A Husband's Vendetta

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A Husband's Vendetta Page 7

by Sara Wood


  ‘Yeah. You, me and Delilah. You think I’d trust my daughter to the likes of you?’ he said incredulously. ‘You must think I’m mad.’

  She tried to get her mind in gear. What was he saying? That she and Gemma… She groaned. He couldn’t go back on his word.

  ‘You can’t disappoint her!’ she cried plaintively, crushing from her mind the unbearably delicious sensation of her near-nudity against the formality of his black pin-stripe suit.

  ‘Watch me.’

  Furiously she pushed him away and snatched up her clothes, her heart pounding like a steam hammer. ‘Turn your back while I dress!’ she ordered, dangerously near to tears.

  In answer, he folded his arms and leaned against the door, as if waiting for a floorshow to begin, an unnerving curl to his sexy mouth.

  Well, she supposed he’d seen her body plenty of times before. She pushed back the impression that he seemed to be debating whether or not to pounce on her. She was damn well going to fight her corner, floorshow or not!

  ‘Now you listen to me,’ she said grimly, turning her top the right side out. ‘There’s nothing wrong with modelling!’ One arm in. The other. She flung him a defiant glance and gulped at the hungry glitter in his eyes. Her hands shook as she eased the top over her head and managed to cover her throbbing breasts at last. ‘Haven’t you ever admired a classic statue?’ she demanded. ‘The Venus de Milo? Or a painting by Rubens? How do you think they were produced? With the aid of plastic dummies and a fertile imagination?’

  ‘My theory is that artists have to desire their models,’ he said softly as she bent to pick up her skirt. ‘That’s how they produce such beautiful work. It’s all a question of projecting the passion they feel…’

  He stopped, and she looked up to find that he was looking at the swell of her breasts. There was something in his eyes which unnerved her and dried her throat.

  ‘No, Luc,’ she warned, reading his intention and straightening in alarm.

  But he ignored her, taking one, two steps closer while she felt the breath exhale from her lungs and through her parted lips as her muscles seemed to become liquid. They stood tantalising inches apart. She noticed hazily that they were leaning towards one another, their breath now mingling in small, hot spurts.

  His lips were parted like hers. She felt her head tilting back all on its own, and then she felt all her will-power desert her as he reached out to cradle her face and his mouth came nearer and nearer till it touched hers in a tormenting whisper.

  Ellen moaned, wanting more than that. And somehow he knew that because their lips met in a long, slow kiss which fired her nerves and electrified her entire body.

  Every bone and sinew she possessed was urging her to respond. With a desperate groan, she reached up her arms and twined them around his neck, forcing him to deepen the kiss. Her body moved demandingly against the soft fine wool of his jacket while his hand came to rest in the small of her back just above the top of her briefs.

  Gently, skilfully, he parted her mouth with his tongue. Shocked out of her daze, she tried to stop him, but she didn’t get any further than emitting a low moan of pleasure. Her body was conspiring to weaken her resistance.

  And then he released her. For a moment they stood staring at one another, her desire turning to horror when she saw the mocking smile which touched his scornful mouth.

  ‘I do hope you’re not that enthusiastic with every man you meet,’ he remarked in a monotone, his eyes a hard, uncompromising black.

  She floundered for an answer. A ‘no’ would mean that he was special. A ‘yes’ would mean she was easy. ‘Why did you do that?’ she asked, her voice trembling with rage at her own stupidity. He’d planted a trap and she’d jumped right into it. Her eyes filled with tears and she clenched her fists. Why did he always choose to hurt her?

  ‘I did it because I wanted to. And because you wanted to as well,’ he replied, the angles of his cheekbones stark in the brilliance of the overhead light.

  All that was true. But he didn’t have to point it out to her! ‘Bully!’ she muttered.

  ‘Save it,’ he drawled. ‘You weren’t exactly fighting me.’

  ‘I was scared!’ she cried, finding a way out at last. ‘I go to pieces when someone threatens me physically, you know that!’ she shot, gaining momentum. ‘I told you long ago how the kids at school made my life hell! You know I can’t stand people using their superior strength to dominate someone else! You of all people know how desperate I was at school and why I kept running away. And yet you had to yell and push me around and force yourself on me, knowing I’d be rooted to the spot with fear! I loathe you, Luc. You’re a predatory swine!’ she stormed.

