Aleksi’s eyes narrowed faintly, but she really didn’t care any more.
‘I’m sure Dominic won’t mind keeping me amused for a while if Solange would prefer you to confer with Anthea,’ she said sweetly, and glimpsed Solange’s smile of triumph.
‘I’ll speak to Anthea later,’ Aleksi determined mildly, although there was nothing remotely mild about the warning pressure of the hand clasping her own. ‘Shall we mingle?’ he queried pleasantly. ‘We can’t monopolise our hosts’ attention.’
Solange’s expression clearly revealed that he, at least, could monopolise her attention any time he chose, and Alyse had little choice but to drift at Aleksi’s side as he drew her among the glittering guests.
The penthouse apartment provided a brilliant advertisement for Solange and Dominic’s interior decorating expertise. Perfection personified, Alyse thought, with the smallest detail adhered to from the exquisite floral arrangements to the attire of the hired staff. Even the music had been deliberately selected to blend with conversation rather than provide a cacophonous intrusion.
‘Aren’t you being a little careless?’ Aleksi queried with deceptive calm as they paused near the edge of the room, and Alyse idly twirled the contents of her glass.
‘Another guessing game, Aleksi?’ she countered, deliberately meeting his gaze.
‘I find it particularly unamusing to have my wife offer provocative comments to a known society playboy.’
‘Dominic?’ Her eyes widened measurably, then became startlingly direct. ‘Really? When almost every woman in the room homes in on your presence like a prize bitch in heat?’
‘Aren’t you being overly dramatic?’
‘No,’ she said simply, and had to force herself to stand perfectly still as he lifted a hand and brushed his fingers across her cheek.
‘Does it bother you?’
Yes, she wanted to cry out. It bothers me like hell. Yet if she acknowledged how she felt it would amount to an admission of sorts, and she wasn’t ready to accord him any advantage. Instead, she held his gaze and returned evenly, ‘Why should it?’
Something flared in his eyes, an infinitesimal flame that was quickly masked. ‘We can always leave.’
Her surprise was undisguised. ‘We’ve only just arrived.’
‘Do you want to stay?’
What a loaded question! Whichever way she answered would be equally damning and, although she didn’t particularly want to remain, she wasn’t ready to go home.
‘Aleksi! I’m so glad you’re here.’
The intrusion was welcome, and Alyse glanced with interest towards the petite blonde hovering nearby as Aleksi effected an introduction.
‘Anthea Holmes, my wife Alyse.’
‘How nice to meet you,’ she acknowledged with gracious charm before turning towards Aleksi. ‘I’m almost at my wits’ end!’ Her pretty hazel eyes darkened with anxiety. ‘The house is superb, but I can’t help wondering when I’ll be able to move in.’
‘Solange mentioned a conflict of interest over the colour scheme,’ Aleksi acknowledged. ‘What seems to be the problem?’
‘A shade of pink,’ Anthea said at once. ‘I originally chose an extremely delicate salmon shade to blend with cream, and utilising various apricot tones as the main theme. Solange insists on shell-pink to blend with mushroom and various tones of amethyst.’ She turned towards Alyse. ‘What do you think?’
Oh lord, Alyse groaned inwardly. Why drag me into it? ‘I wouldn’t presume to infringe on Solange’s territory,’ she ventured diplomatically. ‘But surely it’s a personal choice?’ Solange was bound to feel insulted if she discovered Anthea had solicited another opinion, especially hers, and, while the woman could never be her friend, she didn’t particularly want her as an enemy.
‘I’d appreciate your viewpoint.’
‘Whose viewpoint, darling?’
Alyse almost groaned aloud, and was somewhat startled to see that Anthea was not in the least perturbed that Solange had overheard part of their conversation.
‘I’ve invited Alyse to see the house.’
It was clearly evident that the cat had been well and truly placed among the pigeons, for Solange cast her a sharp narrowed glance. ‘Well, of course, if you value the opinion of an unqualified outsider over and above my own …’ She let her voice trail to a deliberate halt.
