‘How is Cindy?’ Renee broached as she forked a few morsels of salad, then speared a sliver of chicken.
‘She was discharged this morning.’
Renee looked at her daughter carefully. ‘One imagines Luc’s appearance at the Leukaemia Charity Ball was deliberate, rather than a chance circumstance?’
‘I have no idea,’ Hannah indicated with a slight shrug. ‘Nor do I care.’
‘It doesn’t bother you that he’s in town?’
‘Why should it? He’s a bad memory I’d prefer to forget.’
‘He hasn’t attempted to contact you?’
‘What is this?’ she queried lightly. ‘The third degree?’
‘You would tell us if he proves to be a nuisance?’ her father countered insistently.
‘He won’t get the opportunity.’ Her omnipotent husband was taking care of it. She spared a glance towards the bodyguard’s table, and saw that he was just finishing up.
She could confide in her parents, but what was the point in worrying them unnecessarily? She opted not to suggest she follow them home and stay overnight. She hadn’t done so before on any of the other occasions Miguel had been away. If she suggested it now, their suspicions would be aroused. And what was the point? In her opinion, Miguel’s precautions were way over the top. Besides, the house and grounds were secure with a state-of-the-art security system.
When the waiter cleared their plates Hannah declined dessert, the cheeseboard, and settled for coffee. It had been a leisurely meal, and nice to catch up with her parents away from the social scene.
‘We should discuss Christmas, darling,’ Renee ventured. ‘I thought I’d do lunch this year, and invite Esteban.’
Christmas? Why, that was—
‘Nine weeks away, darling,’ her mother reminded. ‘The first of the pre-Christmas social festivities begins next week.’
Heavens, it was that close? ‘I’ll check with Miguel, but I’m sure lunch will be fine.’
‘Well, this is a nice surprise.’
Hannah heard her father’s words an instant before she felt a hand touch her shoulder.
‘What will you check with me, querida?’
She turned her head at the sound of that deep, faintly accented drawl, and felt the floor drop away.
Miguel?
‘I didn’t expect you back until tomorrow night,’ she managed an instant before his mouth closed over hers in a brief, tantalising kiss. The quick sweep of his tongue wreaked havoc with her senses, and it took a few seconds to regain her scattered thoughts.
Why was he here at this restaurant?
‘I caught a taxi from the airport.’
‘Have you eaten?’ Renee queried warmly as he took the chair next to Hannah.
‘On the plane,’ Miguel confirmed. ‘However, I’ll join you for coffee.’ He caught hold of her hand and lifted it to his lips, then he linked his fingers through her own and rested them on his thigh.
His smile left her breathless, the faint teasing quality stirring her emotions to fever pitch within seconds.
‘What will you check with me?’ he repeated, giving Hannah his total attention.
It wasn’t fair that one man should possess such devastating sensuality, or that she could be rendered so intensely vulnerable by his look, his touch.
From somewhere she restored order to her scattered thoughts. ‘Christmas. Renee mentioned lunch, if it suits your father to join us for dinner.’
How did Miguel know she’d be dining at this restaurant?
Rodney Spears, Hannah concluded. The bodyguard had obviously reported the change in venue to Miguel. But what had occurred to influence Miguel to drop everything and fly home at a moment’s notice?
Whatever it was, it had to wait until they were alone, and she toyed with her coffee, stirring it unnecessarily, then she sipped the contents without registering the excellent espresso blend.
The next hour seemed to be one of the longest in her life, and she breathed an inward sigh of relief when Miguel indicated they would leave.
Hannah burst into speech the instant they were inside the car, and Miguel effectively silenced her by placing a hand over her mouth.
‘It’ll keep until we get home.’ He put the car in gear and reversed out before heading towards the exit.
‘The hell it will,’ she said fiercely as he joined the flow of traffic and headed towards Toorak.
Miguel slanted her a long glance as he drew to a temporary halt at a set of lights. ‘The thought that I might have cut my trip short just to be here with you does not please you?’
