The Helen Bianchin Collection

by Helen Bianchin

  Nicos held her throughout the night, and when she thought he slept she slowly shifted her body, only to have him anchor her in close against him.

  CHAPTER TEN

  KATRINA woke to find she was alone, and for a moment she lay still as images of the previous night emerged, haunting her with their pagan intensity.

  Nicos’s hunger had been wild, unprincipled…without consequence or thought except to assuage a primeval need.

  His controlled anger was infinitely more formidable than if he’d raised his voice or had resorted to smashing an inanimate object. Of which there were a few exquisite antique pieces positioned on beautiful rosewood chests flanking the lobby.

  She shifted position, tentatively stretching her body…and felt the slight pull of ill-used muscles. There was an ache deep within, a remnant of his possession, and she was conscious of the sensation with each move she made.

  What time was it? She rolled onto her side to check the digital clock, then sat upright in shocked surprise. Eight?

  That left her thirty minutes in which to shower, dress, and fight traffic in order to arrive at the office on time.

  She made it downstairs, caught up her laptop, her bag, and turned towards the front door…only to come to a faltering stop as Nicos emerged into the lobby.

  For a moment she stood completely still, her gaze trapped in his as he closed the distance between them.

  When he almost reached her, her defence mechanism kicked into place and she found her voice.

  ‘I’m already late.’

  ‘In which case, a few more minutes won’t make any difference,’ he ventured silkily.

  She wanted out of here, with space between them and time caught up with the mundane routine of business to occupy her mind. ‘I have to leave.’

  ‘No,’ Nicos countered quietly. ‘You don’t.’ He lifted a hand and caught hold of her chin, tilting it to examine her features.

  He doubted she’d slept any better than he had. How many times had he soothed her restless form through the night, while battling his own demons?

  It mattered little that she’d provided provocation. His reaction to it was inexcusable.

  ‘What do you want?’

  Now there was a question to which he could find no single answer. Uppermost was the most important one by far. He stroked the tip of his thumb over the full curve of her lower lip. ‘Are you all right?’

  ‘Do you care?’ The retaliatory words were out before she could stop them.

  ‘Yes.’

  She was powerless to prevent the faint quivering sensation that shook her slim frame. ‘I don’t have time for a post-mortem.’

  Nicos dropped his hand. ‘Tonight.’

  Katrina stepped back a pace, then skirted his tall frame. ‘Before, during, or after we’ve attended the art exhibition?’ She saw his eyes darken, and was unable to resist querying sweetly, ‘You can’t have forgotten?’

  ‘No. I’ve already checked the day’s diary.’

  She turned as she reached the passageway leading through to the garage. ‘I could be late.’

  It became the day from hell. Traffic was backed up due to an accident, trebling the usual time it took to reach the city. Consequently it was after nine when she walked into her office.

  To discover the computer network was down, and several irate messages from a client company whose head honcho wanted Macbride to supply top quality work for a cleverly worded contract worth peanuts.

  There were, Katrina fumed, still men who imagined they could slip anything by a colleague simply because of her gender. She made the call, confounded him with figures and logic, then icily informed him Macbride was not interested in dealing with him, only to have pithy invective heaped on her head.

  Just when she thought the day couldn’t get any worse, her secretary relayed,

  ‘Georgia Burton is in reception.’

  Katrina felt her stomach twist at the announcement. It would be easy to insist Georgia make an appointment, with no advantage except to delay the confrontation.

  ‘Show her in.’ Nerves had her smoothing a hand over her hair and repairing her lipstick. She’d just tossed the capped tube into her drawer when a discreet knock at the door preceded Georgia’s entrance.

  The model looked a million dollars in a pale silk suit, an artfully draped scarf, stiletto heels, and perfectly applied make-up.

  Katrina indicated one of three comfortable chairs. ‘Please, take a seat.’ In a calculated movement she checked her watch. ‘I have to attend a scheduled meeting in ten minutes.’

  ‘Darling, five minutes will do.’ Georgia crossed to the plate-glass window and took a few valuable seconds to look out over the city before turning towards Katrina.