  It was a good line to take, but he knew she’d been luring him on with every sway of her fabulous body and each flutter of those flirty black lashes. Right at this moment he hated her for making him want her, for flaunting herself at him like a good-time girl on the make. Whatever her agenda had been in enticing him into the art class, it had been conceived with malice. And for that she’d pay.

  He brooded on her flushed, sensual face. She deserved a suitable revenge. Something to teach her a lesson. A plan formed in his mind.

  This time she’d made a mistake in thinking she could run rings around him. He let a small smile of satisfaction curl the corners of his mouth. It would be enjoyable turning the tables on her.

  Maybe once he’d laid her ghost to rest and wiped her from his life, he’d be able to get Gemma’s emotions back on an even keel. And, once free of Ellen, he might even fall in love with a decent woman.

  ‘You shouldn’t play with fire,’ he advised laconically. Then he assumed an expression of regret. ‘What a pity. You’ve blown it, Ellen. You’re not fit to look after my daughter. I’m taking her back to the hotel.’

  ‘She’ll be expecting to see me when she wakes!’ she cried in agitation. ‘We agreed—!’

  ‘That was before this farce,’ he said, with a wave of his hand in the direction of the studio, trying not to register that she was still half dressed.

  The white frills of her briefs presented a dainty pattern against her honey-coloured skin. His fingers curled and he folded them into his palms. It was either that or he’d be slipping an exploratory finger between that inviting lacy edge and her firm flesh and sliding down to…

  ‘You’ve tied my hands,’ he went on, wishing that she had done just that and speaking even more harshly than he’d intended. ‘But what else can I do?’ His concentration was slipping, and no wonder. Fortunately she seemed oblivious to the huskiness in his voice. ‘Dammit, Ellen, have you no shame? Put your skirt on!’ he said irritably, and she flushed as if she’d forgotten all about it.

  He turned abruptly, as though in anger, putting his back to temptation. His ears were straining to hear every sound. The slither of her skirt over her thighs. The snap of a fastener. The fumble of her hands as she smoothed the material flat. He all but groaned.

  Appalled, he sought to control himself, stalking over to the window and scowling out at the black night. He’d never known he could feel such devastating sexual jealousy. When he’d realised that other men were ogling her body, he’d wanted to lash out and flatten them all, to yell in frustration and fury that she belonged to him and no one else was ever going to see her like that again.

  He passed a hand over his eyes and noticed that it shook. If he didn’t do something about this, he’d never get back to normality.

  He had to have her. And then he must walk away, as she had walked out on him. OK, he was talking stubborn Neapolitan pride here—but until he felt justice had been done he wouldn’t be able to put the past behind him.

  Slowly his head lifted and he turned around. She was crossly slipping her feet into a pair of very feminine sandals, which gave her feet and calves a beautiful curve. He swallowed, remembering how he’d used to coax off her shoes very slowly and take every toe into his mouth, then kiss his way along each sensitive sole to the ankle. Hastily he closed hi
s mind to what had happened next because he needed to stay in control every step of the way.

  ‘You want me to beg, don’t you?’ she muttered.

  He almost betrayed himself then. It was an erotic image: Ellen on her knees before him. Narrowing his eyes he said tersely, ‘Try it.’

  To his surprise, she did.

  ‘Forget what happened for Gemma’s sake,’ she said in an appealing little whisper.

  ‘Try harder.’

  He saw the flash of anger in her velvety eyes which turned them almost to silver. Her mouth was soft and vulnerable, every inch of her pliant and pleading. Excitement was coursing through him, and it took all his will-power to keep his face impassive.

  ‘You don’t want to take her to your breakfast meeting,’ she said, her sharp mind assembling an irrefutable argument. ‘She wants to be with me. I’ve done nothing wrong, nothing that would harm her, so stop raising your eyebrows at me and pretending to be insulted by my morals! Just tell me. How long were you planning for this visit?’

  He almost told her the truth. But it occurred to him that a surprise departure would be easier to handle. ‘A week,’ he lied, avoiding her searching eyes.

  ‘Well, I’m prepared to take unpaid leave and to cancel my next session here while Gemma’s with me. You won’t get a better person to care for her.’

