The Marriage Possession. HELEN BIANCHIN
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just entered the large lounge area, followed, Lisane saw, by Leo Fabrisi, his wife, Charmaine, and their daughter, Allegra.
Two brilliant judges married to two equally qualified solicitors, who had each borne a child destined to follow in their footsteps into law.
There was little doubt the coupling of Zac Winstone with Allegra Fabrisi would make a perfect match. Or that both sets of parents were intent on actively encouraging it. Allegra made no secret that snaring Zac was her prime focus.
Tonight the glamorous barrister had chosen a designer gown in sinful black which hugged her tautly honed curves like a second skin. Long, gleaming hair the colour of rich sable cascaded in loose waves halfway down her back, and even from this distance her make-up resembled perfection.
Wonderful.
Lisane couldn’t compete. Her budget didn’t allow for the purchase of designer originals, or the Manolo Blahnik or Jimmy Choo stilettos that inevitably graced Allegra’s slender feet. And her jewellery was limited to a diamond pendant and matching ear-studs she’d inherited from her mother.
Fortunately, her talents included the skillful use of a sewing machine, and she doubted even the most observant society maven would spot that the exquisite gown in floral silk she wore had been fashioned by her own hand.
Muted music provided a pleasant background to the social chatter abounding among numerous patrons in the large lobby, and Zac’s progress was frequently stalled as they paused to speak with a friend or associate.
Lisane briefly entertained the uncharitable thought that they might escape detection for a while longer, and thus delay a confrontation with the Winstone and Fabrisi parents.
Fat chance.
She watched with detached fascination as Zac’s elegantly attired mother caught sight of her son, and began leading the group of five towards him.
‘Darling.’ Allegra stepped in close and pressed glossy lips to Zac’s cheek. ‘We’re a little late.’ Her mouth performed a pretty teasing pout. ‘Traffic.’ Dark, eloquently warm eyes assumed a cool tinge as she acknowledged the young woman at his side. ‘Lisane.’
She bore Allegra’s studied appraisal with a practised smile before greeting each set of parents with a politeness gained from instilled good manners.
Wealth and social position lent that certain indefinable air some people exuded with an inborn ease acquired almost from birth. Maximilian Winstone, or Max, as he preferred to be known, could trace his ancestors back several centuries to an era of obscene wealth, enormous holdings and a social position almost second to none.
‘Go fetch some champers, darling.’ Allegra issued Zac the directive with a seductive look that was definite overkill. ‘I need something to kick-start the evening.’
There were waiters and waitresses in abundance. Zac merely lifted a hand to catch attention, and within seconds a waiter bearing a tray of filled champagne flutes moved to their group.
Allegra wrinkled her perfectly shaped nose. ‘Not, I think, the house variety.’ She placed a beautifully lacquered nail on Zac’s arm. ‘Shall we adjourn to the bar?’
‘We’re about to be seated.’ His voice was even, yet there was a warning hint beneath the surface.
One Allegra chose to ignore.
‘There’ll be at least thirty minutes of boring speeches before they serve the first course. We’ve plenty of time.’
Lisane felt her body tense. For what? An intimate têteà-tête? To cause a temporary division between her and Zac?
She should be used to Allegra’s ploys, for they occurred at frequent intervals and without doubt were deliberately orchestrated to diminish Lisane’s existence in Zac’s life.
It was a relief to see the ballroom doors swing open, and they joined the mingling guests entering the large room.
Polite, superficially pleasant conversation tempered the evening, and the addition of a further three guests at their table provided some light relief from Allegra’s not so subtle attempts to command Zac’s attention.
The food was superb, although Allegra barely sampled a morsel from each course while sipping Cristal champagne.
Discretion and client privilege ensured that only generalities within the legal system were discussed, and Lisane did her best to appear interested in Charmaine and Allegra’s recount of a recent shopping expedition in Sydney, where it seemed Allegra had been intent on adding to her collection of expensive shoes and bags.
‘Prada, darling,’ Allegra extolled. ‘And the most gorgeous Louis Vuitton.’ She subjected Lisane to a sweeping appraisal. ‘Your gown. Is it a Collette Dinnigan?’
I wish! ‘D’Aubigne.’ It was her late mother’s maiden name, and one she felt entitled to use.
An eyebrow slanted in overt puzzlement. ‘I’m not familiar with the label.’
‘It’s French,’ Lisane enlightened solemnly.
‘Of course. One can tell from the superb craftsmanship.’
Lisane restrained the desire to smile. Allegra was completely unaware she’d inadvertently gifted a compliment.
It was almost a relief when the evening drew to a close. Allegra’s attempts to monopolise Zac’s attention had moved Lisane from mild amusement to irritation. Had the beautiful barrister no scruples?
Don’t answer that!
The ‘goodnight’ process took a while, and Lisane felt her tension ease as she slid into the passenger seat of Zac’s sleek Jaguar shortly before midnight.
Thank heavens for the weekend. It would allow time to put the finishing touches to the kitchen trim, then mid-week, when the laquer paint had hardened, she could hang the lace curtains.
The cottage was gradually coming together. She adored the homely country-style furniture and refurbishing she’d chosen. It suited the one-hundred-year-old wooden structure, and she’d painstakingly polished the wooden floors, added rugs and wall-hangings in cross-stitch and tapestry.
She could walk indoors and feel at peace with her surroundings. Her plans for the garden were underway, a vegetable patch already yielding some fine produce; and while she still had some work to complete in the flower borders, there was time to bring it to its full potential.
Tomorrow, after a lingering breakfast at one of the city’s pavement cafés, Zac would deliver her home.
Tonight…what remained of the night was theirs.
Just the thought of how it would end caused her heartbeat to accelerate and heat to course through her veins.
Gentle fingers brushed her cheek, almost as if he sensed what she was thinking, and she covered his hand with her own for a few timeless seconds before releasing it to offer him a lingering smile.
The Jaguar swept down into the underground car park beneath the tall city apartment building and came to a smooth halt in Zac’s designated space.
He took hold of her hand as they entered the lift and buried his lips in her palm. His eyes were almost black, and she was willing to swear her bones began to melt at the degree of emotion reflected in those dark depths.
She needed to have his mouth on hers…his hands on her body, moulding each sensitised breast, exploring pleasure pulses, bringing her sensual heart alive and aching…for him, only him.
The lift slid to a halt, and minutes later they entered Zac’s luxurious apartment. Floor-to-ceiling glass provided a panoramic view of the city, myriad lights and bright neon winking against an indigo sky.
It was a sight which never failed to enchant her, and she crossed to the tempered glass and gazed beyond the cityscape to the darkened outline of distant hills.
There was piped background music cued in low, courtesy of