  ‘Nicos and I have struck a deal.’

  Don’t let her get to you. ‘Indeed?’

  ‘I thought you’d be interested.’

  ‘Why would you think that?’

  ‘Doesn’t it bother you that Nicos still continues to see me?’

  ‘Should it?’

  ‘Yes, considering you’re an obstacle that prevents him being a father to his son.’

  ‘An obstacle you intend to remove?’

  ‘I’m glad you get the drift.’

  ‘That this is a last-ditch effort on your part?’ she queried with deadly softness. ‘How long, Georgia, before due legal process forces the release of your son’s DNA results?’ Her gaze didn’t falter as she mentally sharpened her claws. ‘A day, hours, before your elaborate scheme falls apart?’

  ‘Nikki is Nicos’s son!’

  ‘I’m sure you wish that were true.’ Katrina aimed for the kill, and played the biggest gamble of her life. ‘But it’s not, is it?’ Dear Lord, what if she was wrong?

  Georgia’s eyes narrowed. ‘Two days ago Nicos was in Brisbane with me.’

  ‘A meeting which took place in a lawyer’s office.’

  ‘Is that what he told you?’

  ‘What if I told you I have a private detective’s report tabling Nicos’s every move?’ She didn’t, but Georgia wasn’t to know that.

  ‘Then, you have precise details of each liaison.’

  Stay calm, Katrina bade silently. She’s merely calling your bluff. Or was she? Don’t go there.

  Summoning icy control Katrina stood to her feet and crossed to the door. ‘You’ll have to excuse me.’

  Georgia’s features were composed, her voice dripping with pseudo sympathy. ‘He may remain married to you, darling, but he’ll always be mine.’

  She swept out the door with the sort of smile that made Katrina want to smash something.

  Déjàvu, she reflected grimly as she crossed back to her desk.

  Nine months ago she’d stood in this office shattered beyond belief at the news Georgia was pregnant with Nicos’s child.

  Had she been wrong? Could Georgia have contrived evidence that, while appearing irrefutable, was in fact erroneous?

  Nicos had asserted his innocence from the beginning. What if he was right?

  There was nothing she could do, but wait for the DNA results to be released.

  Lunch wasn’t even an option, and by mid-afternoon she was punchy. Make that very punchy, she determined after taking a call from her wayward and very persistent stepbrother.

  She couldn’t even threaten to expose him to Chloe, for his mother was well aware of his habitual need for money and why. It was, Chloe had explained languidly, a phase. As far as Katrina was concerned, Enrique had long outgrown this phase and was several steps down the path to addiction.

  It was five-thirty when she left the office, and she joined the commuter trail of bumper-to-bumper vehicles clogging the city’s arterial routes leading to suburbs on all compass points.

  Nicos’s car was already in the garage when she parked the Boxster close by, and he was there in the lobby when she entered it.

  Katrina threw him a fulminating glare as she bypassed him and made for the stairs. ‘Don’t even ask.’ And she missed the way
his eyebrow slanted with cynical bemusement as he viewed her ascending.

  When she reached the landing she deftly removed one heeled pump, then the other, and by the time she reached the bedroom she’d unbuttoned her jacket, had loosened the camisole she wore beneath it, and was working on the zip fastening of her skirt.

  A minute later she walked naked into the en suite, cast the spa-bath a covetous glance, longing to sink into the capacious tub and have the numerous jets work magic on her tense muscles…except she couldn’t afford the luxury of unlimited time.

  The shower beckoned, and she twisted the dial, adjusted the temperature, then stepped beneath the cascading water, collected the rose-scented soap and began lathering her skin.

  She felt tired and emotionally wrung out and, dammit, she hurt in places she didn’t even want to think about.

  A slight sound alerted her attention, and she turned, gasping out loud as Nicos stepped naked into the shower stall with her.

  ‘What in hell do you think you’re doing?’

  He took the soap from her nerveless fingers. ‘I’d think it was obvious.’

