Mimi breathed out unsteadily. She felt almost lightheaded with relief, but also guilty that Alicia was blaming herself for something that hadn’t even happened. But what purpose would telling her the truth serve except to make herself feel better in the short term?
‘I’m sorry,’ she said quickly. And she was—although not for concealing a fictional argument with Basa, but for letting Alicia believe a lie.
‘For what?’
For probably the first time in her life her friend sounded exasperated with her.
‘For feeling sick? For standing up for yourself? I’m the one who should be saying sorry. I know he’s my brother, and I love him to bits, but you could have told me. I wouldn’t have taken his side, you know.’
‘It’s okay to take his side,’ Mimi said gently. ‘He’s your family.’
‘And you’re my family too. I know what your stepfather and uncle did was wrong, but it had nothing to do with you.’
Mimi’s fingers tightened around the phone.
Except that it did.
Maybe not here in Buenos Aires, where nobody knew her, but back in England, she was always on edge—always expecting the past to suck her back into that dark place she’d been two years ago. It didn’t matter if she was on the bus or in a café. She would look up from her magazine or her coffee and find someone looking at her curiously, and instantly she would be terrified that they were putting two and two together and coming up with a headline.
It was that fear of losing her anonymity that was the reason she hadn’t really fought back against those actresses. She had been too scared that if she escalated things inevitably her name would pop up in some internet search and her scandalous past would suddenly be current news again.
‘I know,’ she lied.
Alicia breathed out shakily. ‘And who I choose to have in my life has nothing to do with anyone—including my brother. You’re my friend, and I think Basa accepts that now.’
Like hell he does, Mimi thought, remembering Basa’s parting remark about keeping his enemies close.
Injecting her voice with a note of brightness she didn’t feel, she said, ‘Did he say that?’
‘Well, not exactly,’ Alicia admitted. ‘But he did say you two had had a very productive talk and that you had reached an understanding. And that’s the thing about Basa: if you’re on his team he’ll do anything for you.’
Having arranged to call back later, for a longer chat, Mimi promised to send Alicia a photo of herself in the pool and hung up. She felt as if she’d just run a marathon, but at least one positive had come out of the conversation. Alicia believed that she and Basa had ‘reached an understanding’.
As if!
The only thing he wanted was to toss her into the Thames.
She could just picture his dark eyes gleaming as he fed Alicia his carefully edited version of their conversation. Her jaw clenched. All that rubbish about them having a ‘productive talk’ when he’d basically told her that he didn’t like or trust her. He was a disingenuous, loathsome man.
Unfortunately for her, she was going to be staying in his house, with him, for the next forty-eight hours...
She turned her glare back to the window. Outside, clusters of extraordinarily beautiful porteños were making their way to work—or perhaps, given the reputation of the city’s nightlife, on their way home to bed.
Glancing at the back of the chauffeur’s head, she wondered what would happen if she asked him to keep driving around? She would book into some anonymous little hotel off the main strip and then maybe head out to a café and sit outside in the sun with a coffee and pastry, just watch people going about their day-to-day lives.
But there was no escaping her destiny—not least because she’d promised herself that she would see this thing through to the end. Whatever Basa said, and however he behaved, she was going to stay cool and let it wash over her—for Alicia’s sake.
The air bounced out of her lungs. Who knew? Maybe if they spent some time together he might alter his harsh opinion of her and start to see the person she really was.
And there were some upsides to the situation. She hadn’t been on holiday for so long, but now she was in Buenos Aires, and she was going to stay in a beautiful mansion with a swimming pool.
An image of Basa in swim-shorts, water dripping slowly off his smooth, contoured body, parachuted into her head, and instantly she felt that familiar rushing sense of vertigo, as if she was standing at the top of a skyscraper and looking down. And then her heart twitched against her ribs as finally she asked herself the question she’d been dodging since the moment she’d watched him swagger into the restaurant.
Why did she still feel this way about him?
For a start, it wasn’t logical or dignified. How could she feel anything but contempt and loathing for someone who had treated her as he had? It wasn’t as though it had been a mistake. He had stripped her naked and kissed her until her body had felt as though it was going to combust, and then he’d got up, got dressed and never come back.
And the worst part was that she had waited for him. She had lain there in his four-poster bed like some stupid sacrificial virgin and waited.
She could still remember how it had felt. That dizzy, disbelieving euphoria. And then, as the minutes passed—first five, then ten, then twenty—her happiness had started to ooze away like air from a punctured football. Uncertainty and panic had begun to creep in, until finally she’d been able to bear it no more and she’d found her clothes and got dressed.
Her heart began to thump. Even then she hadn’t really taken his disappearance at face value. Incredibly, she’d actually been worried about him—she’d thought something must have happened for him not to return. But of course nothing had happened.
He’d been standing in the ballroom, talking on his phone, and then he’d turned towards her. And this was the worst part—this was the part that had finally made her understand what had happened. Not by the slightest curve of his mouth or tilt of his head had he acknowledged her. He’d looked straight through her as if she wasn’t there or he didn’t know who she was.
