The Helen Bianchin Collection Read online

The thought of sitting through a formal dinner in the company of some of the city’s social glitterati was more than she could bear. ‘Forgive me, Alejandro,’ she said with bitter cynicism, ‘but I can’t bring myself to play pretend tonight.’ Her eyes sparkled with emerald brilliance. ‘I’m sure you can come up with some valid excuse that will explain my absence.’ A devilish imp prompted her to add, ‘Savannah will be delighted.’

  He looked at her for what seemed an age, his expression a compelling mask from which she inwardly shrank. ‘You tempt me to the brink of violence,’ he said in a voice that was so dangerously quiet it raised all her fine body-hairs in silent fear.

  Without a further word he discarded his clothes and strode into the bathroom. He didn’t slam the door, and she found that infinitely more disquieting than if he had resorted to an outward display of anger.

  Ten minutes later he emerged, a towel hitched low over his hips, and she moved hastily to her feet as he began to dress.

  ‘Ask Ana to prepare you something to eat.’

  ‘It’s her night off,’ Elise managed in a stilted voice. ‘I wouldn’t dream of disturbing her.’ She crossed to the door. ‘I’m quite capable of fixing something myself.’

  She didn’t wait for Alejandro to respond, and on reaching ground level she made her way to the kitchen.

  The refrigerator was well stocked, so too was the pantry. It was just a matter of making a decision. An omelette would suffice, with cheese, tomato, ham, mushrooms…Not that she felt in the least hungry. If anything, the thought of food made her ill.

  She removed a skillet, assembled the ingredients on the bench-top, then chopped, sliced and diced with methodical stoicism.

  Alejandro entered the kitchen as she turned the omelette on to a plate, and she willed her hands not to betray her as she turned down the gas.

  His raking appraisal unsettled her more than any words he could have chosen to utter, and she turned away from him as she carried her plate to the wide servery bench, then returned to collect cutlery.

  She sensed rather than heard him move, and seconds later she felt his hands close over her shoulders as he turned her towards him.

  For one achingly long moment their eyes clashed, then his head lowered in seemingly slow motion, and a strangled cry of dissent lay imprisoned in her throat as his mouth closed over hers in a hard merciless kiss that tore at her defences and reached right down to the depths of her soul.

  It became a ruthless invasion that bordered on violation, and when at last he lifted his head, she could only stand in shocked immobility. If he had wanted to punish her, he’d succeeded, she decided numbly.

  She felt raw, her whole body consumed by an emotional pain so intense that it was almost a tangible entity. Her eyes began to ache, then glistened with tears she refused to allow to fall.

  His features were harsh, and with a muttered imprecation he turned and strode from the kitchen.

  Minutes later she heard the muted sound of a car engine start up, then its refined purr diminished as it reached the end of the driveway.

  She hugged her arms together, and tried valiantly to maintain a measure of control.

  How long she stood there she had no idea, for she had no sense of the passage of time as she attempted to rationalise the foolishness of pitching her strength against a man whose physical and emotional strength were infinitely superior to her own.

  It was only the prosaic need for food that refocused her attention, and with determined resolve she collected cutlery and systematically divided the cold omelette into bite-sized portions, forking them automatically into her mouth.

  When she had finished, she cleaned the skillet, rinsed the plate and cutlery, and placed them in the dishwasher.

  The house seemed incredibly silent, the lounge much too large for her to sit in alone. Feeling thoroughly unsettled, she wandered into the informal sala, collected a magazine, and sank into one of the deep cushioned seats. The pages were not able to capture her interest, and she discarded the magazine, choosing instead to use the remote module to switch on the television. Surely there would be something she could become involved in, she thought with despair, as she clicked one channel after another.

  Two half-hour comedy shows provided some light relief, but her appreciation of the humour portrayed was only superficial, and when they were over she roved between the channels in search of a movie that might prove interesting.

  There was not much selection, and she crossed to the cabinet and browsed through the collection of videos, discarding all but one. It was a dark Gothic piece that had earned critical acclaim, but she found it too intense, and was quite pleased when the credits finally rolled.

