He could see her weighing it up. She didn’t want a man with whom she had such a dubious relationship entering her personal space. Especially in what he assumed were difficult circumstances. He got that, but he needed to go with her. Not just because of Lewis and the threat he posed. Whatever was happening was serious, and he needed to make sure she was okay. In the end, she gave a quick nod and he softened in relief. He wouldn’t have found a no easy to take.
Negotiating the afternoon traffic took most of his attention, but he got in the odd glance at Selina, tense and unavailable beside him. She didn’t volunteer any information, didn’t talk to him at all apart from answering his occasional question about directions. He concentrated on getting her home as fast as he could.
Three-quarters of an hour later, they pulled up in front of dingy, nineteen-fifties weatherboard. It looked like it might blow over in a stiff breeze. A collapsing gutter, peeling paint and a front yard comprised mostly of concrete completed the picture.
‘Thank you,’ she said distractedly, hand already on the door handle. ‘I’ll see you back at the Empire. Probably. It depends …’ She bit her lower lip instead of finishing her sentence and was out of the car before he could reply.
Head resting back, hands on the wheel, he watched Selina hurry up the front path.
She’d told him to nick off. All but.
He should go, but he couldn’t bring himself to leave her like this. Instead, he found himself following her up the concrete path. Ahead, Selina leaned down to give a miniature black-clad woman a kiss, then passed through into the house. He had no idea if she realised he was trailing along behind her. But the woman holding the front door did, and she held it open for him.
Maria Ferranti. Nonna. There was enough similarity in bone structure between the two women that Jack could see she must have been as beautiful as Selina when she was younger. It had faded now. No, not faded, he amended, crumpled. A fallen soufflé of a face, collapsing in on itself.
He paused in front of her, uncharacteristically uncertain of how to proceed.
He should introduce himself to the miniscule woman, staring up at him silently, but words to explain his relationship to Selina and his presence here tonight seemed to have deserted him.
He should wait for Selina outside.
Before he could turn, Maria held the door wider and waved him in with firm, sweeping movements. Still gripped with uncertainty, he complied, and found himself in a tiny entrance area, watching nonna’s back disappear around a corner.
Stalled in the little area, he shifted uncomfortably, eyes coming to rest on pieces of a puzzle that weren’t adding up. Through a doorway to his right, he took in some ancient brown velvet couches. There were patches that were so thin, it must be ancient Sicilian magic holding the fabric intact. The floor was covered in the same tacky, stained carpet he was standing on in the foyer. Through the door ahead, he had a partial view of what must have been a dream kitchen, sometime circa 1971—tired vinyl flooring, chipped brown and orange floral tiles.
Was this where Selina lived? Really?
He’d got her wrong.
The realisation was a two-by-four sized whack to the head, leaving him flushed and dazed.
He was supposed to good at reading between the lines, astute as far as general humanity went. But he couldn’t reconcile glamorous, exotic Selina with this place. It was unbearably drab. Furnishings so old they’d be nothing more than dust the second they finally gave up. His own upbringing had been basic no-frills country, but it hadn’t been like this. This was … This was poverty.
He ran a hand over his jaw, uncomfortable. She hadn’t wanted him here, and now he knew why.
Should he find her, let her know he was here?
He didn’t want to disturb her in whatever she was doing. He also didn’t want to add to her problems by throwing his discomfit into the mix.
Maybe he should just return to his car.
But time passed and he was still standing like a useless lump in the front entrance, paralysed with indecision. Nonna re-emerged and waved at him to follow her into the lounge room. She took a seat on one of the brown couches and he followed suit on a matching armchair.
‘Jack,’ he said eventually, thinking the time had well and truly come for him to show some manners. ‘I’m a friend of Selina’s.’
Nothing. Not a hint of a smile, nor a nod of acknowledgement. They sat in uncomfortable silence, he couldn’t have said for how long, her blank coal-black eyes drilling into him the whole time.
His initial shock faded, and he was able to begin to think rationally. Enough to realise he should have expected this. She’d told him what it was like for her in a million small ways. She’d said on more than one occasion that he didn’t know anything about her or her life, and he’d dismissed it. Stupidly, he’d assumed they were the same; that she was just like him, ten years ago, obsessed with the idea of money and social status. He’d stood on a balcony overlooking the Yarra, and he’d lectured her, preached at her.
He wanted to go back in time and punch the previous him, so arrogant and ignorant. He’d understood nothing. He should have seen the truth, but he had a blind spot when it came to Selina. Like he’d had a blind spot for Dani. And it scared him.
Why was he still here? He shouldn’t be here.
He rose, shot a quick unreciprocated smile at Maria, and went to find Selina to tell her he’d be waiting in the car. He headed in the direction Maria had come from, figuring that was the best bet. The house wasn’t large, it didn’t take him long to find her in a small dark bedroom at the back.
The door was open. He raised a hand to knock and alert Selina to his presence, but taking in the scene before him, the impulse died.
A small bedside lamp cast a muted fan of light. Selina sat on a single bed, leaning over a huddled shape covered in sheets and blankets. Her sister. Between the darkness and Selina’s body blocking most of his view, he couldn’t see much, but there was something not quite right in the shape, the line of the sleeping girl.
