No wonder Dex had gone, she thought, still grinning. She looked an absolute sight. She thoroughly washed and dried her face, removing all the exaggerated eye make-up, and, picking up a hairbrush, briskly brought her unruly auburn hair into some sort of order. Sighing with relief, she saw she looked almost normal. She unlocked the bathroom door. A cup of cocoa, and then hopefully to bed and to sleep. She didn't want to think about the evening's events.
She walked into the living room and stopped dead. Dex was leaning against the small mantlepiece. He looked up as she walked in. A flick of his lashes sent his gaze skimming over her assessingly, noting the baggy green sweatsuit with a wry smile.
'Hardly haute couture, but all that can change,' he murmured, and she felt as though he was stripping her with his eyes.
'I thought you'd gone,' she exclaimed.
Dex shrugged his broad shoulders in a typical Latin gesture. 'No.'
'But I heard the door.' Beth was stunned, and it showed. She looked at the hall door, and back at Dex. He had loosened his tie and unfastened the first few buttons on his shirt. Thankfully he had not removed his jacket; it still fit perfectly over his broad shoulders. One hand was in his trouser pocket; the other was holding a glass of wine.
'It was the kitchen door; I raided your refrigerator. Drink?'
Then she saw the half-empty bottle of wine on the mantlepiece and another glass. 'You—but. . .' Her mouth worked but she was too confused to get the words out.
'Sit down, Beth. Have a drink and listen. You asked me before why I called around here earlier. Before you decided you wished I was dead,' he reminded her cynically.
Looking down, she felt a brief flicker of shame, but it quickly expired as she watched him casually withdraw his hand from his pocket and pick up the other glass of wine from the mantlepiece. Stepping forward, he held it out towards her. 'Drink. You might need it.'
She was so surprised, she automatically reached out and took the glass. His long fingers brushed hers and she felt the contact right through to her shoulder.
'Why?' she muttered. She had suffered shock upon shock tonight, and her brain could not take it in.
'The simple answer is, I have a proposal for you.'
Taking a sip from her drink, she glanced over the rim of her glass. 'Go ahead,' she murmured. 'You will, anyway.' The cold determination in his grey eyes as they met hers was unmistakable.
'Usually I visit London twice a year at most, but since acquiring the casino—and more recently a trio of city centre hotels—I find I am going to have to spend a lot more time here. I'm a normal man, with normal needs, and I need a woman here. I want you to be that woman.'
Confused, she surveyed him. 'But I told you. I don't want to marry you.'
One dark brow arched quizzically, a ruthless smile curving his sensuous mouth. 'No more than I want to marry you. In fact, if you recall, I never actually asked you. I gave you a ring, a bauble. That was all.'
Embarrassment turned her face scarlet. Her only consolation was that at last he was speaking the truth. She had overheard him saying pretty much the same thing in the office that dreadful day. Forcing her turbulent thoughts into some kind of order, she tilted her head back and looked at him sharply.
Unease stirred inside her. There was something sinister in his austere features. 'I don't understand.' She shook her head. 'What do you mean?'
'Let me make it simple for you. I have bought an apartment in London and I want you to live in it. You can continue with your career—whatever. My only stipulation is, when I am in London you make yourself available at my convenience.'
Beth stared at him, her strained features reflecting her shock. Dex, the man she had thought she loved, was quite cold-bloodedly suggesting she live with him, albeit on a part-time basis. If she had not been so horrified, she would have been furious.
She searched Dex's harshly set features. He looked just as she imagined he would look when buying a casino or a company. His arrogance, his enormous conceit, took her breath away. But she was not in the market. Not for Dex. Not for any man.
Suddenly the black humour of the situation hit her. Of course she could see through his plan. Install Beth in his apartment and keep her away from Paul Morris. Obviously his sister was having some difficulty bringing Paul to heel.
'Why me?' she asked, wondering what kind of story he would come up with. She was sure it would not be the truth.
'I find after having had one bite of the cherry I have a burning desire to cultivate the rest of the tree,' he returned softly.
