The Helen Bianchin Collection

by Helen Bianchin

  When he reached it, she drew him in, the long, deep thrust plunging to the hilt, and he felt her warm, slick heat, revelled in the way she enclosed him, urging a hard, driving rhythm that scaled the heights with a shattering climax that left them both exhausted.

  Afterwards they slept for a few hours, and Cassandra stirred as he carried her into the en suite and stepped into the spa-bath.

  Dreamlike, she allowed his ministrations, and stood like an obedient child as he blotted the moisture from her body before tending to his own, then he took her back to bed to savour her body in a long, sweet loving that almost made her weep.

  All too soon it was time to shower and dress, pack, drink strong black coffee, then drive down to Coolangatta Airport. Check-in time was disgustingly early, the flight south smooth and uneventful.

  It was just after eight when they disembarked at Sydney Airport, and it took scant minutes to traverse the concourse to ground level.

  ‘I’ll take a cab,’ Cassandra indicated as they emerged from the terminal.

  Diego shot her a dark look that spoke volumes. ‘Don’t be ridiculous.’

  ‘I need to get to work.’

  One eyebrow slanted. ‘So I’ll drop you there.’

  ‘It’s out of your way.’

  ‘What’s that got to do with anything?’

  She heaved an eloquent sigh. ‘Diego—’

  ‘Cool it, Cassandra. You’re coming with me.’

  Like a marionette when the puppeteer pulls the string? She opened her mouth to protest, only to close it again as the Aston Martin swept into the parking bay with an attendant at the wheel.

  She remained silent during the drive into the city, and she had her seat belt undone with her hand on the door-clasp when he eased the car to a halt adjacent to the jewellery workshop.

  ‘Thank you for a pleasant weekend.’ The words sounded incredibly inadequate as she slid from the passenger seat. ‘If you pop the trunk I’ll collect my bag, then you won’t need to get out of the car.’

  Except her words fell on deaf ears as he emerged from behind the wheel, collected her bag and handed it to her.

  Then he lowered his head and took possession of her mouth in a brief, hard kiss that left her gasping for breath. Then he released her and slid into the car as she walked away without so much as a backward glance.

  Could anyone see her heart was breaking? Somehow she doubted it as she got on with the day. She checked with Sylvie, Alexander’s nurse, and arranged to share dinner that evening with her father.

  At four Cameron rang, jubilant with the news Diego had released the balance of funds.

  Mission accomplished, she perceived grimly as she took a cab to her apartment, changed and freshened up, then she drove to Alexander’s home.

  He looked incredibly frail, and she felt her spirits plummet at the knowledge he’d deteriorated in the short time since she’d seen him last.

  His appetite seemed to have vanished, and she coaxed him to eat, amusing him with anecdotes that brought forth a smile.

  Cassandra stayed a while, sitting with him until Sylvie declared it was time for him to retire. Then she kissed his cheek and held him close for a few long minutes before taking her leave.

  Meeting Diego’s demands had been worth it. Alexander remained ignorant of Cameron’s business inadequacies, together with details surrounding his private life.

  What about you? a tiny voice demanded a few hours later as she tossed and turned in her bed in search of sleep.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  THURSDAY morning Cassandra woke with an uneasy feeling in the pit of her stomach. A premonition of some kind?

  She slid out of bed, fed the cat, made a cup of tea and checked her emails, then she showered, dressed, and left for work.

  There was nothing to indicate the day would be different from any other. Traffic was at its peak-hour worst, and an isolated road-rage incident, while momentarily disconcerting, didn’t rattle her nerves overmuch.

  Work progression proved normal, with nothing untoward occurring. Cameron rang, jubilant the Preston-Villers deal with Diego was a fait accompli, suggesting she join him for a celebration dinner.

  So why couldn’t she shake this sense of foreboding that hung around like a grey cloud?

  It was almost six when she entered the apartment, and she greeted the cat, fed her, and was about to fix something to eat for herself when her cellphone buzzed.

