She took care that their fingers didn’t touch, aware from the faint gleam of amusement evident that he knew. ‘I’m not sure what time I’ll get there,’ she ventured, determined not to rush away from Elaine’s party before she was ready.
‘Try to make it before the final act,’ he advised in a cynical drawl. ‘And take a taxi,’ he added. ‘We’ll go on to a night-club afterwards.’
Her lashes swept up as she cast him a cool glance. ‘Is that necessary?’
‘It is if we’re to be seen together, photographed and captioned in the gossip columns.’ His smile was totally without humour. ‘Our supposed “romance” won’t have much credence if we depart in separate vehicles.’
She felt her stomach give a sickening lurch at the reality of what she was about to undertake. Yet any visible sign of apprehension was unthinkable, and she tilted her chin fractionally as she proffered a brilliant smile. ‘I’ll endeavour to dazzle.’
‘You appear to do that without effort,’ Georg accorded drily as he rose to his feet, and Lexi followed suit, collecting her evening-bag as he escorted them both to the lobby.
‘Really, Lexi,’ David chastised her the instant they were out of earshot. ‘You were incredibly rude—’
‘I know everything you’re going to say,’ she intercepted a trifle wearily, glad that they had reached the street. ‘Treat it as a temporary aberration.’ Her voice assumed an unaccustomed asperity. ‘I just hate the degree of my own involvement in this ill-fated scheme.’ Especially with someone like Georg Nicolaos, a tiny voice taunted.
David shot her a perceptive look. ‘Georg is unlikely to proposition you, if that’s your concern.’
Oh, David, she longed to deride him. If only you knew how emotionally insecure I feel—how afraid I am to get close to any man, even if it’s only to participate in an inglorious charade!
Yet she said nothing, and merely walked at his side to the car, opting to remain pensively silent as he drove her the short distance to her apartment block.
‘Ring me at the office on Wednesday. Jonathan mentioned something about our both joining him at home for dinner.’ His kindly eyes pierced hers in the dim interior of the car. ‘Georg will make a welcome guest. Invite him along.’
She was caught in a trap, and already she could feel the first tinge of pain. ‘I’ll mention it,’ she compromised, slipping easily from the low-slung vehicle the instant it pulled to a halt. ‘Goodnight.’
‘Darling, must you?’
The words appeared to be sincere, but in reality masked boredom and lack of interest, and Lexi wondered why she’d stayed at Elaine’s party for so long.
Sheer perversity, born from a desire to tread the edge of Georg Nicolaos’s self-control; something that was akin to total madness, she decided as she declared that she really must leave.
‘I’ll just say goodnight to Elaine,’ she murmured, then drifted towards a group of three women deep in animated conversation near the door.
Kisses, a few shared hugs, the exchanged avowals to enjoy a really great ‘Chrissie’, then Lexi managed to slip away.
The taxi she’d ordered was parked outside, waiting, and the driver merely shrugged in complacent resignation as she directed him to the Opera House.
Lexi checked the ticket—something she hadn’t bothered to do until now—and saw that the reservation was for Madame Butterfly.
The torturous and incredibly sad aspects of love, no matter how beautifully enacted, could hardly be her favoured selection. Yet a quirk of sardonic irony permitted her to see humour in the unwanted parable. The question that sprang immediately to mind was whether Georg Nicolaos’s choice was deliberate or merely happenstance.
Some thirty minutes later Lexi was led unobtrusively to a section which comprised some of the best seats in the house, and with a murmured apology she moved along the aisle and sank down into the reserved space.
Her hand was captured almost at once, and she instinctively pulled against the strength of Georg’s fingers as he threaded them through her own.
‘Seated behind us, to your left, is Anaïs Pembleton,’ he cautioned softly as he leaned closer, and she closed her eyes in frustration that one of the city’s leading matrons should have chosen tonight of all nights to visit the opera. Worse, that the society doyenne should be seated in the immediate vicinity. Sharp-eyed and acid-tongued, Anaïs Pembleton had a nose for gossip to the extent that she was accorded the status of the uncrowned queen of the gossip-mongers. Lexi hardly needed Georg to remind her to behave.