Selina leaned over her sister, fingers gentle as an angel, stroking the hair back from her forehead. He became aware of a noise, so soft it was almost sub-audible. It took him a moment to work out what it was. Selina, crooning.
His eyes went hot and dry. His throat hurt. He still hadn’t knocked, but she must have known someone was watching, because she turned. The look on her face broke his heart.
He hadn’t meant to interrupt, to disturb her, but she rose, dropped a kiss on her sister’s face and walked past him out of the room. With one last look at the girl on the bed, he followed, back through the lounge room to the front door. Maria had joined them, holding the door open on the way out as she had on the way in. Selina gave her grandmother a quick hug, picked up her handbag, and walked down the concrete path towards the car.
They were leaving? Just like that?
Shooting another totally ineffective smile at Maria, he followed Selina. She was waiting, eyes down, arms across her chest, at the passenger door.
‘Selina?’ He was trying for gentle, but it came out rough as gravel. He cleared his throat and tried again. ‘Do you want to stay?’
‘No.’ She reached out and tried the handle. It was still locked, but she jiggled it a couple of times anyway. A not-so-subtle command to open up.
‘I can wait. As long as you like.’
‘There’s nothing more I can do.’ The words sounded harsh, brutal almost. But he knew what he’d seen. In that bedroom and on her face. It was still there, in the way she held herself, like if she didn’t hold every muscle in her body rigid, she’d crack.
This was killing him.
He walked around the car and wrapped his arms around her.
She stood, arms still crossed, stiff and unyielding in his arms, but she didn’t pull away.
He didn’t care how long they stood like this, he wasn’t letting go.
It was evening now. Neighbourhood lights were gradually flickering to life. He smel
led sausages and plum blossoms. Could hear the faint strains of two competing television sets and a dog whining. Each driveway contained an older model Holden. It was the lower end of lower middle class Australian suburbia, and Selina was fighting to keep a place for her family here.
He held her and wished he could make it better. Wished the Holloway fortune, her way out of this situation, was going to happen for her.
She softened, uncrossed the arms between them, dropped her hands to his waist, and leaned forward, forehead against his chest. She was exhausted, he realised. Resting against him like she’d fall without the support. He stroked a hand over her hair, down her neck in a caress reminiscent of the one she’d given Anna because while Selina was caring for her grandmother and her sister, who took care of Selina?
‘Let’s get back to the hotel,’ she said quietly.
He released her gently, opened the car, and after she’d slipped into her seat, shut the door.
They drove back in silence. He stole glances at Selina. Selina looked out her window.
It was a lot to absorb, what he’d seen, but the more he thought about it, the more everything now made sense. A bombshell who called nonna every day. A gold digger who cared too much about her ‘target’ to go through with it. A femme fatale who spiked his drink, then cried when the drug started working. She’d said she had no choice, and now he understood why. He didn’t like that she’d chosen to try to steal the necklace, he didn’t agree it was her only choice, but he understood why she felt that way.
They reached the hotel car park, and he walked her through the quiet evening.
The lobby was empty, quiet. As it had been last night, when she’d followed him to his room. She’d done a bad, bad thing, there was no denying it, and yet, she’d also made sure he’d reached his room, made sure he was lying down rather than collapsing. Hell, she’d even taken off his shoes. In her own way, as twisted as it sounded, she’d been caring for him.
Tonight, he wanted to care for her.
From the start, he’d had an appreciation for Selina—her smarts, her audacity. Tonight had deepened his feelings to something more than simple admiration for a well-matched foe. A grandmother who wasn’t capable of much, a teenaged sister with severe medical problems. She’d quit school, put her own aspirations on hold, to provide for them. How could he not respect that?
It wasn’t fair that Selina should finally get a break and then have it taken away again. It was worse somehow than never starting to dream in the first place. And it was worse somehow that she didn’t have an inkling of what her future held. He did. He knew it wouldn’t last.
‘What you said last night, about having experience with that drug … Your sister’s the reason why, isn’t she?’ he asked once they’d entered the lift.
She nodded, leaned back against the wall, arms across her chest, eyes down. ‘We use benzos—benzodiazepines—to treat Anna’s dystonia.’ She tilted her head up to look at him. ‘I’m very aware of maximum dosages. I didn’t put you in any danger.’
He couldn’t comment on that, but at the end of the day, she was right, the ‘benzo’ hadn’t harmed him. ‘Dystonia.’ He searched his brain for what he knew about it. ‘Muscle spasms?’
‘That’s the one.’
‘How bad is it?’ It was a stupid question, but he needed to understand.
She shrugged. ‘Bad. Getting worse. Attacks like tonight aren’t all that uncommon.’
‘She’s the reason you’re at the hotel. The reason giving up on the necklace wasn’t an option.’
Another nod. He thought that was all he was going to get, but then she continued.
‘There’s an operation; still experimental, but it’s supposed to help. There’ve been some good results overseas but it’s not offered in Australia yet, not unless we can finance the specialist equipment. I can’t afford it. I can’t afford to not be able to afford it.’ A weary half-smile crept across her face. ‘But of course now I can.’
