CHAPTER EIGHT

      EVE gasped, tugging to free her hand, the fight-or-flight instinct telling her to get out while she still could, but Leo wasn’t about to let her go, his grip tightening until she felt her hand was encased in steel. ‘This is your fault.’ He leaned over and whispered in her ear as Eric Culshaw bounded towards them, beaming from ear to ear. ‘Remember that.’ And then he straightened and even managed to turn on a smile, although his eyes were anything but relaxed. She could almost hear the brain spinning behind them.

      ‘Eric,’ Leo said, his velvet voice all charm on the surface, springloaded with tension beneath. ‘What a surprise. I thought you were taking Maureen out.’

      He grunted. ‘She spotted some article in a woman’s magazine—you know the sort of thing—and grew herself a headache.’ He shook his head. ‘Sordid bloody affair. You’d think the reporters could find something else to amuse themselves with by now.’ And then he huffed and smiled. ‘Which makes you two a sight for sore eyes.’ His eyes fell on the dozing child in her arms. ‘Although maybe I should make that three. Who’s this little tacker, then?’

      Almost as if aware he was being discussed, Sam stirred and swung his head round, blinking open big dark eyes to check out this latest stranger.

      ‘This is Sam,’ Eve said, her tongue feeling too big for her mouth as she searched for things she could tell him that wouldn’t add to the lie tally. ‘He’s just turned eighteen months.’

      Culshaw grinned at the child and Sam gave a wary smile in return before burying his head back in his mother’s shoulder, which made the older man laugh and reach out a hand to ruffle his hair. ‘Good-looking boy. I thought you two were playing things a bit close to the chest last night. When were you going to tell us?’

      Eve felt the ground lurch once more beneath her feet. Eric thought Sam was theirs? But, then, of course he would. They were supposed to have been a couple for more than two years and Sam’s father was of Italian descent. It would be easy to mistake Sam’s dark eyes and hair for Leo’s. Why would they question it?

      But she couldn’t let them keep thinking it. Weren’t there enough lies between them already?

      ‘Actually,’ she started, ‘Sam—’

      Her efforts earned her a blazing look from Leo. ‘Eve doesn’t like to give too much away,’ he said, smiling at Eric, glancing back in her direction with a look of cold, hard challenge.

      Suddenly Maureen was there too, looking pale and strained, her mood lifting when she saw Sam, clucking over him like he was a grandchild rather than the child of someone she’d only just met.

      ‘You didn’t tell us you had such an adorable little boy,’ she admonished, already engaging Sam in a game of peek-a-boo before holding out her hands to take him.

      ‘Some people wouldn’t approve,’ Eve offered stiffly, ignoring Leo’s warning glare as she handed Sam over, then adding because of it, ‘I mean, given the fact we’re not married and all.’

      ‘Nonsense,’ Eric said, pinching Sam’s cheek. ‘There’s no need to rush things, not these days.’

      Leo smiled, his eyes glinting triumphantly as Maureen settled into a chair and jogged Sam up and down on her knees, making him chuckle.

      ‘So,’ said Eric, following his wife’s lead and pulling up a chair, and soon demanding equal time with Sam, ‘I assume Sam explains the “family reasons” you weren’t going to be able to join us on the island?’

      Eve dropped into a chair, feeling like she was being sucked deeper and deeper into a web of deceit. Leo must have warned them she might not be coming and used one of the excuses she’d suggested.

      ‘That was my fault, Eric,’ he said coolly. ‘I figured that a toddler was hardly conducive to contract deliberations.’

      ‘He can be very disruptive,’ she added. ‘Especially when he’s out of his routine. You wouldn’t believe what a handful he can be.’

      ‘What, this little champion?’ Bouncing the laughing toddler on his knee with such delight until it was impossible to work out who was laughing the most, Eric or Sam, as the toddler got the horsy ride of his life. ‘You must come,’ he said, slowing down to take a breather.

      ‘More,’ demanded Sam, bouncing up and down. ‘More!’

      Culshaw laughed and obliged, though at a much gentler pace. ‘You will come, won’t you? After all, it’s hardly fair to keep you two apart when you barely get to see each other as it is. You will love it, I promise. Tropical island paradise. Your own bungalow right on the beach. We’ll organise a cot for Sam and a babysitter to give you a real break. I imagine you don’t get too many of those, working for Leo and looking after this little chap. How does that sound?’

      Eve tried to smile, not sure she’d succeeded when the ground beneath her felt so unsteady. ‘It does sound lovely.’ And it did. A few days on a tropical island paradise with nothing more to do than swim or read or sip drinks with tiny umbrellas. The bungalow probably even had hot running water. Except she’d be sharing that bungalow with him. ‘It’s just that—’

      ‘Oh, please,’ Maureen added, putting her hand on Eve’s arm. ‘Last night was the best time I’ve had for ages. I know it’s asking a terrible lot of everyone and disrupting everyone’s schedules, but right now it would mean so very much to me.’

      ‘Of course they’ll come,’ she heard Leo say, ‘won’t you, Eve?’

      And finally the unsteady ground she’d felt shifting under her feet the last few days opened up and swallowed her whole.

      A smiling flight attendant greeted them, cooing over Sam, as Eve carried him on her hip into the jet. Eve just nodded in return, weariness combining with a simmering resentment. As far as she was concerned, this was no pleasure trip and she certainly wasn’t happy about how she’d been manipulated into coming.

      And then she stepped into the plane and found even more reason to resent the man behind her. It looked more like a luxury lounge room than any plane interior she’d ever seen before, the cabin filled not with the usual rows and rows of narrow seats and plastic fittings and overhead lockers but a few scattered wide leather armchairs with timber cabinet work trimmed with bronze. Beyond the lounge area a door led to what must be more rooms and Eve caught a glimpse of a dining table with half a dozen chairs in a recessed alcove.

      So much wealth. So much to impress. Leo Zamos seemed to have everything.