Black Widow Bride

by Tessa Radley

  Rebecca had backed off, waiting for Fliss to spurn him. But she hadn’t. Fliss had had no right—

  Stupid! Why did she keep getting tangled in the web of the past? She shook her head wildly, trying to dislodge the memories that still tortured her. No. That was all old history. Fliss was dead.

  Instantly the urge to provoke Damon withered. Inside she felt flat and empty, worn out by the toll the emotional day had taken.

  “Don’t shake your head. Think about it. You can use the money for your business…for the boy.” His gaze roved pointedly around the room, highlighting the tired carpets that needed replacing, the lounge suite that was showing signs of wear. “Surely money won’t come amiss in jazzing up your lifestyle in this dull town. I can’t see why you stay.”

  Rebecca stared expressionlessly at him. Going back to Auckland would simply reopen the old wounds. But for a lingering instant she considered the cheque Damon had dangled in front of her this morning. Now he was making it clear that the sky was the limit.

  She couldn’t accept payment to arrange Savvas’s wedding. It wouldn’t be right.

  But, said a little evil, tempting voice at the back of her head, what might it mean to T.J.?

  Although Chocolatique made them a fair living, it was a relatively new business that demanded time and all her resources. And, yes, she had a reasonable lump sum squirreled away in T.J.’s name that she intended to release to him on his twenty-fifth birthday. But what Damon was offering would eliminate years of worrying….

  No! Rebecca thrust the temptation away. She couldn’t accept his money, not for arranging an exclusive Auckland wedding. And she certainly had no intention of being in Damon’s debt. Ever.

  “My place is here,” she said firmly. “I have T.J. to look after.”

  Damon looked flummoxed. It was obvious he hadn’t factored a child into his calculations. But the confusion that clouded his brilliant blue eyes cleared almost immediately. “No problem. Bring the boy, too.”

  Rebecca laughed, a light, tinkling social laugh that carefully hid the sudden tightening around her heart. Bring T.J.? That was the last thing in the world she wanted!

  “Get real, Damon. What would a child do in the Asteriades household? Destroy the antiques? Wreck the formal borders in the garden?”

  Damon stared down his battered nose at her. “Demetra happens to like children. I’m sure she’ll give you a hand if you ask nicely.”

  Demetra? His obvious fondness for the woman struck a raw nerve.

  “And exactly who is Demetra?”

  “I told you.” He sounded impatient. “She is Savvas’s fiancée.”

  “I’d forgotten her name was Demetra.” Rebecca tried to ignore the relief that scalded her. And then annoyance kicked in. What did it matter who Damon’s latest lover was?

  Damon gave her a level stare. “Demetra is perfect for Savvas. She’s kind, respectable, well brought up….”

  Everything she wasn’t. Each word landed like a well-placed barb. Recklessness flooded Rebecca. “Does she know what she’s letting herself in for, marrying into the Asteriades clan?” she lashed out. “At least she’s clever enough to realise what a bigot you are and how much nicer Savvas is.”

  “Ah, and you would know, wouldn’t you?” He drilled her with narrowed, bitter eyes. “Savvas told me that the two of you dated after the wedding. How…nice—” he sneered “—were you to my brother, hmm?”

  She flashed a wide white smile that didn’t reveal any of the mix of emotions churning within her.

  Anger.

  Excitement.

  And the thrill of danger that sparring with Damon always brought.

  Softly, provocatively, she said, “You warned me to stay away from him, but Savvas called, said he wanted to see me. Your little brother liked me for myself. After the way you’d humiliated me, that was…nice.” Staring through her eyelashes at him, she held her breath and waited for his response to the pointed mockery.

  He didn’t disappoint her.

  His eyes flared brighter. “You little tramp…” He stepped abruptly closer. “You slept with my brother to get revenge on me. Because I married your best friend!”

  Pain blossomed, but Rebecca refused to let him intimidate her. “Perhaps you place too much importance on yourself, your effect on the behaviour of others. Savvas lacks your arrogance—another reason why he is worth a million of you.”