  Elise crossed back into the kitchen and filled a glass with ice from the freezer, then added orange juice and slowly sipped the contents.

  What time would Alejandro come home? If he came home, a tiny voice taunted. Dammit, of course he would. He had never stayed out before, so why would he begin now?

  Maybe because you virtually gave him carte blanche to spend time with Savannah, the same tiny voice reminded her with devilish glee.

  A glance at her watch revealed it to be after ten, and with sudden decisiveness she finished the juice, then made for the stairs. She would have a shower, then go to bed.

  Twenty minutes later she slid beneath the cool linen sheets, snapped off the light, and closed her eyes.

  Sleep did not provide the release she craved, and half an hour later she gave a muttered groan and slid out of bed, choosing to curl up in a chair close to the curtain-draped window.

  How did one reconcile the heaven of loving Alejandro Santanas, and the resultant hell of knowing he could never love her? Elise reflected as she gazed sightlessly round the darkened room.

  Like a moth at a flame, she had been struck by the lightning of instant attraction, aware of the swift invasive pull of sheer physical desire, and engulfed by its powerful magnetism.

  By day she had fought him, hating him for being able to hold her captive to her own desire, hating herself for being so easily entrapped by the dictates of her own flesh…By night she lost the fight and revelled in the magic of his touch.

  Would it ever be any different between them? It had been, she reflected sadly. For six short weeks she had believed him to be a caring, loving husband. A man who had devoted all of his time to her, and shown her incredible tendresse.

  Had it been real? Or merely an act? She would probably never know.

  Oh, hell, she cursed, as her eyes filled and tears began to trickle down both cheeks. She hardly ever cried. Except when her father had died. Dammit, her hormones must be raging some sort of inner war with her emotional heart. To be this stricken with tears was crazy.

  Futile, she amended, timeless minutes later when she appeared all cried out. The spent emotion made her sleepy, and she snuggled deeper into the chair and rested her head in the curve of one arm.

  It was there Alejandro found her, and he stood for a long time looking down at the graceful arch of her slender neck illuminated by the bedside lamp, the softness of her hair as it clung to her neck, the slender curves beneath the simple white cotton nightgown. And the faint evidence of tears.

  Slowly he discarded his clothes, then he crossed back to the chair and carefully lifted her into his arms.

  Elise stirred, aware in the depths of her subconscious that something was different. Whereas the cushioned chair was softly padded, now there was the warmth of hard muscular flesh beneath her head. She was aware of a deep rhythmic heartbeat, and an arm curving her close against a long male body. Fingers traced a light transient pattern over her hair, and she felt the brush of lips against her temple.

  A soft sigh emerged from her lips, and almost in reflex action her arm crept out to encircle his waist.

  His mouth was beautifully chiselled, and she knew exactly how it felt against her own. Even thinking about it brought alive the flicker of desire, igniting from her central core and licking treacherously along every
nerve in her body.

  Of its own accord her head angled slightly, the soft curves of her mouth parting to accept a kiss that began with incredible gentleness. Teasing, provocative, and profoundly seductive.

  There was no thought of denying him, or herself, and she exulted in each caress, the overwhelming bewitching rapture as he guided her towards fulfilment—seismic, earth-shattering, a surrender to the sensual delights of passion.

  It was the one level on which they communicated. No discord, no sense of disappointment. Just beautiful intimacy. Sex, she corrected, all too aware of the difference.

  ‘Drop me anywhere along Oxford Street, José,’ Elise declared. ‘It’s a beautiful day, and I feel like walking.’

  The Pajero eased through the traffic-lights and pulled into a parking bay. ‘What time, and where shall I collect you?’

  ‘I’ll get a taxi back,’ she said lightly, unwilling to put a curfew on the day. Who knew how long lunch with Siobhan would extend? And besides, she might want to explore the shops for a while.

  ‘Perhaps you will ring when you are ready?’ José suggested on an anxious note. ‘Alejandro would insist.’