  ‘Cassandra.’ Sylvie’s voice sounded calm and unhurried. ‘Alexander is being transported to hospital by ambulance. I’m about to follow. I’ve spoken to Cameron, and he’s already on his way.’ She named the city’s main cardiac unit. ‘I’ll see you there.’

  Cassandra’s stomach plummeted as she caught up her bag, her keys, and raced from the apartment. The cardiologist’s warning returned to haunt her as she took the lift down to basement level, slid into her car to drive as quickly as traffic and the speed limit would allow.

  Hospital parking was at a premium, and she brought her car to a screeching halt in a reserved space, hastily scrawled emergency onto a scrap of paper and slid it beneath the windscreen wiper, then she ran into the building.

  What followed numbered among the worst hours of her life. Sylvie was there, waiting, and Cameron. The cardiac team were working to stabilise Alexander, but the prognosis wasn’t good.

  At midnight they sent Sylvie home, and Cassandra and Cameron kept vigil as the long night crept slowly towards dawn.

  ‘Go home, get some sleep,’ Cameron bade gently, and she shook her head.

  At nine they each made calls, detailing the reason neither would be reporting for work, and took alternate one-hour shifts at Alexander’s bedside.

  It was there Diego found her, looking pale, wan and so utterly saddened it was all he could do not to sweep her into his arms and hold her close.

  Not that she’d thank him for it, he perceived, aware he had no place here. Strict family only regulations applied, but he’d managed to circumvent them in order to gain a few minutes to express regret and ask if there was anything he could do.

  ‘No,’ Cassandra said quietly. ‘Thank you.’

  Diego cupped her shoulder, allowed his hand to linger there before letting it fall to his side.

  A hovering nurse cast him a telling look, indicated the time, and he inclined his head in silent acquiescence.

  ‘I’ll keep in touch.’

  ‘How did he get in here?’ Cassandra asked quietly minutes later, and Cameron responded wearily,

  ‘By sheer strength of will, I imagine. It happens to be one of his characteristics, or hadn’t you noticed?’

  In spades, she acknowledged, then jerked to startled attention as the machines monitoring her father’s vital signs began an insistent beeping.

  From then on it was all downhill, and Alexander slipped away from them late that evening.

  Cassandra lapsed into a numbed state, and both she and Cameron shared a few silent tears in mutual consolation.

  ‘Maybe you should spend the night at my place.’

  She pulled away from him and searched for a handkerchief. ‘I’ll be fine. I just want to have a shower and fall into bed.’

  ‘That goes for me, too.’

  They walked down the corridor to the lift and took it down to ground level, then emerged into the late-night air. Cameron saw her to the car, waited until she was seated, then leaned in. ‘I’ll follow and make sure you get home OK.’

  At this hour the streets carried minimal traffic, and as she reached Double Bay a light shower of rain began to fall. She saw the headlights of Cameron’s car at her rear, and as she turned in to her apartment building he sounded his horn, then executed a semicircle and disappeared from sight.

  Weariness hit her as she stepped out of the lift, and she was so caught up in reflected thought she didn’t see the tall male figure leaning against the wall beside her apartment door.

  ‘Diego? What—?’

  He reached out and extricated the keys
from her fingers, unlocked the door and gently pushed her inside.

  ‘—are you doing?’ she finished tiredly. ‘You shouldn’t be here.’

  ‘No?’ He removed her shoulder bag, put it down on the side-table, then led her towards the kitchen. He made tea, invaded her fridge and put a sandwich together.

  ‘Eat.’

  Food? ‘I don’t feel like anything.’

  ‘A few mouthfuls will do.’

  It was easier to capitulate than argue, and she obediently took a bite, sipped the tea, then she pushed the plate away. Any more and she’d be physically ill.

  ‘Shower and bed,’ Cassandra relayed wearily as she stood to her feet. ‘You can let yourself out.’ She didn’t bother to wait for him to answer. Didn’t care to see if he stayed. It was all too much, and more than anything she needed to sleep.

  Diego fed the cat, washed the few dishes, checked his cellphone, made one call, then he doused the lights and entered her bedroom.

