The Helen Bianchin Collection

by Helen Bianchin

  ‘I won’t drop him,’ Aleksi drawled with hateful cynicism, and her eyes darkened to a deep cerulean blue.

  ‘I never imagined you would,’ she snapped, aware that the babysitter was in the kitchen preparing her own dinner and therefore happily in ignorance of their barbed exchange.

  Alyse willed Georg to cry, thus signalling his displeasure at being placed in a stranger’s care, but he failed to comply and merely lay still, his bright eyes wide and dark. One could be forgiven for imagining he was fascinated, and perhaps he was, she decided uncharitably, for there had to be an awareness of change from her own scent and body-softness in comparison with his uncle’s muscularly hard male-contoured frame.

  Aleksi’s expression was inscrutably intent, and she watched as he placed a forefinger into Georg’s baby palm, detecting a momentary flaring of triumph as tiny fingers closed around it.

  ‘He’s a beautiful child,’ she said quietly, and suffered Aleksi’s swift scrutiny.

  ‘He’s my brother’s son.’ He paused slightly, then added with soft emphasis, ‘Our son.’

  For some reason a chill shiver feathered its way down her spine. His words sounded irrevocable, almost as if he was issuing a silent warning. Yet he could have no inkling of her intention to instigate a divorce and gain custody of Georg—could he?

  Stop it, she bade silently. You’re merely being fanciful.

  ‘He really should go down for the night.’ She purposely shifted her gaze to Georg, who in total contrariness looked as if he had every intention of remaining wide awake.

  ‘Why don’t you go and change?’ Aleksi suggested. ‘The babysitter can settle him into his cot, and you can check him before we leave.’

  A slight frown momentarily furrowed Alyse’s brow.

  ‘Dinner,’ he elaborated.

  The thought of suffering through another meal in his sole company was the last thing she wanted, but the alternative of staying in was even worse. ‘I’m not very hungry, and I still have to pack.’ It was a token protest at best, and he knew it.

  ‘We won’t be late.’

  Dammit, what she’d give to ruffle that implacable composure! A sobering thought occurred that she had, and the result wasn’t something she’d willingly choose to repeat.

  ‘In that case, I’ll go and get ready.’

  ‘Unequivocal compliance, Alyse?’

  ‘Conditional accedence,’ she corrected, and leaning forward she brushed her lips to Georg’s forehead. ‘Goodnight, darling,’ she bade softly. ‘Sleep well.’

  The gesture brought her far too close to Aleksi, and she straightened at once, moving away without so much as a backward glance as she left the room.

  Selecting something suitable to wear took scant minutes, and she chose to freshen her make-up, merely adding a light dusting of powder and reapplying lipstick before running a brush through her hair.

  Slipping into shoes, she collected a clutch-purse, then took one quick glance at her mirrored reflection, uncaring that the tailored black dress and red jacket provided a striking foil for her attractive features and pale shining hair.

  As she emerged from her room she almost collided with Aleksi, and she bore his scrutiny with equanimity.

  ‘Georg is already fast asleep,’ he enlightened her quietly as he walked at her side to the lounge.

  ‘Aleksi has written down the name and telephone number of the restaurant in case of any emergency,’ the babysitter revealed, her eyes sparkling as they moved from one to the other, and Alyse could have sworn there was a degree of wistful envy in the young girl’s expression. ‘Please enjoy yourselves, and stay as long as you want. I don’t mind.’

  One glance at Aleksi Stefanos had been sufficient for the romantic eighteen-year-old to weave an impossible imaginary fantasy that bore no similarity whatsoever to reality!

  Alyse could only proffer a sweet smile and utter her thanks, although inwardly she felt like screaming in vexation.

  ‘Save it until we’re in the car,’ murmured Aleksi as he stood aside for her to precede him from the house, and she turned towards him with the smile still firmly pinned in place.

  ‘Thus preserving the required image, I suppose?’

  His gaze was full of mockery. ‘Of course.’

  Her expression registered an entire gamut of emotions, and she struggled to contain them as she slid into the passenger seat. ‘Oh, go to hell!’