  ‘Oh, no, you don’t,’ Katrina said with a growl as he smoothed the soap over her shoulder. She made to grab it from him, and failed. ‘Give me that!’

  ‘Why don’t you just relax?’

  Relax? She was about as relaxed as a tightly coiled spring. ‘Don’t.’

  His hands were effecting a soothing massage at the edge of her neck, and she gave a silent groan that was part pleasure, part despair as his fingers eased out the kinks, then shifted down her back, inch by blissful inch, then they began working their way up again.

  It felt so good, she forgot her anger, the tension of the day, and she simply closed her eyes and relaxed beneath his touch.

  He soaped every inch of her skin, slowly, and she sighed as his fingers trailed the contours of her breast, then travelled low over her hips.

  ‘We don’t have time for this.’

  ‘Yes, we do.’

  His fingers slid towards her navel, then slipped down to tease the soft curling hair at the apex of her thighs…and stroked with unerring expertise.

  ‘We shouldn’t arrive late.’ She groaned as sensation began a slow spiral through her body.

  ‘No,’ Nicos murmured in agreement, shifting his hands to bring her close against him.

  He lowered his mouth over hers, gently brushing his lips against her own, then he slid his tongue between her teeth and initiated a slow, sensual exploration that heated her blood and sent her pulse thudding to a quickened beat.

  She slid her hands to his shoulders and clung as he deepened the kiss to something so incredibly erotic she lost track of time and place. There was just the two of them, and the magic that was theirs alone.

  Nicos eased back from the brink of passion, softening his mouth as he trailed his lips over hers, pressing light kisses to each corner, the slightly swollen lower curve, before burying his mouth into the vulnerable hollow at the base of her neck.

  How long did they remain like that? Five minutes? Ten? More?

  Katrina felt wonderfully mellow, and filled with a lazy warmth that crept towards wanting more.

  ‘We should get out of here,’ she began to say tentatively, and felt his lips trail up to settle against her temple.

  ‘Uh-huh.’

  She leaned forward and closed the water dial while Nicos snagged a towel, handing it to her before catching up another for himself.

  The temptation to linger was great. Even greater was the need to stay in and not venture from the bedroom at all.

  ‘Later,’ Nicos promised, his eyes dark with slumbering passion as he pressed a finger to her lips.

  The art exhibition was held in a city gallery, featuring up-and-coming artists among whom two were gaining coveted acclaim.

  Katrina wandered among the strategically placed paintings, and gravitated towards one that had caught her eye.

  There was something in the use of colours that reminded her of Monet and the garden theme he so loved to depict on canvas. Beautifully framed, it reminded her of the French countryside with its fresh fields and flowers.

  ‘Like it?’

  ‘Yes, I do.’ It would look perfect in her apartment. Or better yet, hanging on a wall in her office.

  She moved on, aware Nicos had become caught up in conversation with a fellow business associate.

  ‘Dear Katrina, we do seem to garner invitations to the same events.’

  ‘Enrique.’ She acknowledged. ‘Why am I not surprised to see you here?’

  ‘I have contacts, connections,’ he relayed with a glib smile. ‘Schmoozing is the name of the game, and I excel at working a room.’

  ‘Alone?’

  ‘Young, budding artists aren’t Chloe’s thing. Have you thought about my offer?’

  ‘I don’t need to think. The answer, as always, is the same.’

  ‘Katrina,’ Enrique chastised, shaking his head. ‘I’m willing to trade information to your advantage.’

  ‘No.’

  ‘No?’ He waited a beat. ‘Aren’t you in the least curious to hear some interesting facts about Georgia’s love-child? Facts Nicos can substantiate?’

  A cold hand clenched round her heart. ‘That’s old news.’

  ‘It made good copy at the time.’

  ‘Is there anything you won’t do for money?’ she demanded fiercely.

  ‘I have an expensive habit, darling, which needs constant feeding.’ His smile reminded her of a shark baring its teeth. ‘It matters little whether the newspaper pays me, or you do.’

  ‘Go to hell.’

  ‘I take it that’s a no?’