  Alejandro could insist all he liked! ‘I’ll let you know,’ she conceded, feeling only slightly guilty that she had no intention of calling José. She proffered a warm smile, then opened the door and stepped down on to the pavement, waiting only a few seconds after he pulled out into the traffic before making her way towards the next street.

  Siobhan was waiting for her, and they hugged each other as if it was years instead of several weeks since they had last seen each other.

  ‘You look fantastic,’ Siobhan declared as they entered the restaurant. The maître d’ took them to a table with views of the harbour, handed them each a menu, then left them to make a selection. ‘How is your hand?’

  They ordered mineral water, deliberated over what they would eat, ordered, then attempted to continue where they had left off the previous afternoon.

  Three hours later they shared the bill and wandered out into the fresh afternoon sunshine.

  ‘The shops?’ Siobhan hazarded with an irrepressible grin, laughing as Elise concurred with alacrity.

  It was after five when they parted, promising to phone to arrange another lunch together the following week.

  Taxis were in high demand, and the queue at the nearest rank was a lengthy one. Securing a taxi within half an hour looked to be impossible.

  Damn, Elise cursed, aware that she should have taken the peak hour into consideration. Maybe a rank in one of the neighbouring streets would offer her a better opportunity.

  It didn’t. If anything, it was even longer. There wasn’t much choice except to ring José.

  She reached into her bag, then made a wry grimace on discovering that she had left the compact mobile phone at home. Locating a telephone booth took several minutes, and she had to wait for two people in front of her to take their turn in making calls.

  Finally she got through, and the signal only sounded twice before the receiver was lifted from the hook. However, it wasn’t José, or even Ana, who answered, and her heart took on an agitated beat.

  ‘Where are you?’

  Alejandro sounded so coldly furious that it was all she could do not to snap back at him.

  ‘Downtown city. All the taxi ranks have horrendous queues.’

  He appeared to be summoning control, and his anger emanated down the line. ‘Where, precisely, Elise?’

  ‘Tell José I’ll wait in Elizabeth Street, the Park Street end.’

  However, it was the black Porsche which pulled into the kerb some thirty minutes later, not the Pajero.

  One glance at Alejandro’s harsh features was enough to determine that a battle was about to commence.

  Alejandro leaned across and opened the passenger door. ‘Get in.’ His voice sounded clipped, and Elise slid in beside him and fastened her seatbelt.

  It took the next change of lights before he could ease the Porsche ahead of the traffic, and their progress was hampered by the sheer number of vehicles vacating the city.

  ‘I planned on being home before now.’ It was a statement, not an apology.

  ‘Obviously.’

  Anger rose to the surface as she turned towards him. ‘Dammit, Alejandro, I won’t allow you to put me in a gilded cage!’

  Something flickered in the depth of his eyes. ‘My position in the business arena is well-reported in the Press.’ A muscle tensed at the edge of his jaw. ‘In today’s society there are a few fanatics who take pleasure in targeting those who lead a high-profile existence. Consequently, I take extreme care to ensure any possible risks are kept to a minimum.’ He spared her a dark glance, then returned his attention to negotiating the traffic. ‘Hence the necessity for security measures. The reason I insist you always carry a mobile phone, and each vehicle has a car phone. A need for someone—myself, Ana, José—to be aware of your whereabouts. For protection. Not restriction.’

  She lifted a hand in angry agitation. ‘If I’d had my own car, this wouldn’t have happened.’

  He didn’t say anything. He had no need, Elise decided darkly as the car cleared the city confines and traversed Bayswater Road. The traffic thinned slightly as they reached Double Bay, and ten minutes later the Porsche swung through the wide double gates at the entrance to the Point Piper mansion.

  The garage doors lifted at a touch from Alejandro’s remote module, then the car slid into place between the Pajero and a stunning red topof-the-range Mercedes sedan.

  ‘Yours,’ Alejandro told her as she cast it an admiring glance.

  Her stomach executed a slow flip, and she turned slowly towards him. ‘You bought it for me?’