‘Alyse is naturally interested in my work,’ Aleksi inserted smoothly. ‘Aware, also, that I consider my individual clients’ wishes are paramount.’ His dark eyes encompassed Solange’s features in silent warning before switching to Anthea. ‘I’ll ring my painting contractor tomorrow, then confirm with you and have him meet us at the house.’
Anthea’s relief was instantly evident. ‘Thank you.’ She touched Alyse’s hand. ‘I’ll be mailing invitations to a housewarming party just as soon as I’ve settled in. You will both come, won’t you?’
‘We’d be delighted,’ Aleksi responded warmly, and Anthea looked quite overcome.
‘Another conquest, darling?’ Solange asked archly the instant Anthea had melted into the crowd.
‘Anthea is a very pleasant woman,’ he acknowledged coolly. ‘And a valued client of mine.’ But not necessarily of yours.
The words remained unspoken, yet Alyse was supremely conscious of the veiled threat. Aware also that Solange sensed his displeasure, for her features underwent a startling transformation.
‘A figurative rap across the knuckles, Aleksi?’ Solange queried provocatively. ‘Dear little Anthea can have her salmon pink and cream with apricot, if that’s what she wants. Why, when she has such rigid ideas, she should consult with an interior designer is beyond me.’ Her exquisitely manicured hands fluttered through the air. ‘One mustn’t forget the newly rich consider it quite the thing to gather opinions without the slightest intention of applying one of them.’
‘Perhaps because they prefer to impose something of their own personality,’ said Alyse, and drew a raised eyebrow in response.
‘Really, darling,’ Solange gave a faint shudder, ‘I hope this doesn’t mean you intend making too many changes in Aleksi’s home. It’s total perfection just as it is.’
‘An incredible compliment,’ a drawling voice intervened, ‘considering you had no part in it.’
‘Dominic. Eavesdropping again?’
Alyse’s glass was whisked out of her hand before she had an opportunity to protest, and she made no demur when Dominic took hold of her elbow.
‘Come and let me show you the view from the window,’ Dominic insisted. ‘It’s really spectacular.’
It was; beyond the wide expanse of plate-glass tiny pinpricks of light outlined countless high-rise buildings along the foreshore curving in an arc towards the ocean. The sky was a crisp cool indigo, meeting and merging on the horizon with a moon-dappled darkened sea.
‘It’s beautiful,’ Alyse said softly, caught up in the thrall of man-made monoliths of concrete steel and glass blending with the stark simplicity of nature.
‘I can pay you the same compliment.’
She stood quite still at the degree of warmth in his voice. ‘I shall accept that in the context in which it should be given,’ she said lightly, and heard his purring laugh.
‘I’m shattered,’ he remarked musingly. ‘I imagined you to be an innocent in paradise.’
‘Innocence belongs to the very young.’
‘Cynicism too,’ he mocked. ‘From one whose air of fragility is positively intriguing. A mystery woman-child with clear eyes and a beautiful smile. I hope Aleksi appreciates you.’
Of its own accord her smile deepened, and she laughed, a light bubbly sound filled with genuine amusement.
‘No comment?’
‘May I choose not to?’ Alyse countered, and her eyes flew wide as he took hold of her hand.
‘Old-fashioned values?’
‘I consider a respect for one’s privacy is merely good manners,’ she corrected solemnly, and saw his eyes lose their customary jaded exp
ression in favour of what appeared to be genuine warmth.
‘What a pity Aleksi saw you first.’
Even if he hadn’t, she couldn’t imagine herself being smitten by Dominic’s superficial charm. Whereas Aleksi possessed depth and strength of character, the man at her side bore a shallow brittleness that was undoubtedly motivated by self-obsession.
She turned slightly, unconsciously seeking a familiar dark head across the crowded room, and her eyes widened as they encountered Aleksi’s riveting gaze. He was engaged in conversation with a group of men she had met but vaguely remembered, and it was almost as if he knew she had conducted a mental comparison, for she saw one eyebrow lift in silent query.