  ‘A trained nanny?’ he suggested laconically.

  ‘Too iffy. Gemma wouldn’t feel safe and you wouldn’t be able to do a check on the nanny in the time.’ Sure of herself now, she lifted her chin proudly. ‘If you think about it logically, you’ll realise I’m your only choice.’

  He dragged his eyes reluctantly from the hollow in her throat where a pulse disturbed the silky skin. His mouth remembered the feel of her there, the sweet, heady perfume which was a sensual part of her body and which filled his nostrils every time she damn well moved a muscle.

  ‘Hmm. You’re right there,’ he conceded with a convincing reluctance. ‘And she seemed most anxious to be with you. But I don’t see…’ And then he pretended to have hit on an idea. ‘I have a suggestion. Something which will satisfy my anxieties about your behaviour.’

  ‘I’m not wearing a chastity belt,’ she said with wry humour. But the brightness of her eyes indicated that she was eager to go along with anything he said.

  And he couldn’t help grinning, because the last thing he wanted was for her to be sexually restrained. ‘OK, let’s go for plan B,’ he said in amusement. ‘You come to my hotel and stay for the week while you look after Gemma. That will curb any ideas you might have had of entertaining a string of men while Gemma watches TV all day. It’s an exclusive hide-away for VIPs and celebrities and the staff are very careful about who comes through the doors.’

  ‘Sounds terrific, but…who’s paying?’ she asked cautiously.

  You are, he wanted to say. But not in the way she might think! ‘I’ll foot your bills. Whatever you like. How about it, Ellen? I’ll be around in the evenings…’ His heart skipped a beat as he imagined what he’d be doing then. ‘So you’ll have time off. Take it or leave it.’ And he found himself holding his breath, waiting for her reply.

  Her body still hummed from being enclosed by his arms. It felt warm and tingly, as if he’d torched it. She drew in a long breath. Singed, more likely! He’d treated her like a chattel. Her hand twitched with the need to dash it across her mouth. If he ever tried that again, she’d tear his buttons off. Rip out his designer labels…

  He shifted impatiently and she pulled herself together. ‘I suppose that’ll be all right,’ she said, managing not to appear thrilled with the success of her rhetoric. And there’d be the bonus of staying in a luxury hotel, all comforts paid for! Under the pretext of collecting her bag, she hid her grin of delight. ‘Shall we go, then?’

  In the studio everyone had huddled together, chattering excitedly. They stopped and looked up when she and Luc walked out. Ellen’s eyes widened at the path of destruction Luc had left in his wake. No one had bothered to tidy up yet—they’d obviously been far too interested in debating the outcome of his dramatic appearance.

  ‘Bye, Paul—everyone,’ she called demurely, a twinkle in her eyes.

  ‘You all right?’ Paul asked, frowning.

  ‘Never better,’ she said truthfully. ‘Let me know if there’s any damage. Luc will pay. Paul… This is short notice, I know, but I’ll have to miss next week. Can you cope?’

  ‘Of course,’ Paul assured her warmly. ‘We can get someone else. We’d all prefer you, of course…’ He caught Luc’s icy stare and became flustered. ‘It’s because you keep very still. You’re a professional—’

  ‘The car’s outside,’ Luc said testily.

  Ellen flung a friendly smile at everyone as Luc hurried her out. And there was the Bentley which Donatello always turned up in, with a hired chauffeur in the driving seat. Her heart began to thump hard as Luc captured her elbow and pushed her towards the limousine.

  ‘We’ll stop at your flat so you can get your stuff—’

  ‘No,’ she broke in, and hastily invented an excuse. ‘It’s late. I’d feel happier if we went straight to the hotel and settled Gemma.’

  ‘All right by me,’ he replied easily. And then he gave one of his slow, sexy smiles and the hand on her elbow tightened a fraction as he said, ‘You always slept naked. Nightwear won’t be a problem, will it?’

  Ellen swallowed and wished she could drag her gaze from his. ‘No,’ she mumbled, annoyed that she sounded like a frog with asthma.

  His smile broadened but it still seemed unduly sensual. ‘Good. No need to worry about your wash things, either. They always provide complimentary kits complete with toothbrush in my suite—’

  ‘Hang on.’ They stopped on the pavement, level with the bonnet of the car. This was getting worrying. She hadn’t expected such intimacy! ‘Your suite? How many beds are there? How many rooms?’