  She was already asleep, and he undressed, then carefully slid beneath the covers. The thought she might wake and weep with grief alone was a haunting possibility he refused to condone.

  Cassandra was dreaming. Strong arms held her close, and she felt a hand smoothing her hair. Lips brushed her temple, and she sank deeper into the dreamlike embrace, savouring the warmth of muscle and sinew beneath her cheek, the steady beat of a human heart.

  It was comforting, reassuring, and she was content to remain there, cushioned in security, and loath to emerge and face the day’s reality.

  Except dreams didn’t last, and she surfaced slowly through the veils of sleep to discover it was no dream.

  ‘Diego?’

  ‘I hope to hell you didn’t think it could be anyone else,’ he growled huskily, and met her startled gaze.

  ‘I didn’t want you to be alone.’

  She tried to digest the implication, and found it too hard at this hour of the morning.

  He watched as comprehension dawned on her pale features, saw the pain and glimpsed her attempt to deal with it.

  ‘Want to talk?’

  Cassandra shook her head, and held back the tears, hating the thought of breaking down in front of him.

  ‘I’ll go make coffee.’ It would give him something to do with his hands, otherwise he would use them to haul her close, and while his libido was high, he was determined the next time they made love it would be without redress.

  He slid from the bed, pulled on trousers and a shirt, then he entered the en suite, only to re-emerge minutes later, wryly aware a woman’s razor was no substitute for a man’s electric shaver.

  In the kitchen he ground fresh coffee beans, replaced a filter, and switched on the coffee maker.

  It was after eight, and breakfast was a viable option. Eggs, ham, cheese…ingredients he used to make two fluffy omelettes, then he slid bread into the toaster.

  Cassandra dressed in jeans, added a blouse, then tended to her hair. She felt better after cleansing her face, and following her usual morning routine.

  Not great, she assured her mirrored image, but OK. Sufficient to face the day and all it would involve.

  The smell of fresh coffee, toast and something cooking teased her nostrils, and she entered the kitchen to find Diego dishing food onto two plates.

  Her appetite didn’t amount to much, but she ate half the omelette, some toast, and sipped her way through two cups of coffee.

  ‘Shouldn’t you be wherever it is you need to be at this hour of the morning?’

  ‘Later,’ Diego drawled, leaning back in his chair, satisfied she looked less fragile. ‘When Cameron arrives, I’ll leave.’

  Her eyes clouded a little. ‘I’m OK.’

  One eyebrow slanted. ‘I wasn’t aware I implied you weren’t.’

  The cat hopped up onto her lap, padded a little, then settled.

  She owed him thanks. ‘It was thoughtful of you to stay.’

  ‘I had Cameron’s word he’d contact me if you insisted on returning home.’

  Diego had done that out of concern? For her?

  At that moment the phone rang, and she answered it. Cameron was on his way over.

  Cassandra began clearing the table, and they dealt with the dishes together. There was an exigent awareness she was loath to explore, and she concentrated on the job in hand.

  When it was done, she used the pretext of tidying the bedroom to escape, and the intercom buzzed as she finished up.

  Cameron didn’t look as if he’d slept well, and she made fresh coffee, served it, and was unsure whether to be relieved or regretful when Diego indicated he would leave.

  The days leading up to Alexander’s funeral were almost as bleak as the funeral itself, and Cassandra took an extra day before returning to the jewellery workshop.

  Sylvie stayed on at Alexander’s home, Cameron flew to Melbourne on business, and Cassandra directed all her energy into work.

  Diego rang, but she kept the conversations short for one reason or another and declined any invitation he chose to extend.

  A pendant commissioned by Alicia would normally have had all the fine hairs on Cassandra’s nape standing on end. As it was, she took extra care with the design, ensuring its perfection.

  The ensuing days ran into a week, and Cameron returned to Sydney briefly before taking a flight interstate within days.

  ‘Cassandra, you’re wanted at the shop.’

  She disengaged from the binocular microscope, ran a hand over the knot atop her head, then made her way towards the retail shop.

