The Helen Bianchin Collection

by Helen Bianchin

  Fate, it seemed, had taken a hand, although eventually she’d have to address her sojourn from Sydney, her marriage.

  A hollow laugh escaped her throat as she caught up her shoulder bag and walked out onto the pavement.

  It was a beautiful early summer day, the sun was warm, and there was a slight breeze drifting in from the ocean.

  The usual lunch crowd filled the many cafés lining Tedder Avenue, and she crossed the street, selected an empty table and sank into a seat.

  Efficient service ensured almost immediate attention, and she gave her order, then sipped chilled bottled water as she flipped through the pages of a magazine.

  An article caught her eye, and she read the print with genuine interest, only to put it to one side as the waitress delivered a steaming bowl of vegetable risotto. There was also a fresh bread roll, and she picked up a fork and began eating the delectable food.

  The chatter from patrons seated at adjoining tables provided a pleasant background, combining with the faint purr of vehicles slowly cruising the main street in search of an elusive parking space.

  Expensive cars, wealthy owners who strolled the trendy street to one of several outdoor cafés where lunch with friends was more about being seen than satisfying a need for food.

  Ana liked the ambience, enjoyed being a part of it, and the similarity to equally trendy areas in Sydney didn’t escape her.

  It was relatively easy to tamp down any longing for the city where she’d been born and raised. Not so easy to dismiss the man she’d married a little more than a year ago.

  Luc Dimitriades possessed the height, breadth of shoulder and attractive good looks to turn any woman’s head. Add sophisticated charm, an aura of power, and the result was devastating.

  Australian-born of Greek parents, he’d chosen academia and entered the field of merchant banking, rising rapidly through the ranks to assume a position that involved directorial decision-making.

  Inherited wealth combined with astute business acumen ensured he numbered high among the country’s rich and famous.

  For Ana, all it had taken was one look at him and the attraction was instant, cataclysmic. Sheer sexual chemistry, potent and electric. Yet it was more than that…much more. He affected her as no man ever had, and she fell deeply, irretrievably in love with him.

  It was the reason she accepted his marriage proposal, and she convinced herself it was enough he vowed his fidelity and promised to honour and care for her.

  THE CATCH OF THE DECADE one national newspaper had captioned when Luc Dimitriades had taken Ana Stanford as his bride.

  Maybe, given time, his affection for her would become love, and a year into the marriage she was content. She had an attentive husband, the sex was to die for, and life had assumed a pleasant routine.

  Until Celine, always the temptress, re-entered the scene, newly divorced, and hunting…with Luc as her prey.

  Subtle destruction, carefully orchestrated to diminish Ana’s confidence. The divorcee was very clever in aiming her verbal barbs out of Luc’s hearing. Implying an affair, citing dates and times when Luc was absent on business or when he’d extended a business meeting to include dinner with colleagues. Merely excuses given in order to be with Celine.

  Doubt and suspicion, coupled with anger and jealousy built over a period of weeks.

  Even now, the thought of Celine’s recent contretemps made Ana grit her teeth. Despite Luc’s denial, where there was smoke, there were embers just waiting to be fanned into flame. And infidelity was something she refused to condone.

  Angry words had led to a full-scale argument, and afterwards Ana had simply made a few phone calls, packed a bag and taken the midday flight to the Gold Coast.

  Apart from the note she’d left him, her only attempt at contact was a recorded message she’d left on Luc’s answer-machine, and she doubted it would appease him for long.

  ‘Ana.’

  The voice was all too familiar, its inflexion deep and tinged with a degree of mocking cynicism.

  There had been no instinctive sixth sense that might have alerted her to his presence. Nothing to warn of the unexpected.

  Ana slowly raised her head and met her husband’s steady gaze. Unwanted reaction kicked in, and she banked it down, aware on a base level of the damning effect he had on her senses.

  She felt vulnerable, exposed, and way too needy. It wasn’t a feeling she coveted, at least not now, not here, when she’d vowed to think with her head, not her heart.