‘How…opportune,’ she murmured, hating his close proximity, the faint helplessness at having her hand enclosed within his own, and the sheer animal magnetism he managed to exude without any seeming effort.
‘Try to smile,’ he drawled, and she could sense his cynical amusement. ‘The curtain is about to fall.’
A minute was all she had to prepare herself, and for one brief second her eyes felt incredibly large, their poignant depths strangely dry as she fought to quell the faint trembling of her lips.
‘Would you prefer to remain seated?’
He was quite devastating when he deliberately set out to charm and she endeavoured to match the warmth reflected in his smile. ‘Could we mingle in the foyer?’ At least then she could move around, and there was always the chance she might meet an acquaintance, thus providing an opportunity to focus her attention on someone other than him.
Georg rose to his feet without a word, leading her through a throng of fashionably attired men and women.
Lexi had chosen to wear a formal gown of rich red velvet, its body-hugging lines emphasising her soft feminine curves. A wrap in matching velvet added undeniable elegance, and she’d utilised two side-combs to sweep the hair back from her face. Her only jewellery was a diamond pendant on a slim gold chain, and matching ear-studs.
‘A drink?’ he queried as they reached the foyer.
‘Lime and soda, with a dash of bitters.’
‘Ice?’
‘Please,’ she acceded, watching as a waiter appeared at their side as if by magic.
Georg Nicolaos emanated an infinite degree of power of a kind that commanded instant attention. Yet there was no arrogance apparent, just a compelling omnipotence that scorned all forms of weakness.
It was little wonder that women were held enthralled by him, she perceived wryly. Even if he wasn’t extraordinarily wealthy, he would still manage to snare most feminine hearts.
He smiled, and deep grooves slashed his cheeks. ‘How was the party?’
She looked at him carefully, analysing the broad-sculptured bone-structure, the steady wide-spaced dark eyes. ‘Fine.’ A faint moue appeared momentarily, then it was gone, and she effected a slight shrug. ‘Am I now supposed to enquire about your day?’
‘Are you in the least interested?’ he queried, watching as she lifted her glass and took a small sip.
‘I know very little about you,’ Lexi ventured, and her eyes flared as he reached out and threaded his fingers through her own. Her initial instinct to pull free was thwarted, and she retaliated with a surreptitious dig from her long hard nails.
‘Why, Georg,’ a breathy feminine voice intruded, ‘how wonderful to see you! Are you going on to the club afterwards?’
Lexi turned slowly and met a vision of brunette perfection attired in black silk that shrieked an exclusive designer label only the favoured few could afford.
‘Louise,’ he acknowledged, then performed an introduction.
‘Your face is familiar, yet I’m sure we’ve never met,’ the brunette declared with a faint frown.
‘Lexi is a model,’ Georg revealed smoothly, clasping Lexi’s hand even more firmly within his own.
The gesture didn’t go unnoticed, and Lexi caught the sharpness apparent in Louise’s beautiful blue eyes before the expression was carefully masked.
‘Harrison. Are you any relation to Jonathan Harrison?’
There was no point in denying the truth. ‘His daughter.’
There was instant, inevitable knowledge evident in the other girl’s exquisite features. ‘Of course. Now I remember. Your marriage and divorce achieved notoriety in the Press.’
During the past two years Lexi had encountered several occasions such as this one, and had become accustomed to dealing with them. Pride lifted her chin, and her lashes swept down to form a partial protective veil. ‘At the time it was a seven-day wonder,’ she allowed with quiet dignity.
‘A sensation,’ Louise corrected with sweet emphasis. ‘No sooner was the honeymoon over than so was the marriage.’ There was a delicate pause as she waited for Lexi’s comment, and when none was forthcoming a glitter of malice appeared briefly before it was quickly masked. ‘I imagine it was a difficult time for you.’
Lexi felt she owed no one an explanation, and any comment was superfluous.
