by Lynne Graham
CHAPTER SEVEN
‘I’M JUST so happy for you!’ Emma hugged Hilary with bubbling enthusiasm between the first and second courses of their meal. ‘When I start university after the summer, you’ll see even less of me and I was worried you’d get lonely. Does that sound selfish?’
‘Of course it doesn’t,’ Hilary reassured her with as bright a smile as she could manage. Living away from home had made her sister independent and, although it hurt a little sometimes that Emma relied more on her own judgement, Hilary was very proud of her.
‘Hilary needs to have some fun,’ Emma informed Roel earnestly. ‘She’s given up so much for me. My scholarship only ever covered part of my school fees and Hilary’s been paying the rest. That’s why she’s always so broke. When I realised how much my education was costing, I tried to persuade her to move me—’
‘You were doing really well where you were and that was the most important thing,’ Hilary slotted into that embarrassing flood of personal information being freely proffered to Roel. ‘Emma wants to be an international lawyer. She’s really good at languages.’
Roel spoke to her sister in French and Emma responded with impeccable cool. They both had that confident sharp edge that Hilary had always rather envied in others. After the meal, Roel took a call on his mobile and Hilary and her sister had a few minutes alone. Emma was returning to school to revise for her A-level exams. Once they were over, she was flying straight out to Spain to stay with a friend at her family’s holiday villa. Having waved off her sister, Hilary climbed into the limo with Roel.
‘I haven’t finished sorting things out yet, so I’ll have to go back to my flat.’
Roel sent her a hard glance. ‘We don’t have time.’
Hilary lifted her chin. ‘You don’t but I do. Fly me out economy tomorrow.’
‘I’ll reschedule our flight for later this evening—’
‘That’s not necessary,’ Hilary said woodenly. ‘I need more time to organise things. I’d prefer to travel tomorrow.’
Roel surveyed her mutinous profile. ‘I’m not leaving London without you.’
‘I don’t want to go to Switzerland—’
‘Liar,’ Roel murmured huskily.
Hilary bristled. ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’
Roel ran a taunting forefinger along the generous curve of her lower lip. Her sensitive skin tingled and her breath caught in her throat.
‘Show me how much you hate what I do to you, bella mia,’ Roel suggested in a silken invitation.
Even though she was trying to fight the impulse, she found herself leaning forward. He drew her like a fire when she was freezing cold. Her nostrils flared on the achingly familiar scent of him: masculine overlaid with a trace of some expensive lotion, incredibly sexy. Her breasts stirred inside her bra cups, tender crests straining into stiff points.
‘You’re not trying hard enough,’ Roel censured.
‘Trying what?’ Her mind was a total blank, her voice hoarse with the effort required to speak.
He raised a lean brown hand and stroked a provocative fingertip over the taut prominence of an engorged nipple outlined by the thin fabric of her top.
When he touched that sensitive peak a soft whimper of sound broke from her. Her heart was pounding like a drum. Her head felt too heavy for her neck and she let it tip back. Between her slender thighs the heat of wanting rose to a bitter-sweet peak of craving that burned.
Roel let the tip of his tongue flick the delicate hollow at the base of her collar-bone where a tiny pulse was going crazy and she moaned and pushed forward. She wanted him to kiss her so badly that she could taste it. He lifted his dark head and she looked up at him. Framed by impenetrable black lashes, the hard sexual glitter of his brilliant gaze was the equivalent of an electrical charge.
‘Do it…’ she was finally reduced to pleading.
‘No. I’m not into sex in the back of limos.’ Roel withdrew from her with a pronounced air of derision.
Her cheeks burned like beetroot on the boil. Her hands balled into fierce fists. She wanted to hit him. She wanted to say very rude things to him. But just in time she restrained herself from a revealing outburst. She was mortified by her own vulnerability. How could she have been so weak? Show me how much you hate what I do to you! If she continued to offer herself up on the equivalent of a plate to Roel, he would soon guess that she was head over heels in love with him. And, in Hilary’s opinion, nothing would be worse than that development and nothing would be more humiliating. Given a choice, she decided that she much preferred to be thought of as a cunning gold-digger.
