by Miranda Lee
‘I’ll come,’ she said, ‘if you promise me there won’t be any photographers around.’
His smile faded. ‘I don’t invite the press to rehearsals,’ he ground out. ‘But if one happens to sneak in, then I’ll introduce you as my cousin.’
‘Sister would be better.’
‘I don’t have any sisters,’ he snapped.
‘Then invent one.’
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
LUCILLE sat in the shadows at the back of the theatre, watching proceedings from the safety of distance. An hour earlier she’d declined Val’s offer to be introduced to Angela and Raoul, saying she’d rather not.
‘Who do you expect me to say you are?’ he’d demanded to know. ‘I can’t tell them you’re my sister.’
‘Don’t tell them anything. I’ll keep well in the background.’
He hadn’t argued with her further, but he hadn’t been pleased.
An hour had passed since then, and the two dancers were not pleasing Val, either. Their performance looked fine to Lucille, though she was no expert.
Raoul was a very attractive man, she noticed. Not as tall as Val, but lean and elegant, with the dark hair and eyes of most Latins, and a proud, rather sulky face.
As for Angela…
Lucille tried not to feel jealous or worried as she watched this girl whom Val had admitted to caring about. In the flesh, she was even more stunning than in her photograph. A vibrant, dark-eyed beauty, with full, sexy lips, lovely olive skin and the kind of lush, curvy figure which Val had already admitted to liking.
Neither dancer was in costume at the moment, though Angela was wearing a figure-revealing white leotard and tights. Lucille had no doubt that when she became ‘Flame’ for the show, her clothes would be as hot as her stage name suggested. Latin dancers were notorious for their scanty and very revealing clothes. Lucille’s stomach tightened at the thought of Val lusting after this creature, despite having declared his love for her. Her jealousy was eased only by the thought that Angela had chosen the father, not the son.
But what would happen, she worried, if Angela ever changed her mind about that and switched her attentions to the son? How long would Val’s so-called love for her last in the face of such a temptation?
‘No, no, no!’ Val exploded, snapping off the taped music. ‘The tango is a sensual dance, for pity’s sake, not some stiff set of prescribed steps, performed by robots. What in hell’s wrong with you two? Put some passion in the damned thing. Now try it again, from the beginning.’
They both glowered at each other, then at Val, who glowered right back at them.
‘I want you to look like you’re burning for each other,’ he ordered. ‘It doesn’t have to be real. Pretend. Act. A top dancer is a top actor. So act, damn you!’
When the music started up again, Lucille surreptitiously made her way a few rows closer, sitting down at one end and leaning her arms on the back of the seat in front of her. She wanted a closer view, to see if Val was being fair or just giving in to a bout of Latin temperament, for whatever reason.
This time, however, Lucille saw what Val was getting at. Although Raoul and Angela danced perfectly together, without putting a step wrong, there was a coldness to their movements and a lack of fire in their faces. They looked as if they despised each other. Lucille hadn’t noticed it before, from where she’d been sitting at the back, but she noticed it now.
Within a few bars, Val was on his feet again. ‘Oh, for pity’s sake!’ he stormed, leaping onto the stage and pushing Raoul out of the way. ‘You have no idea, do you? This is what I want.’ And he yanked Angela into his arms. ‘Now, dance the way you would,’ he commanded, ‘if you were really in love with your partner. Don’t hold back. Give it all you’ve got.’
Lucille was both fascinated and appalled by what happened next.
As Val had just said, the tango was a sensual and passionate encounter, the artistic expression of a desire-filled man pursuing his woman, capturing and seducing her. Or so Lucille had always thought when she’d watched the dance before. Not that she’d ever seen it with live partners, only on television, or in the movies. It was, supposedly, an erotic experience for both dancers and onlookers.
Seeing Raoul and Angela dance it on stage hadn’t ignited any heat within her.
