Stormy Possession

by Helen Bianchin

  He was convincing, Sally had to admit. With a few apparently genuine words, he managed to dispel most of Joe's suspicions. It would be impossible to state categorically that he dispelled them all, but her father appeared willing to accept things at face value.

  'And now, amante,' Luke directed gently, 'go and change, while I talk with your father, hmm? '

  Sally didn't need second bidding, and she escaped from his side with alacrity. Only when she was in the safety of her own room did she sink down on to the bed and bury her head into the pillow in despair.

  How long she remained there, she had no recollection, for time became a suspended element, and it could have been five or thirty minutes before a muted knock on the bedroom door roused her sufficiently to slip off the bed.

  'Tell Luke I won't be long,' she called in a falsely-bright voice. 'I—I' she faltered, and when the door opened she turned quickly away.

  At the sound of the closing door, she gave a heartfelt sigh of relief that was shortlived as hard hands caught hold of her shoulders and swung her round.

  'Cristo!' Luke swore softly as his eyes raked her face. 'What in the name of heaven happened before I arrived?'

  'Nothing,' she answered shakily. 'I expected an adverse reaction from my father, and you arrived in the middle of it.' She raised distraught eyes to his. 'You can't come into my bedroom,' she protested, and he smiled rather grimly.

  'If it worries your outraged sensibilities I'll open the door just as soon as you have got rid of that robe and slipped into an evening gown.'

  Her eyebrows rose incredulously. 'You can't stay here while I change,' she charged angrily.

  'Why? You are not entirely bare beneath that silky thing,' he drawled musingly. 'And I will vouch that your underwear covers you adequately—more so than that delightfully brief bikini of the other day.'

  'Go away!' Her voice was a furious whisper, and his expression became sardonic.

  'Get changed, Sally, or I will be tempted to give you a helping hand.' Without a further word he crossed to the wardrobe and flung open the door, sliding hangers this way and that as he made a cursory inspection before extracting a gown of blue silk-knit jersey. 'Wear this,' he commanded. 'It matches your eyes.'

  She faced him mutinously, tears of frustration shimmering in her eyes, and as he took a step towards her she snatched the gown from his hands and turned away. 'You're a brute,' she accused, hating him, 'and a bully!' The robe slipped off her shoulders, and she slid the gown over her head, pulling it down with quick angry movements. Her hand went to fasten the zip at the back, only to encounter his fingers on the fastener, and she emitted a gasp of pure rage.

  'Easy, piccina,' Luke warned. 'You had better recall a captivating smile, otherwise that embrace we convincingly shared and my carefully worded reassurances will all be for nothing.'

  Sally knew he was right, but the knowledge did little to dampen her anger. She began applying make-up with carefully controlled speed, highlighting her eyes with eye-shadow and mascara, then added a touch of colour to her lips. Her brush dragged through her hair, assaulting her scalp until it tingled.

  'Leave it loose,' Luke bade quietly, and she directed him a wrathful glance before crossing to the wardrobe to extract a pair of evening sandals.

  'I'm ready.'

  His eyes slid over her, swift and analytical. 'Looking at you, no one would believe the result was achieved in less than ten minutes. We will bid your father goodnight, then leave.' His expression hardened slightly as he glimpsed the soft trembling of her Hps. 'You can resort to feminine hysterics once we are safely downstairs. Now, smile,' he commanded softly, and taking hold of her arm he swung open the door.

  Somewhere along the hallway Sally mustered a measure of control, and when they entered the lounge seconds later, she was able to manage a slight smile. If awards were being given, she undoubtedly deserved an Oscar!

  "Bye, Daddy.' She leaned forward and kissed his cheek. 'Wake me before you leave for work in the morning. We'll have a leisurely breakfast together, and talk.'

  She was vaguely aware of Luke murmuring something to Joe, then they were out of the apartment and she was being led swiftly down the stairs. The Alfa- Romeo was parked in the courtyard, and she stood in silence while Luke unlocked the passenger door.

  When she was safely seated he closed the door with a decisive snap, then moved round to slip in behind the wheel. He didn't start the engine at once, and leaning close he reached into the glovebox and took out a small jeweller's box.