Maybe if she’d been older, or more experienced, she might have felt and behaved differently. But she’d been young and desperately in love and so unsure of herself, and her self-doubt had flared beneath his dark, blank-eyed gaze. All she’d wanted to do was crawl into a dark hole and lick her wounds.
And then she had seen Alicia there, dancing and laughing, and that was when she’d turned and walked away from the ballroom, begged a lift back to London. She’d known she couldn’t face her friend, for if she had she wouldn’t have been able to stop herself from telling Alicia everything. Having lost so much in her life already, she hadn’t felt able to risk having that conversation and losing her best friend too.
She shivered. Sometimes she felt as if she was jinxed. What other explanation could there be for the way her world so frequently and effortlessly imploded? She was the common denominator in all of it. Her father leaving, Charlie and Raymond creating the wrong kind of headlines, and now her film, idling in some lawyer’s office.
She felt the car begin to slow, and as it did so her pulse began to accelerate. For the last few minutes she’d been distracted by thoughts of Basa, so she hadn’t really been paying attention to what was happening outside the window, but as she looked nervously through the glass she realised that they were driving down a wide, tree-lined boulevard. Set back from the road, some concealed by decorative walls, others by perfectly trimmed hedges, were several houses the size of hotels.
Oh, my goodness, this must be it.
Through the window she watched nervously as wrought-iron gates as tall as they were wide swung open smoothly. The car slid between them and a moment later stopped in front of one of the most beautiful houses Mimi had ever seen—and the biggest. The cream-coloured building seemed to stretch endlessly i
n both directions, and she had to tip back her head to see the rooftop.
She stepped out of the car, feeling horribly underdressed in her cargo pants and faded sweatshirt, just as a beautiful middle-aged woman appeared in the doorway. She had shining dark hair, and eyes the same colour and shape as Marcona almonds, and she was clearly expecting Mimi.
‘Buenos días, Señorita Miller. I hope you have had a pleasant trip. My name is Antonia and I’m the housekeeper here at Palacio Figueroa.’
Mimi felt her breath catch. Great, Basa owns a palace. No wonder his housekeeper looked like a movie star.
Inside, there was no point in pretending she was anything but dazzled. The house was gorgeously over the top, with cornices and swags everywhere, and a rich, vibrant colour scheme that perfectly complemented the opulent velvet furniture and Savonnerie rugs.
‘I’m sure you want to freshen up, so let me show you to your rooms,’ said Antonia, and smiled. ‘I gather this is your first visit to Buenos Aires? I hope you enjoy your stay in our beautiful city.’
Mimi managed to smile back at the other woman, but inside she was thinking that it would be a lot easier to enjoy her stay if she didn’t have to spend it twitching inwardly beneath Basa’s dark, critical gaze.
Thank goodness he wasn’t arriving until this evening. With luck, she might even be able to plead exhaustion and turn in early, and then she wouldn’t have to see him until the next morning.
Antonia stopped beside her. ‘These are your rooms.’
Smiling politely, Mimi stepped through the door—and stopped. Her heart began to thump against her ribs. Mid-morning sunlight and a warm breeze were seeping through the open windows. The walls were painted ballet-slipper-pink, and there were several sofas and armchairs all covered in gold and pink striped silk.
‘This is your sitting room. Your bedroom is through that door, and then you have a bathroom and dressing room next door. I’ll let you settle in. Please treat the house as your own, and if you need anything at all, just ask.’
Clearly Antonia hadn’t received the memo about Mimi being the enemy within, she thought as she tiptoed into the bedroom and gazed in delight at the vast, ornate four-poster bed.
After ten minutes of wandering from room to room, she decided that she liked the dressing room best. It was just so indulgent. A huge gilt-edged mirror ran the length and width of one wall, and opposite there were two beautiful chaises-longue—presumably so someone could sit and watch you get dressed.
Or undressed.
Without warning, an image of Basa lolling on that sofa, his dark gaze intent on her body as she slowly stripped in front of him, slid into her head and, gazing at her reflection, she felt her skin start to tingle.
Oh, for goodness’ sake!
Her heart beating out of time, she turned away from the mirror and stalked out of the dressing room, cursing herself for being every kind of idiot and then some. This weekend was going to be challenging enough without her fantasising about a man who had made it perfectly clear that his attraction to her had been brief, and based on nothing more flattering than opportunity.
A slight breeze lifted the curtains and, crossing the room, she gazed down at a beautiful rectangular pool of perfect turquoise water. It looked so tempting, and it was exactly what she needed to cool off her overheated body and imagination.
Alicia was expecting a photo of her in her new bikini, and even Antonia had suggested she might like to go for a swim. Besides, Basa wasn’t arriving until this evening so how would he even know?
Fifteen minutes later she had completed maybe a dozen or so languid lengths of the pool and was floating in the shallow end, her eyes closed against a sun that was gratifyingly brighter than the one at home. From the house, she heard a door open and the sound of footsteps—it would be Antonia, coming to find out if she wanted anything.
Not wanting to look as though she was taking any of this for granted, she forced her eyes open and swam over to the edge of the pool...and froze. Breathing out shakily, she squinted into the sunlight at a man she recognised only too well.
