Contracted For The Petrakis Heir. Annie West
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of a dress.
A niggling sensation started up in his belly. He couldn’t place it but it reminded him of the nerves he’d felt the first time he’d gone, virtually penniless, to beg for a loan to start his business. When he’d had nothing to recommend him but his bright ideas and determination to succeed or die trying. Anything to prove to Vassili Petrakis that the son he’d disinherited was a man to be reckoned with.
The memory of that day halted him, mid-stride. His frown became a scowl. Nothing could compare to the way he’d felt that day.
Yet that curious, unsettled feeling persisted.
His stride lengthened as he headed down the corridor, checking out each room as he went. She was nowhere to be found. He paced the sitting room. Hadn’t she left her shoes beside the couch? Hadn’t her purse been there too?
‘Alice?’ He swung round, taking in the unmistakable emptiness.
She’d gone. Not just gone, but run away without a word.
Unbelievable! No woman had ever done that before.
He didn’t like it.
Adoni retraced his steps, his brow furrowed as he tried to work out why she’d run.
Embarrassment? It seemed unlikely, given the conversation they’d had and her enthusiasm for sex. Heat stirred anew at the memory of Alice, abandoned with rapture. It had felt like the first real moment in this long, trying day. He’d even had someone trying to sell him real estate over the wedding dinner.
Adoni stood in the bedroom doorway, scanning the room as if it could provide a clue to her bizarre behaviour. In his experience women were far more likely to hang around long after you wished they’d left than go too early. Most had that greedy look in their eyes. The one that said they lusted after his body or his money or probably both.
Unease filled him. Was Alice capable of looking after herself alone in London late at night? Should he follow her? She wasn’t drunk any more, he’d never have taken her to bed if she was, but—
His thoughts halted as he spied his wallet on the floor. When he’d shed his clothes it had still been in the pocket of his trousers. Now it lay, splayed open, beside the bed. The side of the bed where Alice had lain, exhausted and emotional.
Apparently exhausted and emotional. For now he stepped closer Adoni saw that not only was his wallet open but one of his credit cards was tugged out of its slot.
He blinked, mind cataloguing the implication of the open wallet. Yet something, a part of him that hankered after the illusion of an honest woman, protested he couldn’t be seeing what he thought.
Adoni picked up the wallet and sank onto the bed. How much cash had been in there earlier? He flicked through the notes. Nothing was obviously missing. But that didn’t mean she hadn’t helped herself to some.
Of more concern was that she’d obviously been rifling his credit cards. They were all there; she hadn’t stolen them.
But maybe she’d made a note of the numbers and security data to use later? She could even have taken an imprint. Who knew what she carried in her bag?
Adoni leaned back against the bedhead, torn between disbelief and anger at himself for being so easily gulled. Women had tried to inveigle their way into his life in so many ways, he’d thought himself awake to them all. Yet he’d allowed Alice Trehearn to slip under his guard.
If that was even her name. Now he thought about it, it sounded a little too sweet and old-fashioned. Made up to allay suspicion?
He raked a hand through his hair. What a bloody fool he’d been! Thinking with his penis while she’d been busy scheming to get her grimy fingers on his money.
You’d think, by thirty-one, he’d be awake to such schemes. Especially given his history. A mother who’d lied shamelessly to both her husband and her son. A fiancée who’d fooled Adoni into believing she loved him then dropped him the moment he was disinherited.
As for the man he’d once called Father...
Truly, it was remarkable Adoni had allowed himself to be conned. He’d learned the hard way not to take people at face value.
Until tonight when a slip of a girl with an endearing smile, an owlish stare and a voracious sensuality had blindsided him.
His mind clicked back to that heady rush of primal, masculine possessiveness. That first slow thrust to Alice’s silken core, when she’d felt as tight and untried as he imagined a virgin would be. Then she’d looked up with wonder in her glazed eyes and something had beaten hard and insistent in his chest. Pleasure and a primitive satisfaction that made him feel as sophisticated as a caveman.
He’d even believed, when her breath caught and her whole body stilled, that perhaps she was a complete innocent. Until her fingers dug into his buttocks and she demanded ‘More!’ in that husky little voice that was the most potent aphrodisiac he knew. That had banished the strange moment of fantasy.
Adoni’s jaw set. He supposed he should be thankful he hadn’t taken longer in the bathroom. If he had he was sure his wallet and his credit cards would have been exactly where he’d left them and he wouldn’t have realised Alice was a thief till large sums disappeared from his accounts.
Alice Trehearn was just another gold-digger who’d set her sights on his fortune.
He breathed out hard, shoulders rising and falling in self-disgust that he’d actually fallen for her scam. She’d better look out if their paths crossed again. He wouldn’t fall for her wiles a second time.
He reached for the phone. It was time to cancel his credit cards.
* * *
‘Sensitive breasts. That was the first sign.’ The woman’s whisper penetrated the hum of the crowded café. ‘Even when I just crossed my arms.’
Alice paused, feeling her eyes widen at the empty cups and plates she was clearing from a nearby table. Her own breasts had felt sensitive for the last couple of days.
Out of all the customer conversations in the room, her tired brain would snag on that one. Any minute now she’d hear that the woman had since been diagnosed with a weird flu or some horrible life-threatening illness. Alice did not need to hear that. She couldn’t afford time off with illness. She had enough trouble making ends meet.
She blinked and tried to focus on her task, wrinkling her nose at the half-drunk coffee she loaded onto her tray. For some reason the scent of coffee, one she usually adored, seemed downright unpleasant today.
‘I didn’t have that at all.’ Another woman spoke. ‘My first sign was cigarette smoke. Every time Jake lit up I gagged. I made him quit smoking, which is just as well when you think about it. But it wasn’t just cigarettes. Coffee too. I couldn’t bear the smell.’
Alice froze, her arm outstretched towards a cake plate.
Was this some hoax? Was she being set up in an elaborate joke?
She shook her head. Tiredness was confusing her. She’d spoken to no one about either of those strange symptoms. It was just coincidence.
Briskly, telling herself she wasn’t listening, she finished stacking the tray.
‘And of course that led to morning sickness.’ It was the second voice again. ‘You don’t know how lucky you were to miss out on that.’
Alice felt the hairs on her nape lift, one by one, till her flesh drew tight. She took a slow, calming breath, its effect spoiled as another waitress walked by with a load of coffees. Alice inhaled the fumes and swallowed convulsively.
She felt clammy now, as if her skin was too tight for her body. Perspiration popped out on her hairline and she swayed.
It took an enormous effort to straighten, supporting the laden tray, and turn towards the kitchen. As she did her gaze turned to the pair who’d been speaking. Both were young and healthy-looking.