‘Finish your drink, darling,’ Georg drawled, ‘and we’ll return to our seats.’
Lexi heard the cool bland words, yet they barely registered. ‘Darling’?
‘You’ll excuse us, Louise?’
Lexi’s glass was taken from her hand, and beneath her startled gaze she watched as he calmly placed it, only half-empty, down on to a nearby tray.
Within seconds she found herself being drawn towards the auditorium.
‘Do you mind unshackling me?’ she demanded in a vicious undertone.
‘Behave,’ Georg adjured quietly. ‘If you continue to struggle you’ll only hurt yourself.’
‘Damn you, let me go! I’m not a child in need of a restraining hand!’
It was a relief to reach their seats, and she was glad of the subdued lighting. It hid the faint angry flush that lay along her cheekbones and the glittering sparkle in the depths of her eyes.
A furtive but strong tug of her hand did no good at all, and the breath stilled in her throat as she felt the slight pressure of his thumb caressing the fast-pulsing veins at her wrist.
She turned towards him, only to find he had leaned sideways and his face was mere inches from her own.
‘Have you no shame?’ Lexi hissed, incensed almost beyond words as she saw his attention deliberately centre on the fullness of her mouth.
Slowly his eyes travelled up to meet her own, and she had to restrain herself from hitting him at the glimpse of mocking amusement apparent in their depths.
‘None whatsoever.’
It was as well that the house lights dimmed then as the curtain rose for the third and final act, she decided vengefully. Otherwise she would have been tempted to slap his hateful face!
The dramatic conclusion to Cio-cio-san’s tragic romance with an American naval officer was splendidly performed, and the depth and agonising pathos portrayed brought a lump to Lexi’s throat as she was held enraptured by the sheer magical spell of the Japanese girl’s emotional trauma.
Lexi was unable to prevent thoughts of her own disenchantment with Paul, the loss of trust, the deliberate deception, and her eyes began to ache as she sought to suppress the tell-tale shimmer of tears.
Dear heaven, what was the matter with her? Why tonight, of all night, did she have to fall prey to such maudlin emotions?
Because, an inner voice taunted, you’ve been thrust into a damnable situation where you’re forced to conform to a set of circumstances with a man whose sense of purpose is nothing less than daunting.
Members of the Press were waiting in the foyer to photograph the more famous of the opera devotees, and any hope Lexi held for being able to slip away undetected died even before it was born as camera lenses were thrust in her face and a hard-voiced journalist asked a host of probing questions.
Georg handled it all with urbane charm, and Lexi had merely to smile. At last they were free, and she moved quickly at Georg’s side as he led her through a side-door and down into the car park.
It wasn’t until they were in the car that she began to relax, although her relief was short-lived as she realised that the Ferrari was heading towards the city.
‘I’d prefer to go home, if you don’t mind.’
He turned his head slightly and spared her a brief, inflexible glance, then concentrated on negotiating the traffic. ‘Half an hour at the club will provide the opportunity for more publicity.’ His voice assumed a silky drawl. ‘I think you’ll agree that’s the main objective?’
‘I would have thought the news hounds would be satisfied with our appearance at the opera,’ she offered with a touch of cynicism, becoming impossibly angry when he offered no comment.
She maintained an icy silence until Georg brought the car to a halt in a city car park, and she slid out from the passenger seat, then closed the door with a firm clunk before flicking him a cool aloof glance.
‘Thirty minutes,’ she vouchsafed. ‘Any longer and I’ll call a taxi.’
He could annihilate her in a second. It was there in his eyes, the firm set of his mouth, and Lexi wondered at her own temerity in acting like a spoilt bitch.
‘We either do this properly, or we won’t do it at all,’ Georg stated with chilling cynicism.
The desire to rage against his implacability was paramount, and her eyes warred openly with his, longing to consign him to hell. Never could she remember feeling so intensely angry; not even with Paul.
Without a word she moved away from the car and began walking towards the flight of stairs leading up to the carpeted lobby.
It wasn’t surrender—more a case of restrained capitulation, she assured herself, supremely conscious of several patrons waiting for a lift to transport them to the trendy night-club situated on the top floor of the building.