  'Your hand, if you please,' he ordered quietly, and when she refused to comply he reached out and grasped her wrist, straightening her fingers so that he could slip the ring he extracted on to her finger.

  'I don't want a ring,' Sally flung wretchedly, not even wanting to glance at it, and his eyes narrowed.

  'It is too late to think of changing your mind.'

  'Dear God, I have to be mad!' she uttered piously.

  'Without my assistance,' Luke began hardily, 'your father will be forced to give up his apartment, his car.' He went on relentlessly, 'Socially, he will become an outcast—ostracised by those who, until now, have been so-called friends.'

  Sally shuddered from the cruel picture he painted. 'You will play Shylock,' she voiced slowly, 'if I provide the pound of flesh.' She met his gaze defiantly in the encroaching dusk. 'Be very sure, Luke Andretti, that if it were not for my father, I would take great pleasure in telling you to go to hell!'

  'Are you usually so objectionable with all members of the male sex?'

  Hating his amused cynicism, she resorted to rudeness. 'Only with you.' 'One is wont to wonder why,' he mused dryly.

  'Wonder as much as you like!' she retorted, and was infuriated when he laughed.

  'My, my,' Luke drawled. 'You are a prickly young woman—a veritable porcospino, in fact.'

  'And you're a devil!'

  'So you seem fond of telling me.' He reached out a hand and switched on the ignition. 'Perhaps a meal will improve your disposition.'

  For a moment she felt oddly penitent. Whatever manner of man he was, he had kept his side of the bargain—smoothing the way with her father, and even going so far as to present her with an engagement ring for appearances' sake.

  'The past few days haven't been very easy,' Sally offered slowly as they neared the inner city. 'You always seem to have the upper hand.'

  Luke’s slight smile was without mockery. 'And that irks you, does it not?'

  'Unbearably,' she admitted wryly. 'I want to scream and rage against fate for being so unkind.'

  'But mostly against me,' he declared dryly, 'for daring to take fate by the tail and turn it to my advantage.'

  'Yes.'

  The remainder of the drive was completed in silence, and in the restaurant Sally sipped champagne and allowed Luke to order the meal, hardly caring what she ate.

  'The food is not to your liking?'

  Sally looked up and met his faintly raised eyebrow. 'I'm not very hungry,' she declared quietly.

  'If I ask you to dance, you will undoubtedly decline,' he drawled sardonically, and a perverse little imp caused her to raise her head in cool defiance.

  'Not at all—I love to dance. Unless—' she paused,

  unable to resist adding, 'this music is too modern for you?'

  His eyes lit with a devilish gleam. 'At thirty-seven, I am scarcely in my dotage. I manage a mean tango, and I have been known to attempt the hustle.'

  'Really?' Sally queried politely as she preceded him on to the floor.

  Much to her surprise he was familiar with most of the latest steps, executing them with a natural flair and without any sense of exhibitionism, and after a while she forgot to consider him an enemy and began to enjoy herself.

  When the tempo changed she stopped, and she would have turned back towards their table had Luke not grasped hold of her arm. She looked at him then, and saw the faint mockery evident in those dark eyes, and before she could escape he pulled her into his arms t
o hold her a good deal closer than was strictly conventional. Her hand felt ridiculously small in his, and she was aware of a set of powerful shoulders, a hidden strength in the arms that lightly held her. For some strange reason her pulse quickened, and she found herself swallowing nervously. This was ridiculous, for she didn't even like the man!

  Somehow she expected him to speak—something wholly cynical, or indulge in sophisticated patter to fill the silence between them. But when he led her back to their table ten minutes later they hadn't exchanged so much as a word.

  Sally resumed her seat, declined dessert, electing to sip another glass of champagne and let her gaze wander idly over the patrons frequenting this exclusive restaurant. Her eyes widened a little as they rested on Chantrelle Bakersfield, then flew open as she glimpsed her companion. Philip! And they were slowly coming this way, weaving between the tables as they followed the head waiter. As they drew close, Sally almost closed her eyes in the fervent hope they wouldn't catch sight of her, but there was no such luck. However, it was Luke who first gained recognition, and the sound of Chantrelle's tinkling laugh attached to his name almost made Sally grind her teeth.

