No, her mother deserved better. Both her parents did. It was for their sake that she’d entered into the charade of happy wife in the first place, and she did not have the right to shatter the image now. With only two more days left in their holiday, she had an obligation to preserve the myth, no matter how painful or difficult she might find it.
Clamping her fingers to her mouth to stop its trembling, she took a deep breath. “You’re right, Mama,” she ad mitted shakily. “Sometimes, I say the first thing that comes into my head without any thought for whether or not it makes sense. Of course I’m not dying. But for a little while, it felt as if I might.”
“Did that woman say or do something to upset you, darling? She’s the one who told me I ought to come look ing for you.”
Gabriella forced a smile to her lips and shook her head. “It was something I ate. Suddenly, I felt...” The memory of Willow’s self-satisfied smirk rose up in her mind, arid a tremor of distaste ran over her, revolting as insect feet. “...very unwell. But I’m better now.”
Her mother watched her a moment, her eyes so full of love and compassion that Gabriella’s heart broke a]l over
again. “Yes,” she said. “I think you are. Or it noi, u you will be. Comb your pretty hair, my darling, and pinch your cheeks to make them rosy again. Max has won a prestigious award for his work preserving old buildings, and you should be at his side helping him celebrate his success.”
She could not face him again, not tonight, not after what she’d learned. And yet, if she did not, wouldn’t she just be playing into Willow McHenry’s merciless little hands?
“I will,” she said. “I just need a moment to myself. Go back to the table, Mama, and tell him I’ll be there soon.”
She waited until she was alone before daring to look in the mirror again. She was not a pretty sight. Her face was blotchy, her eyes red-rimmed. As for her famous smile, she doubted she’d ever be able to produce it again. If he could see her now, her agent would probably ask to be released from his contract, certain her career was over.
But she hadn’t climbed to the top of her profession without learning a few tricks on the way. Cold water was a model’s best friend; never being caught without basic essentials the one unbreakable law which ruled her life. A little concealer under the eyes, a touch of pressed pow der to nose and cheeks, a stroke of mascara on the lashes, and long, soothing sweeps of the miniature hair brush she’d tucked in her bag, worked a minor miracle. Add a spine of steel, and the makeover was complete.
Smoothing the long full skirt of her dress over her hips, she stepped back and flung a last challenging glance at her image. “Curtain time, Gabriella,” she announced softly, then, head held high, she turned to the door and prepared to face her nemesis.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Sm found Max impatiently pacing the hallway outside. “What the devil took you so long, sweetheart? I was be ginning to think you’d moved in there permanently.”
“Don’t think I wasn’t tempted,” she shot back, ignor ing his proffered hand and sailing past him under her own steam into the ballroom.
The shimmering light from the chandeliers had been dimmed so that only the glow of candles was reflected in the mirrored walls, and those people who weren’t chatting over after-dinner drinks were dancing to a small orchestra. But what should have been a dre setting had turned into a nightmare for Gabriella.
Max caught up with her before she’d taken more than half a dozen steps. “Ahem! Want to talk about whatever’s got you so steamed?”
“Not right at this moment, no.” She smiled and nodded at the Austrian consul and his wife as they pirouetted past. “Congratulations, by the way. I hear you won an award.”
“Screw the award, Gabriella!” Max snapped, grabbing her by the arm and swinging her around to face him just as she was about to plunge through the crowd to their table. “And while you’re at it, screw the frozen attitude, too! Something’s up and I want to know what it is.”
She steeled herself to meet his gaze. Until that night, she’d never been able to look into his candid blue eyes without her heart doing a little flip-flop somersault. But that was before she’d been given reason to suspect he was,
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above all else, a consummate liar. Now, she was arnuu she’d either slap his face or burst into tears.
“This is neither the time nor the place, Max. It can wait.”
He flung an exasperated glare at the people swirling past them. “Fine. If you won’t talk, we’ll dance. Because I’m damned if you’re going to treat me as if I’m not even here!”
