‘I suppose that depends on the genre one reads,’ Emily said cuttingly.
Nerolie chose to ignore that and turned to Damien.
‘I suppose you’re here to make sure Miss Sherwood be-haves herself? I’ve heard she was quite ruthless with the skeletons in the previous closets she’s raided.’
‘So—’ Emily met the other woman’s cold eyes with a flash of fire in her own ‘—you have read my other books? I thought you hadn’t heard of me before?’
Nerolie gave her a sweeping glance.
‘I’m afraid, Miss Sherwood, I have no time for the money-making mud-raking that constitutes most of today’s unauthorised biographies. I prefer fact to fiction every time.’
‘And how do you decide just what is fact and what is fiction?’ Emily queried.
Nerolie Highstock’s cold grey eyes hardened. ‘I’ve always believed in getting things straight from the horse’s mouth.’
‘And what if the horse refuses to speak?’ Emily asked, flicking a glance towards the tall, silent figure between them.
Nerolie’s thin mouth tightened before she responded chillingly, ‘I’m sure there are some horses that are best left alone. You’d do well to acknowledge that, Miss Sherwood, before one of them kicks you in retaliation.’ With that parting shot she swung away to speak to another guest, and Emily smiled a self-satisfied little cat’s smile.
‘Miaow,’ Damien breathed just near her left shoulder.
She felt the warm brush of his breath on her bare skin and shivered in reaction. She stepped away from him, glaring up at his mocking expression.
‘I wasn’t aware you were on intimate terms with the likes of Ms Highstock. What a pity she doesn’t have a husband to make the chase all the more alluring.’
The fire in his eyes could have burned her if it hadn’t been for the timely arrival of the guest of honour. The chief editor of the publishing house tapped the microphone as a prelude to his speech and all eyes turned towards the small podium.
Emily felt the steely presence of Damien Margate at her back. He wasn’t quite touching her, but she knew if she moved even a fraction backwards she would encounter his rock-hard frame. As if under the influence of a magnetic field, all the way through the loquacious speech Emily felt her body threatening to betray her by rocking backwards to touch him. She had to will herself to stand perfectly still—every muscle tense, every nerve under tight control just in case she gave in to the temptation.
She was concentrating so hard she missed her name. She suddenly became aware of everyone’s eyes on her and, stumbling forward, approached the podium. She knew she’d been nominated for the award for her first book, but had put any thought of success out of her mind after the collapse of her second. The small award presented to her totally surprised her.
Afterwards, she couldn’t quite recall what she had said. She knew she’d thanked Clarice and her two editors, but apart from that it was all a blur. Her mouth spoke, words spilling out in a more or less educated and articulate order, but all the while she felt the cold hard stare of Damien Margate, which made her palms resting on the lectern moisten as she gripped its edges for support.
Several people swarmed around her afterwards for au-tographs and she was grateful for the reprieve. She wasn’t looking forward to the drive home, feeling sure there would be hell to pay for her reckless taunts earlier.
She didn’t know what had come over her tonight. It really was none of her business what Damien got up to in his private life. His aloof carriage was an attraction for her, she conceded privately, but only because she was a writer and such guarded subjects held a certain appeal. It was absolutely nothing to do with him personally. He didn’t even have the boy-next-door good looks which caused her to gravitate towards Danny. Danny’s playboy blue eyes and fly-away blond curls were what she went for, not the dark and brooding, too-tall-to-kiss features of someone like Damien.
She cast a covert glance towards him across the crowded room and was startled to see him looking at her. She felt her cheeks grow warm, turned to the next person waiting for her autograph in the queue and distractedly scribbled something on the flyleaf of her first book.
Eventually the evening came to a close and Emily had no choice but to face Damien, who was waiting to one side as the last of the guests farewelled her.
‘Thank you for coming.’ Emily smiled, shaking the last of the hands.