The venue was crowded, attesting to its popularity, and intent on playing host to a plethora of ‘beautiful’ people who were more interested in being ‘seen’ as they flitted from table to table in the pursuit of compliments regarding their designer-label clothes and the success of their latest business dealings.
‘What would you like to drink?’
Lexi’s eyes flashed with a mixture of resentment and silent antipathy for one brief second before long thick lashes swept down to form a protective veil. ‘Do I look as if I need one?’
‘You look,’ Georg drawled in a silky undertone, ‘as if you’ve been thrown into a den of lions.’
He was too perceptive by far! The music was loud, the band excellent, and she let her gaze rove round the room, recognising at least half a dozen familiar faces.
‘Georg, you decided to come. Louise said you would, but I hardly dared believed her.’
Lexi turned slightly to encounter an exquisite blonde whose appearance was as sexually blatant as her voice.
‘Brigitte,’ he acknowledged in an amused drawl. With casual ease he curved a possessive arm around Lexi’s waist as he effected an introduction, and it took considerable effort on her part to proffer a brilliant smile.
‘Are there any women you don’t know?’ she queried the instant Brigitte moved out of earshot.
‘Shall we attempt the dance-floor?’
Oh, he was the very limit! ‘Do I have any choice?’
Without a word he drew her towards the centre of the room, and she instinctively stiffened as he caught her close.
His hold was hardly conventional, and she wanted to tear herself away. Pretend, an inner voice chided. In all probability he no more wants to dance with you than you do with him! So just close your eyes, and follow his lead.
Except that it wasn’t that simple. The cool crisp smell of his cologne mingled with the slight muskiness emanating from his skin, stirring alive an elusive chemistry that made her want to move even closer within his grasp.
It was almost as if she were in the grip of some magnetic force, and she gave an imperceptible start as she felt the brush of his lips against her temple.
Her eyes flew wide open, and for one brief second those brilliant depths mirrored a mixture of pain and outrage before assuming an opaqueness that shuttered the windows to her soul.
It was totally insane,
but she felt as if somehow with subtle manipulation Georg Nicolaos had assumed control of her life, and it rankled unbearably.
Sheer will-power helped her survive the next half-hour as they alternately drifted round the dance-floor and paused to converse with fellow guests.
Lexi even managed to smile as they bade goodnight to a few of Georg’s acquaintances, and she suffered his arm at her waist as they traversed the lobby, rode the lift and ultimately reached the car.
Safely seated inside, she simply maintained an icy silence as he fired the engine and sent the car purring towards street level.
Traffic was moderately light, and she stared sightlessly out of the windscreen as he headed for Darling Point.
Lexi reached for the door-handle the instant the Ferrari slid to a halt outside the entrance to her apartment block, and she cast Georg a look of disbelief as he switched off the ignition and calmly stepped out of the car.
‘Where do you think you’re going?’
‘Escorting you safely indoors, where you’ll make me some coffee, which will take at least half an hour to consume.’
‘The hell I will!’ She was so furious she could have hit him, and she wrenched her arm in a fruitless attempt to be free of him. ‘I’m tired, and I want to go to bed. I have an early-morning photographic shoot, and I need to look good!’
He was leading her inexorably towards the entrance. What was more, he’d calmly retrieved her security-coded card and a set of keys from her hand. Before she could voice any further protest they were indoors and heading towards the lift-shaft.
‘A car tailed us all the way here,’ Georg informed her silkily. ‘Without doubt an enthusiastic journalist from one of the less salubrious tabloids.’ He jabbed the call-button and the doors immediately slid open. ‘We’ve brought a supposedly clandestine affair out into the open, and it will seem contradictory if I merely drop you off and drive away, don’t you think?’
Safely inside the cubicle, she let loose some of her rage. ‘I could have a headache!’
His hard, rough-chiselled features assumed mocking cynicism. ‘Have you?’
The Greek's Bride 0f Convenience (HQR Presents) Page 3
