The Helen Bianchin Collection

by Helen Bianchin

  THE gown Hannah chose to wear for the evening’s soirée was a full-length slim-fitting creation in ice-blue silk with a halter-neck and flaring into soft folds from the knee. A soft cowl effect provided an attractive décolletage. Matching blue stiletto-heeled shoes and a gem-encrusted evening purse completed the outfit.

  Jewellery was confined to a diamond tear-drop necklace suspended on a slim gold chain, with earrings to match, and a diamond tennis bracelet at her wrist.

  Make-up was kept to a minimum, with emphasis on her eyes, a light rose colouring her lips, and she swept her hair into a sleek chignon.

  The prestigious charity event owed its success to an active and imaginative committee, a guest-list of the city’s social élite, a luxurious venue, fine food and wine, and top-line entertainment.

  This particular end-of-year function numbered as the jewel in the crown of charity events, with the funds raised being donated to the Leukaemia Foundation.

  Miguel looked resplendent in a formal black dinner suit, white shirt and black bow-tie. Superb tailoring accentuated his breadth of shoulder and tall muscular frame. He presented a forceful image that combined a dramatic mesh of latent sensuality and elemental ruthlessness. Add an enviable aura of power, and the effect was lethal.

  ‘Ready?’

  Hannah offered him a sparkling smile. ‘To go do battle?’

  His husky chuckle caused a shivery sensation to slither down her spine.

  ‘Is that how you see tonight’s social event?’

  She wrinkled her nose, and resorted to humour.

  ‘It’ll be a dazzling occasion, with the usual players.’

  Including Camille, she added silently, offering a fervent prayer the society princess wasn’t included in the guests seated at their particular table.

  The Deity wasn’t listening, she determined an hour later as she slid into reserved seating and saw Camille’s name on a place-card next to Miguel.

  Damn. Could she surreptitiously switch it? Suiting thought to deed, she quickly transposed the place-card with that of a guest seated opposite.

  Alejandro and Elise were a welcome inclusion, and anyone seeing Miguel and Alejandro together could not fail to note they shared relatives in common. They were of a similar height and possessed the same breadth of shoulder, the same physically fit stature and ease of movement. Even their facial features bore a certain similarity, the sculpted angles and planes, piercing dark eyes, that beautifully moulded sensual mouth.

  Their respective fathers were brothers who had each left the land of their birth to seek a fortune in another country, succeeded, married and produced one son.

  Alejandro resided in Sydney, with his wife Elise and two young children. The Santanas name was well respected in the business arena, and both Alejandro and Miguel shared a mutual stake in a few financial ventures.

  Hannah embraced Elise warmly. ‘It’s so good to see you. When did you arrive?’

  ‘Midday. Alejandro has only used the cell-phone once, and has yet to open the laptop.’ She gave an irrepressible smile. ‘And I’ve only checked with the nanny twice.’

  Hannah’s eyes twinkled with humour. ‘This is the first time you’ve left them at home?’

  ‘Second,’ Elise owned. ‘It doesn’t get any easier.’

  ‘She has a compulsive need to check on the children’s welfare,’ Alejandro drawled as he leant forward to brush a kiss to Hannah’s cheek.

  ‘Of course,’ Elise acceded, sending her husband a long glance of the kind that made Hannah’s nerves shimmer with envy.

  ‘We’re seated together,’ Hannah indicated, and watched as Elise slid into a chair, then patted the one next to her.

  ‘Sit beside me. We have so much to catch up on.’

  There was background music, and the majority of guests were already seated.

  There were only two empty seats at their table, and Hannah had to concede Camille made a stunning entrance, clothed in a deep red creation that covered her perfect body like a second skin.

  Hannah’s gaze slid to Camille’s partner, and froze in shocked disbelief for all of three seconds before she quickly masked her expression.

  Luc Dubois.

  Dear heaven. It was three years since she’d last seen him.

  Then, he’d been a charming rake whose main occupation was insinuating himself into the lives of wealthy women. Young, not so young, it hadn’t seemed to bother him. A photographic professional who used his skill to gain entry into the realm of the rich and famous.

