‘I’ll drive you home.’
‘No.’ She told herself she didn’t need his concern. ‘I’m fine.’ To prove it, she slid in behind the wheel, only to have him lean into the car and bodily shift her into the passenger seat.
Seconds later he took her place and engaged the ignition.
‘There’s no need for you to do this,’ Michelle asserted as he set the car in motion.
Three blocks and two minutes later he swept through the entrance to her apartment building and paused adjacent the security gate leading to the underground car park.
‘Do you have your card?’
She handed it to him wordlessly, and when the gate was fully open she directed him to her allotted space.
‘What about your own car?’
He directed her a dark glance as he led her towards the lift. ‘I walked.’ He jabbed the call button, and when the lift arrived, he accompanied her into it. ‘Which floor?’
‘There’s no—’
‘Which floor?’ Nikos repeated with dangerous quietness.
He was icily calm. Too calm, she perceived, aware there was something apparent in his stance, the set of his features, that revealed anger held in tight control.
‘I appreciate your driving me home. But I’m fine.’
She glimpsed the darkness in his eyes, the hard purpose evident, and was momentarily bereft of speech. ‘Really,’ she added seconds later.
One eyebrow rose slightly, and she met his silent scrutiny with unblinking equanimity.
‘Look in the mirror,’ Nikos bade quietly, and watched as she spared the decorative mirrored panel a glance.
Her hair was no longer confined in a neat chignon, her eyes were dark, dilated and seemed far too large in features that were pale, and her mouth was swollen.
‘Now, which floor?’ he queried with velvet softness, and she hesitated momentarily before capitulating.
‘Fifteenth.’
They reached it in seconds, and she silently indicated the door leading to her apartment.
Once inside she had the compelling urge to remove Jeremy’s touch from her skin, and she wanted to scrub her teeth, cleanse her mouth.
‘I’m going to take a shower and change.’ She no longer cared whether Nikos Alessandros was there or not, or whether he’d have gone when she returned. Uppermost was the need to be alone, shed and dispense with her clothes.
Hell, she’d probably burn them, she determined as she reached the bedroom and began peeling each item from her body.
Michelle activated the shower dial and set it as hot as she could bear, then she lathered every inch of skin, rinsed, and repeated the process three times. Satisfied, she turned the dial to cold and let the needle spray revive and revitalise her before she reached for a towel.
Minutes later she donned clean underwear, then reached for jeans and a loose cotton top. She discounted make-up, and applied the hair dryer for as long as it took to remove most of the dampness, then she simply wound it into a knot and pinned it on top of her head.
Michelle walked into the kitchen and saw Nikos in the process of brewing coffee. He’d removed his jacket and his tie. He’d also loosened a few top buttons and folded back the cuffs of his shirt.
His appraisal was swift, yet all-encompassing. ‘I’ve brewed some coffee.’
There were two cups and saucers on the countertop, sugar and milk, and she watched as he filled her cup.
He looked comfortably at ease, yet instinct warned that anger lurked just beneath the surface of his control.
‘You don’t have to do this.’ She hugged her arms together across her midriff, and temporarily ignored the cup and saucer he pushed towards her.
‘No,’ Nikos responded evenly. ‘I don’t.’ He added sugar to his cup, stirred, then lifted it to his mouth.
She should suggest the more formal surroundings of the lounge, but the last thing she wanted to do was indulge in meaningless conversation.
‘Do you intend laying charges?’
Her eyes widened slightly. Oh God, that meant involving the police, filing a complaint. The facts becoming public knowledge. Jeremy’s parents, her parents, their friends...
‘I don’t think so,’ she said at last.
His piercing regard unsettled her, and after what seemed an age she averted her gaze to a point somewhere beyond his right shoulder.
‘What about the next time he lays in wait for you?’ Nikos queried relentlessly.
Michelle’s eyes snapped back into focus. there won’t be a next time.’
‘You’re so sure about that?’
‘If there is, I can handle it,’ she reiterated firmly.
‘Such confidence.’
‘I handled you.’