  His expression was unfathomable. ‘José will take you for a test-drive tomorrow.’ He unclipped his belt and slid out from behind the wheel.

  Elise did likewise, pausing long enough to run tentative fingers over the red satin-smooth paintwork. ‘It’s beautiful,’ she said quietly and, taking a step towards him, she reached up and placed a fleeting kiss on the edge of his chin. ‘Thank you.’

  His mouth curved to form a wry smile, and his eyes assumed a darkness she found impossible to fathom.

  ‘Your hand,’ Alejandro asked quietly. ‘How does it feel now the bandages and plaster have been removed?’

  ‘A little strange. Stiff,’ she elaborated with a slight shrug. ‘Physiotherapy helps.’

  ‘Shall we go indoors? Ana will be waiting to serve dinner.’

  She needed to freshen up, and use the bathroom. ‘Give me ten minutes.’

  Elise took time to change into silk trousers and a matching top, then ran a brush through her hair. A quick slash of pink restored colour to her lips.

  Her expression was vaguely pensive as she joined Alejandro in the dining-room, and she spooned her soup with little real appetite and merely picked at the tender beef with its accompanying vegetables.

  ‘Not hungry?’

  Elise looked at him carefully, examining the strong bone-structure, the assemblage of muscle and skin that moulded his features into compelling attractiveness.

  Before the accident she would not have had the least compunction about beginning an argument with him. Not only that, she would have delighted in doing battle, exulting when she succeeded in rousing his temper. It was madness, because she could never win against him.

  Now she seemed hell-bent on following a similar path. His brand of caring during their time together at Palm Beach, his tender affection, had wreaked havoc with her emotional heart. Worse, it had destroyed the very core of her resentment.

  ‘No,’ she answered at last, pushing her plate to one side.

  ‘Have some fruit.’

  Elise looked at the selection Ana had placed in the bowl, then shook her head. She reached for her glass, miscalculated, and water pooled across the table.

  ‘Oh, hell,’ she said shakily as she collected a napkin and began mopping up the excess. What was wrong with her, for hea
ven’s sake?

  ‘Leave it.’

  She rose to her feet. ‘I’ll get another napkin.’

  ‘Leave it, Elise,’ Alejandro commanded silkily. Stupid tears pricked her eyes, and she blinked furiously in an effort to prevent them from spilling over. Any second now she’d make a fool of herself, and that would never do.

  She moved from the table and had taken three steps when a hand closed over her arm.

  ‘Let me go. Please,’ she begged in bleak despair, hating the degree of vulnerability evident as he tilted her chin.

  ‘When you tell me what is disturbing you.’

  She closed her eyes against the sight of him, then slowly opened them again. ‘I didn’t deliberately stay in the city in order to cause you concern.’

  ‘I wasn’t aware I implied that you had.’ He cupped her face between both hands and brushed a thumb-pad across one cheek.

  Dear heaven, why did she feel so acutely sensitive where he was concerned? A few days ago she wouldn’t have thought it possible that she would find it imperative to offer him any explanation or proffer an apology. Now she was doing both.

  However, soul-searching wouldn’t achieve anything, for there was no easy resolution.

  ‘Thanks for the car,’ she managed unevenly, and glimpsed his faint smile as he watched the fleeting emotions chase across her expressive features.

  ‘What good manners you have, mi mujer,’ he drawled. ‘I shall look forward to a more—passionate shall we say?—expression of your gratitude.’

  It took considerable effort to keep the pain from her voice. ‘Payment in sexual favours?’ she queried, and saw his eyes darken.

  ‘You little fool,’ Alejandro responded with deadly softness as his mouth fastened over hers in a kiss that was meant to punish.

  A silent cry of impassioned entreaty remained locked in her throat, and it seemed an age before he lifted his head.

  His eyes speared hers, and she became trapped beneath the degree of latent sensuality evident, a primeval recognition that had everything to do with the senses.

  Her mouth quivered, its soft curves faintly swollen from the ruthless force of his own, and she cried out a single negation as he swept her effortlessly into his arms.