  She should know. For three months in Paris he’d exercised his considerable charms on her. Wined, dined, and eventually swept her off her feet and into his arms.

  Now, Hannah watched as Camille began weaving her way towards them with Luc in tow, and she forced herself to maintain a polite smile as they drew close.

  Had Miguel noted their entrance? Recognised Luc?

  Apprehension scudded down her spine at the thought of his reaction when he did.

  Although it was possible, she wasn’t sure the two men had ever met. A hysterical bubble of laughter rose and died in her throat.

  Dear heaven. Camille and Luc seated at their table? How cruel could fate be?

  Hannah was aware the instant Miguel caught sight of them, and could only wonder if anyone else noticed the way his body uncoiled and then became frighteningly still. Like a jungle animal scenting an enemy and assessing when to strike.

  ‘Miguel, Hannah.’ Camille resembled an aristocratic cat who’d just snacked on caviare and cream.

  All it took was one glance at Camille’s bland expression to guess that Luc’s invitation had been deliberately orchestrated.

  ‘Camille.’ She thought her face would crack with the strain of keeping a smile pinned on her face as she acknowledged the Frenchwoman.

  What was Luc doing here? Not so much Australia, or even Melbourne, but this particular charity event, and partnering Camille?

  It didn’t take a genius to arrive at the correct answer, Hannah decided wryly. Even the most kindly disposed person would suspect Camille of mischief-making. Luc’s appearance here simply reinforced Hannah’s belief that Camille was not only serious in her pursuit of Miguel, but she’d stop at nothing to gain her objective.

  So it was war. Well, she was very good at self-protection. She had years of experience in dealing with it. If Camille thought snaring Miguel would be a walkover, she had another think coming!

  ‘You know each other, of course,’ Camille purred as she slid into her seat, and Hannah opted for confrontational strategy.

  ‘The media made much of it at the time.’ She looked at Luc, wanting to sear him to a burnt frizzle on the spot. ‘I hope they paid you well.’

  ‘Handsomely.’ His smile would have melted many a hardened female heart.

  But not hers. ‘Let me introduce my husband, Miguel Santanas.’

  Miguel was incredibly polite. Anyone who knew him would have blanched at the icy silkiness apparent in his voice.

  Luc, however, seemed totally oblivious.

  Wine stewards began serving drinks, and the event began with an introductory speech by the charity chairwoman, followed by the MC who outlined the evening’s entertainment.

  The organisation was very smooth as models strutted the catwalk to funky music while waiters served the starter.

  Hannah looked at the artistically arranged seafood in a bed of salad greens, and merely forked a few morsels, her appetite seriously impaired by the presence of not one enemy, but two, in her immediate vicinity.

  She would have given anything to be able to walk out of the ballroom and take a taxi home. Except that would amount to running away, and her pride forbade such an option.

  Pretend, a tiny voice urged, and act as if you don’t have a care in the world.

  Miguel ordered champagne, and indicated that the steward should fill her flute. Hannah cast him an enquiring glance and caught the faint smile curving the edge of his mouth, the steady gleam apparent as he raised his glas
s in a silent salute.

  He knew, of course, exactly who Luc Dubois was, and the part Luc had played in her life.

  ‘What is this in aid of?’ Hannah queried quietly, slanting one eyebrow in quizzical humour as she touched the rim of her flute to his. ‘Courage?’

  ‘Do you need it?’

  She inclined her head slightly, and offered with soft-edged mockery, ‘This is going to be one hell of an evening.’

  ‘Do you want to leave?’

  Her eyes widened. He’d do that for her? ‘No.’ Her voice was steady, but inside her heart missed a beat.

  The models concluded showing the after-five segment, and the MC announced a well-known comedian who delivered a few amusing and occasionally risqué anecdotes while an army of waiters removed plates and the stewards tended to the guests’ drinking needs.

  Two singers performed two numbers, after which the models returned to the catwalk with a comprehensive display of evening wear.

  It was while the main course was being served that Camille chose to engage Miguel’s attention with a flirtatious coquetry that made Hannah barely refrain from grinding her teeth in angry vexation.

