by Margaret Way
His father and mother showed no emotion whatever throughout, but he could see his mother’s cheeks were flushed and his father’s strong jaw set. There was going to be a huge fuss later. Who was this Sonya Erickson?
“One thing,” Sharron Holt-Wainwright said tersely. “She’s very beautiful, very classy.”
His mother never missed anything.
Everyone had gone home, most in a state of shock, to thrash out the ramifications of the will in private. Twenty million dollars to some young florist? She could buy a whole rainforest.
“Pour me a whisky and water, would you, David?” His father was down, down, down. The brothers had been very close.
“I’ll have one as well,” said his mother, who looked similarly drained. “I take a very dim view of all this.” She looked across the room at her son. “How did this all happen, Holt? Surely you could have intervened in some way? It seems a terrible thing to say of darling Marcus, but he must have temporarily lost his mind. She’s young enough to have been his daughter.”
“Maybe he wanted a daughter,” Robert Wainwright suggested. “Poor old Marcus was terribly lonely, no matter how hard we tried to bolster his spirits. He missed Lucy so. David, you’re looking doubtful?”
“Marcus gave her a ring,” Holt, well used to his parents using both names for him, responded bluntly. He handed a crystal tumbler to each of them. They would have to know. “An engagement ring.”
“Good God!” Robert Wainwright’s dark head fell back against the leather chair, as though for once he felt defeated.
“What can have been in Marcus’s head?” his mother wailed. “He’s been chased by plenty of women these past years. Suitable women his own age.”
“He didn’t want a woman his own age,” David told her dryly. “He wanted Sonya.”
“One needn’t wonder why,” Sharron said in a voice dry as ash. “Twenty million will make a big difference to a working girl.”
“She doesn’t know she’s a rich woman yet,” David said.
“A very rich woman.” Robert Wainwright gave a hard cynical bark. “A woman as beautiful as that could wind any man around her little finger. We have to meet this girl, David. Make an effort to avoid any unpleasantness. At least she won’t need to sell her story to some vapid woman’s magazine. Not now. She’s a florist?”
“Does she intend to return the ring or is she going to keep it as a souvenir?” Sharron asked, with heavy sarcasm.
“She did try to give it into my care.”
“And?” Sharron fired up, staring back very closely at her son.
“I didn’t take it,” he replied flatly. “Marcus gave it to her. He wanted her to have it.”
“It’s the rare woman who gives anything back,” said his father. “You must arrange some time for us to meet her.”
“So does she just drop in or what?” He gave vent to a burst of anger.
His mother continued to stare at him. “Invite her to dinner,” she said eventually. “I think my judgment might be more reliable than dear Marcus’s. Or even yours, my darling. Make it this coming Saturday evening. I’m determined to get answers from this girl. If she’s as smart as I think she is, she’ll come. She must be made to understand no one trifles with this family.”
It was a simple matter to follow his target back from the funeral of the bigwig she was alleged to have been involved with. A nice enough apartment complex, but nothing to speak about. Of course, she had been lying low. The count was certain she had no money to speak of. What she did have was a treasured icon that rightfully belonged to the count. It was his job to get it back. He could not fail. He would not fail. The count did not tolerate failure. He would keep her under surveillance, and then select the right moment. He was to offer her a great deal of money in exchange for the icon and her word that she would abandon any claim to the Andrassy-Von Neumann estate. There was to be no violence. Violence was a last resort. In the girl’s place he would jump at the count’s offer. The irony was she could have easily passed for the count’s own granddaughter. The family resemblance was very strong.
CHAPTER EIGHT
HOLT arrived at Sonya’s apartment around seven-thirty p.m., parking his borrowed car outside the building. His top-of-the-line Mercedes would be something of a giveaway and he didn’t want that. His nerves were strung tight. No way could he possibly act the way he felt. He was a man under considerable constraint. A man who was head over heels in love with a young woman his uncle had asked to be his wife. Moreover one neither of them had known much about. Now Marcus was no longer with them and he was left torn by feelings of guilt as though he had committed some serious transgression. It was largely irrational but it was there all the same. He felt the crush of it in his chest.
Today had been one of the worst days of his life. It took all his self control not to allow it to descend into chaos. Sonya, Ice Princess that she was, had been affected too. She could even feel some of his guilt. They had been caught up together, filled with a mad, uncaring rapture. There was even a possibility she mightn’t want to see him again. Especially when she found out she was a very rich young woman. Real life beat fiction hands down, he thought.
She opened the door to him looking anything but an adventuress. Indeed she looked young and innocent. He took in at a glance the absence of her normal cool composure and the tantalising veil of sophistication. Her beautiful hair was hanging down her back in a thick plait, like a schoolgirl. The lovely colour was gone from her face. Her skin was as white as the petals of a rose. She was wearing a soft loose violet dress with some sparkly embroidery around the oval neckline and the long hem.
The opposite of the elation was despair. He wanted her so badly the pain was almost too fierce to be borne. But Marcus’s sudden death had brought the barriers down. Could they ever come up? Suddenly, passionately, he reached for her hand. Their fingers entwined with a life of their own.
