‘She called into the shop, intent on cornering you. That woman is a pest.’
‘You’re not wrong.’
‘What are you going to do about her?’
‘You mean, apart from getting mad?’ She downloaded the afternoon’s batch of orders and printed them out. ‘I’m handling it.’
‘Maybe you should have Luc handle it.’
‘Go running to him with a sob story that’s as pitiful as it’s pathetic? And admit I can’t deal with it?’ She punched in a code, and checked data on the screen. ‘No. It’s my problem, my call.’
Mid-afternoon Ana logged in an order for a delivery of flowers Friday afternoon together with an additional arrangement fee. It was a service Blooms and Bouquets offered, and had proven popular with numerous social hostesses when giving a private dinner party in their home.
Floral arrangement was an art form, and a professional could assemble an artistic display in a fraction of the time it would take the inexperienced.
However her heart seemed to miss a beat and falter when she wrote down the client’s name, address and contact number.
Celine.
There had been no recognition, no personal greeting. Just the requisite facts.
The obvious question had to be why Celine had chosen Blooms and Bouquets when there were any number of florists with whom she could have placed the order.
The woman’s motive had to be suspect. Mischief and mayhem? Without doubt, Ana concluded with a grimace.
‘What’s up?’
Ana gathered her wits together, and relayed the order.
‘I’ll take care of it,’ Rebekah said at once.
‘No. I will.’ Celine obviously had no intention of giving up. ‘This is another battle in an ongoing war,’ she determined grimly.
‘Luc won’t approve.’
‘He doesn’t need to know.’
‘He will,’ Rebekah warned. ‘Celine will make sure of it.’
‘Her order makes it business,’ she qualified.
‘It’s personal,’ Rebekah argued. ‘And we both know it.’
‘So? What’s the worst she can do?’
Celine’s apartment was in an exclusive Rose Bay residential tower.
Obviously the divorce settlement had been favourable, Ana deduced as she entered a sumptuous suite whose visible decorative theme featured-leopard print cushions scattered on off-white deep-cushioned sofas and single chairs, with stunning framed prints of prowling leopards in various poses adorning the walls.
Ana could almost hear their collective jungle snarl, and silently attributed Celine’s choice as being strikingly pertinent to the woman’s personality.
Neutral tones featured as a background, and she mentally selected the brilliant orange flash of strelitzia as the focal colour with a native mix in pale green and gold.
Celine’s greeting lacked civility, but then she hadn’t expected anything less. Today wasn’t about floral arrangements. It was another step towards a war between two women who each wanted the same man.
However, she could at least get on with the pretence, and she went straight into professional mode. ‘Shall we get started? It would help if you’ll tell me the look you want to achieve.’
Maximum effect for less than minimum price, and heavily discounted at that, Ana perceived some time later as Celine threw every suggestion out the window.
‘Work with me, Ana.’ The haughty command held arrogance.
It was time for a reality check. ‘What you want is unachievable for the price you’re prepared to pay.’
‘Your profit margin has to be outrageous.’
She wanted to turn on her heel and walk out. Almost did, except they were still on a business footing, albeit that it was shaky ground.
‘Rebekah and I pride ourselves on the quality of the blooms we supply, and our fee is standard.’
She closed the display folder and slid it into her briefcase. ‘I suggest you consult someone else.’
Celine’s expression hardened. ‘I really can’t be bothered wasting any further time on this. Itemise your quote, and I’ll sign it.’
Business was business. Ana set everything down in meticulous detail, checked it, acquired Celine’s signature, and gave her the customer copy.
Celine flicked the paper with a lacquered nail. ‘For this amount, I’ll expect perfection.’
‘I doubt you’ll have any reason to complain.’ But you’ll do your best to find something to denigrate Blooms and Bouquets, and take great pleasure in doing so.
Ana should have taken notice of her initial instinct and refused the job. So why hadn’t she? Sheer stubborn-mindedness in not allowing Celine to triumph in any way.
‘I hope you don’t think you’ve won.’
Ah, the real purpose for her presence here. ‘I wasn’t aware we were in competition.’