Clarice had already made her way out, and short of handing out freebies to the catering staff Emily had no choice but to pick up her evening purse and join Damien.
‘Ready?’ He looked down at her flushed features, a sa-tirical smile lurking about his firm mouth.
‘I…yes.’ She gathered her wrap around her shoulders. ‘But I can easily get a cab. I wouldn’t want to interrupt any of your plans for the rest of the evening.’
‘You seem in rather a hurry to get rid of me,’ he observed. ‘I would’ve thought you’d relish the opportunity to milk the situation for all it’s worth.’
A frown of puzzlement settled between her brows and he continued, ‘You could conduct your own private interview with me. Who knows what you might find out to put in your next book?’
Emily shifted her eyes from the piercing laser of his.
‘I have no wish to interview you, or indeed spend any more time with you than is absolutely necessary out of common politeness. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to use the bathroom. I’ll meet you in the foyer in…five minutes.’ She swung away, her head high, and walked stiffly towards the conveniences.
Her exit was only slightly spoilt by her cannoning into an elderly gentleman coming out of the male toilet on her own way in. Emily bolted inside the correct door, her colour high.
She stood in front of the gilt-edged mirror and took some calming breaths. Her hair was tumbling out of its restraint on top of her head, falling in curly tendrils around her cheeks. Her blue eyes looked wide, the dark pupils dilated, the lashes fluttering as if in panic.
She washed the dampness off her hands and quickly made her way out of the bathroom. Instead of heading for the foyer she turned towards the nearest fire escape and tiptoed down the echoing stairs to freedom.
The night had cooled somewhat and the street was packed with crowds spilling out of Sydney’s theatres and cinemas. Emily joined the bustling throng and made her way towards a small café three blocks away, which she and Danny had been to many times. She pushed open the glass doors and scanned the room for a quiet corner in which to gather herself until she felt it was safe to go home without running into Damien.
Her eyes came to rest on a fly-away blond head in the left corner. It was bending towards a bright red-gold female head, hands entwined intimately on the table between them.
Her breath caught in her throat and her stomach clenched in shock. Just then a large hand settled on her shoulder and she felt the warm presence of Damien Margate brush her body from behind.
‘My car’s just outside if you’d still like a lift.’
Emily turned past his broad shoulder and stumbled blindly from the café. She pushed herself through the clots of people, almost turning her ankle as she tripped on a discarded beer can.
She felt him grasp her elbow. She didn’t pull away, and his fingers slid down her arm and took her hand into the strength of his.
‘Come on.’ He gave her hand a little tug. ‘This way—my car is down here.’
She followed him silently, her hand still captured in his, her mind tumbling with images of Danny and her replace-ment sitting together at the very table where she’d sat with him, discussing their plans for the future.
A single tear escaped before she could stop it and she brushed it away viciously. Damien flicked her a glance before unlocking his car.
‘Come on, get in. I have something I wish to say to you.’
Emily got in without a word. Shock and dismay still pumped through her veins, as well as a deep resentment that Damien Margate of all people was sole witness to it.
Chapter Two
EMILY didn’t realise till it was too late that he’d not taken the route to her apartment. Instead he had turned the car towards Double Bay and pulled in before an imposing house of mansion-like proportions.
‘I want to go home,’ she said in a petulant tone.
‘I’ll take you home when I’ve finished with you.’
Emily wasn’t sure she liked the ominous edge to his words. What could he possibly want to say to her? A flutter of panic flapped in her stomach like the wings of a startled bird. Surely he didn’t intend to hurt her? She glanced at him covertly and tried to reassure herself. She’d interviewed dangerous criminals whilst researching her second book, through the grille of a prison cubicle with armed guards beside her. Who was going to come to her aid if Damien Margate had something sinister planned?
She followed him mutinously into the large house, her eyes widening at the opulent marble in the foyer as he opened the front door. Inside, a bronze statue of a young Rose held pride of place, the subtle down-lighting casting her beautiful features in relief. Emily stood transfixed, her fingers aching to reach out and touch the classic lines of the exquisite face.
