It was exactly the fuel Audra McDonald needed to reveal her vindictive secret. And Danielle had a feeling she would do so very shortly.
She went to the onyx jewellery box, taking out the miniature to hold it to her protectively.
CHAPTER FIVE
BY the time Nick arrived at seven that evening Danielle had experienced one of the worst days of her life. Several more reporters had tried to get in to talk to her, although she had refused to comment to any of them, slamming the door in the face of the reporter she recognised from yesterday before he even had time to say anything. Her father had telephoned to make sure she was all right, and although he didn’t question her about the previous night she told him the true version anyway. And lastly, and worst of all, she hadn’t been able to contact Audra McDonald.
She had telephoned the theatre where the actress was rehearsing for her play, had called her home too, and the reply as always the same, Miss McDonald was unavailable. She had even left a message for the other woman to call her. The return call had never come.
Nick frowned as he saw how pale she looked, putting the two bags of food that he carried in the kitchen before coming back to study her closely. ‘That bad, hm?’ he murmured regretfully.
She blinked darkened lashes over shadowed green eyes, hadn’t made any effort to change out of the fitted denims and cream camisole top she had worn all day. ‘Sorry?’
‘You’ve had a lousy day,’ he stated with a sigh, clasping her arms to sit her down in one of the armchairs. ‘The press have been hounding you?’ he looked down at her with narrowed eyes.
He spoke like one who knew what it felt like. ‘They came to see you too?’
‘They tried,’ his mouth twisted. ‘I have a little more protection from such people than you do.’
She looked down at her hands, clean of the paint today that usually spotted them, too disturbed to work today, especially on Audra’s portrait. ‘You saw the article they wrote?’
‘Yes,’ he grimaced his distaste for such trashy writing. ‘It was worse than even I imagined.’
‘Yes,’ Danielle acknowledged dully.
‘I’ve also seen Audra,’ his eyes were hard as he spoke of the other woman.
Danielle’s panicked gaze flew to his harsh face, swallowing hard as she saw there was no accusation in his eyes for her, only anger at the other woman. Audra couldn’t have told him, not yet anyway. ‘I tried to reach her on the telephone today,’ she revealed flatly. ‘She refused to talk to me.’
His mouth twisted with grim humour. ‘When you’re her backer you tend to get better results.’
‘What did she say?’
‘What could she say?’ he shrugged, pacing the room, the brown trousers moulded to his thighs and legs, the cream of his shirt emphasising the swarthiness of his skin. ‘She set that particular hound on us, she couldn’t and didn’t, deny that.’
But it seemed that Audra hadn’t told him a lot else. What was the actress waiting for? Was she delaying telling Nick about her?
‘She won’t do that again,’ he added harshly. ‘Not if she wants to continue in this play.’
Danielle moistened suddenly dry lips. ‘You—threatened her?’
‘I warned her,’ he amended hardly.
It amounted to the same thing, and she knew the other woman wouldn’t have liked that one little bit. God, Danielle felt ill at what the actress could do to her, wanted to hide herself away until it was all over. But Nick had other ideas!
‘I’ll go and make our dinner while you sip a glass of wine,’ he decided.
‘I don’t—’
‘Forget about Audra’s vindictiveness, Danielle,’ he instructed from the kitchen doorway. ‘She’s vented her spite on me now, there’s nothing else she can do.’
If only that were true! Danielle obediently sipped the wine he brought her a few seconds later, could hear him moving about her kitchen preparing their meal, too numb to stop him, realising as she smelt the food cooking that she was hungry, having forgotten to eat all day.
There was a thick soup to start accompanied by French bread, followed by a tasty meat dish that Nick assured her was his mother’s secret recipe. ‘She only confided it to people she really liked,’ he added softly. ‘I have a feeling she would have liked you, Danielle.’
Colour entered her cheeks at his blatant flirting with her. ‘She’s dead?’ Danielle felt a little more relaxed after the delicious meal he had prepared for her, although she was still pale.
