The Helen Bianchin Collection

by Helen Bianchin

  He leaned forward and pressed a lingering kiss to the sensitive hollow at the base of her throat, then trailed a path to the edge of her mouth. ‘Relax, querida. It’s not an act I could follow too soon.’

  ‘Some act.’

  She felt him move, and the sheet settled down onto soft, highly sensitised skin. She sighed and let her head settle into the curve of his shoulder. Heaven didn’t get any better than this.

  Gabbi woke to the touch of lips brushing against her cheek, and she stretched, arching the slim bow of her body like a contented feline beneath the stroke of its master.

  A smile teased her mouth and she let her eyes drift open.

  ‘Is it late?’

  ‘Late enough, querida.’

  He was dressed, shaven and, unless she was mistaken, ready to leave.

  Regret tinged her expression. ‘I was going to drive with you to the airport.’

  ‘Instead you can relax in the Jacuzzi, enjoy a leisurely breakfast and scan the newspaper before going in to the office.’

  ‘You should have woken me,’ she protested, and saw the gleam of humour evident in the dark eyes above her own.

  ‘I just have.’ He indicated a tray on the bedside pedestal. ‘And brought orange juice and coffee.’

  She eased herself into a sitting position and hugged her knees. A mischievous twinkle lightened her eyes. ‘In that case, you’re forgiven.’

  ‘You can reach me on my mobile phone.’

  He had assumed the mantle of business executive along with the three-piece suit. His mind, she knew, was already on the first of several meetings scheduled over the next few days in Melbourne.

  She reached for the orange juice and took a long swallow, grateful for the refreshing, cool taste of freshly squeezed juice.

  She’d wanted to wake early, share a slow loving, join him in the Jacuzzi and linger over breakfast. Now she had to settle for a swift kiss and watch him walk out the door.

  The kiss was more than she’d hoped for, but less than she needed, and her eyes were wistful as he disappeared from the room.

  Four days, three nights. Hardly any time at all. He’d been gone for much longer in the past. Why now did she place such emphasis on his absence?

  She finished the orange juice, slid from the bed and made for the bathroom. Half an hour later she ran lightly down the stairs and made her way to the kitchen.

  ‘Morning, Marie.’

  The housekeeper’s smile held genuine warmth. ‘Good morning. Do you want to eat inside, or on the terrace?’

  ‘The terrace,’ Gabbi answered promptly.

  ‘Cereal and fruit, toast, coffee? Or would you prefer a cooked breakfast?’

  ‘Cereal, thanks. I’ll get it.’ She plucked a bowl from the cupboard, retrieved the appropriate cereal container, added a banana, extracted milk from the refrigerator then moved through the wide sliding glass doors that led out onto the terrace:

  The sun was warm on her skin, despite the early-morning hour. It would be all too easy to banish work from the day, stay home and spend several lazy hours reading a book beneath the shade of an umbrella...

  CHAPTER TEN

  ‘SERG asked me to remind you to take the Bentley this morning.’

  Gabbi looked up from scanning the daily newspaper and placed her cup down onto its saucer. She offered Marie a teasing smile. ‘Not the XJ220?’

  ‘We won’t give him a heart attack,’ Marie responded dryly, and Gabbi laughed.

  ‘No, let’s not.’ The powerful sports car might be Benedict’s possession, but it was Serg’s pride and joy. Together with the Bentley and Mercedes, he ensured it was immaculately maintained. If the engine of any one of them didn’t purr to his satisfaction, he organised a mechanical check-up. For the next few days the Mercedes would be in the panel shop having a new tail-light fitted and the scratches painted over.

  The telephone rang, and Marie crossed to answer it. ‘Nicols residence.’ A few seconds later she covered the mouthpiece and held out the receiver. ‘It’s for you. Mrs Stanton.’

  Gabbi rolled her eyes and rose to her feet to take the call. ‘Monique. How are you?’

  ‘Fine, Gabrielle. I thought we might do lunch today. Is that suitable?’

  Exchanging social chit-chat with her stepmother over iced water and a lettuce leaf didn’t rank high on her list of favoured pastimes. There had to be a reason for the invitation, and doubtless she’d find out what it was soon enough.

  ‘Of course,’ she responded politely. ‘What time, and where shall I meet you?’

  Monique named an exclusive establishment not too far from Stanton-Nicols Towers. ‘Twelve-thirty, darling?’

  ‘I’ll look forward to it.’ Oh, my, how you lie, an inner voice taunted. No, that wasn’t strictly fair. Life was full of interesting experiences. Her relationship with Monique just happened to be one of them.

  The traffic was heavy, drivers seemed more impatient than usual, and an accident at an intersection banked up a line of cars for several kilometres.

  Consequently Gabbi was late, there was a message to say her secretary had reported in sick and the courier bag failed to contain promised documentation. Not an auspicious start to the day, she decided as she made the first of several phone calls.