‘Don’t play me for a fool.’
‘I would never do that.’
‘Just think, darling.’ Celine’s false smile took on a spiteful quality. ‘I had Luc before you. Remember that, and wonder how you could possibly be an adequate substitute.’
‘Yet you married someone else.’ She couldn’t help herself. ‘One can only imagine it was because Luc didn’t ask you?’
‘Bitch.’
‘Go get a life, Celine. And stay out of mine.’
‘Not a chance. There isn’t a thing you could say or do that would influence me.’
‘I’m carrying Luc’s child.’
Celine arched a brow in supercilious condemnation. ‘And that’s supposed to send me into retreat mode?’
‘Forgive me, I forgot you don’t possess any scruples…moral, or otherwise.’
‘Got it in one, darling.’ Celine examined her perfectly manicured nails, then speared Ana with a killing glance. ‘Don’t for a minute think you have an advantage in spawning a Dimitriades heir.’ Her laugh portrayed the antithesis of humour as she raked Ana’s slender form. ‘Pregnancy isn’t an attractive look. Who do you think Luc will turn to when you resemble a waddling whale?’
‘You’ve mixed metaphors,’ Ana managed calmly. Quite a feat when calm didn’t come close to the anger burning inside. ‘And some men are blown away by a woman’s conception.’
‘Poor Ana.’ Condescension positively dripped off her tongue. ‘You’re delusional if you imagine Luc is one of them.’
It was time to leave before she said or did something regrettable.
‘Good afternoon, Celine.’ Ana moved into the foyer and let herself out the door. Her steps were measured as she crossed to the lift, and it was only when she cleared the building that she allowed herself to vent some of her pent-up anger.
There were two messages on her voice-mail. Luc, and Rebekah. She used speed-dial to connect with her sister.
‘Problems?’
‘Just checking to see if you weathered the Celine appointment OK.’
‘It could have been worse. I’ll be at the shop in fifteen minutes.’
She reached Luc on his private line, and attempted to control her spiralling emotions as he picked up.
‘Dimitriades.’
‘You left a message to call.’
‘So I did.’ His voice was a faintly inflected drawl, and she envisaged him leaning back in his chair.
‘I’m about to get into the car and drive,’ Ana warned.
‘So keep it brief?’
She could sense the wry humour in his voice, and retaliated without thought. ‘Yes.’
‘Jace is flying in from the States on Sunday. Ask Rebekah to join us Monday evening for dinner.’
The Dimitriades men were from the same mould…tall, dark, ruggedly attractive, and dynamite with women. Jace Dimitriades was no exception.
‘Playing matchmaker, Luc?’
‘The suggestion came from Jace,’ Luc responded, indolently amused, and Ana gnashed her teeth, all too aware of the tension that existed between her sister and Luc’s cousin.
‘Don’t plan on Rebeka
h accepting.’
‘No,’ Rebekah refused emphatically less than twenty minutes later. ‘Not in this lifetime.’
‘OK.’
‘Just—OK? You’re not going to cajole, persuade, twist my arm?’
‘No.’
‘Jace is—’
Ana offered a cynical smile. ‘Another Luc?’
‘Quite capable of issuing an invitation himself,’ Rebekah completed.
‘Which you’ll have the greatest pleasure in refusing?’
‘Yes.’
It was as well the phone rang, and Rebekah took the call while Ana crossed to the computer.
‘Dad,’ Rebekah informed as she replaced the handset. ‘He wants us to join him for dinner…tonight. Says it’s very important.’ She cast Ana a pensive glance. ‘Do you have any idea what it’s about?’
Oh, lord. The whole truth wouldn’t sit well. Perhaps she could get by with imparting only some of it?
‘He mentioned having contacts in New York when we had lunch yesterday.’
Rebekah’s gaze sharpened. ‘You think he might consider taking a position there?’
‘I guess it’s possible.’ Why did she feel as if she was digging a proverbial hole with every word she spoke?
‘Presumably he’ll tell us about it tonight.’
Which meant she should ring Luc and tell him she wouldn’t be home for dinner.