The limo pulled up outside the hairdressing salon and Hilary fled. While Sally grabbed a much-needed break, Hilary worked. Just before closing time, the older woman agreed to manage the salon as long as there was enough cash in the kitty to hire another full-time stylist to work alongside her. Relieved that she would be leaving her business in reliable hands, Hilary locked up, went over the account books with Sally and then went up to her flat to finish her packing.
At seven o’clock the doorbell sounded. Although she had assumed it was Roel, it wasn’t. Her visitor was Gareth, an engineer, whom she had dated a couple of times the previous year and who had become a friend.
‘Love the hair!’ Gareth laughed and ruffled the glossy black tips that provided such a contrast to her silvery fair hair. ‘Very gothic.’
‘You like it?’ Hilary grinned for Roel had not even seemed to notice and in truth it hardly mattered as the black highlights would wash straight back out of her hair again the next time she was under the shower.
‘Fancy going out tonight?’
Lean, dark features grim, Roel strode across the landing. ‘Hilary has other plans.’
‘Are you her social secretary…or something?’ Gareth sniped.
‘Her husband,’ Roel drawled with cold finality.
As Gareth clattered red-faced downstairs Hilary knew he would never darken her doorstep again and she slung Roel a furious look of reproach for his interference. ‘That was quite unnecessary—’
From the benefit of his commanding height, Roel dealt her a strong glance of disagreement. ‘You were flirting—’
‘I wasn’t flirting…and even if I was, what’s it got to do with you?’ With difficulty Hilary controlled her temper because Roel’s chauffeur had appeared round the bend in the stairs. Her cases were removed from the hall and she locked up with a flourish.
‘You were expecting that guy tonight. That was why you didn’t want to leave until tomorrow,’ Roel condemned in a harsh undertone.
Hilary tossed her head on her passage down the first flight of stairs. But he was making her feel as irresistible as Helen of Troy and she glowed. ‘I’m a real hot chick. You’ll have to watch me night and day in Switzerland. Are you sure I’m worth the effort?’
Without the smallest warning, Roel closed his hands to her slight shoulders and backed her up against the wall of the landing. It happened so fast and so disconcerted her that she gasped. Volcanic golden eyes obdurate as bronze raked over her startled face in stormy warning. ‘Have you noticed something? I’m not laughing,’ Roel derided with raw-edged softness. ‘Be careful. If I catch you flirting with other men, I won’t be amused.’
Her mouth had run dry and, taken aback though she was by his vehemence, a dark and dangerous excitement was licking through her slight figure. ‘I was just joking—’
‘That wasn’t funny,’ Roel delivered darkly.
Her lively sense of humour sparked. ‘At least Gareth noticed I’d put black tips into my hair—’
‘Only he was too much of an oil slick to tell you that you look like a hedgehog.’ Releasing her, Roel took a fluid step back to let her go on down the stairs.
Hilary drew in a shattered breath. ‘A…?’
A hedgehog? She was mortified. Passing through the airport, she could not help stealing glances at her reflection in shop windows. At the same time she could not help noticing how shor
t and dumpy she looked alongside his tall, lean physique. While they waited to board Roel’s private jet, Hilary’s mobile phone buzzed. When she heard her friend Pippa’s voice, she moved away from Roel to keep the conversation private.
Pippa and her husband, Andreo D’Alessio, lived in Italy and, as luck would have it, Pippa was calling to tell Hilary that she would be over in London for the weekend and was looking forward to meeting up with her.
‘As we speak, I’m waiting to board a flight to Switzerland,’ Hilary admitted ruefully. ‘You’re also going to have every excuse to get annoyed with me. I’ve been keeping a secret from you. I’m married—’
‘Married? I don’t believe you!’ Pippa exclaimed in shock.