Nick nodded. ‘Several years ago. My father too. Let’s take our coffee through to the lounge and talk there,’ he suggested softly. ‘Unless you want some more food?’ he indicated the cheese neither of them had touched.
‘No, thank you,’ she followed him through to the other room, sipping the strong coffee he had made them. ‘Were you close to your parents?’
‘Very,’ he nodded.
‘I suppose being the only boy they expected a lot from you,’ she nodded.
His gaze sharpened. ‘What do you mean?’
She looked taken aback by his sudden abruptness after the lazy charm he had displayed throughout the meal. ‘Only that your career as head of the Andracas empire must have been a foregone conclusion,’ she explained in a puzzled voice.
‘Oh I see,’ he bit out. ‘Yes, I suppose it was,’ he visibly relaxed. ‘But I never resented it.’
‘Not many people would,’ she mocked.
He gave a slight smile. ‘I enjoyed walking in there today, especially seeing the expressions on the faces of my directors when they realised I wasn’t just making my usual fleeting visit,’ he added with relish. ‘They all began to look guilty of something even though they weren’t.’
‘Maybe they are,’ she taunted. ‘Maybe they’ve all been embezzling off you for years.’
‘Danielle,’ he spoke in a humouring tone. ‘I may not have been at my office every day but I can assure you I’ve known exactly what was going on in my company.’
She could tell that he had too, that even the playboy image she had accused him of had been a false one, that Nick Andracas would never be taken for a fool in any capacity, no matter how he seemed to treat life as a continual playground.
‘What sort of music do you like?’ with another one of his lightning changes of mood he strode across the room to look at her record collection. ‘Everything from Brahms to Duran Duran,’ he said admiringly. ‘Hm, I think we’ll put this one on.’
Danielle instantly recognised the LP cover as belonging to a collection of 10c.c. love songs. ‘I’ve appreciated your being here tonight, and making me dinner,’ she spoke quickly. ‘But it’s getting late now, and—’
‘It’s ten o’clock,’ he mocked as he put the LP on the stereo before standing up. ‘Even for you that has to be early.’ He came across the room to sit beside her on the sofa.
She was at once aware of how dangerous this situation had become, that her need earlier for a little sympathetic company could lead to disaster. ‘I think you had better go—’
‘And if I don’t want to,’ long fingers caressingly touched the hair at her nape.
‘This is my home, so it isn’t your choice,’ she told him stiffly.
‘What are you afraid of?’
‘Nothing,’ she snapped, knowing that at this moment she was frightened of—everything.
‘You’re a liar,’ his voice was husky against her ear. ‘I won’t hurt you, Danielle.’
She almost choked at the irony of that statement. Seven years ago she had been a light-hearted teenager, that had changed the moment she met Nick, and she hadn’t known a day’s real happiness in all the years since then. ‘Didn’t you read all of the article?’ she scorned. ‘According to them I don’t have a heart to hurt.’ Somehow the newspaper had managed to find one of the few men she had been out with the last few years, and he had told them how cold she was, how unemotional. ‘They seem to think we’re very well matched,’ she added with brittle humour, knowing how untrue that
was. This man had never had a heart to break, whereas hers had once broken into a thousand pieces. Was it any wonder it couldn’t be put back together again?
‘That man, the one they asked about you,’ Nick was so close now his breath warmed her throat. ‘Was he your lover?’
She gave him a pitying glance. ‘Isn’t the answer to that obvious?’ she derided.
‘The man was talking out of spite,’ Nick guessed, ‘because you turned him down.’
‘Yes.’
‘Have you ever had a lover?’
She stiffened at the question. ‘Of course,’ she rasped tightly. ‘This is the time of lovers and not commitment. I wouldn’t like to be unfashionable,’ she added with bitterness.
‘Then why—’
‘We’ve had this conversation before, Mr Andracas, many times,’ she cut in with a sigh. ‘And my answer is still the same, even if you have tried to clean up your image,’ she mocked.
His mouth quirked at her humour. ‘I have to admit that resuming control of my company was as much for my benefit as impressing you,’ he drawled.