Beth had to repress a smile. He wasn't serious; he was simply trying it on. 'For a man whose first language isn't English, you have a great line in metaphors,' she quipped, letting the smile break through. Dex had wit, even if he was a devious devil.
But there was no corresponding smile from Dex. Instead he stepped towards her, a ruthless determination glinting in his narrowed eyes. 'So, is it a deal?'
It was unthinkable, but he actually was serious. Her body frozen with shock, Beth's eyes searched his face, looking for some indication that it was a joke. A Hallowe'en prank, maybe. But she could see nothing in his expression to allay her fear—fear for herself, because for a brief moment she had been tempted. The thought of once more experiencing the delights his magnificent body could give her had stirred an unwanted response inside her.
'No,' she said softly, whether denying herself or Dex, she wasn't sure. Then, as fury at his insulting proposition overcame her shock, she repeated forcefully, 'No! No, never in a million years!'
'So adamant, and so wrong.' His hand reached out and circled her throat, tilting her head up, and his eyes narrowed. 'I can feel the pulse beating madly in your throat. However much you try to hide it, you want me. You melt when I touch you. It is the same for me. Our relationship will be a mutually fulfilling affair.'
She opened her mouth to deny it and his dark head bent, his mouth taking hers. She shuddered beneath the hot, forceful passion of his kiss, desire and disgust battling inside her, and only dimly registered his words as he took his mouth from hers.
'You can't help yourself.' His silver eyes challenged her to deny him.
'Oh, but I can.' she shot back, and, shoving him hard in the chest, she continued, 'You can take yourself and your filthy proposition out of my apartment, and don't come back.' Swinging on her heel, she marched to the door.
'Wait, Beth. I have not finished.'
'Well, I have. In fact, I finished with you two weeks ago, and nothing has changed.'
'But situations do change, Beth.' He strolled towards where she stood at the door. 'Your stepbrother, for instance, he's gained a promotion, a much better salary and a fiancée, I believe, all in a couple of weeks.'
She stared up at him. Why had he changed the subject so quickly? Then, with a growing sense of dread, she listened to him.
'You see, Beth, the account I gave Brice Wine Merchants via Mike, the account that earned him his promotion, can just as easily be cancelled. Elizabeth is a lovely girl, but how will she feel when Mike's income is cut in half? Or he might even lose his job.'
'Are you threatening me?' she said, all the colour draining from her face, not wanting to believe what she was hearing.
'As if I would.' A ruthless smile curved his sensuous mouth. 'No, I am simply giving you a possible scenario. . . The rest is up to you. I will be at my usual hotel until ten tomorrow morning. I suggest you consider your options and give me a call before I leave.'
'That is blackmail, you bastard!' she cried, incensed that he would even try such a trick.
'Not at all. In the business world, that is a deal,' Dex responded hardly, not in the least bothered by her outburst. 'Take it or leave it.' Withdrawing a pen from his inside pocket, he caught her hand in his.
Beth tried to pull her hand free, but with insulting ease he held it firm, palm up, and had the audacity to write on her soft flesh. Curling her fingers into a fist, he let her go.
'The number of my hotel and suite.
Any time before ten in the morning, I will be available. You have until then to decide.'
'Why, you. . .' She couldn't think of a name foul enough, and swung out at him instead. But Dex caught her wrist in mid-air, and, grabbing her other hand with one large hand he encircled her slender wrists and pinned them back against the wall above her head. He stared down at her, rage contorting his features for a split second. Her heart jolted and she caught her breath.
Then he moved slowly, deliberately, his long body pressing her against the wall.
'I told you once before. . .' But he didn't finish. His steel-grey eyes raked down her body. His hand lifted and closed over her breast, kneading the firm flesh, his thumb finding the hardening nipple beneath the soft fabric, and she stifled a groan.
'All that fiery passion going to waste. How much more satisfying to channel it into the bedroom.' His hand slipped down and under her sweater, closing over her naked flesh. She knew he was doing it deliberately; he wanted to punish her. Still she groaned. She couldn't control or deny her surrender to the sweet torture of his touch.