“Sonya, how are you?”
“Very shaky.” She made no movement to pull away, though the shadow of Marcus loomed large.
There are rules, rules, rules. Self-esteem demands you stick to the rules.
What rules? She had discovered she had two inner voices. They went back and forth. Both in conflict. One haunted her in the early hours, castigating her for her inaction. The other told her she had made no positive commitment to Marcus. It was Marcus who had acted as though the relationship he had wanted were carved in stone. If she was to blame in any way—and she believed she was—it had been her inability to keep their friendship within bounds. The result, Marcus had steamed ahead with their friendship at the rate of knots. Fine man that he had been, Marcus had lived a life where he truly could have just about anything he wanted. The trade off for her was, he would give her a life of great privilege and comfort.
David’s voice broke into her troubled thoughts.
“Have you eaten?”
“I’m not really hungry. Have you?” She risked staring up into his brilliant dark eyes. He was beyond handsome. But she registered his immense strain.
Such a short period of time since he had seen her, yet it felt like an eternity.
“I said have you eaten?” Sonya repeated, knowing he hadn’t properly heard her.
He shook his dark head. “We could go out. On the other hand, we’d better stay in. I didn’t even bring my own car. I stole one.”
“You didn’t!” She led him into the living room.
“Well, I took it without asking.” He tried for a smile, but it was too much of an effort. Despondently he slumped onto one of the sofas.
“I could make us a sandwich,” she offered, thinking she too could break under the pressure. He looked marvellous to her in the bright lights, his coal-dark eyes glittering in his finely sculpted face. “It won’t take any time.”
“Take all the time you like.” He was daunted by the strength of his feelings for her. He knew he shouldn’t be here. Not feeling like this. “How are you doing really?” he asked.
�
�I don’t know.” She moved into the galley kitchen. Her answer was very quiet. He had never thought to see her so subdued. “It all seems like a bad dream. I wanted Marcus in my life. But not as a husband, as my friend. Now I feel like I’ve somehow betrayed him.”
He set his jaw. Didn’t he share her feelings? “It wouldn’t have worked, Sonya, even if the two of us hadn’t become involved. I take the blame. I acted upon the attraction. Only Marcus didn’t want you for a friend. He wanted you for a wife. You’re telling me the truth? The relationship hadn’t become sexual?”
She flared up so quickly, warmth rushed back into her body. “Think what you like!”
He sat forward, putting two hands to his dark head. “Sonya, I’m sick of thinking.” He laid it out for her.
She could see the intolerable stress. It caused her to come from behind the counter. “I told you, David,” she said in a calmer voice. “We’re both upset. You’ve been with your parents, haven’t you?”
“Of course I’ve been with my parents.” His reply was decidedly edgy. “The will was read late this afternoon.”
“Tell me you got the lion’s share,” she invited, hoping that was true.
“I did,” he said, glancing up at her, desire pumping into him no matter what. “You got twenty million dollars.”
“What?” She registered the steely expression on his face. The next moment she was overtaken by dizziness. “Twenty—” she began, then broke off. Oxygen wasn’t reaching her brain. Her legs were starting to give. She told herself dazedly she had never fainted in her life, even when times were very bad, but the room was filling up with clouds of grey smoke.
David moved so fast he was near flying. He grabbed her before she hit the floor. “Sonya!” He felt intense anger at himself. Was he ever going to stop putting her to the test? He could at least have worked up to telling her of her inheritance, only he’d wanted her spontaneous reaction. Shame all around him. For what he had here was a genuine faint.
He arranged her on the rug that lay beneath her feet. Lying down was the fastest way to recovery. As a yachtsman, he had taken all the necessary first-aid courses. Anyone could faint given the right conditions. This was shock. Her eyes were open. She hadn’t lost full consciousness. It was what was called a pre-syncope. He found it simple to diagnose. She was frowning as if irritated. After a moment she tried to sit up, but he held her down, grabbing a cushion off the sofa and putting it beneath her head.
“It’s okay, Sonya. Lie there for a while. You’ll be right in a moment or two.”
It was all his fault. Angry with himself, he lowered himself onto the rug beside her, lying back. He was fed up with everything. Fed up with running the gauntlet of emotions. For a man who had been in control of his world he was floundering badly. He was thankful at least he hadn’t slept with Sonya. Only, in kissing her with Marcus in the background, he felt as though he had given into a passion that had somehow diminished him. Betrayal wasn’t in his nature. He had truly loved his uncle. Only he had wanted Sonya more.
You still want her.
His inner voice forced him to own up.
Neither of them spoke. Neither of them knew what to say. That was the full irony of it. They just lay there, side by side, each locked in their own thoughts that were remarkably similar.
Finally Sonya said, “I can’t handle this, David. It’s all too much. I don’t want Marcus’s money. A gift, a memento, maybe, I would have accepted, but never a fortune! I can’t live with a gesture like that. I wasn’t going to marry him.”