‘She was only nineteen when she posed for that,’ Damien said from just behind her left shoulder.
‘She…she’s beautiful,’ Emily breathed. ‘Who’s the sculptor?’
He moved towards one of the formal rooms, signalling for her to follow him.
‘No one you’d know.’
‘Try me,’ she said, intrigued.
He shook his head.
‘It was never meant to be a public piece so there’s no point telling. He’s long dead, and Rose—’ he shrugged himself out of his dinner suit jacket ‘—Rose isn’t around to give her permission.’
‘Where is she?’ Emily asked, already knowing his answer. ‘Danny insisted he didn’t know but surely you do?’
His eyes held hers for a long moment.
‘Rose is where people like you cannot harm her, and for as long as I have breath that’s where she’ll stay.’
‘But that’s hardly fair on her adoring public,’ Emily pointed out. ‘The mystery surrounding her disappearance from public life has intensified speculation. All you’d have to do is release a statement about her whereabouts and people would leave her alone.’
His face clouded with anger as he loosened his tie and flung it towards his jacket over the back of one of the plush leather sofas.
‘I’ve seen what the public do to people they no longer have any use for,’ he said. ‘Anyway, why should I give you the privilege of that information? You’d have it in the press within minutes and a hefty cheque in your bank account to follow. I’ve seen how you work. What you don’t know you make up and the public fall for it.’
‘I wasn’t aware you took such an active interest in my work.’
‘I’m not interested. I just know how people like you operate. That’s what this little interlude with Danny was all about, wasn’t it?’
‘What?’ She stared at him.
He gave a harsh laugh.
‘Don’t bother pretending to be broken-hearted over his defection. No doubt you’ve milked him dry for all the inside information. Now you’ve got what you need for your book it shouldn’t take all that long to get over him.’
Emily’s face drained of colour. ‘Danny and I were—’
‘Did you sleep with him?’ he asked baldly.
‘That’s none of your business.’
He shrugged carelessly. ‘I was just wondering how far someone like you would go. I assume you’d stop at nothing to get what you want.’
‘You’re disgusting,’ she spat.
He gave her a wry look. ‘But you picked the wrong brother, didn’t you?’
Emily clenched her fists by her sides and wished she had the courage to slap his face.
‘I mean you should have worked on me instead. I’m Rose’s power of attorney, not Danny. He knows nothing of Rose’s affairs.’
‘I wouldn’t lower myself—’ She left the rest of the sentence hanging, her derisive expression filling in the rest.
He gave a harsh laugh as he reached for the door of the drinks cabinet in the wall unit. ‘Danny was playing with you just as much as you were playing with him. You both got what you deserved.’
‘So where do you fit in?’ she asked. ‘Why the Sir Galahad routine tonight? Or did you want to witness my fall from grace?’
He poured two measures of brandy into two glasses and handed her one before he spoke.
‘Danny is a coward when it comes to confrontation. As for me—’ he raised his glass towards her ‘—I love a fight.’
Emily felt like throwing the brandy in his face and had to tighten her fingers around the glass to stop herself from doing so.
‘All the same, I bet you enjoyed it.’ She flashed him a malevolent glare. ‘In fact, you couldn’t have planned it better.’
‘I had no idea he was going to be in that café tonight.’
‘Didn’t you?’ she accused.
‘I’m not so callous as to rub your nose in it like that, whatever you might think of me. Danny called me and asked if I’d fill in for him tonight—end of story.’
‘How magnanimous of you!’ She gave him a withering look. ‘Tell me, what else did he ask you to do for him?’
‘I do have some limits.’ He reached for his glass. ‘Sleeping with the enemy is one of them.’
She almost choked on her brandy. ‘As if I’d let you!’
His eyes ran over her speculatively as he twirled his glass.
‘You’d do anything for a story, isn’t that how it goes?’