  'Hello, you elusive man,' Chantrelle greeted him effusively. 'You haven't accepted one of my invitations these past few weeks.' She still had her back to Sally, but Philip had seen her and was glowering darkly.

  'I have had little spare time,' Luke intimated smoothly, and Chantrelle shook her head meaningfully.

  'I can see that, darling.' Her laugh was incredibly droll. 'Perhaps next week?' Then she turned, clearly with the intention of assessing the competition, and her slight gasp of surprise was quite genuine. 'Good heavens, Sally Ballinger!'

  'Chantrelle,' Sally managed evenly, then let her greeting include the man at Chantrelle's side. 'Philip.'

  'Champagne? Why, darling,' Chantrelle pouted engagingly as she returned her attention to Luke, 'are you celebrating another merger or something?'

  Sally glimpsed Luke's mocking smile. 'You could say that,' he returned obliquely, and Chantrelle leaned forward, placing a hand on his arm.

  'You choose to celebrate alone?'

  'Sally and I did not think it necessary to include anyone else.'

  'Sally?' She obviously didn't deserve mention. 'Does her presence have any significance?'

  In a moment I'll scream, Sally decided, as Luke met the fighting gleam darkening her eyes and noted the twin flags of colour high on each cheek. He reached out and caught hold of her hand, deliberately spreading her fingers between his own, and the smile he gave her was shockingly intimate.

  'Definitely,' he announced softly. 'Congratulations are in order—I am renouncing bachelorhood in favour of marriage.'

  'You're engaged?' Chantrelle's voice rose an octave. 'To each other?'

  Luke agreed, and his eyes gleamed wickedly as he took in Sally's angry blush.

  'And the wedding?' Chantrelle persisted impolitely. 'It will take place next year, I presume?'

  'The day after tomorrow,' Luke declared silkily, not taking his eyes from Sally's face for a second. 'We decided we could not wait—is that not so, cara?' he queried gently, and Sally made a strangled monosyllabic reply that neither confirmed nor denied.

  Chantrelle's eyes narrowed. 'Sally is a dark horse,' she stated with unveiled sarcasm. 'Up until a few days ago Philip understood he was to be the lucky man. Shame on you, Sally, for leading him on!'

  'I never at any time led Philip on,' Sally responded evenly. 'If he imagined otherwise, then the fault is his, not mine.'

  'Really?' Chantrelle widened her eyes with deliberate guile. 'Why, the dear boy is positively heartbroken at the way you've thrown him over!' .

  Sally could feel Luke's eyes lazily appraising her, and she seethed inwardly. 'No doubt he'll revive rapidly in your company, Chantrelle,' she managed with deliberate sweetness, and the other girl laughed.

  'I certainly shan't hold him at arm's length, darling. Although I'm very sore at you for snaring this gorgeous man'—she indicated Luke with a playful finger tip, 'right from beneath my nose. I rather had my eye on him.'

  'Obviously that wasn't enough.' Sally caught the gleam in Luke's eye and could cheerfully have hit him. He was regarding both girls with cynical amusement, and gave every appearance of enjoying their exchange.

  'We'll move on to our table,' Chantrelle declared, and she shot Luke a speculative glance. 'Sally isn't really a worthy enough—partner for you. However, if

  you're dissatisfied—' she allowed the words to trail

  off provocatively as she took Philip by the arm and led him away.

  Sally picked up her glass with a hand that was visibly shaking, and took a too generous sip of the amber liquid. She coughed, and took a moment to regain her breath.

  'More champagne?' Luke queried, and she shook her head.

  'I'd like to go home, if you don't mind.'

  His eyes swept her stormy features, and he smiled. 'You would be wise not to let that social butterfly upset you.'

  'Forgive me if I don't possess your cynicism!'

  'One does not achieve success without becoming aware of the frailties of human nature,' he informed her dryly.

  'If you won't take me home, I'll catch a taxi,' Sally determined stoically as she stood to her feet. To stay here another minute was impossible. Her emotions were a chaotic mixture of outrage and sheer anger. She began moving away, uncaring whether he followed her or not.

  On reaching the foyer she swept past the cashier and ran quickly down the stairs to street level. As luck would have it a cruising taxi caught her attention and without hesitation she hailed it.