  A client wanting advice on a design? Soliciting suggestions for a particular gem? Or someone who had admired one of her personal designs and wanted something similar?

  Security was tight, and she went through the entry procedure, passed through the ante-room and entered the shop, where gems sparkled against dark velvet in various glass cabinets.

  Two perfectly groomed assistants stood positioned behind glass counters, their facial expressions a polite mask as they regarded a tall young woman whose back and stance seemed vaguely familiar.

  Then the woman swung round, and Cassandra saw why.

  Alicia. Beautifully dressed, exquisitely made-up, and looking very much the international model.

  Trouble was the word that immediately came to mind.

  ‘Miss Vandernoot would like to discuss the pendant she commissioned.’

  ‘Yes, of course,’ Cassandra said politely and crossed to where Alicia stood. ‘Perhaps you’d care to show it to me.’ She reached for a length of jeweller’s velvet and laid it on the glass counter top.

  ’This,’ Alicia hissed as she all but tossed the pendant down.

  It was a beautiful piece, rectangular in shape with five graduated diamonds set in gold. The attached chain, exquisite.

  ‘There are scratches. And the diamonds are not the size and quality I originally settled on.’

  It was exactly as Alicia had commissioned. The diamonds perfectly cut and set.

  Cassandra extracted her loupe, and saw the scratches at once. Several. None of which were there when Alicia inspected and took delivery of the pendant. Inflicted in a deliberate attempt to denigrate her expertise?

  ‘My notes are on file,’ she began politely, and she turned towards the senior assistant. ‘Beverly, would you mind retrieving them? I need to check the original details with Miss Vandernoot.’

  It took a while. Cassandra went through the design notations and instructions with painstaking thoroughness, taking time to clarify each point in turn, witnessed and checked with Beverly. By the time she finished, Alicia had nowhere to go.

  ‘There’s still the matter of the scratching.’

  Cassandra could have wept at the desecration to what had been perfection. ‘They can be removed,’ she advised quietly.

  Alicia drew herself up to her full height, which, aided by five-inch stiletto-heeled sandals, was more than impressive.

  ‘I refuse to accept substandard workmanship.’ She swept Cas
sandra’s slender frame with a scathing look.

  ‘If you care to leave the item, we’ll assess the damage and repair it at no cost to you.’

  ‘Restitution is the only acceptable solution,’ Alicia demanded with haughty insolence. ‘I want a full credit, and I get to keep the item.’

  Cassandra had had enough. This wasn’t about jewellery. ‘That’s outrageous and against company policy,’ she said quietly.

  ‘If you don’t comply, I’ll report this to the jewellers’ association and ensure it receives media attention.’

  ‘Do that. Meanwhile we’ll arrange an expert evaluation of the scratches by an independent jeweller, and his report will be run concurrently.’

  She’d called Alicia’s bluff, and left the model with no recourse whatsoever. Alicia knew it, and her expression wasn’t pretty as she scooped up the pendant and chain and flung both into her bag.

  With deceptive calm Cassandra turned towards Beverly. ‘I’ll see Miss Vandernoot out, shall I?’

  It was a minor victory, but one that lasted only until they reached the street.

  ‘Don’t think you’ve won,’ Alicia vented viciously. ‘I want Diego, and I mean to have him.’

  ‘Really?’ Cassandra watched as the model’s gaze narrowed measurably. ‘Good luck.’

  ‘Keep your hands off him. I’ve spent a lot of time and energy cultivating the relationship.’

  For one wild moment, Cassandra thought Alicia was going to hit her, and she braced herself to deal with it, only to hear the model utter a few vehement oaths and walk away.

  Settling back to work took effort, and she was glad when the day ended and she could go home.

  Grief sat uneasily on her shoulders, and Alicia’s hissy fit only served to exacerbate her emotions. It would be all too easy to rage against fate or sink into a well of tears.

  What a choice, she decided as she let herself into her apartment. The cat ran up to her, and she crouched down to caress the velvet ears. A feline head butted her hand, then smooched appealingly before curling over onto its back in silent invitation for a tummy rub.