‘He’s standing right by me listening in on my phone call so I don’t find it quite so hard to disbelieve,’ Hilary confided tartly, slinging Roel a challenging glance. ‘But the story of our marriage is—’
Roel filched the phone from her in a move so fast it left her with a dropped jaw. ‘A total fairy tale,’ Roel dropped in faster than the speed of light as he took over the dialogue without skipping a beat. ‘I’m Hilary’s husband…and you are—?’
Outraged, Hilary hovered while Roel engaged in smooth chit-chat with her friend and then deftly concluded the dialogue by announcing that their flight had been called.
‘How dare you?’ Hilary bit out in a tremulous voice, so mad she was shaking with fury as Roel escorted her across the tarmac towards the jet.
‘Dannazione! You left me with no choice.’ Scornful golden eyes skimmed over her angry face. ‘You were on the brink of blabbing everything—’
‘I don’t “blab”,’ Hilary forced out between gritted teeth.
‘You could blab for England. You have the discretion of a public address system,’ Roel contradicted icily.
On board the jet, Hilary stalked down the aisle of the luxurious cabin and picked a seat as far away from him as she could get. She was furious that he had interfered with her call and accused her of being a gossip. How dared he?
‘Just who do you think you are?’ she heard herself demand when they were airborne and the steward had left them alone again.
Darkly handsome face unapologetic, Roel held her accusing gaze with level cool. ‘I am a very private individual. What happens between us should be equally private. Girlie chatterbox sessions are out.’
Hilary turned her head away and curled up in her comfortable seat. Tears were not her style but all of a sudden she felt as though she could weep a river dry. Perhaps that was because she was feeling so tired that it was an effort to keep her heavy eyes open. The steward tried to interest her in a meal and she shook her head, her tummy reacting with a queasy roll at the prospect of food. She wanted to fight with Roel but for once she had to acknowledge that she did not have the energy. The following morning, Hilary slept late. When she woke up she was eager to confront Roel with all the arguments she had been too enervated to employ when lunching with her sister, Emma, had been on the agenda. Over breakfast Umberto informed her that Roel had long since departed for the Sabatino Bank.
Her recollection of how she had got to bed the night before was dim but embarrassing. Having dozed through the flight, she had stumbled like a zombie through the airport, drifted off again in the limo and had allowed Roel to cart her up to bed when they had finally arrived at the town house. Never before had she suffered from such overpowering fatigue and it was a relief to feel the restored spark of her usual energy.
She had thought that she was really really hungry but when the cooked breakfast that she had ordered arrived her appetite suffered a sudden mysterious disappearance. Pushing away the plate, she nibbled at a fresh roll and savoured a hot chocolate drink, which was sinfully rich and satisfying. Having decided that a visit to that holy of holies, the Sabatino Bank, required a special effort in the grooming department, she was relieved to discover all the designer clothes that Roel had bought for her stowed away in the dressing room. She donned a burgundy lace slip dress, which took on a much more conservative aspect when teamed with a short floral cotton coat.
The Sabatino Bank in Geneva was hugely intimidating in size and very contemporary in design. Her nervous tension began to increase. Explaining that she was Roel’s wife created a decided stir of discreet interest at the reception desk. A young man in a smart suit escorted her up to the executive floor. He showed her through double doors into a very large office.
Roel was lounging back with tigerish grace against the edge of a sleek light wood desk. Garbed in a dark blue tailored suit, grey shirt and stylish silk tie, he looked nothing short of spectacular. ‘Fill me in,’ he invited softly. ‘It’s not anyone’s birthday. To what do I owe this interruption? What is the special occasion?’
‘I just wanted to speak to you—’
‘Then you should get out of bed earlier,’ Raul spelt out drily. ‘This is the middle of my working day and I am not available for personal visits.’
‘That’s good…cos this is a business call,’ Hilary informed him, hoping to really grab his attention with that declaration.
Role vaulted upright and extended an authoritative lean brown hand. ‘Come here. I want to show you something.’
Disconcerted, Hilary moved forward. He closed a hand over hers and proceeded to urge her towards a door on the other side of his office. ‘Where are you taking me?’