“I don’t want to dance with you.”
“Prove it.” He pulled her against him, locked one arm around her waist, and positioned his hand in the small of her back with sufficient pressure to mold her hips to his. Disguised by the folds of her skirt, he forced his knee between both of hers, leaving her with the choice of mov ing with him as he began a sultry waltz, or remaining stationary and having him rub up against her in a way that was downright indecent.
“I am not enjoying this,” she informed him starchily.
“Oh, yes, you are,” he said, bringing their joined hands to rest against his chest, and brushing his knuckles over her breasts until she thought her nipples would self- destruct. “I’ve got you so hot and bothered, you can barely stand up.”
He wasn’t always a liar. Sometimes, he homed in on the truth all too well. If she didn’t sit down soon, she’d fall down. Her legs were trembling and the ache between her thighs had left her moist with heated longing. “Don’t be ridiculous!” she said.
He laughed and nuzzled his mouth to her ear. And what he was doing with his hips didn’t bear thinking about! “You forget how well I know your beautiful body, my love. I recognize what it’s telling me.”
“You’re the one with the erection, not me,” she said boldly. “You should be ashamed of yourself.”
“Why? Because I find dancing with my wife such a turn-on?”
“I wish they’d turn on the overhead lights,” she fumed. “I bet you wouldn’t be quite so cocky then!”
For once, she actually managed to leave him at a loss for words. He stopped dead in the middle of the floor, his arms fell to his sides, and if it weren’t that she was so hurt and bewildered by the confrontation with Willow, she’d have laughed at the conflicting expressions chasing over his face.
He recovered quickly though, and bathed her in a smile so dazzling and engaging, it tore holes in her already bat tered heart. “Was that a deliberate double entendre, or merely your way of showing off how well versed you’ve become in colloquialisms?”
A furious blush engulfed her then, as the import of what she’d said sank home. “Trust you to put the worst pos sible connotation on every little word that comes out of my mouth! But then, what else should I expect from a man with the morals of a goat!”
Her eyes were brimming with tears, and she didn’t care who saw them. He did, though. “Hey,” he said, drawing her back into his arms. “What have morals got to do with anything? You know I’m just teasing you, so what’s really going on here, Gabriella?”
He wore such a look of concern, invested such a wealth of tenderness in his question, that she was sorely tempted to lean into his embrace and spill out everything bottled up inside her. But just then the music stopped and before she could speak, another voice intruded—one she’d come to despise for the venom underlying the syrup that coated every word.
“Oh, there you are, dear!” Willow crooned, feigning solicitude. “I was just on my way back to the ladies’ room
to find out if you were feeling better, but I can see I was worrying needlessly.”
“What’s going on?” Gabriella glared at Max. “Why don’t you ask her? She’s the one with all the answers.”
He stepped back a pace and looked from her to Willow, his eyes veiy cagey all of a sudden, but his face otherwise wiped clean of all expression. “Because I’m asking you, and I’m getting tired o
f waiting for an answer that makes sense.”
“I’m afraid,” she said, tossing her head contemptu oüsly, “that what I have to say isn’t something you really want to hear.”
“Gabriella, stop this!”
Once upon a time, she’d have heeded that imperious command. She’d have walked through fire, if he’d ordered her to do so. But those days were over. Ignoring him, she plowed through the crush of bodies to the double doors that opened onto the curving balcony overlooking the main lobby of the hotel, and down the escalator to the back entrance where a doorman was hailing taxis for de parting guests.
The evening had long ago lost whatever charm it might once have held for her, and all she wanted now was for it to be over.
‘Let her go, Max.” Willow grabbed a pit bull hold on his arm when he tried to follow Gabriella. “There’s noth ing you cando.”
“The hell there isn’t!” he snapped, shaking her off. “What have you said to my wife, that she looks ready to take a chain saw to both of us?”
“Nothing.” She gazed at him, all wide-eyed innocence. “Nothing but the truth.”