‘I’m still mad at you over the bodyguard bit.’ She met his gaze and held it, then the lights changed and he gave the road his attention. ‘I take it I have Rodney to thank for reporting to you my every move?’
‘That’s what I pay him to do.’
‘A case of total overkill.’
‘You may change your mind when you see what I have to show you.’
Something in his tone stilled the retort she was about to utter. A cold hand closed round her heart, and she searched his features, noting the hard set of his jaw, the serious expression which didn’t bode well.
‘It’s Camille, isn’t it?’ Hannah queried quietly. ‘What has she done?’
Miguel turned the car into their driveway, paused while the electronically controlled gates swung open, then he headed towards the house. Within minutes he entered the garage and cut the engine.
He popped the boot and removed a bag and his briefcase. ‘Let’s go indoors, shall we?’
He led her into the study, dropped his bag to the floor, then he placed the briefcase on the desk, unlocked it, and extracted a large manila envelope.
‘A scanned copy of these was sent to me by e-mail today.’ He withdrew six colour prints and spread them out on the desk. ‘Look at them carefully.’
There was no mistaking the first three prints. They featured herself and Luc sharing lunch. The second three prints were something else entirely.
Miguel and Camille seated at a table together. Worse, they were looking into each other’s eyes with an expression only lovers shared.
Hannah felt sick, and it was all she could do to regulate her breathing. Dear heaven. Miguel and Camille?
‘Look at them very carefully, querida,’ Miguel prompted gently. He was almost afraid to touch her for fear she might shatter. A silent rage reasserted itself, and he consciously held it in check. ‘They are not quite what they seem.’
‘They look real enough to me.’
‘As they are meant to.’ He picked up one print and pointed to Camille. ‘If you look very carefully, you will see there is a slight difference in the reflection of light.’ He picked up a pen and pointed its tip to the print. ‘Here. Do you see?’
The texture wasn’t quite the same, the shade of light reflecting from one set of features compared to the other was fractionally different.
‘The original photograph has been digitally enhanced on a computer. In this particular print your image has been removed, and Camille’s image superimposed. I had it checked out.’ He picked up a sheet of paper and handed it to her. ‘This report confirms it.’
Hannah was silent as she examined the prints again, then she read the in-depth report noting the technical irregularities.
‘What do you think Camille’s next step will be?’ she queried slowly, trying to dispel the ache that had settled round her heart.
‘At a guess, Camille will ensure you receive the second set of prints some time tomorrow.’
‘Delivered personally, with verbal embellishment.’ Hannah predicted. ‘Will she take it further, do you think?’
Miguel arched one eyebrow. ‘The media? She may try. However, these prints will never be used.’ He had influence, and a copy of the technician’s report had already been faxed to various sources.
‘I owe you an apology.’
He took the prints and the report from her hand and locked them in his briefcase.
&nb
sp; ‘For what, precisely?’
‘Accusing you of overreacting,’ Hannah said simply. ‘And I want to thank you for ensuring I saw those—’ she indicated his briefcase ‘—before Camille dredged every ounce of shock value from them tomorrow.’
She died a thousand deaths just thinking about it.
Miguel lifted a hand and trailed his fingers down her cheek. ‘Camille is about to learn I will not tolerate any form of invasion.’
She looked at him, taking in his strength, the power he exuded, and felt infinitely relieved she wasn’t his enemy. ‘I see.’
His mouth curved slightly. ‘Do you?’
‘Yes.’ It was all about preserving the image, professionally and personally. She told herself she understood. Hadn’t she been reared to be aware of image? The private-school education, extra-curricular activities, the social niceties? Luc had been her only transgression…if believing the false words of a cad could be termed a transgression.
‘I doubt that you do,’ Miguel denied silkily. ‘Verbal abuse is difficult to prove without an independent witness. So is slander.’ His expression hardened. ‘However, these prints and the report prove Camille’s intent to defame.’