  “Your mouth drips poison.” He stalked closer still, his eyes blazing. “But I will deal with that.”

  The air had become electric, pulsing. Rebecca stood her ground. “Why the double standard? You can insult me with impunity, but when I retaliate…”

  After a humming moment that pulsed with old resentments, latent attraction and myriad unspoken emotions, Damon spun on his heel, strode across the worn carpet and dropped down onto the homely sofa. For a long moment Rebecca stared at large, tanned hands clenching and unclenching between his thighs. Hands that could touch with the softness of silk or the cruelty of steel. Hands that made her shiver…and burn.

  She forced her gaze back to his masklike face. He’d withdrawn. How she hated that.

  “Forget it. I am not coming to Auckland.” Rebecca spoke with finality, and when a sense of calm filled her, she knew she had made the right decision.

  Turning away so she didn’t need to see his expression when he realised that he had failed his mother, she closed off her mind to guilt. Damon had a dangerous effect on her. He aroused such reckless cravings she dared not risk being close to him.

  “Look, I’m sorry.”

  She jumped as he spoke behind her; she hadn’t heard him rise, or cross the room. She swung around. A dark lock had fallen onto his forehead. He brushed it back and sighed. More guilt stirred when she took in the unaccustomed tiredness in his eyes, the deep lines scored beside his mouth.

  “I don’t know what came over me. I swore I wouldn’t let—” he shot her a hooded glance “—what happened in the past affect my dealings with you. I meant to be amenable.” He flashed her a smile that might’ve been described as irresistible if it hadn’t been directed at her.

  Rebecca’s mind started to click over. “You intended—” her breath caught “—to be nice to me.”

  His eyes flickered and a dull, red flush spread across his high cheekbones.

  Bingo! Fury rose within her. “How far were you prepared to go, damn you?”

  “Wait.” He drew a breath. “Right now Mama is my only concern. She needs—”

  She cut across before he could defend himself with clever words. “So you would’ve done anything,” she said in a bitter little voice. “Used charm, seduced silly Rebecca?”

  “No,” he burst out. “I wouldn’t have taken it that far.”

  Of course not. Sleeping with her was beneath the powerful, oh-so-perfect Damon Asteriades. “Well, fortunately for you it won’t be necessary to go to such extremes. I can give you the name of someone who will plan a wonderful wedding for Savvas. Two someones, in fact. I’m sure the sisters who bought Dream Occasions would love the chance—”

  “No!” The look he gave her burned with frustration. “I tried all that, but Mama insists on you. She trusts you and she’s too on edge for me to risk arguing with her.” He raked long fingers through his hair, but the recalcitrant locks fell forward again, dispelling the powerful-billionaire image.

  Rebecca closed her mind to his boyish vulnerability and focused instead on the fact that Damon had tried to argue Soula out of asking for her help, on the fact that he truly seemed to believe his mother couldn’t cope.

  The trap was closing around her.

  “Please help Mama. The child won’t be a problem,” he was saying. “We can work something out.”

  He was desperate.

  As much as she wanted to slap him, punish him, Rebecca felt increasingly guilty that she had refused. Soula must be very unwell for him to go to such extremes. But how could she help? She had to put T.J.—and herself—first.

&nb
sp; He’s seen T.J., a little evil voice whispered. He hasn’t put it together.

  Dared she risk it? Rebecca chewed her bottom lip, thinking furiously. “It’s not only a case of T.J. What will happen to my business while I’m away?”

  Sensing her weakening, his blue eyes sharpened. “Surely your business can survive your absence for a couple of weeks? Later on, a lot of the wedding arrangements could be made from here. The move to Auckland won’t be permanent.”

  “I don’t know….” For a thread of time she wavered, and then all her misgivings crashed back. What would happen if the truth came out?

  “Look, I’ll double the amount of that cheque I offered this morn—” The jangle of Damon’s cell phone caused him to break off.

  The interruption made her hiss with relief. What was she thinking? She was mad even to consider it. Nothing, not even obscene amounts of money, would make her go back.

  Almost. He’d almost had her!