Seeing Val and Angela perform the same dance, however, was a totally difference experience. At first, Lucille simply marvelled at Val’s unexpected brilliance. Technically, he was every bit as good as Raoul. He’d said he liked to dance but she hadn’t known he was this good. As Lucille watched him execute the difficult and dramatic steps, with amazing skill and assurance, she realised how apt his name was. Valentino—who’d been a great dancer before he’d become famous as a great lover.
Soon, however, Lucille ceased to wonder over the level of Val’s talent, a fierce jealousy pushing all other feelings aside once she realised that what she was witnessing was no act. The passion in Val’s face was too intense not to be real. The way he held his body—and Angela’s—too achingly taut not to be the result of the most acute sexual tension.
Lucille could feel his tension. And his heat. It radiated from every pore of his stiffly held male body, stirring her despite the fact her lover no longer knew she was even there.
If I can feel all that from this distance, Lucille agonised, what must Angela be feeling, up there, in his arms?
Despair descended swiftly once Lucille saw the evidence of what Angela was feeling. Because she was no longer Angela. She was Flame. Flame who now had a partner who burned for her. She burned right back, her dark eyes never leaving his, even when her body was half turned away. Her head remained always fixed in Val’s direction, galvanising him with a gaze so smouldering and seductive that Lucille’s mouth went dry just looking at it. As she turned and twisted, Angela’s body became the sultriest of weapons, taunting and tantalising, alternating a challenging resistance with moments of bone-melting surrender. When the dance called for Val to clasp her high to his chest, she lifted her leg and slowly rubbed her thigh down his as her feet slid back to the floor. By the time the dance ended, with Val dipping her back over his arm and looming over her arched body like the dominating male mate he obviously wanted to be, Lucille’s stomach was churning.
She sighed a deeply shuddering sigh. God, what a fool I’ve been, hoping he might really be in love with me. Jane told me the truth. Only a woman of like mind and like nature would ever satisfy Val. You only had to look at them together to know how well matched they were, both in temperament and interest.
Lucille was sitting there, wretchedly wondering what she should do, when Raoul strode over and wrenched Angela out of Val’s arms. He screamed something at them both in a language she didn’t understand. Angela spat something back, then slapped him hard around the face. When Val tried to intervene, Raoul turned on him with another foreign stream of invective. And then it was on for young and old, insults flying back and forth, presumably.
Lucille might not understand a single word they were saying, but she could understand the tone and interpret the expressions on their faces. You didn’t have to be a genius to see that this was another love triangle the man-hungry Angela was trying to engineer.
Lucille could not believe that a woman could be this manipulative, or this fickle. Did it turn her on to play one guy off against another?
In the end Raoul stormed off towards the stage exit and Angela threw herself, sobbing, into Val’s arms.
Val didn’t hesitate to cradle her head into that intimate little spot under his chin, stroking her dark glossy hair down her back and murmuring soothing endearments, this time in English.
‘There, there,’ he crooned. ‘Don’t take it to heart. He didn’t mean it. I’m sure he still loves you. Quite a lot, I would imagine. No man gets that angry unless he’s madly in love with the woman in question.’
Lucille almost groaned out loud, thinking of the first day she’d met Val, and how angry he’d been over Angela sleeping with
his father.
‘You’re wrong,’ Angela sobbed. ‘No one loves me any more. They all think I’m a whore. Max. Raoul. You.’
‘Max doesn’t think you’re a whore. Max doesn’t think like that. And I don’t, either. But you have acted very badly,’ he said gently. ‘Sleeping with one man when it was really another you wanted. But I won’t hold that against you. We all do stupid things when we’re young.’
‘You still love me?’ she asked plaintively, with an upward sweep of her long dark lashes.
‘I’ll always love you, Angie, as you well know.’
Lucille’s heart squeezed tight. He loved her. And he called her Angie. Not Angela. Angie…
‘And I you, Valentino,’ the girl returned warmly. ‘You are the best of men. Much better than your father. I don’t know why I went to bed with him. I must have been crazy. Raoul had just told me it was over between us and I was so hurt. I wanted to hurt him and I did. With Max.’
Val pulled away from her slightly, his expression surprised. ‘You mean Max never seduced you?’