For one crazy moment she felt as if everything faded away and there was no one else in the room. It was totally mad, but she wanted to be with him. Not only by his side, but in his arms, held close, and loved with such incredible tenderness that she would probably cry from the sheer joy of it.
Her eyes widened and assumed an ethereal mistiness for an incredibly brief second, then she offered a slightly shaky smile and turned back towards Dominic, feeling completely disorientated as she launched into a conversational discourse that was unrelated to anything of particular interest.
It must have made sense, she thought vaguely, for Dominic responded with a flow of words she barely registered, let alone absorbed, and she gave a mental shake as if to clear her head.
What on earth was the matter with her?
‘Dominic—you won’t mind if I rescue my wife?’
Alyse heard Aleksi’s deep drawling voice an instant before his arm curved round her waist, and she felt all her fine body hairs lift up in silent recognition of his presence.
‘I assure you she isn’t in the slightest danger.’
Never from Dominic. Aleksi, however, was an entirely different matter!
‘Shall we leave?’ Aleksi queried, bending his head down to hers, and she shrugged.
‘If you like.’
‘It’s barely midnight!’ protested Dominic, and Aleksi responded smoothly,
‘We said before we left that we wouldn’t be late.’
‘But surely you can ring the babysitter?’
‘I think not.’
In the car Alyse sat in silence, grateful for the light music emitting from stereo speakers, and she simply let her head fall back against the seat’s headrest as the BMW purred through the darkened streets.
On reaching home Melanie reported that Georg hadn’t even stirred, and Alyse checked his sleeping form while Aleksi saw the young girl into her car and then locked up.
Slipping out of her shoes, Alyse stepped through to the en suite bathroom and set about removing her make-up. Her features looked pale, and her eyes seemed much too large, she decided broodingly. Even her mouth bore a faintly bruised fullness, and she ran the tip of her tongue along the edge of her lower lip in unconscious exploration before lifting the brush to her hair.
She had only just begun when Aleksi entered the bathroom, and her hand faltered slightly as he moved close and took the brush from her nerveless fingers.
She knew she should protest, but no words left her lips, and she stood still beneath his touch, held as if enmeshed in some elusive sensual spell.
The temptation to close her eyes was irresistible, and when the brush strokes ceased she let her lashes flicker up as she met his gaze via mirrored reflection.
His hands moved to the zip fastening of her dress, and she made no effort to prevent its slithering folds slipping down to the floor, nor the thin scrap of satin and lace of her bra as he released the clasp.
Fingers traced the length of her spine, then spanned her waist before slipping up to cup her breasts. His breath fanned her nape, and she let her head fall forward in silent invitation, unable to suppress a shiver of sheer reaction as his lips sought a vulnerable pulsebeat and savoured it until tiny shockwaves of pleasure spiralled from deep within her central core.
It was almost as if he wanted her to see the effect of his touch on her body, and she moved back against him, arching slightly as his fingers teased the soft fullness of her breasts, then shaped them as the peaks tautened and became engorged with anticipatory pleasure. With detached fascination she glimpsed the soft smudges where hours earlier his mouth had wrought havoc as he had sought to punish, and her eyes clouded in remembered pain.
Hands slid to her shoulders and turned her round to face him, and she was powerless against the caressing softness of his lips as they brushed each bruise in turn before trailing up to settle on her trembling mouth.
His touch was an evocative supplication, teasing, tasting, loving in a manner that made her want to cry, and when he slid an arm beneath her knees and lifted her into his arms she could only bury her face against the hollow of his neck.
In bed she closed her eyes, grateful for the darkness as he led her with infinite slowness towards the sweet oblivion of sexual fulfilment, and she clung to him unashamedly, adrift in a sea of her own emotions.
A week ago, even yesterday, she had been so positive her planned escape to Perth was what she desperately wanted. Now, the thought of walking away from Aleksi caused doubt and indecision, and for the first time she was filled with despair.
