Latin Lovers. Helen Bianchin
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thousand pieces. Special, a tiny voice taunted. So special, the mere thought of him sharing his body with someone else caused her physical pain.
‘Good sex?’ Carlo persisted dangerously.
Her stance altered slightly, and her eyes assumed a new depth and intensity. ‘Presumably not good enough.’ she declared bravely.
It was possible to see the anger build, and she watched with detached fascination as the fingers of each hand clenched into fists, watched the muscles bunch at the edge of his jaw, the slight flaring of nostrils, and the darkening of his eyes.
He uttered a husky oath, and she said with deliberate facetiousness, ‘Flattery isn’t appropriate.’
Something moved in the depths of his eyes. An emotion she didn’t care to define.
‘Nina,’ Carlo vented emotively, ‘has a lot to answer for.’
Didn’t she just! ‘On that, at least, we agree.’
‘Let’s get this quite clear,’ he said with dangerous quietness. ‘You have my vow of fidelity, just as I have yours. Understood?’
She wanted to lash out, then pick up something and smash it. The satisfaction would be immensely gratifying.
‘Aysha?’ he prompted with deadly quietness, and she forced herself to respond.
‘Even given that Nina is a first-class bitch, I find it a bit too much of a coincidence for you both to be in Melbourne at the same time, staying in the same hotel, the same floor.’ Aysha drew in a deep breath. ‘Photographic proof bears considerable weight, don’t you think?’
He could have shaken her within an inch of her life. For having so little faith in him. So little trust.
‘Did it not occur to you to consider it strange that a photographer just happened to be in the hotel lobby at the time Nina and I entered it... coincidentally together? Or that her suite and mine were very conveniently sited opposite each other?’ It hadn’t taken much pressure to discover Nina had bribed the booking receptionist to reshuffle bookings. ‘Perhaps a little too convenient the same photographer was perfectly positioned to take a shot Nina had very carefully orchestrated?’
‘You were kissing her!’
‘Correction,’ he drawled with deliberate cynicism. ‘She was kissing me.’
Nina’s words rose to the forefront of Aysha’s mind. Vicious, damaging, and incredibly pervasive. ‘Really? There didn’t seem a marked degree of distinction to me.’
He extended his hands as if to catch hold of her shoulders, only to let them fall to his sides. ‘A few seconds either way of that perfectly timed shot, and the truth would have been clearly evident.’
‘According to Nina,’ Aysha relayed bitterly, ‘you represent the ultimate prize in the most suitable husband quest. Rich, handsome, and, as reputation has it...a lover to die for.’ Her smile was a mere facsimile. ‘Her words, not mine.’
Something fleeting darkened his eyes. A quality that was infinitely ruthless.
‘An empty compliment, considering it’s completely false.’
The celluloid print of that kiss rose up to haunt her. ‘A willing, voluptuous female well-versed in every sexual trick in the book.’ Her eyes swept his features, then focused on the unwavering depth of those dark eyes. ‘You mean to say you refused what was so blatantly offered?’ It took considerable effort to keep her voice steady. ‘How noble.’
Carlo reached forward and caught hold of her chin, increasing the pressure as she attempted to twist out of his grasp.
‘Why would I participate in a quick sexual coupling with a woman who means nothing to me?’
He was almost hurting her, and her eyes widened as he slid a hand to her nape and held it fast.
‘A moment’s aberration when your libido took precedence?’ she sallied, hating the way his cologne teased her nostrils and began playing havoc with her equilibrium.
Oh, God, she didn’t know anything any more. There were conflicting emotions warring inside her head, some of which hardly made any sense.
‘Aysha?’
Her eyes searched his, wide, angry, and incredibly hurt. ‘How would you feel if the situation were reversed?’
A muscle bunched at the side of his jaw, and something hot and terrifyingly ruthless darkened his eyes.
‘I’d kill him.’
His voice was deadly quiet, yet it held the quality of tempered steel, and she felt as if a hand took hold of her throat and squeezed until it choked off her breath.
Her chest tightened and her heart seemed to beat loud, the sound a heavy, distant thud that seemed to reverberate inside her ears.
‘A little extreme, surely?’ Aysha managed after several long seconds.
‘You think so?’
‘That sort of action would get you long service, perhaps even life, in gaol.’
‘Not for the sort of death I have in mind.’ His features assumed a pitiless mask.
He had the power, the influence, to financially ruin an adversary. And he would do it without the slightest qualm.
A light shivery sensation feathered over the surface of her skin. She needed time out from all the madness that surrounded her. Somewhere she could gain solitude in which to think. A place where she had an element of choice.
‘I’m going to move into the house for a few days.’ The words emerged almost of their own accord, and she saw his eyes narrow fractionally.
‘It’s the house, or a hotel,’ Aysha insisted, meaning every word.
He wanted to shake her. Paramount was the desire to wring Nina’s neck. Anger, frustration, irritation... each rose to the fore, and he banked them all down in an effort to conciliate.
‘If that’s what it takes.’
‘Thank you.’
She was so icily polite, so remote. Pain twisted his gut, and he swore beneath his breath.
‘We’re due at the ballet in an hour.’
‘Go alone, or don’t go at all, Carlo. I really don’t care.’
Aysha walked into the bedroom and caught up a few essentials from drawers, the wardrobe, aware that Carlo stood watching her every move from the doorway.
For one tragic second she felt adrift, homeless. Which was ridiculous. The thought made her angry, and she closed the holdall, then slung the strap over one shoulder.
‘Aysha.’
She’d taken only a token assortment of clothing. That fact should have been reassuring, yet he’d never felt less assured in his life.
Clear grey eyes met his, unwavering in their clarity. ‘Right now, there isn’t a word you can say that will make a difference.’
She walked to the doorway, stepped past him, and made her way through the apartment to the front door. She half expected him to stop her, but he didn’t.
The lift arrived swiftly, and she rode it down to the car park, unlocked her car, then drove it up onto the road.
Carlo leaned his back against the wall and stared sightlessly out of the wide plate-glass window. After a few tense minutes, he picked up the receiver, keyed in a series of digits, then waited for it to connect.
The private detective was one of the best, and with modern technology he should have the answer Carlo needed within days.
He made three more calls, offered an obscene amount of money to ensure that his requests... orders, he amended with grim cynicism, were met within a specified time-frame.