It was a washroom. Stepping behind her, Roel posed her in front of the vanity unit, so that she could see their reflections twinned in the mirror above the basin. Her grey eyes focused on his lean bronzed face. Pulses quickening and heart racing, she sucked in an audible breath.
‘What do you see?’ Roel asked as he tipped the light coat off her taut shoulders and slowly removed it.
Hilary was mesmerised. ‘Us?’
As though to draw attention to them, Roel flicked the narrow beaded straps of her dress, which bared her slender shoulders. Then his long fingers glided from her tiny waist up over her narrow ribcage to rest just below the burgeoning thrust of lush breasts enhanced by the flattering fit of the stretchy lace fabric. Hilary stopped breathing altogether. At that precise moment the reason why she had come to Roel’s office was a complete blank to her. His big powerful body was touching hers and she was infinitely more aware of his bold masculine arousal.
‘Is this how a woman dresses for a business appointment, cara?’ Roel enquired silkily.
‘I know the dress is a bit flirty but I love it, so I put the coat on top of it so that I would look more conservative,’ Hilary told him breathlessly.
‘That’s not the point I was making. Just for the record, put a dress like that over a shape like yours and the result could not be described by any stretch of the imagination as…conservative.’
Hilary leant back into him and gave him a huge dreamy smile. ‘You like it?’
‘Isn’t that what you wanted?’
‘I didn’t think about it but you’re probably right.’
A superior gleam in his brilliant golden eyes, Roel set her back from him with gentle but firm hands. ‘So this scene belongs in the bedroom, not inside my bank.’
Absorbing that speech, Hilary blinked on the sizzle of pure rage that lit up like a neon sign inside her. He actually thought that she had come to his precious bank to try and seduce him away from a working ethic set in ancient stone!
‘I came here to have a serious discussion,’ Hilary snapped and, stooping to pick up her coat, she stalked back into his office. ‘And I intend to have that discussion. Sorry if you can’t keep your mind on business just because a woman’s wearing an attractive dress.’
Dark colour girding his proud high cheekbones, Roel sent her a slashing glance. ‘Try me…’
‘Almost four years ago, I signed a contract to become your wife. In return I accepted a certain sum of money. I returned two thirds of that sum when I discovered I didn’t need it and—’
Roel had raised a silencing hand. ‘Stop there. You returned part of
that cash settlement? How?’
‘I paid it back into the account you had set up and sent you a letter through your lawyer, that suspicious Paul guy—’
‘Who had great foresight,’ Roel sliced in with satiric bite. ‘Thanks to your antics, I broke his nose last week—’
Eyes rounded, Hilary stared at him in consternation. ‘You did what…you broke his nose? But why?’
‘He had the misfortune to suggest that my wife might not be all that I believed her to be…before I recovered my memory.’
Hilary turned bright pink with mortification. ‘Oh…I was talking about that money.’
Roel looked unimpressed. ‘I’m not aware that you returned any part of that settlement.’
Hilary folded her arms with a jerk. ‘Well, the point is that I did. I realised that I didn’t need to buy a property when renting one would do just as well. I only kept what I needed to rent the flat and set up the salon in the empty shop beneath it. Fitting out the salon was expensive enough. You didn’t think my business was much of a paying proposition but it pays my rent and covers the bills, so I’ve never had any complaints—’
‘Would you tell me where this dialogue is heading?’
‘Once Emma finishes school, I can sell the business as a going concern and repay everything you gave me. So if I put that promise on the table, we’ll be quits and you can let me go home again.’
‘Did you really put on your sexiest outfit to come and make that offer to me?’
Infuriated by a putdown of a response that made it clear that he did not even deem her offer worthy of consideration, Hilary breathed in very deep. Meanwhile, Roel lounged back against his desk, watching the rise and fall of her full breasts below the lace and then whipping up again to rest on her luscious pink mouth.
‘As far as I’m concerned, this isn’t about money. It never has been. Surely you’ve grasped that by now?’ Roel murmured softly.
‘I understand that you believe I owe you a debt. I understand that you have rather unforgiving principles—’
‘You’re doing really well on the understanding front,’ Roel dropped in with deflating amusement.