  ‘I would advise putting a curb on your tongue.’ His voice was dangerously soft, and in the dim interior of the car it was impossible to determine his expression. Not that she cared, she assured herself. He could bring down the wrath of a veritable Nemesis on her head, and it wouldn’t matter at all.

  The restaurant Aleksi had chosen was intimate, and offered superb cuisine. As a perfect complement, he ordered a bottle of Cristal, and proposed a solemn toast to their future together.

  It wasn’t something Alyse coveted, and she merely sipped the excellent champagne and forked morsels of food into her mouth with seemingly mechanical regularity.

  Consequently it was a relief when coffee was served, and she breathed a silent sigh as Aleksi summoned the waiter for their bill.

  In the car she sat in silence, grateful that he made no attempt at idle conversation, and the moment they arrived home she moved indoors with indecent haste, paid the babysitter and presented her with a parting gift, forcing a smile as the girl gave her an impulsive hug and bestowed her best wishes on them both.

  ‘I’ll make up your bed,’ Alyse declared minutes after Anna’s departure, ‘then finish packing.’

  ‘If you retrieve the necessary bed-linen, I’m sure I can manage,’ Aleksi drawled, and she retaliated with deliberate sarcasm,

  ‘A domesticated husband—how nice! Can you cook too?’

  ‘Adequately. I also iron.’

  ‘It almost seems too much!’

  ‘Me, or my—abilities?’ Aleksi’s emphasis was deliberate, and she directed him an arctic glare.

  ‘As I haven’t experienced any of your abilities, I’m hardly in a position to comment.’

  ‘Is that an invitation?’

  His sarcasm was the living end. ‘You know damn well it’s not!’ She moved quickly past him into the hallway and flung open the linen closet. ‘You should have stayed at the hotel,’ she declared, and was utterly incensed when she glimpsed his silent humour.

  ‘Alone?’ Aleksi mocked.

  Alyse closed her eyes, then opened them again in a gesture of pure exasperation. ‘Take a clean towel with you if you want to shower. Goodnight,’ she added pointedly. Without a further word she walked towards her bedroom, then went in and closed the door behind her.

  If he dared to follow her, she’d do him a mortal injury, she determined vengefully as she set about filling a suitcase with the remainder of her clothes. When the chore was completed she looked in on Georg, then crept back to her room, undressed, and slipped into bed.

  She was so tired she should have fallen asleep within minutes, except there were fragmented images torturing her subconscious mind, the most vivid of which was the compelling form of Aleksi Stefanos. He appeared as a dark, threatening force: compelling, and infinitely powerful.

  She had married in haste, out of love and loyalty to her sister and baby Georg. Would she repent at leisure, transported several thousand kilometres to the opposite side of the continent, where Aleksi Stefanos was in command?

  Alyse found it impossible not to feel apprehensive as she boarded the large Boeing jet the following morning, and as each aeronautical mile brought them steadily closer to their destination the anxiety intensified.

  A stopover in Melbourne and change in aircraft was instrumental in the final leg of their flight, and Alyse followed Aleksi into the arrival lounge at Coolangatta, aware that Georg, who had travelled surprisingly well, was now wide awake and would soon require the bottle the airline stewardess had kindly heated prior to disembarking.

  Aleksi gave every appearance of being a doting uncle—
father, she corrected silently, incredibly aware that he exuded dynamic masculinity attired in dark casual-style trousers, pale shirt and impeccably designed jacket that served to emphasise his breadth of shoulder—and she mentally squared her own, tilting her chin fractionally as he moved forward to lift various items of their luggage from the carousel and load them on to a trolley.

  ‘I arranged to have my car brought to the airport,’ he told her as Georg broke into a fractious wail. ‘Wait here while I collect it from the car park.’

  Alyse nodded in silent acquiescence, her entire attention caught up by the baby in the carrycot, whose tiny legs began to kick in vigorous rejection of what she suspected was a freshly soiled nappy.

  By the time Aleksi returned Georg was crying lustily, and she opted to care for the baby’s needs while Aleksi dealt with the luggage.

  ‘Forceful young fellow,’ Aleksi drawled minutes later as he eased the large BMW away from the terminal.

  ‘Who’s obviously intent on continuing in the same domineering vein as his forefathers,’ Alyse offered sweetly as she gave Georg his bottle.