His smile lacked any pretense at humour. ‘At no time did my motives stem from a desire to frighten or harm you.’
‘I didn’t know that.’ Any more than she knew it now.
‘No,’ he qualified, and glimpsed the way her body jerked imperceptibly, and the defensive tightening of her arms as she sought to control it. He wasn’t done, and he derived no satisfaction or pleasure in what he intended to say. ‘Don’t presume to judge the son by his parents.’
‘Hidden messages, Nikos?’ Her eyes were clear as they met his.
The unexpected peal of the telephone startled her.
‘Aren’t you going to answer that?’
She moved to the handset and picked up the receiver.
‘Michelle.’
Jeremy. Her fingers tightened. ‘I have nothing to say to you.’ She hung up without giving him the opportunity to utter a further word.
A minute later it rang again, and she ignored it for several seconds before snatching the receiver.
‘I’m sorry.’ His voice was ragged, and came in quick bursts. ‘I was jealous. I didn’t mean to hurt you.’
She didn’t bother answering, and simply replaced the receiver.
Within seconds the telephone rang again, and she caught up the receiver, only to have it taken out of her hand.
‘Call once more, and I’ll ensure Michelle notifies the police,’ Nikos directed brusquely. The tirade of abuse that followed was ugly. ‘What you’re suggesting is anatomically impossible. However I’m quite prepared to get a legal opinion on it. Would you care for me to do that?’
It was obvious Jeremy didn’t want anything of the kind, and she watched as Nikos replaced the receiver.
‘Does he have a key to your apartment?’
‘No.’ Indignation rose to the fore, and erupted in angry speech. ‘No, he doesn’t. No one does.’
‘I’m relieved to hear it.’
Michelle fixed him with a fulminating glare. ‘What I do with my life and who I do it with is none of your business.’
He admired her spirit, and there was a part of him that wanted to pull her into his arms and hold her close. Except he knew if he so much as touched her, she’d scratch and claw like a cornered cat.
‘Tonight I made it my business.’
‘I didn’t leave the Gallery until half an hour after everyone else,’ Michelle flung at him. ‘How come you happened to still be hanging around?’
‘I was on foot, remember? I noticed Jeremy sitting in a car he made no attempt to start.’
Nikos didn’t need to paint a word picture. She got it without any help at all, in technicolour.
‘I should thank you.’
His mouth tilted fractionally. ‘So—thank me.’
Her eyes met his. ‘I thought I just did.’
‘And now you want me to leave.’
‘Please.’
She watched as he extracted his wallet, withdrew a card, scrawled a series of digits and placed it onto the countertop.
‘My mobile number. You can reach me on it anytime.’
She followed him from the kitchen, paused as he caught up his jacket, then crossed the lounge to the front door.
Nikos lifted a hand and brushed his fingers down her cheek. ‘Goodnight, kyria
.’
He didn’t linger, and she told herself she was glad. She closed the door, set the locking mechanism in place, and threw the bolt.
Then she crossed to a comfortable chair and activated the remote.
Cable television provided endless choices, and she stared resolutely at the screen in an effort to block out what had transpired in the past hour.
She focused on the Gallery, its success, Emilio, until it became increasingly difficult to keep her eyes open, then she simply closed them, uncaring where she slept.
CHAPTER FIVE
MICHELLE woke at dawn to the sound of male voices and lifted her head in alarm, only to subside as realisation affirmed the television was on and the voice belonged to actor Don Johnson as Sonny in a rerun of ‘Miami Vice.’
Her limbs felt stiff, and she stretched in an effort to ease them, then she checked her watch.
There was time for a swim in the indoor pool, then she’d shower and change, grab some breakfast, and drive to the Gallery.
It was almost nine when she swung the Porsche into a parking bay, and she used her key to unlock the outer Gallery door.
‘Buon giorno.’
‘Hi,’ she greeted, and cast Emilio an appreciative smile as she saw the fruits of his labour in highly polished floors and everything restored to immaculate order. ‘You’re an angel.’
‘Ah, from you that is indeed a compliment.’