‘Not quite anything.’
He laughed and sipped at his brandy.
‘You look like some Victorian virgin, compromised by the head of the household, but you’re hardly that, are you? I’ve heard about your little affair with the subject of your first book. It didn’t quite pay dividends, though, did it? Although perhaps tonight’s award is some sort of late compensation.’
‘You can’t believe everything you read in the press,’ she said, taking a huge gulp of brandy.
‘Oh?’ His dark brows lifted. ‘What happened? Did he get sick of sharing a bed with a notebook? I can imagine it must be quite off-putting to be cornered with an interview pad in one’s more intimate moments.’
‘Better than being cornered by one’s partner’s husband,’ she put in.
His glass clinked on to the surface of the table with a sharp snap.
‘You’re very determined to spar with me, aren’t you? But I wonder if you have what it really takes?’
‘Try me,’ she challenged. ‘I can give as good as I get.’
‘That remains to be seen.’
She sipped at her brandy, her eyes averted.
‘You’re very close to Rose, aren’t you?’ she asked after a long pause.
‘You’ll have to try a little harder with me if you want information.’ He gave his glass another twirl.
‘I wouldn’t waste my time. You haven’t got anything I want anyway.’
‘You seem very sure of that,’ he commented.
‘What are you offering?’
‘What do you want?’
She took another careful sip of her drink before responding.
‘I’d like to know why Rose disappeared from public life.’
‘I thought it was common knowledge she’s become an alcoholic recluse,’ he said evenly.
Emily bit her lip. Danny had told her that story was true. She hadn’t made up her mind yet whether to assert it as a fact, but she knew if her agent got wind of it she’d insist on releasing it. It was sure to boost sales, and sales were what she needed most.
‘I have it on good authority,’ she began uncertainly.
‘You picked the wrong authority,’ he said. ‘I’ve already consulted my legal representatives. That’s what I wanted to discuss with you tonight.’
Emily’s eyes widen
ed in alarm. She could tell by the look on his face that something of great import was coming.
‘I want you to withdraw your plans to write the book.’
She stared at him in shock.
‘You…you can’t be serious!’ She plonked her barely touched drink on to the nearest surface, uncaring that some of it spilled over the sides and dribbled towards the cream carpet.
‘Write it and be sued—your choice.’
She swallowed the bile of fear in her throat.
‘So this is why you escorted me tonight?’ she threw at him venomously. ‘It wasn’t to protect me from your brother’s perfidy—it was to deliver your own fatal blow.’
Damien put his own drink aside and faced her. ‘I don’t wish to personally harm you in any way,’ he said, ‘but I must insist on protecting my family at all costs.’
‘So destroying my writing career doesn’t come into it at all?’
He hesitated over his reply.
‘There are always casualties in these types of situations. It’s nothing personal.’
‘Don’t make me laugh!’ she scoffed at him. ‘You’re intent on bringing me down, aren’t you?’
‘Nothing could be further from the truth. In fact, I feel rather sorry for you.’
‘Whatever for?’
‘You’re a pawn in the game. People like you are always the ones who lose in the end.’
Emily’s eyes flashed with the fire of resentment. ‘Please enlighten me. I’m sure you’re absolutely dying to anyway.’
He gave another of those could-mean-anything shrugs.
‘You’re under the thumb of your agent and editors. It’s my guess that half the time you’re writing what they want, not what you really want to write at all.’
Emily suddenly felt exposed, vulnerable.
‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ she said off-handedly. ‘I write what the public wants to read.’
‘Lies? Conjecture?’
‘No. The truth.’
He gave a rough snort of disbelief as he reached again for his drink.
‘You’re as deluded as the public who read you. You wouldn’t recognise the truth if it laid itself out in front of you.’
‘OK, then,’ she challenged. ‘Tell me the truth. Why has Rose disappeared from public life? If you’re such an advocate for the truth then enlighten me.’
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