He stopped dead in his tracks at ‘that, knowing with
sinking certainty that it had been a truth custom-designed to suit Willow’s purposes and undermine all his efforts to shore up his sagging marriage. A cold sweat prickled un pleasantly over his skin. “Whose truth, Willow?” be in quired, closing in on her menacingly. “Yours?”
“Really, Max!” She raised her hands and placed both palms flat against his chest. “You’re making a scene. Calm down!”
“I’m not in the mood to calm down. I’m going after my wife, and when I find her, I’m...”
Going to wring her neck! Then I’m coming back to wring yours!
Choking back the threat, he pushed past her and cut a swath thmugh the packed room, following the direction Gabriella had taken. Leaning over the low glass wall of the mezzanine, he scanned the area below, searching for a glimpse of her and spotted her almost immediately. With her looks and in that eye-catching dress, she was hard to miss.
She stood at the concierge’s desk, scribbling something on a piece of paper. Not ten yards away, revolving glass doors opened onto the porticoed parking area where a fleet of limos and taxis waited. Another minute, and she’d be gone.
Lucidly, the mezzanine was relatively deserted. He made it down the escalator in record time and practically sprinted across the main lobby, coming up behind her just as she handed the note to the concierge.
“Please have this message delivered to Mr. and Mrs. Zoltan Siklossy at table six in the Crystal Ballroom,” she instructed him.
“That won’t be necessary,” Max said, intercepting the folded slip of paper and crumpling it into a ball.
At the sound of his voice, she swung around, practically
spitting with fury. Looked so much like an exotic caL about to attack, in fact, that if he hadn’t been so royally ticked off himself, he’d have applauded. Her huge aqua marine eyes had narrowed to slits, her teeth were bared in a grimace, her silky blond hair flew around her head like a mane.
And still she managed to look stupendous. Tall and proud and aristocratic, with the bottle-green satin of her strapless dress glowing against her honey-gold skin and swirling rich and full around her long, magnificent legs.
Then she spoke, bursting into wild, impassioned Hungarian, which was just as well because he didn’t need an interpreter to tell him that she’d probably have been arrested if she’d resorted to English.
“Settle down,” he ordered.
He’d have been better off keeping his mouth shut and exercising muscle instead, because all he succeeded in doing was stoking her rage to greater heights. Talk about putting on a show! Her performance held the concierge and two bellhops paralyzed with fascination.
Well, they might be enjoying it, but he’d had his fill of melodrama for one night. “Gabriella!” he thundered.
Her mouth remained open but the torrent of noise stopped. Knowing it was a temporary cease-fire only, he wasted no time on persuasion or diplomacy.
“We will take this some place private,” he informed her. “You might not care that you’re making a fool of yourself, but I do.”
“I refuse to remain here with the two of you!”
Two? He’d have thought she was hallucinating on top of everything else if a quick glance over his shoulder hadn’t revealed Willow bringing up the rear. Just peachy!
Dismissing her with a glare, he turned back to his wife. “You’ll damn well do as you’re told, for once,” he ad-
‘vised her. Then, fishing a fifty-dollar bill out of his wallet, he snapped his fingers to bring the concierge Out of his trance. “Find us a room where we can be alone.”
“At once, sir.” Palming the tip, the man hustled them into the small office behind his desk. Lit by a single bulb and equipped only with a wooden table, a couple of chairs and a spare coatrack, it hardly matched the elegance of the public rooms, but it served the purpose.
“Okay.” Fists on his hips, Max eyeballed his wife. “Start talking, Gabriella,, before I really lose patience.”
“And make sure you stick to the facts!”
He whirled around, realizing too late that Willow had followed them into the office. “I don’t recall inviting you to join the party.”
The way she leaned against the door made it clear the only way she was leaving was if he threw her out bodily. “I have the right to defend myself against this woman’s insane accusations.”