  ‘It’s the penthouse,’ he supplied easily. ‘It has one vast sitting room, with a spectacular view over Kensington Gardens and Millionaire’s Row, and comes with three bedrooms.’

  ‘You, Gemma and Donatello?’ Her mouth tightened at his cheerful nod. ‘So where does that put me?’ she asked sharply.

  ‘On the floor, the couch, my bed or we move ’Tello out,’ he replied in amusement.

  ‘Floor, couch or eject Donatello,’ she opted promptly.

  He laughed. ‘’Tello it is. He won’t mind. It’ll give him a break from having Gemma jumping on his bed in the morning. Well,’ he said, with a smug expression, ‘we seem to have worked out an arrangement which satisfies us both.’ He opened the back door for her and paused. ‘We’ll have to do something about your clothes, of course.’

  ‘If you take me, you take my clothes,’ she said, offended.

  His face was wreathed in smiles, and suddenly she realised what she’d said and blushed scarlet. ‘I meant, you only have what you stand up in,’ he told her softly. ‘You can go shopping for what you need in the morning, with my chauffeur to keep you in order. I’ll foot those bills too. Gemma loves shopping. She’s a true Italian.’

  ‘Why are you being so generous?’ It seemed very fishy. Did he think she’d give him something in return? ‘You can’t buy me, you know,’ she said proudly.

  ‘Why would I want to?’ he asked, widening his eyes with suspicious innocence.

  She shrugged and shifted her feet in embarrassment. ‘You have to admit that it’s a bit odd, you forking out your hard-earned cash for someone you don’t even like.’

  He smiled disarmingly. ‘You were always too quick-witted for me to pull the wool over your eyes, weren’t you?’ The low warmth of his voice slid into her like rich honey. ‘I should have known my subtle scheme wouldn’t get past you. The truth is, Ellen, that I’d do anything to stop you hiking back to Southwark with Gemma and involving her in your private life.’

  ‘It’s not Plague City,’ she said in mild protest. But who was she to argue? ‘Still, I like the bribe.
’ Deliberately she upped her enthusiasm, to get him worried about his bank balance. ‘A new wardrobe! How lovely!’

  ‘Get in,’ he muttered, his steely undertone revealing the contempt he felt for her pretended materialism.

  She obeyed, realising she was pushing him a little too far, and eased her slender body into the back. ‘Hello, Donatello,’ she said in her usual polite way. But her eyes were on the sleeping child beside him. She reached out, hardly hearing the PA’s response, and touched Gemma’s curls tenderly. ‘Hello, sweetheart,’ she breathed, melting at the sight of her daughter’s slumbering face.

  ‘Seat belt,’ ordered Luc from his seat beside the driver.

  Her mouth quirked and she smiled at the back of his head. It looked stiff and tense, as if he hated the fact that she’d got her own way and that she’d be looking after Gemma despite his reservations.

  He’d like it even less when he saw that his daughter was having a lovely time! Nerves began to chase through her stomach, knotting it up. Gemma must have a lovely time! she thought anxiously, twisting her hands together.

  Slowly it began to dawn on her how delicately she must feel her way over the next few days. One step wrong, and Luc would see to it that she’d lose her child for ever.

  She shivered. He’d be watching her like a hawk, hoping she’d make a mistake. Dear heaven, he was putting her under the most awful pressure!

  CHAPTER FOUR

  SHE sat anxiously fiddling with her fingers while Luc began informing Donatello of the arrangement. They spoke in fast, colloquial Italian, and she hardly understood a word. Several times the PA glanced at Ellen doubtfully, as if he wasn’t sure she was to be trusted.

  She treated him to smiles which she hoped were friendly and confident. Donatello merely flicked his dark gaze back to his employer and listened intently, putting in his own questions here and there.

  Luc was lucky to have such a devoted person as his closest aide, she thought. He clearly loved Gemma. Donatello had been absently stroking Gemma’s arm all the time he and Luc had been talking. Ellen’s heart warmed to the taciturn man, and when Luc appeared to have finished speaking, she turned to the PA with an apologetic smile.

 

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