He was in a meeting, and she sent him a text message, then didn’t bother checking her cellphone until she arrived home.
‘Luc will be delayed until six-thirty,’ Petros informed when she walked through the door.
By which time she’d be on her way into the city to meet her father and Rebekah…if she was lucky. ‘Thanks.’
She headed for the stairs, and on reaching the bedroom she stripped, took the quickest shower on record, then dressed with care in an elegantly tailored ultra-violet trousersuit.
Ana was putting the finishing touches to her make-up when Luc entered the room. He’d loosened his tie, undone the top few buttons on his shirt, and he held his jacket hooked over one shoulder.
He looked the powerful magnate, a sophisticate whose forceful image projected an dramatic mesh of elemental ruthlessness and latent sensuality.
His eyes were dark, almost still, and her heart jolted a little in reaction. There was a part of her that wanted to close the space between them, touch light fingers to his cheek, then pull his head down to hers in a kiss that invited as much as it promised.
She wanted to smile, and offer ‘Tough day?’, then share her own in musing commiseration.
Except she did none of those things. Instead, she dropped a lipstick into her evening bag and caught up her keys.
‘You got my text message?’
Luc tossed his jacket down onto the bed, and pulled his tie free. ‘Yes.’ He began releasing the buttons on his shirt, then pulled it free from his trousers. ‘Petros will drive you. Ring me when you’re through, and I’ll come collect you.’
‘Don’t be ridiculous. I’ll drive myself.’
‘No,’ he said evenly. ‘You won’t.’
Anger rose with simmering heat. ‘The hell—’
His eyes seared hers, dark and infinitely dangerous. ‘We can do this the hard way,’ he relayed silkily. ‘The result will be the same.’
‘Aren’t you overreacting just a touch?’
‘It’s not open to negotiation.’ He toed off his shoes, then released the zip on his trousers. ‘You want to circle the city streets trying to find a parking space? Walk alone in the dark to the restaurant venue?’ His voice held a chilling softness. ‘Then repeat the process at the end of the evening?’ He waited a beat. ‘You really believe I’d let that happen?’
He stripped off his briefs, then walked naked into the en suite.
Ana felt no satisfaction in the argument, and a wicked little imp urged her to march in there after him for the last word. Except there would be only one end, and she didn’t have the time.
Instead she took a deep, steadying breath, and made her way downstairs, aware that Petros was waiting in the foyer.
‘You get to play chauffeur.’ She even managed a faint smile as she preceded him out to Luc’s Mercedes.
‘Luc has your best interests at heart.’
She slid into the front passenger seat, and waited until Petros slipped in behind the wheel. ‘He’s a dictatorial tyrant.’
The car eased forward and covered the distance to the gates. ‘You’re the wife of a wealthy man who prefers to implement precautions, rather than dismiss them and take unnecessary risks.’
‘So shut up, and dance to the puppeteer’s tune?’
‘Some would be grateful.’
‘This particular someone doesn’t like being given orders.’
He entered New South Head Road. ‘Where to, in the city, Ms Dimitriades?’
The irony was they weren’t meeting in the city, but at Double Bay, and she named the restaurant, thanked him when he drew to a halt immediately outside it, then stepped into the plush entrance.
Her father and Rebekah were already seated at a table, and she greeted them with affection, then she requested mineral water and perused the menu.
‘I’ve put the sale of my apartment in the hands of an agent, and I fly out to New York tomorrow,’ William Stanford revealed when the waiter had taken their orders.
Rebekah threw questions thick and fast, and it was evident their father’s answers failed to satisfy.
When William settled the bill, indicating the need to leave in order to pack, Rebekah summoned the waiter for tea and coffee, querying as soon as it arrived, ‘You already knew, didn’t you?’
‘The possibility of New York, yes,’ Ana stressed carefully.
‘Why this sudden move? And I don’t buy the necessity to sell the apartment.’ Her eyes narrowed. ‘He’s in some kind of trouble. At a guess, Luc’s involved, which means it’s something to do with the bank.’ Her lips pursed, then thinned to a grim line. ‘Suppose you tell me the truth. All of it. Not just what you think I should hear.’