‘No.’ Angela slanted him a coy look. ‘Any seducing was done by me. I can be a bad girl, Valentino. A very bad girl. Do you forgive me? I know how upset you were when you found me and your father in bed together.’
‘Don’t do it again.’
‘I won’t. I promise. And don’t be mad at your father any more. It wasn’t really his fault.’
Val’s smile was wry. ‘I guess resisting you in seduction mode would be a pretty impossible task for a man like Max. For just about any man, I would imagine.’
‘You think so?’
‘I think so.’
That was it! Lucille could not bear another moment. She was way beyond being some kind of maudlin victim who would let a man walk all over her and play her for a fool.
Launching herself up onto her feet, she marched up the aisle towards the stage, determined to put an end to this fiasco once and for all. Val’s head jerked up from where it had been practically buried in Angela’s hair, and he grimaced once he saw the expression on Lucille’s face. He threw her an apologetic and pleading glance, as though all would be explained shortly. But it was far too late for that. Fury and outrage were already bubbling in her blood. Did he honestly think she would believe a word he said now?
‘Do excuse me, Val,’ she said coldly, ‘but I have to go home. And I mean home, home, not your place.’
Angela’s head snapped up from the sanctuary of Val’s chest; she was clearly taken aback by the sight of Lucille standing there. No doubt the creature had been so self-absorbed all morning that she hadn’t noticed her, sitting in the back stalls.
‘Valentino?’ Angela asked imperiously. ‘Who is this woman?’
‘This woman, my dear Angela,’ Val said ruefully, ‘is a woman who has no trust in the man who loves her.’
One of Lucille’s eyebrows arched. If he imagined for one moment that he could convince her of some kind of platonic love for this girl, then he could think again. Actions spoke much more loudly than words. She’d seen him do the tango with his precious Angie. And she wouldn’t forget it in a hurry!
Angela lifted startled eyes to the man whose arms were still around her. ‘You love her?’ she asked, clearly amazed.
‘More than I’d ever thought possible.’
Angela squealed, rose up on tiptoe and began plastering kisses all over Val’s face.
‘Hey, stop that!’ he protested, grabbing her hands and holding her away from him. ‘You’ll give Lucille the wrong idea again. She already thinks things between us are too close for comfort.’
Angela whirled to frown at Lucille. ‘You think my Valentino would cheat on the woman he has waited a lifetime to fall in love with? What kind of fool are you? I don’t think you deserve my brother’s love,’ she finished with an angry toss of her head.
‘Your brother?’ Lucille gasped.
‘Half-brother, actually,’ Val corrected when Lucille threw shocked eyes his way. ‘Lucille didn’t know we were related,’ he directed back at Angela. ‘You asked me not to say anything about our blood relationship, so I didn’t.’
Angela pouted her ruby-red lips. ‘That’s no excuse. Even if you weren’t my brother, she should have more faith in you. You are not like your father. Or stupid Raoul, for that matter, who never knows his own mind. You are good and kind and honest. So I still think she should apologise to you.’
Lucille stiffened at this. If anyone was going to do any apologising it should be Val, for lying to her about Angela. And putting her through hell just now with the way he did the tango with his own sister.
Val saw the expression on her face and smiled a wry smile. ‘Why don’t you run along after Raoul and do some apologising yourself?’ he told Angela. ‘In your own inimitable way, of course.’
Angela’s returning smile was quite wicked. ‘You do realise that will be the end of rehearsing for the day?’ she warned him.
‘That’s okay. Once you make up with him I’m sure Raoul will put some more passion into his dancing in future.’
‘You could be right about that, brother.’ Angela laughed as she sashayed saucily down the stage steps. ‘Which is just as well, because that man can’t act one little bit.’
‘Hard to act when you’re in love,’ Val remarked, his eyes firmly on Lucille. ‘The heart has a mind of its own.’