Gabriella let out a hiss and lunged forward. She was taller than Willow by a good five inches, and though there wasn’t much meat on her bones, what she did have was toned to perfection. Willow would end up picking her teeth out of the carpet if it came to a wrestling match and loath though he was to defend her, Max felt obligated to intervene on her behalL
“Gabriella, for crying out loud!” Not sure of the pro tocol for breaking up a catfight, he grabbed her around the waist and swung her off her feet.
Her high heel caught him a sharp blow on the shin, one flailing fist connected with his jaw, an elbow jabbed him in the ribs. And as if that wasn’t punishment enough, she let fly with another Hungarian tongue-lashing.
Alarmed, Willow shrank against the door and he couldn’t say he blamed her. Given a choice, he’d opt for
a football scrimmage any day of the week over trying to contain a woman on the warpath! “Listen, Gabriella,” he panted in her ear, pinning her arms and hauling her against him so that her shoulders were sandwiched to his chest, “keep this up, and someone’s going to get hurt. I’d as soon avoid that, and if you stop to think about it, I think you’ll agree with me.”
“Precisely,” Willow chimed in. “Lay a hand on me, Gabriella Sikiossy, and I’ll slap you with assault charges so fast, you won’t know what hit you. Just think what that’ll do for your public image!”
“Peasant!” Gabriella spat.
‘Put a lid on it, both of you, and start acting your age!” he bellowed. “I’ve had it up to here with your histrionics! I don’t know what the devil’s gone down between the two of you tonight, and I’m beginning not to care.”
Wrong thing to say! Gabriella wriggled around and tried her damnedest to knee him in his most delicate parts. “You’ve never cared!” she cried. “You announce at din ner that you don’t share your wife, but you expect her to share you! If I weren’t here now, you’d probably throw that.. .that creature down on the table and have sex with her. But then, it wouldn’t be nearly as comfortable or private as our bed, would it, and she couldn’t wash the smell of you off her body in our bathtub afterward, could she?”
“You want to tell me what the hell she’s talking about?” he asked Willow.
Apparently not sure he had the situation fully under control, she pushed away from the door but kept a waxy eye on Gabriella. “It’s really very simple. I ran into your wife in the ladies’ room. We compared jewelry and in the course of making pleasant con
versation, I happened to mention how much I’d enjoyed living in the penthouse.
She became totally unhinged and went so far as to call me a liar in front of an audience. I’d appreciate it if you’d set her straight on the matter.”
“Gabriella?” He relaxed his hold slightly. “Is that all there was to it?”
“It’s not enough?” she exclaimed, vibrating with out rage. “First, you buy her expensive earrings, then you move her into my home?”
“No, it’s not quite enough,” he said, “but it’ll do for now.”
“You don’t deny it?”
“No,” he said. “Basically, she told you the truth. Too bad it never occurred to you there might be more to the story.”
She squirmed to face him. “Then defend yourself! Show me that I can trust your word over hers!”
“Why? What difference would it make? You’ve al ready judged me and found me guilty.”
“Max, please!” The anger was seeping out of her like water running down a drain. But instead of feeling vi dicated, he knew only a sense of defeat. Of resignation.
“You see?” Willow said smugly, reading his expres sion. “There’s absolutely no pleasing her, no matter how hard you try.”
“And what would it take to please you, Willow?” he asked.
“Well, an apology from her, for a start.”
“I’ll see that you get it.”
“Never!” Gabriella exclaimed haughtily. “I will not apologize to the woman who has done her best to steal my husband.”
He pushed her down on one of the chairs and leaned over her. “Yes, Gabriella, you will apologize because, strictly speaking, every word she told you is the truth.
And when you have, I’ll fill in all the important nWe vz she somehow forgot to mention, and you’ll see you have no reason to believe I’ve ever betrayed you. Perhaps then, you’ll feel like apologizing to me, too.”
“Max...!” Her hands fluttered helplessly, then fell into her lap. She stared up at him, her lovely eyes wide’ with distress. “If I’ve misunderstood, please tell me howl”
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