“You’re sure about that?” Jealousy exploded out of him. How ignoble!
She made a little keening sound, struggling not to turn to him.
Only David was compelled to turn to her. “Okay, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that.”
“It will happen again,” she told him bleakly. “Your efforts to bring me down.”
“Or wait for you to bring me down,” he said with black humour. “One of my fears is I know so little about you, Sonya. You have to accept Marcus’s legacy. You can’t give it back. No one will contest your right to have it. It was Marcus’s wish.”
“It’s my wish he hadn’t.” How could he understand her, when she couldn’t understand herself? From the age of sixteen she’d had no one close to advise her; no one to help her through her traumas, her never-ending grief at what had happened to her parents. Hadn’t there been enough tragedy in their family life? What relatives she had, overnight changed. They wanted only to possess her, use her. Her heart had been cracked so badly she had thought it beyond repair. Yet under Marcus’s benign influence, the mending had begun. But it was David who had brought her back to full blazing life.
“People will hate me,” she said.
He answered quietly enough. “I thought you didn’t care about what people thought?”
“It seems I was wrong. I’m ready to get up.” From feeling unnaturally chilled, her blood was heating up. She knew the sensations for what they were: an automatic response to his nearness. They had always had this dynamic from the moment they met. There was small comfort in the fact neither of them had engineered a relationship. The only thing to blame was fate.
“Why bother?” The slightest trace of humour crept into his voice. “I’m liking it here.” Compulsively, he reached out a long arm to put it beneath her head. So close to, he was inhaling her natural sweet fragrance like an aphrodisiac. “What am I going to do with you, Sonya?”
“What do you want to do with me?” There was a complete absence of provocation in her voice.
Yet it threw him into a kind of panic. “What I’ve wanted to do since I laid eyes on you,” he said, feeling he was moving beyond all pretence.
“That cannot happen, David. You have lost your beloved uncle. I have lost a true friend.” She continued to lie quietly beside the lean, splendid length of him. “What did your parents have to say?”
“They want to meet you, of course.”
Her breath fluttered. “They want to find out exactly what kind of person I am? How did I scheme to get Marcus to fall in love with me?” She was too saddened for any show of indignation.
“Something like that,” he said sombrely.
“Did you tell them he gave me an engagement ring?”
“I told them you tried to give it back into my keeping. I refused to take it.”
“So they have serious business to attend to,” she concluded. “They need to check this Sonya Erickson out?”
“Someone needs to, Sonya,” he said bluntly. “I’ve told you, if there’s anything worrying you, anything that could be called a problem, you’d be wise to tell me now.”
She stared up at the white ceiling. “Perhaps you are overestimating your importance in my life, David. I am now an heiress, am I not?”
He gave a hard little grunt. “Yes, you are, but it doesn’t help anyone when you spend your time trying to put me off. Don’t you realize that? It’s all going to come out, Sonya,” he assured her with some force. “This legacy Marcus left you. It will be the talk of the town. Someone always spills the beans, no matter how many times they’re told to keep their mouths shut. Your legacy far exceeds anything the minor beneficiaries received. People look to motivation, reasons. Why would a man like Marcus leave a young woman he knew for only a short time a small fortune? ‘
“Small?” she exclaimed in disbelief. “Twenty million dollars is small?”
“Well, it’s hardly big!”
It was difficult to believe he was serious. Yet she knew he was. There was a universe of difference between them. She sat up, willing the strength to return to her legs. “So now I see you for exactly who you are. You’re David Wainwright, heir to a great fortune.”
“You’re missing the bit about the huge responsibilities that go with it,” he said bluntly. “No one talks about them. My father has always been under tremendous pressure. I am now. I expect a lot more in the future. It’s not just a question of having a lot of money, Sonya. It’s holding onto
it for future generations. And I would remind you my family, through the Wainwright Foundation, does a lot of good.”
“So I stand corrected. I think it might be a good idea if you left.” Anger that could not be totally explained was a burning, smouldering trail towards dynamite. “Is it okay I get past you? Or do I have to go over the top of you? “ Such sensations were coursing through her body, they were making her a little crazy.
He gave a deep groan, “God, yes, do it!” he invited.
“Maybe I will! You should not test me in this way.” She began to lever her body over his.
It was a huge mistake.
His grip on her was so hard and strong his hands might have been made out of steel. “Why not? I’m not going to make it easy for you.” The protective walls were imploding. A hunger more savage than anything he had ever known welled up inside him. He held her in place over his aroused body, then, when she moaned, he reversed their positions so he was half atop her, taking most of his weight on his upper arms.
“In one way I wish you hadn’t done that,” he said, staring into her emerald eyes, “and then again, I’m so glad you did.”
“Always my fault?” Desire had all but knocked the breath out of her.
“Of course it’s your fault,” he mocked. “The little games you play.” He displayed the strength and grace of a gymnast, holding his own weight while dropping taunting little kisses all over her face, her mouth, the line of her jaw and the length of her throat. Then he came back to run the tip of his tongue over the outline of her full mouth, tracing its contours.