'Remember this when you make your decision.' He watched her, his silver eyes burning through her.
Beth stared back, hopelessly disorientated. Then she recognised the glitter of masculine triumph in his eyes and burnt with shame and anger. 'Damn you!' she swore under her breath.
Dex abruptly let go of her hands and jerked back. 'Don't forget, before ten, Beth.' He opened the door and left.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Mechanically Beth slipped the chain on the door and shot the dead bolt. Dead bolt. How appropriate. She felt half dead, and also like bolting.
Served her right, she thought guiltily. She had never celebrated Hallowe'en before, never really wanted to, probably because of her convent education. Look what happened the first time she did. Dexter Giordanni! The party had not really been her scene at all. Mike had talked her into it. But to give him his due even he had been quite shocked, and they had all left early.
Moving slowly, she made her way to the bedroom, switching off the lights as she went, though she didn't bother with the light in her bedroom. She slipped off her green sweatsuit, and climbed into bed, her mind spinning like a windmill. The magnitude of the night's events were too horrible to contemplate, but she had to. . .
It would be laughable if it wasn't so scary. Dex wanted her to be his—what? Girlfriend, mistress, lover? The awful truth was she was tempted to agree. Dex didn't love her, but that didn't stop her wanting him with every fibre of her being. She tried to tell herself it was just sex, but deep down she knew that for her it was much, much more. She wanted to take anything Dex had to offer—love or lust, she didn't care. She'd even agree to blackmail!
With a low groan Beth rolled over on the bed and buried her face in the pillow. She blushed with shame.
God help her. Had she no pride? No self-respect? Apparently not.
She had been fooling herself for the past two weeks, trying to pretend she didn't care. Telling herself she didn't love Dex, that it had been an indiscretion borne of inexperience, and thank God she'd found out the truth about him in time, before she'd got in too deep.
A bitter smile twisted her lovely mouth. Earlier this evening she had been congratulating herself on reviving her social life. Seeing Dex tonight had brought that idea to an abrupt end. When she had managed to swallow her anger she had enjoyed dancing with him, and the rest. . .his kisses, the feel of his strong hand on her flesh. Suddenly every pulse in her body responded at the memory, and, despising her own weakness she jumped out of bed.
She was too agitated to sleep anyway, and, slipping on her robe, she wandered back into the living room and clicked on the light. Her eye caught the ink on her hand. Staring at her palm, she traced the black numbers with the finger of her other hand. The man was seriously weird, she told herself as she paced the room back and forth, her mind in turmoil, too restless even to sit down.
Why? Why was Dex trying to force her into being his mistress? It didn't make sense. So, all right, he thought she was in competition for his sister's man. But surely a man of his intelligence must know enough about human relations to realise nothing would force Paul Morris into staying with his sister if he didn't want to. In fact Dex and Paul were very much alike: highly successful, wealthy, very eligible, and experienced enough to escape the clutches of any woman if they wanted to.
No. She was missing something. But what? The underlying bitterness, the anger she had sensed in Dex tonight was directed at her. Maybe it was simply a male ego thing. She had insulted Dex by jilting him two weeks ago, and compounded her folly by telling him tonight she would like to kill him. It was after that comment he had turned into a cold, hard-faced stranger. Then he had threatened Beth with her stepbrother's downfall unless she complied with Dex's demands. Somehow it didn't ring true.
She thought back to the first time they had met, at the Brice party. She had been bowled over from the minute she clapped eyes on Dex, but even then her feminine intuition had warned her to stay clear of him. But, uncannily like her mother, Beth had let her heart rule her head. For a few short days she had been gloriously happy, only to be plunged into the depths of despair when she'd discovered Dex, the man she loved, was using her for his own ends.
Jilting him had been the hardest thing she had ever done. Pride alone had seen her though the last two weeks, and if she gave in to Dex's disgraceful proposition now, she would lose even that.