If she stayed, it would have to be for all the right reasons, and she doubted if love formed any part of his rationale. The most she could hope for would be an affectionate loyalty, a bond founded by Georg’s existence. Somehow it wasn’t enough.
For what seemed like an hour Alyse lay awake staring at the shadowed ceiling, a hundred differing emotions clouding her mind in kaleidoscopic confusion.
Nothing was the same; nothing, Alyse decided sadly as she slid carefully out of bed, each movement in seeming slow motion so as not to disturb the man sleeping silently at her side.
How could she leave? Yet how could she stay? a tiny voice taunted as she crossed to the sitting-room and paused in front of Georg’s cot. He was so dear, everything, she decided fiercely, unable to prevent her eyes misting with unshed tears.
Moonlight streamed through the opaque curtains, creating an area of shade and silvery light, while long shadowy fingers magnified everything beyond. The balustrading surrounding the pool resembled a grotesque caricature of angles that were unrelated to its original structure, and the pool itself appeared a deep, dark void.
Like her heart. Dear lord in heaven, was it too much to expect happiness? Was she being a fool to even hope it could be achieved?
She had no idea how long she stood there, and it was acute sensory perception rather than an actual sound that alerted her to Aleksi’s presence.
‘What are you doing here?’ His voice was deep and husky, and she was unable to prevent the shiver that shook her slim frame.
Hands caught her shoulders in a light clasp, then slid down her arms, slipping beneath her elbows to curve round her waist as he pulled her gently back against him.
‘You’ll catch a chill,’ he chided softly, burying his lips against the vulnerable hollow at the edge of her neck.
I am cold, so cold there should be ice instead of blood in my veins. As long as I live, I’ll never be warm again.
‘Come back to bed.’
No! a silent voice screamed out in silent agony. That was her downfall, the place where she fought countless battles and inevitably lost. Her eyes began to ache with barely suppressed tears, and her vision shimmered as two huge crystalline drops hovered, momentarily dammed by protective lower lashes.
‘Alyse?’
Hands gently turned her towards him, and she was powerless to evade the strong fingers that took hold of her chin and tilted it upwards.
The movement released her tears, and there was nothing she could do to prevent their slow trickling descent.
It was impossible that they might escape his attention; too much to hope for that he might choose not to comment on their existence.
She looked at him, her head caught at a proud angle, its planes sharply defined, yet
his profile was indistinct viewed through a watery mist that failed to dissipate no matter how often she blinked.
I’m caught in a trap, she thought, feeling incredibly sad. Bound within a silken web whose strands hold me prisoner as surely as if they were comprised of tensile steel.
‘Tears?’
Amusement was sadly lacking, and in its place was a depth she was almost afraid to analyse.
A finger traced one rivulet, then followed the path of its twin. ‘Why?’
For all the dreams, the love I have to give; hope, eternity.
‘Alyse?’
His voice was as soft as velvet, his breath warm as it fanned her cheek, and she closed her eyes against the featherlight touch of his lips at her temples, on her eyelids, then finally her mouth.
It was seduction at its most dangerous, and she almost succumbed as he lifted her into his arms and carried her back into the bedroom. The only thing that stopped her was the degree of treachery involved; sexual pleasure without emotional commitment was no longer enough, and she couldn’t pretend any more.
Gently he let her slide down to her feet.
‘Suppose you tell me what’s bothering you?’
Where could she begin? By saying she’d fallen in love with him? A slight tremor shook her thinly clad form at the thought of his cynicism on learning that she had joined a number of women who had fallen prey to his fatal brand of sexual sensuality.
‘I’m almost afraid to insist.’ There was an indefinable quality in his voice, a rawness that sent her lashes sweeping upward in swift disbelief.
Alyse was aware of him watching every visible flicker of emotion, and she forced herself to breathe steadily to deploy the deep thudding beat of her heart.
‘Please,’ Aleksi demanded gently, letting his hands slide up to cup her face.
The Helen Bianchin Collection Page 137