  ‘A very definite and permanent refusal to your demands, now or at any time in the future,’ Nicos said in a dangerously quiet voice. ‘Take heed, Enrique. If you contact Katrina again, I’ll have a restraining order served on you before you can blink.’

  ‘You can’t threaten me!’

  Belligerence tempered with false bravado didn’t augur well with a man of Nicos’s calibre. ‘I’ve stated facts.’ His voice was hard, almost deadly with intent. ‘It’s your choice whether you comply or not.’

  Enrique cast Katrina a look that was filled with animosity. ‘You owe me. Kevin owes me.’

  ‘Harassment is a punishable offence,’ Nicos reminded him with chilling softness.

  Enrique swore. ‘I hope you both rot in hell.’ He turned and began threading his way through the milling guests.

  ‘Charming.’

  Nicos inclined his head. ‘Indeed.’

  ‘I think I’ll go check out some of the exhibits.’

  He fell into step beside her, and they hadn’t moved far when a guest signalled his attention. Katrina offered a polite greeting, then left the two men to talk.

  ‘Something to drink, ma’am?’

  Katrina smiled at the hovering waiter, and selected a flute of champagne from a proffered tray, then she browsed among the exhibits, returning to the painting she’d admired. It held a discreet sold sticker, and she felt a stab of disappointment, mentally cursing herself for not seeking out the gallery owner and negotiating a price.

  ‘I think,’ Nicos drawled as he rejoined her, ‘we’ve provided sufficient patronage. Shall we leave?’

  There were a few acquaintances present among the guests, and it took long minutes to observe the social niceties before they were able to escape the gallery.

  ‘Hungry?’

  She cast him a solemn glance as he eased the car out of its parking bay. ‘Are you offering me food?’

  ‘Did you manage lunch?’

  She hadn’t managed breakfast either, and had subsisted on fruit, a sandwich her secretary had sent out for, and coffee, tea and juice throughout the day.

  Somehow finger food comprising canapés, miniature vol-au-vents and crackers with cheese proffered at the gallery were no substitute for a meal.

  ‘Not as such,’ she admitted, observing the short distance the car trave
lled before sliding to the kerb adjacent to a trendy pavement café in Double Bay.

  The menu was a mix of exotic-sounding dishes, and she chose a prawn risotto with bruschetta, followed by black coffee. Nicos ordered the same, and they sipped iced mineral water as they waited for the food to arrive.

  Katrina was supremely conscious of him, aware the fine clothes were merely the sophisticated trappings of a man whose heart moved to a primitive beat. It was evident in the way he held himself, his eyes reflecting an innate strength, a power that combined a dramatic mesh of elemental ruthlessness with indomitable will. Add latent sensuality, and it became something lethal, mesmeric.

  Rarely had she seen him exert due force, or resort to anger. Except for last night. It had been like unleashing a tiger, and she shivered slightly at the memory.

  ‘Cold?’

  She’d worn elegant evening trousers, with a matching camisole and jacket, and the night was mild. ‘No.’

  A waiter presented their food, and they ate with leisurely ease, then lingered over coffee.

  It was after eleven when Nicos garaged the car and they made their way indoors. The events of the past few days were beginning to have their effect, and all she wanted to do was remove her clothes and crawl into bed.

  ‘Let me do that.’

  Katrina shot him a startled glance as his fingers took care of the buttons on her jacket. The camisole came next, followed by the trousers, which he slid gently down over her hips, and she stepped out of them, then toed off her stiletto-heeled pumps.

  She murmured in protest when his hands reached for her bra clip, and she stilled as he began easing free her bikini briefs.

  ‘Nicos—’

  He stilled anything further she might have said by placing a finger over her mouth, and she stood helplessly as he divested his own clothes.

  In one fluid movement he placed an arm beneath her knees and carried her into bed with him.

  ‘Now, where were we?’

  His fingertips drifted to her waist, explored one hip, then trailed to settle at the apex between her thighs.

  A sound that was part groan, half sigh, whispered from her lips, and her mouth parted beneath his own as he took her down a path towards sensual ecstasy.