  Fat chance. All it took was one look, a few seconds in his presence, and her emotions went every which way but loose!

  How was it possible to love, yet hate someone with equal measure?

  She could think of any number of reasons to justify the way she felt… Ambivalence, out-of-whack hormones. The desire to hurt, as she hurt.

  Why, then, did she possess this crazy urge to feel the sanctuary of his arms and the brush of his mouth on her own? The heat of his body…

  A silent screeching cry rose from somewhere deep inside. Don’t go there.

  Instead, she forced herself to subject him to an analytical appraisal, deliberately noting the broad facial bone structure which lent his features a chiselled look that was enhanced by piercing dark eyes, a firm muscled jaw, and a mouth to die for.

  Well-groomed hair as dark as sin grew thick on his head, and he wore it slightly longer than was currently in vogue.

  Attired in a three-piece business suit, deep blue shirt and impeccably knotted silk tie, he exuded an aura of invincible power.

  Tall, dark and dangerous was an apt descriptive phrase, she perceived, sensing the ruthlessness hovering just beneath the surface of his control.

  ‘Mind if I join you?’

  ‘What if I say no?’

  He offered a faint smile, and wondered if she knew how well he could read her. ‘It wasn’t a rhetorical question.’

  Ana held his gaze. ‘Then why ask?’

  Luc took the seat opposite, ordered black coffee from a hovering waitress, then focused his attention on his wife.

  She looked pale, and she’d lost a few essential kilos from her petite frame. There were faint shadows evident, as if she hadn’t been sleeping well, and her eyes were dark with fatigue. Instead of its usual attractive style, her honey-blonde hair was pulled back into a pony-tail.

  His silent appraisal irked her unbearably. ‘Are you done?’ Her voice sounded tense even to her own ears.

  He resembled a sleekly powerful predator deceptively at ease. Except his seemingly relaxed façade didn’t fool her in the slightest. There wasn’t any doubt he’d pounce…merely a matter of when.

  ‘No,’ Luc intimated as she pushed the bowl of partly eaten food to one side.

  ‘Eat,’ Luc bade quietly, and she threw him a baleful glare.

  ‘I’ve lost my appetite.’

  ‘Order something else.’

  She barely resisted the temptation to throw something at him. ‘Should I ask how you discovered my whereabouts?’

  His gaze didn’t waver, and his eyes were cool, fathomless. ‘I would have thought the answer self-explanatory.’

  ‘You hired a private detective.’ Her voice rose a fraction. ‘And had me followed?’

  ‘Did you think I wouldn’t?’

  Hadn’t this scenario haunted her for the past few days? Invading her sleep, unsettling her nerves?

  The waitress delivered his coffee, and he requested the bill.

  ‘I’ll pay for my own meal.’

  He shot her a hard glance. ‘Don’t be ridiculous.’

  She checked her watch. ‘What do you want, Luc? I suggest you cut to the chase. I’m due back at work in ten minutes.’

  Luc selected a paper tube of sugar and emptied it into his cup. ‘No, you’re not,’ he declared silkily.

  Her gaze locked with his. ‘What do you mean…no?’

  ‘You no longer have a job, and your apartment lease has been terminated.’

  She felt as if all the
breath had suddenly left her body. Angry consternation darkened her eyes, and faint pink coloured her cheeks. ‘You have no right—’

  ‘Yes.’ His voice was deadly quiet. ‘I do.’

  She badly wanted to hit him, and almost did. ‘No, you don’t,’ she reiterated fiercely.

  ‘We can argue this back and forth, but the end result will be the same.’

  ‘If you think I’ll calmly go back to Sydney with you,’ she began heatedly, ‘you can think again!’

  His gaze seared hers. ‘This afternoon, tonight, tomorrow. It hardly matters when.’

  Ana rose to her feet, only to have his hand close over her arm, halting her intention to leave.

  Without pausing for thought she picked up the sugar container and hurled it at him, watching with a sense of horrified fascination as he fielded it neatly and replaced it on the table, then calmly gathered up the scattered tubes.