‘I mean it.’
The corners of his eyes crinkled with humour, and his smile was warm and generous. ‘I know you do.’
‘As you’ve cleaned up, I’ll do the book work, enter the accounts, make the phone calls.’
‘But first, the coffee.’ He moved towards her and caught hold of her shoulders, then frowned as he saw her wince. His eyes narrowed as he glimpsed the shadows beneath her eyes. ‘Headache, no sleep, what?’
‘A bit of all three.’
She bore his scrutiny with equanimity. ‘Elaborate on the what, Michelle.’
Emilio called her darling, honey, cara, but rarely Michelle.
‘It was such a successful evening,’ she prevaricated.
‘Uh-huh,’ he disclaimed. ‘We’ve achieved other successful evenings, none of which have seen you pale, wan, and hollow-eyed the next morning.’
She opted to go for the truth. Or as much of it as he needed to know. ‘I watched a film on cable, then fell asleep in the lounge.’ She arched her neck, and rolled her head a little. ‘I’m a little stiff, that’s all.’
He didn’t say anything for several long seconds. ‘Nice try, cara.’
‘You mentioned coffee?’
Michelle took hers into the office, and set to work entering details from yesterday’s sales into the computer. She double-checked the receipts and entries before printing out the accounts, then stacked them in alphabetical order. A few of their regular clientele had paid by personal cheque, and she organised the banking deposit sheet.
She made telephone calls and arranged packing and delivery, then checked with the clientele to ascertain if the times quoted were convenient.
When the intercom beeped, she activated it. ‘Yes, Emilio?’
‘Jeremy Bateson-Burrows is here. Shall I send him in?’
‘No.’ Her refusal was swift, and she breathed in deeply before qualifying, ‘I don’t want to see him.’
A minute later the intercom beeped again. ‘He says it’s of vital importance.’
Michelle cursed beneath her breath. ‘Tell him I’ll be down in a minute.’
Her stiletto heels made a clicking noise on the polished floor, and she saw Jeremy turn towards her as she drew close.
Emilio was within sight some distance away arranging a display of decorative ceramic urns.
‘Jeremy,’ she greeted with cool formality.
‘I wanted to apologise in person.’
Careful, an inner voice cautioned. ‘It’s a little too late for that,’ she said evenly. ‘If you’ll excuse me, I have a considerable amount of work to get through.’
‘I need to talk to you, to explain. Have lunch with me. Please?’ He was very convincing. Too convincing. ‘I don’t know what came over me last night,’ he said desperately.
‘I’d like you to leave. Now,’ Michelle said quietly.
He reached out a hand as if to touch her arm, and she stepped back a few paces.
‘Michelle.’
Emilio’s intrusion was heaven-sent, and she turned towards him in silent query.
‘I’m in the middle of an international call,’ Emilio announced smoothly. ‘Nikos Alessandros has arrived to arrange delivery and payment. Can you attend to him?’
He held the mobile phone, and she almost believed him until she glimpsed the dark stillness apparent in his expression.
‘Yes, of course.’
Nikos watched as she walked towards him, and controlled the brief surge of anger as she drew close. She looked as fragile as the finest glass.
‘Good morning.’ Or was it afternoon? Hell, she’d lost track of whether it was one or the other.
His eyes met hers, dark, analytical, unwavering, and her eyes widened slightly as he leaned forward and cupped her face with both hands.
His mouth covered hers with a gentleness that made the breath catch in her throat, and she was unable to suppress the shivery sensation scudding down her spine as his tongue softly explored the delicate tissues, slowly traced each abrasion, then tangled briefly with her tongue before withdrawing.
He let both hands drop to his side, then he circled her waist and drew her close.
‘What’s going on? Michelle?’ Jeremy’s voice was hard and filled with querulous anger.
Nikos’ arm tightened fractionally in silent warning, and the look he cast down at her was warm and incredibly intimate. ‘I don’t see the need to keep it a secret, do you?’ He shifted his attention to Emilio. ‘Michelle and I have decided to resume our relationship.’