‘Huh!’ Angela snorted whilst Lucille continued to glare at Val. ‘Most men don’t know where their heart is. The only body part they can find is the one south of the border.’ She was about to stalk past Lucille when she ground to a halt right in front of her. ‘Most men, I said,’ she added, dark eyes flashing. ‘Not my brother. He does have a heart. So take care not to hurt it, lady, or you’ll have me to answer to. Believe me when I say I am not the soft touch my Valentino is. I come from slightly different stock. My father was a bullfighter!’ With that, she tossed her head once more and marched off.
‘Remind me never to cross your sister,’ Lucille said drily once Angela was gone.
Val came slowly down the stage steps, his eyes never leaving hers. ‘Or me,’ he ground out. ‘Now, stop looking at me like I’ve done anything wrong here. Angie’s right. Your ignorance of my relationship with her is no excuse for your lack of faith. So what have you got to say for yourself, madam?’ He halted right in front of her, his arms crossing, his brows beetling together.
‘You dance very well,’ Lucille remarked coolly, refusing to let Val intimidate her. ‘You act very well too.’
‘That was no act,’ he grated out. ‘Because I wasn’t dancing with Angie. Not in my head. I was dancing with you, my lovely, foolish, faint-hearted Lucille.’
‘Oh…’ Guilt and delight consumed her, obliterating all her anger over his deception about his sister. ‘Really?’
‘Must I prove everything to you a thousand times?’ He drew her forcefully into his arms. ‘When are you just going to take my word for something?’
‘Be fair, Val,’ she argued back, struggling to stop him from holding her too close. She always had trouble thinking when he did that. ‘Do you have any idea how threatening a woman like your sister would be to any relationship? She’s so beautiful and sexy and…and…passionate. All the things I thought might tempt you. If you’d told me right from the start she was your sister, I might not have imagined such awful things. Or been so jealous. I’m sure Angela wouldn’t have minded your telling me the truth in confidence.’
‘Maybe I wanted you to be jealous,’ he admitted, yanking her hard against him. ‘Maybe I needed to see some evidence that you felt more for me than just lust. But I didn’t do it deliberately. Not in the beginning. Later, perhaps. I rather liked your reaction every time the fantastic Flame came up in our conversation. It gave me hope, rather than hurt. I’ve never had a woman not be proud to be by my side before. It’s been a very difficult situation for me to bear.’
‘Yes,’ Lucille conceded at last, her voice and heart softening. ‘Yes, I can see it must ha
ve been. I didn’t mean to hurt you, Val. I was just so afraid of being hurt myself.’
‘I know. And you probably had every reason to be. My past record with women didn’t look good, did it? But I do love you, Lucille. Angie’s right when she says I’ve waited a lifetime to fall in love. I have. I was beginning to think I never would. I sometimes wondered if I’d inherited my parents’ fickleness in matters of the heart, because I never felt that special something people talk about. Till I met you…’
He bent his head and kissed her with a seductive mixture of tenderness and hunger. ‘Tell me you love me,’ he whispered urgently against her lips. ‘Tell me.’
‘I…I love you,’ she confessed shakily, and his arms tightened around her.
‘Then don’t keep me a secret any longer, my darling. I can’t stand it. I want you by my side, openly. I want you to be proud of loving me. Come with me to the première on Friday night. Please, Lucille, don’t say no. You have to rid yourself of this cynicism and start trusting again some time. Start by trusting me. I won’t ever hurt you. I promise.’
Lucille’s heart yearned to do what he wanted, even whilst her head still worried. But this time her heart won.
‘All right,’ she agreed on a quavery sigh.
Val groaned his satisfaction. ‘I can’t tell you how happy you’ve made me,’ he murmured, and kissed her some more.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
LUCILLE returned to her flat the following morning, still aglow from the night before. She would never have believed making love with Val could get any better, but it had. Telling Val that she loved him seemed to have increased her emotional and physical pleasure.
Smiling contentedly, she closed her front door and turned to see the light on her answering machine winking.
Her smile faded. Michele. It was sure to be Michele, wanting to make arrangements for this Friday night.
What on earth was she going to tell her? The truth, or more white lies?