  ‘I intend to file for divorce.’ Dear heaven, where had that come from? Until now it had been a hazy choice she’d considered and discounted a hundred times during the sleepless night hours since fleeing Sydney.

  His gaze seared hers. ‘Divorce isn’t an option.’

  She stood trapped as the silence stretched between them, a haunting entity that became more significant with every passing second, and there was little she could do but comply as he exerted sufficient pressure to ensure she sank down onto the chair.

  ‘Don’t you have something to tell me?’ Luc prompted with deceptive mildness, and glimpsed her apprehension before she successfully masked it.

  ‘Go away and leave me alone?’ Ana taunted in return.

  ‘Try again.’

  A muscle twisted painfully in her stomach, and she barely suppressed the instinct to soothe it with her hand.

  He couldn’t possibly know. Could he? She went suddenly cold at the thought. For the past few weeks she’d alternated between joy and despair.

  ‘I’ll make it easy for you,’ Luc ventured with deadly softness. ‘You’re carrying my child.’

  ‘A child that is also mine,’ Ana said fiercely.

  ‘Ours.’ His silky tone sent shivers down her spine. ‘I refuse to be relegated to a weekend father, restricted to sharing my son or daughter on a part-time basis.’

  ‘Is that why you came after me? Because I suddenly have something you want?’ Her eyes darkened to the deepest sapphire, her anger very real at that precise moment. Yet inside she wanted to weep. For the child she’d conceived. For herself, for wanting the love of a man who she doubted would ever love her.

  ‘I’d rather be a single parent than attempt to raise a child in a household where its father divides his time between its mother and his mistress. How could the child begin to understand values, morals, and integrity?’

  ‘Mistress?’ His voice was quiet.

  Too quiet, she perceived, and suppressed a faint shiver.

  ‘You accuse me of having an affair?’

  ‘Celine—’

  ‘Was someone with whom I shared a brief relationship three, four years ago.’

  ‘According to her, the affair is ongoing.’

  ‘Why would I need a mistress when I have you?’

  Remembering their active sex life, the sheer delight they shared in bed, brought a tinge of colour to her cheeks. ‘For the hell of it?’ she ventured carelessly, adding, ‘Because you’re insatiable and one woman isn’t enough?’

  His features hardened and assumed an implacable mask. ‘Don’t tempt me to say something I might regret.’

  ‘Go back to Sydney, Luc.’ She was like a runaway train that couldn’t stop. ‘There’s nothing you can say or do that’ll persuade me to return with you.’

  ‘No?’

  She sensed the steel beneath the dangerously silky tone, and suppressed an illusory premonition.

  ‘The last time I heard, coercion carries no weight in a court of law.’

  He held a trump card, and he had no hesitation in playing it. ‘However, embezzlement does.’ He paused, watching her expressive features in a bid to assess whether she had any prior knowledge William Stanford had indulged in creative accounting over a six-month time span.

  ‘Excuse me?’

  Luc chose his words with care, weighing each for its impact. ‘The bank’s auditors have discovered a series of discrepancies.’

  ‘How can that involve me?’ she queried, genuinely puzzled.

  ‘Indirectly, it does.’

  Even a naïve fool could do simple arithmetic, and she considered herself to be neither. ‘You’re implying my father is responsible?’ she demanded in disbelief. ‘I don’t believe you.’

  He reached inside his jacket, withdrew a folded document and placed it in front of her. ‘A copy of the auditors’ report.’

  Ana touched the paper hesitantly, then she opened the document and read the report.

  It was conclusive and damning, the attached spreadsheet listing each transaction lengthy and detailed.

  She felt herself go cold. Embezzlement, theft…they were one and the same, and a punishable crime.

  Luc studied her expressive features, witnessed the fleeting emotions, and anticipated her loyalty.

  ‘It was very cleverly done,’ he revealed with a degree of cynicism. So much so, it had been missed twice. He wasn’t sure which angered him more…the loss of trust in one of his valued executives, or the fact William Stanford had relied on his daughter’s connection by marriage to avoid prosecution.