  ‘Of whom you know very little,’ reproved Aleksi, shooting her a quick mocking glance via the rear-view mirror, and she was quick with a loaded response.

  ‘Oh, I wouldn’t say that. I’m learning more each day.’ She deliberately focused her attention on Georg, pacing the baby’s attempt to drain the contents of his bottle in record speed, then when he had finished she burped him and laid him down in the carrycot, watching anxiously until he lapsed into a fitful doze.

  Alyse pretended an interest in the darkened scenery beyond the windscreen, viewing the clearly lit highway and abundance of neon signs with apparent absorption.

  ‘Is this your first visit to the Gold Coast?’ he asked.

  She turned towards him, glimpsing strength of purpose in features made all the more arresting by reflected headlights in the dim interior of the car.

  ‘My parents brought Antonia and me here for a holiday about ten years ago,’ she revealed.

  The tiny lines fanning out from his eyes became more pronounced and his mouth widened into a slight smile. ‘You’ll notice a lot of changes.’

  ‘For the better, I hope?’

  ‘That would depend on whether you prefer the relaxed, casual holiday atmosphere the locals enjoyed all year round with only the inconvenience of visiting tourists during peak season, or the bustling commercial centre Surfers’ Paradise has now become.’

  ‘I guess one has to admit it’s progress,’ Alyse opined as the luxurious vehicle purred swiftly north along the double-lane highway.

  ‘There’s been a massive injection of Japanese-controlled funds into the area—hotels, resorts, golf courses,’ Aleksi told her. ‘The flow-on has resulted in a building boom: houses, shopping centres, high-rise developments, offices.’

  ‘As a builder, you must be very pleased with the increased business.’ It was a non-committal comment, and not meant to be judgemental. However, it earned her a quick piercing glance before the road reclaimed his attention.

  ‘The Coast has a long history of boom-and-bust cycles in building and real estate. Only the foolish choose to disregard facts and fail to plan ahead.’

  No one in their right mind could call Aleksi Stefanos a fool, Alyse thought wryly. Remembering the force of his kiss, the steel-like strength of his arms as they had held her immobile, provided a vivid reminder of what manner of man she intended playing against. Yet it was a game she must win.

  As the BMW pulled into the outer lane and sped swiftly past a line of slower-moving vehicles with ease, Alyse could only wonder at its horsepower capacity. There were outlines of densely covered hills reaching into the distance as Aleksi veered inland from the coastal highway.

  ‘Sovereign Islands comprises a number of bridge-linked residentially developed islands situated to the east of Paradise Point, less than an hour’s drive from the airport,’ he told her. ‘It’s a prestigious security-guarded estate, and accessible by road from the mainland via a private bridge. Every home site has deep-water anchorage.’

  ‘A gilded prison for the fabulously wealthy, with a luxury vessel moored at the bottom of every garden?’

  ‘The residents prefer to call it civilised protection, and are prepared to pay for the privilege.’

  ‘Suitably cushioned from the harsh realities of life.’ Alyse couldn’t believe she was resorting to sarcasm. It simply wasn’t her style. Yet for some unknown reason the man behind the wheel generated the most adverse feelings in her, making her want to lash out against him in every possible way.

  He didn’t bother to reply, and she sat in silence, aware of an increasing anxiety as the car sped steadily north. Her home in Perth seemed a million kilometres away; the relative ease of life as she’d known it equally distant.

  Her marriage was one of necessity, and merely mutually convenient. So why was she as wound up as a tightly coiled spring?

  ‘We’re almost there,’ Aleksi declared drily, and Alyse spared her surroundings a swift encompassing glance, noting the numerous brightly lit architect-designed homes and established well-kept grounds.

  Aleksi had said his home was a showcase, and she silently agreed as he turned the car on to a tiled driveway fronting a magnificent double-storeyed residence that seemed far too large for one man alone.

  Pale granite walls were reflected by the car’s powerful headlights, their lines imposing and classically defined. At a touch of the remote control module the wide garage doors tilted upwards, and Aleksi brought the BMW to a smooth halt alongside a Patrol four-wheel-drive vehicle.