‘You intend to confront her?’
‘Not personally.’ His voice was clipped, he was watching her expressive features. ‘In the only way she will understand.’
‘Legal action?’
‘Yes.’
There was a ruthlessness apparent that boded ill for anyone daring to cross him, and Hannah shivered, caught up in a mix of complex emotions.
He wanted it done. Camille and her obsessive behaviour out of their lives. As to Luc… It would be as well if he never caught sight of him again. To do so would incite the possibility of physical assault, he decided grimly.
Hannah took in a deep breath, then released it. ‘What do you want me to do?’
‘Nothing. Absolutely nothing, do you understand? We must wait for her next move.’ His gaze speared hers, dark and incredibly formidable. ‘No heroics, Hannah. Rodney Spears will be close at all times.’
Miguel reached forward and caught hold of her shoulders, sliding his hands down her back as he pressed her body close in against his own. He angled his head and nuzzled her earlobe, then feathered a trail of kisses down the edge of her neck. ‘Miss me?’
Dear heaven, yes. She didn’t like sleeping alone in their bed. She’d turn over in her sleep, subconsciously searching for the warmth of his body, seeking the touch of his hands, the reassuring brush of his lips…only to discover a cool empty space.
‘Uh-huh.’ His mouth was playing havoc with her senses. The blood sang in her veins, heating all the pleasure pulses and creating a fast-pacing tempo that demanded more, much more than the touch of his lips.
Hannah gave a faint gasp as an arm skimmed beneath her knees and Miguel lifted her against his chest. Her eyes were almost on a level with his own as he carried her into the foyer and began ascending the stairs.
She saw the passion smouldering in those dark depths and felt the thrill of anticipated pleasure as he gained the gallery and strode towards their bedroom.
When he lowered her down to her feet she simply wound her arms round his neck and brought his mouth down to her own.
She was hardly aware of him divesting her of her clothes, or that her fingers dispensed with shirt buttons, took care of his belt and the zip on his trousers.
There was only the need to feel skin on skin, the ecstasy of their joined bodies moving in perfect harmony as they created the ultimate pleasure.
Something they sought and achieved again in the early dawn hours before sleep claimed them for a brief hour.
The need to rise and face the new day saw them shower, dress, share breakfast and depart the house in separate cars en route to their respective places of business.
CHAPTER EIGHT
HOW long would it take Camille to stage her confrontation?
It had to be today, Hannah estimated, for if the Frenchwoman had gone to such pains to discover Miguel’s plans, she’d be aware he was due to return home tonight.
Anticipating the time and place made her edgy, and by midday she was fast becoming a nervous wreck. It made sense that Camille would choose a time when Hannah was alone, which meant the hour Elaine went on lunch break, or immediately afterwards when Hannah visited the café.
Knowing Rodney Spears remained unobtrusively on duty provided reassurance.
Hannah checked her watch, and indicated Elaine should go to lunch, during which the phone rang three times, three clients called in to collect orders, two people opted to browse, and Camille was a no-show.
The nervous tension mounted with every passing minute as she ordered a Caesar salad and carrot juice at the café counter, paid, then selected one of three empty tables and took a seat.
The salad was delectable, she knew, because she frequently ordered the dish. However, today she could have been eating chalk, and her appetite was nonexistent.
Hannah sat there for more than half an hour, then she ordered bottled water and slowly sipped it over the next fifteen minutes. Camille was nowhere to be seen.
At ten to two, Hannah walked out onto the street, visited a nearby newsagent and selected a card to send to Cindy, then she retraced her steps to the boutique.
Elaine left at four, and an hour later Hannah checked the locks, set the alarm, closed up and walked to the car park.
She slid into the Porsche and closed the door, inserted the key into the ignition, then gasped in shocked surprise as the door opened from the outside.