  By mid-morning she’d elicited a promise that the missing documentation would arrive in the afternoon courier delivery. It meant the loss of several hours, and if she was to assemble the figures, check and collate them for the board meeting tomorrow she’d need to work late, take work home or come in early in the morning.

  Lunch with Monique loomed close, and with a resigned sigh she closed down the computer and retreated to the powder-room to repair her make-up.

  Ten minutes later she emerged from the building and set out at a brisk pace, reaching the restaurant with less than a minute to spare.

  Gabbi followed the maître d’ to Monique’s table and slid into the seat he held out.

  ‘Gabrielle.’

  ‘Monique.’

  Superficial warmth, artificial affection. Ten years down the track, Gabbi was resigned to it never being any different.

  As always, Monique was perfectly groomed, with co-ordinated accessories. Chanel bag, Magli shoes, and a few pieces of expensive jewellery. Tasteful, but not ostentatious.

  ‘Annaliese will join us. I hope you don’t mind?’

  Wonderful. ‘Of course not,’ she responded politely, and ordered mineral water from the hovering drinks waiter.

  ‘Annaliese felt you might appreciate some family support while Benedict is away.’

  Gabbi doubted it very much. The only person Annaliese considered was herself. ‘How thoughtful.’

  ‘The banquet dinner was very enjoyable.’

  As a conversational gambit, it was entirely neutral. ‘A well-presented menu,’ she agreed. ‘And the fashion parade was excellent.’

  ‘Shall we order a starter? Annaliese might be late.’

  Annaliese rarely arrived on time, so why should today be any different? Gabbi settled on avocado with diced mango served on lettuce, then took a sip of mineral water.

  ‘I’ve managed to persuade James to take a holiday,’ Monique began as they waited for their starters.

  ‘What a good idea. When?’

  ‘Next month. A cruise. The QEII. We’ll pick it up in New York.’

  The cruise would be relaxing for James, and sufficiently social to please Monique. ‘How long do you plan on being away?’

  ‘Almost three weeks, including flights and stopovers.’

  ‘It’ll be a nice break for you both.’ And well deserved for her father, whose devotion to Stanton-Nicols’ continued success extended way beyond the nine-to-five, five-day-a-week routine.

  Their starters arrived, and they were awaiting the main course when Annaliese sauntered up to the table in a cloud of perfume.

  ‘The showing went way over time,’ she offered as she sank into the chair opposite her mother. Two waiters hovered solicitously while sh
e made a selection, then each received a haughty dismissal. As soon as they were out of earshot she turned towards Gabbi.

  ‘How are you managing without Benedict?’

  The temptation to elaborate was irresistible. ‘With great difficulty.’

  Annaliese’s eyes narrowed fractionally. ‘If you were so—’ She paused, then went on to add with deliberate emphasis, ‘So desperate, you could have accompanied him.’

  Gabbi determined to even the score. ‘It’s not always easy to co-ordinate time away together.’

  Annaliese picked up her water-glass and took a delicate sip. ‘Really, darling? Why?’ She replaced the glass down on the table. ‘Everyone knows you hold a token job and take a sizeable salary from a company which regards your services as superfluous.’

  Two down. This wasn’t looking good. And she was hampered from entering into a verbal cat-fight by Monique’s presence.

  ‘My qualifications earned me the token job and standard salary from in excess of twenty applicants,’ she declared coolly, knowing she didn’t need to justify anything. However, the barb had struck a vulnerable target. ‘At the time, James made it very clear his final choice was based entirely on proven results and performance.’

  ‘You expect me to believe he didn’t wield any influence?’

  It was time to end this, and end it cleanly. ‘The directorial board would never sanction wasting company funds on a manufactured position.’ Her gaze was level, with only a hint of carefully banked anger apparent.

  She wanted to get up and leave, but a degree of courtesy and innate good manners ensured she stayed for the. main course and coffee. The food was superb, but her appetite had disappeared, and there was a heaviness at her temple that signalled the onset of a headache.

  As soon as she finished her coffee she extracted a credit card from her bag.

  ‘Put that away, Gabrielle,’ Monique instructed. ‘You’re my guest.’

  ‘Thank you. Would you excuse me? I have a two o’clock appointment.’

  Annaliese lifted one eyebrow in silent derision, then opined, ‘Such dedication.’

  ‘Consideration,’ Gabbi corrected her quietly as she rose to her feet. ‘To a client-company representative’s known punctuality.’

  As an exit note it served her reasonably well.

  A pity Monique had been present, Gabbi mused as she walked back to the office. On a one-to-one with Annaliese she would have fared much better.

  On her return, she found a single red rose in an elegant crystal vase on her desk, along with a white embossed envelope.

  Gabbi tore it open and removed the card: ‘Missing you. Benedict.’

  Not as much as I miss you, she vowed silently as she bent to smell the sweet fragrance from the tight bud.

  Tomorrow he would be home. She’d consult with Marie and arrange a special dinner à deux. Candies, fine wine, soft music. And afterwards...

  The buzz of the intercom brought her back to the present, and she leaned across the desk and depressed the button.