  As it slowed and came to a halt at the edge of the kerb she was about to open the rear door when her arm was caught from behind.

  'I think not,' Luke murmured softly, and moving close to the waiting taxi he bent low and dismissed the driver.

  There was an answering mutter of words, then Luke uttered a laugh and responded in swift, incomprehensible Italian. In a few short seconds the taxi slid away into the stream of traffic.

  'Why did you do that?' Sally burst out furiously. 'What did you say to him?'

  His smile was wholly cynical. 'I simply explained that your gesture of independence was motivated by a lovers' tiff,' he intimated sardonically as he began leading her along the pavement. 'I have no intention of allowing you to find your own way home.'

  'You're detestable!'

  'Eventually you must run out of adjectives,' he declared dryly, and she gave a cry of anger as each successive attempt she made to escape from his steely grip proved fruitless.

  'And remarkably thick-skinned,' she added for good measure, and saw his lips twist slightly in humour as he paused beside the Alfa-Romeo and unlocked the passenger door.

  'Get in, Sally,' he commanded, and she slid in, full of resentment at his proprietorial tone. The door snapped shut, and she watched him move round the car to slip in behind the wheel.

  'Our wedding will take place at one o'clock on Fri day, followed by a luncheon at my home,' Luke told her as he set the car purring smoothly away from the city, 'Just your father and Carlo, of course, besides our- selves.''

  'How nice,' Sally declared with intended sarcasm. 'I hope the ceremony is to be conducted in the register office. I don't intend wearing traditional bridal regalia, and to have the nuptials receive a sacred blessing would be incredibly ludicrous.'

  'The register office,' Luke confirmed dryly. 'After which we will leave for the airport and catch the late afternoon flight to Auckland.'

  'Why New Zealand?' she queried bleakly. 'Isn't embarking on a so-called honeymoon taking things a little too far?'

  'I thought a few days on our own,' he explained silkily, and Sally uttered a harsh laugh.

  'Somewhere far enough away so that I can't escape home to Daddy?'

  'I would advise you not to concoct any schemes,' Luke warned dangerously. 'I am not without influence, and you would eventually be found.'

  'To face a fate wo
rse than death? There are laws to protect women from harassment.'

  'What I had in mind was something infinitely more subtle.'

  Sickened, she gazed sightlessly out of the side window, not wanting to pursue any further conversation, and the remainder of the drive home was achieved in silence.

  As soon as the car came to a halt in the courtyard outside her father's apartment block, Sally reached for the door-clasp, only to be forestalled by a hand on her arm.

  'So anxious to be gone,' he mocked. 'Afraid I might ravish you, Sally Ballinger?' .

  'Not before the wedding,' she flung incautiously. 'Although doubtlessly you'll resort to force, even rape —afterwards!'

  Luke uttered a few unintelligible oaths, and his grip on her arm tightened until she gasped with pain. 'You have the temerity of a hellcat,' he bit out harshly. 'I would advise you to curb your foolish tongue before I silence it.'

  'Oh? And how do you propose to do that?'

  There was a glimpse of terrible anger in those dark eyes, then she was half-lifted across the space between them to be held in an iron-like embrace, and there was no escape from the lips that descended on hers with deliberate intent.

  His mouth bruised hers, the relentless pressure forcing her lips apart, and her entreaty to desist became an inaudible moan. Not content, he began a ravaging exploratíon that was nothing less than a total invasion of her shattered senses.

  When at last he lifted his head and released her, she almost fell back into her seat, and she sat there unable to move, her eyes huge pools of darkened blue in a face that was pale beneath its tan. Of their own volition her hands crept up to cover her mouth, and she was conscious of their visible trembling. She desperately wanted to look away, but her eyes were riveted to his, almost as if they were held by a force stronger than her own.

  'Dio!' Luke swore softly. 'Must you look at me like that? I only kissed you.'

  'It feels as if you plundered my soul,' Sally faltered shakily.

  'You provoked it.' His tone was harsh, and defeated, she turned away.

  'If that—onslaught was intended to prove your superiority, then round one is undoubtedly yours,' she accorded wearily, and releasing the door-clasp she stepped out from the car. She was unaware that Luke followed her until his hand caught hold of her arm just as she was about to step through the apartment block's main entrance.