And a little of the tension, the enormous weight she carried, seemed to leave her small frame. She moved forward off the wall as the elevator tinged their arrival, and stepped out in front of him. The doors closed behind him with a hiss and a thump.
The stakes in inheriting Lewis’s fortune were enormous: it wasn’t just money, it was her sister’s wellbeing. What would happen once Lewis was convicted of Andrew’s murder? Would Selina remain his heir? Would she want to?
And would she hate Jack for being the one instrumental in taking it all away from her?
He didn’t want to think about it. It couldn’t change what he had to do.
Even if the result was devastating for Selina and her sister.
She reached her door and turned to face him, resting back against it, expression impossible to read. He wanted to drown her in tenderness.
His hand came up, cupped her jaw. She closed her eyes, leaned in. He swept thumbs along her cheekbones, unable to resist the silken warmth of her skin. Her eyes fluttered open, gorgeous green and gold, filled with yearning. It cut him to the core.
‘Don’t go,’ she said, soft and commanding.
‘Last I heard, you weren’t that into it.’
‘So? Make me change my mind.’
He smiled. ‘This still isn’t a good idea, you know.’
She laughed softly. ‘No. Probably not.’ She pressed a soft kiss to his palm. ‘But we could have tonight.’
He knew, more than she did, that it might be now or never for the two of them.
‘Stay?’ she asked. ‘Please?’
Tough, sexy and vulnerable, all in one. How could he resist?
Moving closer, he laced his fingers at her nape, and dropped his head, touched his lips to her forehead, her cheek, her lips. She hooked her fingers in the waistband of his jeans, closed her eyes again. He stayed at her mouth, giving her the same gentle kiss over and over. She sighed, accepting this like she had the earlier caress.
He ached to give her something, but how could he, with things the way they were between them? He was holding out on her, omitting vital information while he figured out what to do with it. There was a good chance she’d hate him when she realised he was the one bursting her bubble. He forced himself to ease back.
When she realised his intentions, a small involuntary groan escaped her lips and her eyes flew open. She followed his retreat, hands firm at his waist, preventing him from moving away.
‘Selina …’ he started, about to warn her that there were still no guarantees they were on the same side.
‘I know what you’re going to say. I don’t want to talk about it. I don’t want to think about it. Tonight is tonight. We leave it at the door.’
‘Are you sure about this?’ he asked softly. He needed to hear her say it, needed to know he wasn’t taking advantage in a vulnerable moment.
‘No.’ Another soft laugh. ‘But for once, I want to do it anyway. I want you.’
Her handbag fell from her shoulder to the floor. She wound her arms around his neck and pulled him down to her. Requesting—no, demanding—more.
Well, in that case … His mouth met hers again, he swept his tongue into her mouth. He stroked down over ribs and hips, round behind and lifted her. Her thighs clamped low around his waist.
She gasped at the unexpected suddenness of his move. ‘Well, hello there,’ she murmured, wiggling against him.
He groaned against her neck.
‘Give me something, Jack. Make me believe.’
***
His mouth took hers in another searing kiss. It was an inferno, the hot mindless inferno she’d been seeking. She wanted to let go completely, be swept away in the tide of delicious heat and sensation, but first, they had to get out of the corridor.
‘Inside,’ she breathed while his mouth left hers to trace a path of fire down her neck.
He released her gently to the floor. She scrambled for her handbag, fumbled inside for the key, and attempted to fit it into the lock. It wasn’t easy, what with the way
her hands were shaking. Jack pressed in close behind her, hot and hard against her back, an arm slung around her waist. Mouth at her nape, he nipped her.
‘Jesus.’ She almost dropped the key.
She finally got the door open, and would have fallen inside—she didn’t realise she’d been leaning against it—but Jack’s arm banded around her middle, held her up, holding her close.
Turning as they stumbled in, she met his mouth with hers. He backed her towards the bed in the tiny room, only breaking away to nudge the door shut. She spun away a little. Partly to tease, partly to force a little distance between them. Force a little sanity to return.
No more than a body length apart, they watched each other intently, ragged breath matching ragged breath.
Her room but not her territory. Neutral ground.
But this didn’t feel neutral. It felt like she was about to lose something. Something big.
The problem was, she wanted him too much. So much she could barely breathe and her heart couldn’t settle and her mind just wasn’t functioning.
Jack had been to her home this evening. He’d seen. But he’d waited with nonna and he’d held Selina afterwards. And any part of her that still doubted how deep he’d managed to wriggle his way under her skin in such a short amount of time had been shut down.
Thoughts like that weren’t part of the deal. The deal was one night. Grasping at what might be their one and only opportunity before life intervened again.
She wanted him, desperately, but she had to keep some semblance of control. ‘Lose the clothes,’ she said, hands coming to her hips.
‘You first.’ This man and his white lightning smile would be the death of her.
‘Together?’
She put her hands at the bottom of her top, but when Jack tugged his own T-shirt up and over his head, she reneged. Not because she was shy, but because she knew he’d half expect it.
His T-shirt hit the floor, he took in her fully clothed state and gave a good-humoured shake of his head. ‘I should have known.’
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