The telling was virtually a verbatim explanation of what William Stanford had confided over lunch.
‘Just assure me you played no part in Luc’s decision not to prosecute,’ Rebekah pleaded. ‘I’d kill him if I thought he’d dragged you back into a marriage you’d decided you no longer wanted.’
She was too clever by half. ‘I wanted a break from Celine’s tiresome behaviour.’
‘And that’s it? All of it?’
It was all she could bring herself to admit, and she resisted the childish urge to cross her fingers behind her back to minimise the lie. ‘Yes.’
Something jogged her memory. ‘I almost forgot. Luc suggested you join us for dinner Monday night.’
‘Kind of him. Persuade Petros to serve moussaka and I’ll bring him flowers.’
‘I’ve no idea whether Luc plans eating out or at home. I’ll ask and let you know. There’s just one more thing…Jace will be there.’
‘No.’ Rebekah’s response was immediate and adamant.
‘No, because it’s Jace? Or no, end-of-story?’ Ana queried, and saw Rebekah’s mouth thin.
‘I can’t stand the man.’
‘Because he rubs you up the wrong way?’ There was more to this than she thought. Rebekah had met him during one of his previous visits to Sydney, but they hadn’t dated…at least, not that she was aware.
‘That’s the understatement of the year,’ her sister growled, and Ana felt bound to ask,
‘Don’t you wonder why?’
‘Oh, yes, sister dear.’ Her voice held bitterness. ‘I know precisely why. I just don’t care to explore it.’
Ana was silent for a few seconds as she carefully weighed her words. ‘Maybe you should.’
Rebekah speared her with a killing glare. ‘Don’t play amateur psychologist.’
‘That wasn’t my intention.’
‘Oh, dammit.’ Rebekah appeared contrite, for s
he hadn’t meant to overreact. ‘I’ll come to dinner. It’ll give me the utmost satisfaction to put Jace Dimitriades in his place.’
Tiredness crept over her, which, combined with the events of the day, resulted in the need to bring the evening to an end. ‘I’ll call a cab.’ She extracted her cellphone and keyed in the necessary digits.
‘You didn’t drive in?’ At her sister’s faint grimace she indicated, ‘I’ll drop you home.’
She did, and Luc was waiting at the door as Rebekah brought her car to a halt.
‘Your guardian angel.’ She leaned forward and brushed a light kiss to Ana’s cheek. ‘I’ll see you in the morning. And thanks.’
‘For what?’
‘Being you.’
Ana slid out from the car, waved as Rebekah eased the car forward, then she entered the foyer and met Luc’s dark scrutiny.
‘I was waiting for your call.’ There was silk threading his voice.
‘Why, when Rebekah offered to drop me home?’ she asked reasonably.
‘It’s late.’
‘We stayed on to talk a while.’
He took in her pale features, the faint smudges beneath her eyes. ‘You should have ended the evening before this.’
‘Don’t,’ she warned. ‘Tell me something I already know.’ The events of the day, Celine, a vivid reminder of William Stanford’s folly, being less than totally honest with Rebekah…all seemed to manifest itself into a blazing headache. Add tiredness, and it wasn’t an enviable combination.
‘Go on up to bed. Can I bring you anything?’
She wanted to say ‘Just you’. As it used to be, before Celine reappeared on the scene. But the words never left her lips, and she shook her head, feeling almost undone by the underlying care apparent.
She would have given anything to believe it was for her alone, and not because of the child she nurtured in her womb.
He set the security system, and doused the lights, then he followed her upstairs to their room, slipping out of the jeans and polo shirt he’d donned after his shower.
They both slid into bed at the same time, and he snapped off the bedside light, then gathered her close.
He dealt with her faint protest by closing his mouth over her own, sweeping his tongue in an evocative tasting that made him want more, much more, and he shaped her lissom body with his hands, aware of the slight tenderness of her breasts, the quivering response as he trailed an exploratory path over her stomach to the sensitive apex at the top of her thighs.
The Helen Bianchin Collection Page 144