  ‘Am I missing something here?’ Elise ventured, sotto voce. ‘Or is the beautiful Camille on a flirting mission with Miguel?’

  ‘If he responds,’ Hannah murmured, ‘he’s dead meat.’

  ‘Luc is the smokescreen, or the ammunition?’

  ‘Both, I imagine.’

  Elise’s features softened in empathy. ‘Tread carefully.’

  Now would be a good time to utilise the powder room, and with a murmured excuse she slipped out from her chair.

  Miguel could indulge in polite conversation with Camille if he chose, but she didn’t have to stay and watch Camille’s play-acting!

  ‘I’ll come with you.’ Elise rose to her feet and together they began making their way towards one of the exits.

  Hannah paused to greet a few friends as she threaded her way through the ballroom, and she took unnecessary time freshening her make-up.

  Elise joined her after using the facilities, and she pressed a hand to her waist, then groaned and vanished into a stall, only to emerge looking slightly pale and wan.

  Comprehension was immediate. ‘You’re pregnant?’

  Elise managed a faint smile. ‘After two sons, this one has to be a girl. Already she’s exerting her personality in a way neither of the two boys did.’

  ‘Uh-huh,’ Hannah conceded with an impish grin. ‘I gather Alejandro knows?’

  ‘He finds it incredibly amusing.’

  ‘Naturally, he’ll be captivated from the instant she’s born and be hers to command within minutes.’

  Elise’s gaze misted. ‘He’s a wonderful father.’

  ‘Are you okay?’

  ‘Oh, yes. I get to throw up on a regular basis halfway through breakfast and dinner.’ She opened her evening purse and produced a toothbrush and paste. ‘Before and after, I’m fine.’

  Minutes later, their make-up restored, they moved towards the door, only to see Alejandro standing immediately outside in the vestibule.

  Oh, my, Hannah breathed silently. Elise was his most precious possession. It was evident in the way he looked at her, the protective arm that immediately circled her waist. Body language that was intense and evocative.

  It must be wonderful to share that kind of emotion, to be twin halves of a whole, and so complete. Together they returned to their table, and Miguel cast her a discerning look as she regained her seat. She was willing to swear she caught a glimmer of amusement evident as she reached for her wine.

  ‘Your meal has cooled.’ He beckoned a waiter and instructed another plate be served. Something that was done with alacrity.

  ‘I’m not really hungry.’

  ‘Nevertheless you will eat something,’ Miguel chastised silkily, and saw her eyes widen as he lifted a hand and brushed the edge of her cheek with his fingers.

  ‘What are you doing?’

  His mouth formed a sensual curve. ‘It’s called reassurance.’

  ‘The attentive husband bit, huh?’ Hannah queried with a touch of mockery.

  ‘Something like that.’

  ‘For Camille’s benefit?’

  ‘Yours.’

  Oh, he was good. Very, very good. She doubted anyone present observing their byplay could be in doubt as to his feelings. She could almost hear the unspoken comments…fifteen months into the marriage, and look at them.

  She offered him a brilliant smile. ‘Careful, querido, you’re in danger of reaching overkill.’

  He touched a thumb-pad to her lips. ‘Think so?’

  The lights dimmed, a spotlight hit the MC, and the charity organiser announced the amount of money raised for the night’s function, alerted guests to the next gala evening, and indicated a return of the comedian.

  Somehow Camille had managed to manoeuvre the seating so she occupied a chair next to Miguel, and Hannah had to commend her determination while silently condemning her to hell.

  Hannah picked at the decorative fare on her plate, forked a few mouthfuls, then pushed the plate aside.

  Camille took every opportunity to engage Miguel’s attention with a light trail of red-lacquered nails on his sleeve, a touch to his hand, and her smile was a work of art in the seduction stakes.

  The models took the catwalk for the final round while dessert was being served, and afterwards the waiters brought coffee while the singing duo closed the entertainment for the evening.

  A DJ switched on special lighting effects, set the first of several CDs playing, and background music and recorded vocals encouraged those inclined to dance to take to the floor.

  Now was the time for guests to mingle, table-hop and socialise with friends who were also present.