  ‘How long have you known?’ Ana queried with a sense of dread, unwilling to examine where this was going, yet desperately afraid her wildest suspicion would be proven true.

  ‘Nine days.’

  Coincidentally the time she wrote him a note and took a flight north. Did he think that was the reason she left?

  Men of Luc’s calibre always had a back-up plan. And this was personal. Very personal.

  ‘What do you want, Luc?’

  ‘No divorce. Our child.’ He waited a beat. ‘My wife in my home, my bed.’

  ‘Go to hell.’

  One eyebrow rose in mockery. ‘Not today, agape mou.’

  Pink coloured her cheekbones and lent her eyes a fiery sparkle. ‘You think you can make conditions and have me meekly comply?’

  ‘Meek wasn’t a descriptive I considered.’

  Dear heaven, he was amused. She stood to her feet, gathered her bag and slung the strap over her shoulder, then she turned in the direction of the florist shop, aware that Luc fell into step at her side.

  ‘I intend explaining to the letting agent and my employer that you’re a presumptuous, arrogant bastard with no right to dictate my life.’

  ‘And your father will go to jail.’

  Her step faltered as she threw him a look that would have felled a lesser man. ‘How come you get to make the rules?’

  ‘Because I can.’

  ‘And I get to choose whether to resume my marriage to you, in return for no charges laid against my father.’ There was no doubt Luc viewed this as just another business proposition. Well, damn him. She’d do the same. ‘What of restitution?’

  ‘It will be taken care of.’

  ‘And his job?’

  ‘Already terminated.’

  She was dying inside, inch by inch. ‘His references?’ she pursued tightly.

  ‘I have a duty of disclosure.’

  Something that would make it almost impossible for her father to gain a similar position anywhere in Sydney…possibly even the country.

  ‘I’ll think about it,’ Ana conceded, endeavouring to ignore the prickle of apprehension steadily creating havoc with her nervous system.

  His eyes were hard, their expression implacable. ‘You have an hour.’

  She closed her eyes, then opened them again, and released the breath she’d unconsciously held for several seconds.

  ‘Are you this diabolically relentless in the business arena?’ Stupid question, she mentally castigated. His steel-willed determination and ruthless dec
ision-making had earned him a reputation as one of the city’s most feared negotiators.

  His silence sent an icy chill feathering the length of her spine, and she cursed him afresh.

  They reached the florist shop, and she turned towards him, her eyes gleaming with hidden anger as she met and held his dark gaze.

  ‘There are a few conditions.’

  His gaze hardened, and he resisted the urge to shake her within an inch of her life. ‘You’re hardly in a position to stipulate conditions.’

  Did he know how much she hurt? Just looking at him caused her physical pain, remembering the hopes and dreams she’d held, only to have them shatter one by one.

  She began counting off the fingers of one hand. ‘I want your word you won’t attempt to deny me my child once it’s born.’

  Something moved in his eyes, an emotion she didn’t care to define. ‘Granted.’

  ‘Your fidelity.’

  ‘You’ve had that since day one.’

  She looked at him long and hard, then lifted an eyebrow in silent query. ‘Not according to Celine.’

  ‘Naturally, you choose to believe her over me.’ His dry tones held a damning cynicism she chose to ignore.

  ‘There’s just one more thing,’ she pursued.

  It was impossible to tell much from his expression, and she didn’t even try.

  ‘And that is?’

  ‘I want it all in writing and legally notarised before I give you my answer.’

  As an exit line it took some beating, and she didn’t look back as she stepped into the florist shop.

  ‘I wasn’t expecting you.’

  Stiff formality replaced a former easy friendliness, and Ana silently cursed Luc afresh.

  ‘I’m responsible for my own decisions,’ she assured evenly. Her gaze was steady as the silence stretched into seemingly long seconds before the shop’s owner offered,

  ‘He doesn’t look the type of man who’d take no for an answer.’

  Wasn’t that the truth! ‘I can give you this afternoon, if that’s OK?’

  ‘I’ve already put in a call to the employment agency.’

  What else did she expect?