She heard the words, assimilated them, and didn’t have a chance to draw breath as Nikos soundly kissed her.
Why did she have the feeling she was one of three players on a stage, with an audience of only one? Because that was the precise scenario, and it came as no surprise when Jeremy brushed past them and exited the Gallery.
Emilio locked the door after him and turned the “open” sign round to read “closed.”
‘You can’t do that,’ Michelle protested.
‘I just did. So what are you going to do about it?’ Emilio queried lightly, adding m jest—‘Sue me?’
She looked from one to the other, then fixed her gaze on Nikos. ‘You’ve really put the fat in the fire now.’ Reaction began to rear its head. ‘Do you realise the news will probably reach my parents? What will they think?’ She closed her eyes, then opened them again in the knowledge that her darling maman would undoubtedly be delighted. Another thought rose to the fore, and her expression became fierce. ‘This situation plays right into your hands with Saska, doesn’t it?’
‘Who is Saska?’ Emilio asked with interest, and Nikos informed him urbanely.
‘The recently widowed wife of a very close friend.’
‘Whom Nikos suggested I collaborate with him to deceive,’ Michelle added.
‘Ah,’ Emilio commented with a shrug in comprehension. ‘But you wouldn’t play, huh?’
‘No, she wouldn’t,’ Nikos said smoothly.
A wide smile showed white teeth and lent dark eyes a lively sparkle. ‘I think you should, cara. Play,’ Emilio added quizzically. ‘It would do you good.’
‘Emilio,’ Michelle warned. ‘I don’t find this in the least amusing.’
‘No, darling, I don’t expect you do.’ His expression sobered slightly. Jeremy was the catalyst, and Nikos, unless he was mistaken, was a man with a hidden agenda. ‘You’ll forgive me if I say I shall enjoy the show?’ He didn’t give her the opportunity to respond.
‘I don’t need to tell you that your secret is safe with me. Now, why don’t you go have lunc
h together, and fine tune your strategy?’
‘Yes,’ Nikos agreed. ‘Why don’t we do that?’
She cast him a discerning look, opened her mouth to argue, then closed it again. ‘I’ll get my bag.’ She crossed to the office, retrieved it, then swung back to the entrance.
Emilio was talking into the mobile phone, and she fluttered her fingers at him, checked her watch, and silently indicated she’d be back at two.
‘I suggest somewhere close by in air-conditioned comfort,’ Nikos indicated silkily as they walked into the midsummer sunshine.
Michelle slid down her sunglasses, and was aware he mirrored her actions. ‘Fine. You choose.’
Ten minutes later they were seated in seclusion at a table overlooking an outdoor courtyard filled with potted flowers and greenery plants of numerous description.
‘Your parents have invited Saska to their home this evening.’
Michelle looked at him over the rim of her glass. He looked relaxed and at ease, and far too compelling for his own good. ‘Maman is the consummate hostess,’ she said evenly. ‘I’m sure you’ll both enjoy yourselves.’
She replaced the glass as the waiter delivered their order.
‘I’ll collect you at five to six.’
‘I have other plans.’
‘Change them.’
‘Those plans involve other people. I don’t want to let them down at such short notice.’
His eyes speared hers. ‘I’m sure they’ll understand if you explain.’
Yes they would, but that wasn’t the point.
Michelle picked up her fork and stabbed a crouton, some cos lettuce, and regarded the poised fork with apparent interest. She was bargaining for time, and it irked that he knew. ‘Surely the charade can wait a few days?’
‘Antonia and Emerson Bateson-Burrows are fellow guests,’ Nikos intimated. ‘Won’t they think it a little strange if you’re not there?’ He waited a beat. ‘And Saska is seen to be my partner?’
She had to concede he had a point. ‘I guess you’re right.’
Why did she feel like she’d just made a life-changing decision? How long would this pretense need to last? A few weeks? A month? It wasn’t as if they had to attend every party and dinner in town. It was likely she’d only have to see him a couple of nights a week.
The Helen Bianchin Collection Page 114