But what of her stepbrother, Mike? What might he lose if she said no to Dex? Much as she adored Mike, she would not sleep with a man for him. Then it hit her—she could swallow her pride for Mike, and tell Dex the truth. If she'd done that two weeks ago she might not be in the mess she was in now.
The cold pale light of dawn was slanting through the window when Beth finally reached her decision. A wry smile tilted the corners of her mouth. It was so obvious she should have realised straight away.
Once she told Dex the real reason she had jilted him— she had overheard the conversation between Dex and his friend Bob—and admitted that Paul Morris was her godfather, he'd realize she was no threat to his sister. Any interest Dex had in her would vanish like a whistle in the wind, along with any need to harm Mike. Dex might even have the grace to feel ashamed of the way he had treated her. But she doubted it. He was ruthless in the pursuit of what he wanted, that much she had learnt from their brief relationship.
With her decision made, Beth went back to bed. She had time for a few hour's sleep before calling Dex at his hotel with the truth.
A long way off a bell was ringing. Beth stirred and half opened her eyes. The ringing stopped and she rolled over in bed and snuggled back down. She was so tired, and today was Saturday—no work, she thought contentedly.
Ringing! Her eyes flew wide open and she shot up in bed, the events of last night flashing through her mind. She turned her head, looked at the clock on the bedside table, and groaned. 'Oh, my God!' she exclaimed, and closed her eyes again for a second in disbelief.
She could not believe it. She had overslept. She opened her eyes again and looked once more at the clock. There was no mistake. Eleven in the morning. It could only happen to her! Still, she tried. . . Leaping out of bed and dashing into the kitchen, she picked up the telephone and studied the palm of her hand. Was that a three or an eight? The heat of her palm in her sleep had smudged the numbers.
Frantically Beth dialled what she hoped was the right number, and got a Mercedes car dealership! She tried again and heaved a sigh of relief when a female voice answered, announcing the name of Dex's hotel. Her relief quickly turned to horror when she was informed that Mr Giordanni had checked out not ten minutes ago and was on his way to Heathrow to catch the Concorde flight to New York.
Beth staggered into the living room, collapsed in the armchair and groaned. Well, fate had taken a hand. That was it. Dex had his answer by default. There was nothing she could do about it now. She tried to cheer herself up with the thought there
was nothing Dex could do about Mike, at least not for the next two days. But Monday was a different matter.
Beth toyed with the idea of ringing Mike and telling him what had happened, then decided against it. There was no point in worrying her stepbrother unduly. It crossed her mind to try and get in touch with Dex, and then she realised he had never actually given her so much as his address or home telephone number. She didn't even know for certain where he lived. Rome or New York, he had said. She could ring the Seymour Club and ask how to get in touch with him, but did she really want to?
No. . . Swallowing her pride for her stepbrother had seemed a good idea last night. But Beth was a fatalist. Why bother? Mike was good at his job, and he was old enough and man enough to make it on his own. As for Elizabeth, Beth had no doubt the girl would stand by him whatever he did. It was real love she had seen between the pair of them last night. Not the shallow copy Dex had pretended to feel for Beth.
All those out-of-the-way intimate restaurants Dex had taken her to—she had thought they were romantic. With the clarity of hindsight she realised his reasons had been much more basic. He had never even once suggested she accompany him to his hotel. Dex had obviously not wanted their brief relationship or engagement made public. Because he had known from the start it was a fake.
Getting to her feet, Beth walked into the kitchen and made herself a cup of coffee. Sipping the reviving brew, she concluded it was probably as well it had ended this way. Dex could do his damnedest for all she cared. He no longer had any hold over her. He had broken her heart, but he would never know. She was young enough and strong enough to recover, she told herself. And if the thought echoed hollowly in the corner of her mind, there was no one to hear it but Beth.
She spent a miserable weekend, and could barely wait to get home on Monday evening and ring Mike. She quizzed him tactfully about work, but he was fine—his job was fine. Still Dex's threat preyed on her mind. As each day passed she found her nerves getting more and more strung out, waiting for the proverbial clog to drop. . .
Giorganni's Proposal Page 11