  Alejandro and Elise communicated their intention to leave. ‘Tomorrow,’ Elise promised quietly. ‘We’ll catch up. I have photos, and the men have organised a day cruise and a picnic lunch.’

  As they left a colleague crossed to their table to talk to Miguel, Camille slipped through the crowd heading for the ballroom exit, Miguel excused himself briefly and moved a few steps away as a friend joined the colleague, and within seconds Hannah was aware of someone taking Miguel’s seat.

  ‘How are you, Hannah?’

  The male voice was familiar, and she turned slowly to face the man to whom it belonged.

  ‘Luc,’ she acknowledged coolly. ‘Believe me, there is no need to observe the social niceties. I have nothing to say to you.’

  ‘So cool,’ Luc mocked. ‘Still the ice princess, I see.’

  ‘You expect me to believe your presence here is purely coincidental?’

  He inclined his head in a gesture of musing cynicism. ‘We could enjoy a conversation. Three years, Hannah. We have some catching up to do.’

  ‘No,’ she denied. ‘We don’t.’

  ‘Why, chérie?’ His smile aimed to melt her heart. ‘It was good while it lasted.’

  She could feel the anger begin to burn deep inside. ‘Strange,’ she remarked coolly. ‘Our memories don’t match.’

  She fixed him with an icy glare. ‘So let’s cut the pretence, shall we?’

  He spread his hands in an expressive gesture. ‘Who’s pretending? I was very fond of you.’

  ‘Words,’ Hannah dismissed. ‘Suppose you tell me exactly why you’re here?’

  ‘This event?’

  ‘Oh, for heaven’s sake. Cut the game-playing. You know very well what I mean.’

  ‘Are you ready for the facts, chérie?’

  As ready as I’ll ever be! She didn’t bother answering, just sent him a fulminating look that spoke volumes.

  He gave a voluble sigh. ‘It will cost you.’

  ‘No, it won’t,’ Hannah denied heartlessly. ‘You owe me. For living the good life at the expense of my foolish generosity.’

  He proffered a mocking smile. ‘When did you become so cynical?’

  ‘Three years ago.’


  ‘All right, chérie. This one is on me, for old times’ sake.’

  ‘Merci,’ she acknowledged in a voice as cold as an arctic ice floe.

  ‘Camille sought me out, paid my air fare, and is footing my accommodation,’ he revealed, and she arched one eyebrow.

  ‘And you’re bent on playing both ends against the middle?’

  He gave a negligent shrug. ‘Your words, not mine.’

  Hannah looked at him carefully, saw the handsome features, the rakish gleam evident in his expression, and wondered how on earth she could have been swayed by his charm. His megawatt smile had no effect whatsoever.

  ‘Go get a life, Luc.’

  ‘A word of warning, sweetheart,’ he offered quietly. ‘Camille is on a mission.’

  ‘As if I didn’t know?’

  ‘Dance with me, and I could be persuaded to tell you more.’

  He was unbelievable! ‘Not even if my life depended on it!’

  One eyebrow lifted in cynical amusement. ‘Perhaps you’re right.’ He cast a glance in Miguel’s direction.

  ‘Miguel Santanas doesn’t look the type of man who would willingly share.’

  No, Hannah agreed, suppressing a slight shiver. Miguel’s ownership was total.

  ‘Maybe we could share a coffee somewhere and talk about old times.’

  ‘You can’t be serious?’ He had such a thick skin, it was almost laughable. ‘Yes, you are,’ she acknowledged with a shake of her head.

  ‘No hard feelings?’

  She faced him squarely, her eyes steady. ‘When you report to Camille, tell her she doesn’t stand a snowflake’s chance in hell.’ She stood to her feet, needing a change of scene, if only for a few minutes.

  She turned from the table and saw Miguel’s tall frame a few feet distant. He looked totally relaxed, his strong masculine features portraying interest as he listened to whatever his colleague had to say.

  One glance at the expression in his eyes was sufficient for Hannah to realise he hadn’t missed a thing. There was a darkness evident, a latent anger that was almost frightening.

  She moved towards him, pausing as she reached his side while he performed an introduction, and she stood perfectly still as he reached for her hand and linked his fingers through her own.