in many ways I’m going to be busier than ever.’ He paused. ‘Then there’s the reclamation project at Penvarnon.’

  ‘You’re going to rebuild it?’ she asked uncertainly.

  ‘Not with bricks and mortar,’ he said. ‘I intend to—take it back. Spend much more time there. Make it mine. I’ve only allowed the present situation to drag on like this because it’s suited my convenience. My uncle’s always understood that, and he’ll be relieved to go
. He’s never been happy there.’

  She said without thinking, ‘It’s never been a happy house.’

  ‘No,’ Diaz said, after a pause. ‘Which is something else I mean to change.’ He leaned back in his chair. ‘And, while we’re enjoying this full and frank exchange of information, my sweet, you can start telling me about your tearful little friend Donna Winston. In particular how long she and Simon Rawlins have been sleeping together and why you kept quiet about it. Because that’s something I really need to know.’

  CHAPTER TEN

  FOR a long moment Rhianna was silent, then she said quietly, ‘How did you know it was Donna?’

  ‘I realised a little while ago,’ he said. ‘When I was in the shower. Great places, showers, for clearing your head and getting you to think straight.’ His mouth twisted. ‘So, I used the timehonoured method of adding two and two, and arrived, for once, at the correct answer.’

  He shook his head. ‘God in heaven, how could I have been so dumb? “Man trouble”. I said it myself, the night I met her.’ He looked at her unsmilingly. ‘And you said, “It seems so.” Only you knew, Rhianna. You knew exactly what was going on, yet you said nothing. You even condoned the affair by letting them meet at your flat.’

  ‘Never.’ She looked back at him, her eyes fierce. ‘And I didn’t know—not at first. We bumped into Simon in a pizza place one night, quite by accident, and he deliberately inveigled an invitation back for coffee—the last thing I wanted, as he very well knew. Relations between us had been cool for a long time, and I’d have crossed busy streets to avoid him. I was probably too damned annoyed at being manipulated like that to pick up any other nuances.’

  She paused. ‘Then I just happened to walk in on them one night—and caught them in flagrante. After he left there was a confrontation between me and Donna. She claimed they were in love. I advised her to think again, and told her to go. But later I started feeling almost sorry for her—because I’d introduced them, after all, and she probably thought Simon was a friend of mine who could be trusted. Or maybe she’d turned him into some romantic golden-haired hero—the way you do when you’re young and silly.’ She bit her lip. ‘I can hardly blame her for that. There was a time when I thought he was wonderful too.’