Except it couldn’t be him, she thought, her heart doing a series of violent backflips. He wasn’t supposed to be here until this evening.
But, whether he was supposed to be there or not, it was Basa, standing at the top of the steps leading down to the terrace, his dark eyes hidden beneath a pair of sunglasses, his dark suit incongruous among the loungers and sunlight.
For a moment he didn’t move, and then to the loud and irregular accompaniment of her heartbeat, he made his way slowly down the steps to the pool.
She stared up at him mutely as he came to a halt in front of her upturned face.
‘So,’ he said, in a voice that stopped the breath in her throat, ‘I see you’ve already made yourself at home. Having fun?’
* * *
Basa gazed down at Mimi, his eyes narrowing as he slipped off his sunglasses.
Walking into the house, he’d been talking on the phone to his PA and had simply mouthed a greeting to Antonia and gone straight up to his rooms. He had a headache that was threatening to split his skull in two, and he was tired after a night spent in transit and on his laptop. Still talking, he’d been in the process of loosening his tie when he’d glanced out of the window to the terrace below.
Instantly his brain had dropped into neutral and he’d begun spouting gibberish—much to the confusion of his assistant.
He’d hung up and, without pausing to consider the consequences, strode back downstairs, past his startled housekeeper and out onto the sunlit terrace.
Normally on a day like this he would have taken a dip himself, but the fact that Mimi was in the pool and therefore depriving him of that pleasure seemed to justify the anger boiling in his chest.
An anger that was doubly vexing because Mimi’s near-naked presence in his pool was down to his own impulsive and unthinking behaviour.
His chest tightened. Ever since he’d walked out of that restaurant he’d been questioning his logic, his motives—hell, even his sanity—in arranging this weekend with her. But, confronted by Alicia’s stubborn attachment to the woman now in his swimming pool, and by the memory of what had so nearly happened at his sister’s birthday party, he’d acted with uncharacteristic rashness.
Firstly by suggesting that Mimi film the wedding and then by insisting that she come to Argentina.
Ostensibly, both were based on clear and infallible reasoning.
Mimi would be less visible behind a camera than in front of it, and by demanding that she came this weekend he was putting their relationship on a more formal footing. He wasn’t her boss, exactly, but he wanted to make it clear that she was answerable to him. That way there could be no blurring of lines when it came to how they interacted with one another.
His heart began to beat faster.
But that was only a part of why he wanted her here. That night in Fairbourne his hunger for her had blinded him to what lay beneath that beautiful creamy skin. Now, though, he knew her true character, and he wanted her to know that he was in full possession of the facts and her charms no longer held any attraction for him.
He’d fully expected his first meeting with Mimi at his home to prove him correct. By rights he should be standing here feeling immensely satisfied at having summoned her across an ocean, his body stone-cold.
Unfortunately the ache in his groin suggested that hope might have been a little premature.
Gazing down at Mimi, devastating in a black and white striped bikini, he felt his breathing unravel, and wished he’d had the sense to keep his sunglasses on.
‘I’m just taking a dip...’
Her blue eyes were watching him warily, and that together with the fact that her bikini-clad body was making him feel like some idiot in his suit only seemed to increase his irritation.
‘Yes, you are,’ he said softly.<
br />
‘Antonia said it would be okay.’ She frowned. ‘I thought you weren’t going to be here until later?’
‘Oh, I see. So this is a case of while the cat’s away?’
‘No, it isn’t.’
Her gaze narrowed, and he could tell she was trying not to lose her temper.
‘It’s fine,’ he said. ‘Like you say, you’re just taking a dip.’ Crouching down, he scooped up a handful of water, checking the temperature. ‘Feels great. Maybe I’ll join you.’
She shrank away from him like a vampire being offered garlic. ‘Actually, I was just going to get out.’
He watched in silence, his stomach clenching with a combination of lust and anger, as she swam a couple of strokes and rose up out of the pool, droplets of water trickling down her neck and back. His breathing shifted. It was an all too familiar view—not from life, but from memory...the memory of that evening and that dress. Even now he could remember how it had felt. He wanted to touch her so badly that night, to run his fingers down the smooth curve of skin...
Not any more, he told himself, blocking his mind to the rush of heat tightening his muscles. Not in this lifetime.
‘Here.’ Catching sight of her robe, hanging from the back of one of the loungers, he picked it up and held it out to her, keeping his eyes locked on hers as she shrugged her arms into it.
‘Thank you,’ she muttered.
‘No, thank you,’ he said with mocking courtesy, wanting to make her feel as off-balance as she was making him. ‘For coming out here at such short notice. It was very kind of you to juggle your busy schedule for me.’
Her eyebrows shot up and, lifting her chin, she said coldly, ‘Let’s get one thing straight, Basa. I’m not doing this for you. I’m doing this for Alicia, because she’s my friend and her happiness matters to me more than anything else.’
Her mouth softened into the slightest of smiles as she spoke Alicia’s name, pulling his gaze to her lips and the blood to his groin so that he suddenly felt lightheaded.
Craving His Forbidden Innocent Page 5