‘More so,’ she taunted, aware that the wine and sweet music were acting like a narcotic on her senses, that her denial a few minutes ago of wanting an affair with him had lacked conviction. ‘Nick, I think you should—’
‘So do I,’ he murmured throatily, moving closer, his body warm against hers.
‘No, not that—!’ She tried to push him away as his lips grazed her throat before his teeth bit gently into her earlobe. ‘Please, not that …!’ she groaned weakly, a fierce longing enveloping her as she turned into his arms. ‘Oh, Nick,’ she melted against him with a feeling like coming home after being away for a very long time.
He took the gift of her mouth with a gentleness that reached into her bones, her lips parting to deepen the kiss, fire coursing through her as his tongue moved warmly into her mouth to probe and caress the moist erotica he found there. Like a flower that had been denied sustenance too long she opened up to him, quivering uncontrollably as his hand closed over her breast, the hardened peak of her nipple clearly discernible through the soft material of her camisole.
‘How long has it been for you?’ Nick groaned at her instant response to his caresses.
‘Too long!’ She shuddered in reaction as he pushed the camisole above her bare breasts, bending his head to put his mouth against one taut peak, taking the nipple fully into his parted lips as she arched against him, alternately kissing the rosy tip with his moist tongue before biting down on the sensitive nub, loving the feel of her trembling beneath him.
Danielle had no control over her reaction now, could only hold on tightly to the broadness of his shoulders as he transferred his attention to the other breast, her head thrown back as she writhed beneath him in spasms of pleasure so acute she thought she might explode with the sheer ecstasy of it.
She did exactly that as his hand moved to the mound beneath her denims, her eyes wide as pleasure wracked through her body like an exquisite flame.
She clung tightly to him as the spinning began to steady, as a warm lethargy settled over her body after such mindless ecstasy had claimed it, her face buried against his chest as he cradled her to him. ‘I’m sorry,’ she choked her shame over what had just happened. ‘I’m so sorry!’ she groaned.
‘It was beautiful, Danielle,’ his voice was gruff, his arms like steel bands about her, as if he feared she might try to escape him. ‘Anything that pleasures you couldn’t help but be.’
‘No, it was selfish. It was—’
‘Wonderful,’ he insisted gently. ‘No passion between two people can ever be called selfish.’
‘But you didn’t—Only I—’
‘This time,’ he nodded, his eyes a velvety grey at her embarrassed confusion. ‘This time was for you. But next time—’
‘No!’ she shook her head in sharp denial, pushing out of his arms. ‘There must never be a “next time”.’ She looked up at him with horror for what she had just allowed to happen.
‘Danielle—’
‘No, please,’ she evaded his arms, standing up, swaying in the aftermath of her passion. ‘This should never have happened—’
‘But it did,’ he pointed out gently, looking at her with narrowed eyes, his dark hair ruffled. ‘And I’m never going to forget that it did.’
It was completely the wrong thing to say in the circumstances; he had once forgotten her all to. easily! ‘I want you to go now,’ she told him stiltedly.
‘Danielle, don’t—’
‘Please!’
He gave a deep sigh, standing up slowly, his eyes still showing the depth of his own arousal. ‘Don’t hate me for what I just did, Danielle,’ he pleaded softly.
‘Hate you?’ she said with self-disgust. ‘I was the one who lost control.’
‘But you didn’t do it alone,’ he soothed gently. ‘I wanted to give you that pleasure.’
Yes, it had been Nick’s caresses that drove her to such wild abandon, as only his caresses ever had. But that only made her feel worse. What was happening to the hate she had had for him for so long, how could she hate a man and still feel such pleasure when in his arms? She was full of self-loathing for what she had done, for the ecstasy she had let Nick give her.
‘Get a good night’s sleep, Danielle,’ he encouraged throatily. ‘I’ll see you tomorrow.’
There was no point in saying no, Nick Andracas was a law unto himself, and he would do exactly as he pleased. She felt his lips against her forehead with numbed acceptance, hearing the door to her apartment close softly a few seconds later.