  Damon snarled a string of curses in Greek as he checked the caller ID. At the familiar number, a cold frisson ran down his spine and he stopped cursing abruptly. He rose, tension coiling in his gut, and stalked away from Rebecca, toward the blankness of the dark window.

  “Mama? What is it?”

  “Damon, I’ve been having pains in my chest. Savvas and Demetra are taking me to the hospital.”

  “Has Savvas called the doctor?”

  “He’s meeting us at the hospital. He says I’m going to have to stay there for a couple of days. My son, what am I to do?”

  “Rest,” Damon responded succinctly and stared out the window into the darkening night. Through the gloom he could barely make out the shape of the large tree rustling in the front garden.

  “But what about the wedding? What about—”

  “Don’t give it another thought. I’ve got it all under control.” Over his shoulder he shot the stubborn, maddening woman on the other side of the room a smouldering glance.

  “Rebecca’s going to do it? Oh, that’s wonderful! I can’t tell you how much peace of mind that brings me! Bring her to the hospital—I need to tell her what I’ve done, who I’ve spoken to, the venues I’ve considered.”

  He couldn’t admit to his mother that he had failed. She had to believe he’d succeeded. For the sake of her heart. He’d handle what he’d tell her when he arrived back in Auckland, without Rebecca, later. Damon wondered for the thousandth time why his mother was so fixated on Rebecca. The women who had bought Dream Occasions from Rebecca would have leaped at the chance to arrange an Asteriades wedding.

  It burned him that out of all the women in the world, his mother had to choose the one who had killed his marriage. Yet his mother refused to accept that Rebecca was to blame—had always insisted that Fliss must have left of her own accord. Damon didn’t—couldn’t—accept that. But how could he refute it? He’d never told anyone, least of all his mother, about what had happened on the eve of his wedding….

  All he could do now was murmur, “I will bring her. Hush now. I want you to relax. Do not worry about anything, I will take care of everything.”

  Rebecca found herself holding her breath as she listened to the one-sided conversation. With every sentence Damon’s cheekbones stood out more starkly under tightly stretched skin, his tan draining to an unflattering putty shade.

  Something twisted deep inside her as those rough fingers raked back the dark spikes of hair that had fallen forward over his eyes. And when he stared so helplessly into the night, his shoulders hunched, she had to force herself to be still, not to rush to his side, not to rest her hand on his arm, touch him…anything to banish the stark shock and bewilderment as he uttered frantic words of comfort.

  “Mama? Mama…” He now called with desperation. “Can you hear me?” A shaking hand jabbed through his hair. “No, no, don’t answer. Just get to the hospital. I will meet you there.”

  He ended the call and turned to Rebecca, his eyes dark sunken pits in his bleak face.

  “I have to go back to Auckland. My mother—” He wheeled away, placing a fisted hand against his temple.

  Rebecca felt terrible. He hadn’t lied. All the time he’d wasted trying to convince her, time he should have spent in Auckland, near his mother.

  What if Soula died? What if Damon didn’t make it in time, never saw his mother again?

  She would never forgive herself! And if Soula died, who would take the hurt from Damon’s eyes? Damon always looked after his family—who would be there for him?

  Full of remorse, she hurried toward him and touched his sleeve. He started. “Damon, I’ll come with you. I’ll take care of…of…Savvas’s wedding.”

  At the back of her mind lurked the awful thought that if Soula died, there would be no wedding, at least not until the mourning period was over. Please, Rebecca prayed, please let Soula live to celebrate a wedding.

  The Asteriades mansion hadn’t changed one iota, Rebecca saw as Damon swept into the formal curved driveway four hours later. The beam from the headlights illuminated neatly trimmed box hedges and large pots planted with bay trees that flanked the front door.

  Back in Tohunga, a frantic rush had ensued before they’d left. In a matter of minutes Rebecca had made several necessarily brief phone calls. Miranda—with the help of her sister—would take care of Chocolatique until Rebecca returned. A call to her doctor assured her that T.J. was fit to travel, so all that was left was for Rebecca to arrange for the local handyman to mow her lawn and to pack.