  Minutes later Alyse followed him into a large entrance foyer featuring a vaulted ceiling of tinted glass. A magnificent chandelier hung suspended from its centre, lending spaciousness and an abundance of light reflected by off-white walls and deep-piled cream-textured carpet. The central focus was a wide double staircase leading to the upper floor.

  Wide glass-panelled doors stood open revealing an enormous lounge furnished with delicately carved antique furniture, and there were several carefully placed oil paintings gracing the walls, providing essential colour.

  ‘I suggest you settle Georg,’ said Aleksi as he brought in the luggage. His expression was a inscrutable mask as he chose a passageway to his left, and Alyse had little option but to follow in his wake.

  ‘The master suite has an adjoining sitting-room overlooking the canal—’ with a wide sweep of his arm he indicated a door immediately opposite ‘—an en suite bathroom, and, to the left, a changing-room with two separate walk-in wardrobes.’

  The décor had an elegance that was restful and visually pleasant, utilising a skilful mix of pale green and a soft shade of peach as a complement to the overall cream.

  ‘There’s the requisite nursery furniture in the sitting-room,’ he continued, moving forward. ‘And a spare bed which you can use until—’

  ‘Until—what?’ Alyse’s eyes blazed blue fire in an unspoken challenge.

  ‘You’re ready to share mine,’ he drawled with imperturbable calm.

  She was so incredibly furious that she almost shook with anger, and she failed to feel Georg stir in her arms, nor did she register his slight whimper in sleepy protest. ‘That will be never!’

  Dark eyebrows slanted above eyes that held hers in deliberate mocking appraisal. ‘My dear Alyse,’ chided Aleksi with chilling softness, ‘surely you expect the marriage to be consummated?’

  Her eyes widened with angry incredulity. ‘In a house this large, there have to be other adequate bedrooms from which I can choose.’

  ‘Several,’ Aleksi agreed. ‘However, this is where you’ll stay.’

  Her chin tilted in a gesture of indignant mutiny. ‘The hell I will!’

  ‘Eventually you must fall asleep.’ He gave a careless shrug as he indicated the large bed. ‘When you do, I’ll simply transfer you here.’

  ‘You unspeakable fiend!’ she lashed out. ‘I won’t let you do that.’


  ‘How do you propose to stop me?’

  His expression was resolute, and only an innocent would fail to detect tensile steel beneath the silky smoothness of his voice.

  Alyse’s heart lurched painfully, then skipped a beat. Only a wide aperture separated the sitting-room from the bedroom, with no door whatsoever to afford her any privacy.

  ‘You’re an unfeeling, insensitive—’ She faltered to a furious halt, momentarily lost for adequate words in verbal description. ‘Brute!’

  Something flickered in the depths of his eyes, then it was successfully masked. ‘I suggest you settle Georg before he becomes confused and bewildered by the degree of anger you’re projecting.’ He turned towards the bedroom door. ‘I’ll be in the kitchen, making coffee.’

  Alyse wanted to throw something at his departing back, and the only thing that stopped her was the fact that she held Georg in her arms.

  Experiencing momentary defeat, she turned towards the sitting-room, seeing at a glance that it was sufficiently large to hold a pair of single chairs and a sofa, as well as a bed and nursery furniture.

  Placing the baby down into the cot, she gently covered him, lingering long enough to see that he was asleep before moving back into the bedroom.

  Defiance emanated from every pore in her body as she retrieved her nightwear from her bag. A shower would surely ease some of her tension, she decided as she made her way into the luxuriously fitted bathroom. Afterwards she’d beard Aleksi in the kitchen and reaffirm her determination for entirely separate sleeping quarters for herself and Georg.

  It was heaven to stand beneath the jet of pulsating hot water, and she took her time before using one of several large fluffy bathtowels to dry the excess moisture from her body. Her toilette completed, she slipped on a nightgown and added a matching robe.

  There were bottles to sterilise and formula to make up in case Georg should wake through the night, and, collecting the necessary carry-bag, she went in search of the kitchen.

  She found it off a passageway on the opposite side of the lounge, and she studiously ignored the tall dark-haired man in the process of pouring black aromatic coffee from a percolator into one of two cups set out on the servery.