The sobs wracked through her body in fierce remorse as she fell weakly on to the sofa, crying until she had no more tears left, the sobs still shuddering through her body. She had sworn to herself that Nick would never make love to her again, and tonight she had broken that promise all too easily. She hated herself as much as she hated him!
The ringing of the telephone woke her the next morning, and she stumbled from her bed to answer it with a feeling of not being quite awake, as her father seemed to make no sense on the other end of the line.
‘You’ll have to talk slower and more calmly,’ she finally interrupted him. ‘I don’t understand what you’re saying.’
For a moment there was silence, then, ‘Have you seen a newspaper this morning?’ he probed gently.
She frowned groggily. ‘I’ve only just got out of bed, your call woke me.’
‘Oh God …!’ he groaned. ‘Darling, I’m coming over.’
‘Now?’
‘Right now!’
The last remnants of sleep left her at the deep concern in his voice. ‘Daddy, what is it? What’s happened?’ Panic began to engulf her.
‘I’ll be there as soon as I can,’ he promised before ringing off abruptly.
Danielle felt a terrible sense of forboding assail her. What could the newspapers have printed that had so disturbed her father? Could a reporter have possibly been lurking about outside her apartment last night as Nick left?
She was showered and dressed by the time her father rang the doorbell fifteen minutes later, shocked at how grey and drawn he was. ‘Daddy, what—’
‘Sit down, Ellie,’ he instructed firmly, striding over to her drinks cabinet to pour out a large measure of brandy.
Danielle had sat as soon as he told her to, but her eyes widened at his second move. ‘Isn’t it a little early in the day for you, Daddy?’ she prompted in a concerned voice.
‘It isn’t for me,’ he held the glass out in front of her. ‘It’s for you.’
‘Me …?’
‘Believe me, darling,’ he said grimly. ‘You’re going to need it.’
She continued to frown, taking the glass with shaking fingers. ‘Is it really that bad?’ she attempted lightness.
‘Just drink the brandy, Ellie,’ he encouraged softly. ‘Then we’ll talk.’
She swallowed a little of the brandy, feeling its warmth hit her empty stomach, briefly
wondering what it would make of its unusual breakfast this morning. ‘All right, Daddy,’ she looked up at him unflinchingly. ‘I’m ready now for whatever it is you want to tell me.’
‘I don’t want to tell you, Ellie,’ he told her regretfully. ‘But someone has to break the news, and I think it should be one of the family.’
‘Mummy—’
‘Is safely at home.’ He took a newspaper out of his jacket pocket. ‘Look at this, darling, and—and just remember that your mother and I were here for you then and we’re here for you now, that we always will be.’
His assurance only made her trepidation grow, and as she unfolded the newspaper she saw the reason for his obvious concern. The headline read, ‘Latest Andracas girlfriend in love-child riddle’.
She felt the colour drain from her face, her breathing suddenly shallow, her eyes moving avidly over the paper, the written article accompanying the headline spoke of a reliable source informing them of the illegitimate child she had given birth to several years ago. It claimed the father of the child was something she didn’t talk about, that it was even a big dark secret. It also wondered what her new lover thought of this love-child. Danielle had no need to guess at the identity of the ‘reliable source’, but at least Audra hadn’t realised that Nick had been the baby’s father!
Her father crouched down in front of her. ‘I’m sorry, Ellie. I have no idea how this trashy newspaper,’ he threw it angrily to one side, ‘got hold of such a story.’
Danielle was still too shaken to speak. She had known Audra was out for blood, but this, this was too much. The other woman had found the miniature of her beloved baby when she went through her private things in the jewellery box, had drawn her own conclusions about the blonde-haired baby, and told the newspapers about it out of spite.
‘Who could have done such a thing?’ her father asked darkly. ‘And why?’
She raised a shaking hand to her temple. ‘That doesn’t matter now, it’s done. I—Would you mind very much if I wanted to be alone now?’ she looked at him pleadingly, willing him to understand how much she needed to be on her own just now.
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