Camille leant forward and dropped a large envelope onto her lap. ‘I thought you should have these.’ She stood back and prepared to close the door. ‘By the way, Perth was fun, darling.’
Where had she come from? Hannah questioned silently. Then she heard the sound of an engine, and she turned to see Camille behind the wheel of a car as it moved quickly towards the exit.
Seconds later Rodney Spears appeared out of nowhere. ‘Are you okay?’
‘I’m fine.’
He didn’t appear convinced. ‘I’ll report in to Mr Santanas.’
Hannah tried for a smile, and almost made it.
Rodney Spears had already hit the rapid dial key and was talking into the phone. ‘The perpetrator dropped off a package. One minute contact. Yes, your wife is fine. I’ll follow her home.’ He cut the connection. ‘Are you okay to go now, ma’am?’
She was about as okay as she would ever be. ‘Sure.’ Seconds later she cleared the exit and joined the line of cars crawling along Toorak Road.
Perth? Why had Camille mentioned Perth?
It took several minutes to reach the turn-off, and she moved freely through various residential streets before entering her own.
Miguel’s Jaguar was parked outside the front door, and she drew the Porsche to a halt behind it.
No sooner had she entered the foyer than he was there, tall and brooding, his eyes compellingly dark as he raked her petite frame.
His gaze shifted to the large envelope in her hand, and he took it from her, then he cupped her chin and kissed her, hard.
‘Let’s take this into the study.’ Miguel caught hold of her hand and led the way. ‘I think we could both do with a drink.’
And then some, Hannah echoed silently as she entered the large book-lined room, watching as he opened a bottle of chilled white wine and filled two goblets with the golden liquid.
She accepted one and took a long sip of the contents as he leaned one hip against the desk.
Hannah indicated the envelope. ‘Aren’t you going to open that?’
‘In a minute. First, there’s something you need to know.’
She held his gaze, then said slowly, ‘I don’t think I want to hear this.’
‘Camille apparently discovered I would be in Perth, and she not only caught an earlier flight, she also booked into the same hotel.’
He caught the fleeting stricken look before she successfully c
ontrolled it, and he felt moved to violence at the lengths Camille was prepared to go to wreak destruction.
‘Don’t tell me,’ Hannah said bitterly. ‘Not only does that envelope contain doctored photographs we’ve already seen, but shots taken of the hotel with the date function exposed.’ Her gaze lanced his. ‘What else? You leaving your hotel room? Camille posing in the hallway with the room number showing, should I want to check it out?’
‘Worse. Camille lying almost naked in an unmade bed. The fact it isn’t my bed is immaterial, as most of the rooms are identical.’
She stood up and carefully placed the goblet down onto the desk. Calm, a tiny voice soothed. Stay calm. Just go look at the prints. Examine them carefully. And don’t say a word until you’re done.
With slow deliberation she slit the edge of the envelope and extracted the prints. One by one she discarded them onto the desk until she came to the final six.
As she anticipated, there was a photo taken of the hotel exterior, another of the reception area with a clear view of Camille checking in. The hallway, displaying a room number on the door. Miguel emerging from the same room. And the final two showing Camille sprawled in differing poses among rumpled sheets looking dreamily sated and incredibly seductive.
Hannah’s first inclination was to rip them in half and throw them in the waste bin. It sickened her to look at them, and she felt positively ill at the mental image of Miguel pleasuring another woman. Even if it hadn’t happened, just the thought was enough to kill her.
‘Look at the date.’
Miguel’s voice penetrated the dark void into which she’d mentally retreated, and she shook her head.
‘Por Dios.’ The husky imprecation sounded like silk being razed by razor-sharp steel. ‘Look.’
It was today’s date. Today? But—
‘I was here last night,’ Miguel relayed inexorably. ‘With you.’
Irrefutable proof. ‘Just as well,’ Hannah ventured with a shaky smile. ‘Otherwise I’d have killed you, or worse.’
The Helen Bianchin Collection Page 23