  During the journey Damon had made countless calls to Savvas and the doctors to check on his mother’s progress. And although Savvas had repeatedly assured him that Soula was in good hands, that the heart attack had been arrested, under Damon’s tightly leashed control Rebecca sensed his terror. That he might lose Soula, as he had already lost his father.

  Oh, God, how well she understood his fear of loss. For once in his life Damon faced something he couldn’t control. And she had no defence against his anguish. She could no more turn her back on him than she could cut off her arm.

  Now, facing the imposing Georgian-style facade that loomed against the night sky, Rebecca shivered. It wasn’t only Auckland’s cooler night air that caused the ripples of gooseflesh. This house held memories she desperately wanted to forget. For a short time Fliss had lived here with Damon. Even the elderly man who removed her suitcases from the trunk was familiar. Johnny, Damon’s live-in butler.

  “This way.”

  Rebecca turned at Damon’s voice. T.J. was slung across his shoulder, fast asleep. She rushed over. “I’ll take him. You go to the hospital.”

  But Damon carried on up the wide stairs lit by brass lamps to the front door. “Never fear, mama bear, I won’t drop your baby. I’ll show you your rooms, then I will go to the hospital. Savvas says Mama is sleeping peacefully.”

  Inside, Rebecca saw that the passage of time had wrought changes. She halted and stared with confusion at the three corridors that led from the spacious double-height lobby with its pale, glossy marble floor. Ahead, she recognised the stairs that led to Soula’s rooms, but the red carpet had been pulled out and replaced with pale wool carpeting in an elegant oyster shade.

  “I converted the wing Savvas and I shared on the ground floor into a suite of rooms for my mother after her heart attack. It made things easier—she didn’t have to worry about the stairs.”

  That strong streak of protectiveness, Rebecca recognised. Damon took care of his own.

  He headed for the staircase. “Demetra is staying in Mama’s suite until the wedding.”

  Her heart fluttering, Rebecca asked, “And T.J. and me? Where will we be staying?”

  “In my quarters.”

  Rebecca faltered. “Your quarters?”

  Ahead of her, Damon paused on a landing. “Savvas and I had Mama’s old suite extended and refurbished. But now Savvas has moved out—he bought a house where he and Demetra will live after the wedding—so it is mine alone.”

  Rebecca forced herself
to follow him down a well-lit corridor glassed from floor to ceiling on the left. Through vast sheets of glass she could see a darkened courtyard where the flat gleam of water glittered blackly below.

  He caught her sideways glance. “I replaced the old pool. The new one is more practical.”

  She remembered the fussy, elaborate pool with pockets of frothing water connected by artificial waterfalls and fountains decorated with fawning statues. A previous owner had possessed terrible taste. “You swim laps?”

  “Every morning.”

  Rebecca made a mental note to keep away at that time. Then she thought of T.J.’s fascination with water. “Is the pool fenced?”

  “The only access is through the house—and a gate in the garden which stays locked. I will give instructions to the staff to secure the ranch sliders at all times.”

  “Thank you.”

  “This will be your room.” He opened a door to a room decorated in restful shades of cream. Curtains of heavy damask complemented a bedcover fashioned of rich ivory silk. On the wall hung a Monet print—or it might even be an original—the pale water lilies drifting on a pond adding to the restful mood of the room.

  “And T.J.? Where will he sleep?”

  “Through here.”

  She followed Damon into the adjoining room. It was smaller, clearly intended to be a dressing room, but a bed had been set up with bright, crisp new linen, while a selection of brand-new toys crowded the floor.

  She pulled back the covers and he lowered T.J. so gently that her baby didn’t even sigh. Deciding that T.J. could sleep in his clothes on this one occasion, Rebecca pulled his sandals off and fussed with the covers.

  “There are bigger rooms, but I thought you would want the boy near you.”

  “Thank you.” His thoughtfulness surprised her. Her gaze lingered on the array of toys. “But you didn’t need to go to so much trouble—or expense.”