Mediterranean Tycoons. JACQUELINE BAIRD
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cup of coffee from the tray before the waiter had a chance to hand it to her. Lounging on the sofa to the left of her was Leo, a huge cigar clamped between his teeth, and the stomach-curling smell as he blew smoke out was making her feel sick. At least that was what she told herself as she quickly drained her coffee cup and leapt to her feet, excusing her departure with the need to visit the rest room.
In the cool confines of the marble-walled room, she heaved a sigh of relief. But it was short-lived, as Fiona walked in. With a brief smile at the other woman, Lisa opened her purse and withdrew a lipgloss. She eyed her reflection in the mirror; there was nothing in her expression, she thought gratefully, that revealed the fraught state of her emotions. The social mask was still in place, and carefully she outlined her full mouth with the rose gloss.
‘Funny to think after this weekend I will be your stepmother-in-law,’ Fiona remarked, standing beside Lisa at the mirror, primping her dark hair. Her brown eyes clashed with Lisa’s in the mirror. ‘And I’m only a year or so older than you.’
More like ten, Lisa thought, but didn’t say so. ‘Yes, well, I don’t suppose you’ll want me to call you Mum.’ She responded with a tinge of sarcasm. She found it very hard to believe Fiona was marrying Leo for any other reason but money.
‘Good God! No! But there’s no reason why we can’t be friends, you and I, after all, we have a lot in common,’ Fiona said with a smug grin. ‘The way you hooked Alex was absolutely brilliant.’
‘The way I hooked Alex?’ Lisa prompted, her blue eyes puzzled. She had not ‘hooked Alex’; it had been the other way round.
Oblivious to Lisa’s surprise, Fiona carried on, ‘So quickly. I couldn’t have done better myself. Well, I didn’t, did I?’ She grimaced. ‘But I’ve got Leo. Though I don’t mind admitting when I met the pair of them in March, at Leo’s sixtieth birthday in Nice, I had every intention of going after Alex. It was obvious to me—feminine intuition, if you like—that he was fast losing interest in that Margot creature. He was distinctly cool towards her. No, if I hadn’t had to go to the Caribbean on a modelling assignment, I would have given you a run for your money over Alex. Still, Leo’s not too bad—and, let’s face it, they’re both as rich as Croesus.’
‘But surely you must love Leo,’ Lisa prompted. To think a woman was marrying for money was one thing; to be told she was seemed quite extraordinary to Lisa.
‘Oh, I do. I love his money, and he’s not a bad old stick.’ With a last casual flick at her hair she turned to leave. ‘Come on, we’d better get back. You can’t leave a couple of wealthy men like those two on their own for too long, there are a lot of predatory women out there.’
Lisa chuckled; she couldn’t help herself. Anyone more predatory than Fiona would be hard to find. She followed the other woman back to the lounge and her blue-eyed gaze instinctively settled on Alex.
He was the epitome of male sophistication, lounging back on the deep leather sofa, his long legs stretched out before him in casual ease. The man was sinfully attractive. A tiny shiver of excitement quivered deep inside. And, as she knew only too well, he was a deeply passionate and wickedly sensual lover. Fiona was wrong about the pulling power of the Solomos wealth, she thought, a wry smile curving her mouth as Alex stood up at her approach. He could be a pauper and he would still have women falling at his feet.
‘You’re smiling; you must be feeling better.’ Dark eyes scrutinised her slightly flushed face. ‘But I think it is time we left.’ He lifted a large tanned hand and let his fingertip trace the purple shadows under her eyes in a fleeting gesture that made her whole body tense. ‘Okay?’
Lisa looked up into his eyes, the smile fading from her face. It wasn’t okay, but she really had no alternative. ‘Yes,’ she agreed, and managed not to flinch when his dark head lowered and he pressed the lightest of kisses on her soft lips.
After reiterating their congratulations on Leo’s forthcoming nuptials, they said goodnight and left.
Lisa stepped outside into the mild night air, and took a deep breath to clear her head and to steady her wildly fluctuating emotions. She loved Alex; he only had to look at her and she ached for him. To deny him was to deny herself the wonder of his lovemaking, the pleasure she found in his arms. Yet she no longer trusted him.
The doorman was holding open the door of a black cab and Alex, with a hand in the small of her back, was urging her forward. She slid along the seat and Alex followed, casually placing a long arm around her slender shoulders. She immediately shuffled further along the seat. Alex cast her a sidelong glance, one brow arched quizzically, but he made no comment as he simply hauled her back against him. Leaning forward, he instructed the driver on their destination.
The warmth of his large male body, the subtle scent of his cologne all conspired to break down her reservations about their relationship. As Alex sat back, his glance lingered for a moment on the long length of her legs. She attempted to pull the hem of her dress lower and he chuckled, leaning his head back against the seat.
‘You did that the very first time I set eyes on you. Not still shy, Lisa?’ he teased.
‘Not at all,’ she denied, but felt foolish. But then most women were foolish where love was concerned, she thought sadly, unless one happened to be like the Fionas of this world; unfortunately for Lisa, she wasn’t. Sighing, she let her head fall back; she was tired, and with Alex’s warm hand cupping her bare shoulder, his thumb gently kneading the back of her neck, she gradually felt the tension ease from her body. Why fight it? she asked herself. If Alex had married her to get Lawson’s, she would find out soon enough. Meanwhile, why not enjoy her marriage while it lasted? After Alex she knew she would never marry any another man. A soft sigh escaped her and she allowed her head to rest on his broad shoulder, and he held her in a comfortable silence as the cab navigated the London streets.
It was only when they entered the private elevator which would take them to the penthouse that Lisa felt the tension returning. She glanced at Alex as he pressed the requisite button and the metal doors slid shut, closing them into the luxuriously carpeted box. ‘How do you feel about your father’s up-coming marriage?’ she asked, more to break the silence than out of any real curiosity, as the elevator whisked them ever nearer the apartment, and the bedroom…
Alex flicked her a glance. ‘Don’t be concerned; I am not,’ he drawled in a dry, mocking tone. ‘I gave up worrying about my father years ago.’
‘You don’t mind he’s marrying a woman younger than you.’
‘Why should I? We will hardly ever see them,’ Alex responded dismissively.
The elevator doors swung open and she flinched as Alex reached for her arm and guided her across the hallway to the apartment. ‘But he is your father…’ she insisted.
‘Drop it,’ he snapped as he opened the door and ushered her into the apartment.
‘Aren’t you worried about him? You must care for him.’
Closing the door behind him, Alex said bluntly, ‘It is really not your concern, Lisa. Now, do you want a nightcap, or shall we go straight to bed?’
His response simply confirmed her judgement of the man. Alex did not even care for his father, so what hope had she of him genuinely caring for her? None! She didn’t want a drink, but neither did she want to go to bed—at least not with Alex. Or so she told herself. ‘I’ll have a very small cognac.’
Dropping her purse on the hall table, she kicked off her shoes before following him into the living room. She watched as he crossed to the drinks cabinet and poured a small amount of cognac into a crystal glass, and then twice as much of the liquor into another glass. Turning around, he closed the distance between them, a glass in each hand. He held out the smaller measure to her. As she took it, her fingers brushed against his.
She resented the way a simple touch set her pulse racing, and, glancing up at him, she resented even more the way he knew exactly how she felt. She wanted to rage at him, demand to know about his deal with Nigel. She needed to know the truth.