  ‘Michelle Bouchet is waiting in Reception.’

  “Thanks, Halle. Have Katherine bring her down.”

  Gabbi replaced the receiver and lifted a hand to ease the faint throbbing at her temple. A soft curse left her lips as she caught sight of the time.

  It would take at least an hour before she finished reviewing the files on her desk, and a further thirty minutes to log them into the computer.

  There were two options. She could take. the files and the computer disk home and complete the work there, or she could stay on.

  Let’s face it, what did she have to rush home for? Besides, Annaliese’s deliberate barbs had found their mark.

  The decision made, she placed a call through to Marie and let her know she’d be late. Then she sent out for coffee, took two headache tablets and set to work.

  It was almost seven when Gabbi exited the program and shut down the computer. Freshly printed pages were collated ready for presentation, and there was satisfaction in knowing the board would be pleased with her analysis.

  She collected her bag and vacated the office, bade the attending floor-security officer a polite goodnight, then when the lift arrived she stepped into the cubicle and programmed it for the underground car park.

  A swim in the pool, she decided as the lift descended in electronic silence. Followed by a long hot shower. Then she’d settle for a plate of chicken salad, watch television and retire to bed with a book.

  The lift came to a halt, and she stepped out as soon as the doors slid open. The car park was well lit, and there were still a number of cars remaining in reserved bays. Executives tying up the day’s business, appointments running over time. Dedication to their employer, a determination to earn the mighty dollar? Most likely the latter, Gabbi mused as she walked towards the Bentley.

  Deactivating the alarm system, she released the locking mechanism and depressed the door-handle.

  ‘Quietly, miss.’ The voice was male, the command ominously soft.

  She felt something hard press against her ribs in the same instant that a hand closed over her arm.

  ‘Don’t scream, don’t struggle and you won’t get hurt.’

  ‘Take my bag.’ Her voice was cool, calm, although her heart was hammering inside her ribs. ‘Take the car.’

  The rear door was wrenched open. ‘Get in.’

  He was going to kidnap her? Images flashed through her brain, none of which were reassuring. Dammit, she wasn’t going meekly. ‘No.’

  ‘Listen, sweetheart,’ the voice whispered coldly against her ear. ‘We don’t want anything except a few photos.’

  ‘We’. So there was more than one. It narrowed her chances considerably.

  ‘Now, you can co-operate and make it easy on yourself, or you can fight and get hurt.’

  Hands pushed her unceremoniously onto the rear seat, and she gasped out loud as he came down on top of her.

  ‘Get off me!’

  Hands found her blouse and ripped it open. Gabbi fought like a wildcat, only to cry out in pain as first one wrist was caught, then the other, and they were held together in a merciless grip. She felt a savage tug as her bra was dragged down, and she twisted her head in a desperate bid to escape his mouth.

  Her strength didn’t match his, and an outraged growl sounded low in her throat as he ground his teeth against her lips.

  Lights flashed as she twisted against him, and when he freed her hands she reached for his head, raking her nails against his scalp and down the side of his neck.

  ‘You bitch!’

  He lowered his mouth to her breast and bit hard.

  It hurt like hell. Sheer rage and divine assistance allowed her to succeed in manoeuvring her knee between his legs. The tight, upward jerk brought forth an anguished howl and a stream of incomprehensible epithets.

  Then Gabbi heard the opposite door open, and two hands dragged her assailant out of the car.

  ‘Come on, man. Let’s get the hell out of here. I’ve got what I need.’

  ‘Bloody little wildcat. I’m going to get her!’

  ‘You were told to rough her up a little. Nothing else. Remember?’ The door shut with a refined clunk, and Gabbi pulled the door closest to her closed and hit the central locking mechanism.

  Then she wriggled over the centre console and slid into the driver’s seat. The keys. Where were the keys? Oh, God, they were probably still in the lock.

  The two men were walking quickly, one not quite as steadily as the other, and she watched them get into a van, heard the engine roar into life, then speed towards the exit ramp.

  Only when the van was out of sight did she lower the car window and retrieve the keys.

  Her blouse still gaped open, and she secured it as best she could. She was shaking so badly it took two attempts to insert the ignition key, then she fired the engine and eased the Bentley onto ground level.

  Gabbi focused on the traffic, glad for once that there was so much of it. Cars, buses,
trucks. Noise. People. They made her feel safe.

  Home. She had never felt more grateful to reach the security of Benedict’s palatial Vaucluse mansion.

  Marie and Serg would be in their flat, and she had no intention of alarming them. Once indoors, she went straight upstairs to the bedroom and removed her clothes. Skirt, torn blouse, underwear. She bundled them together ready for disposal into the rubbish bin. She never wanted to see them again.

  Then Gabbi went into the en suite bathroom and ran the shower. How long she stayed beneath the stream of water she wasn’t sure. She only knew she scrubbed every inch of skin twice over, shampooed her hair not once, but three times. Then she stood still and let the water cascade over her gleaming skin.

  Who? Why? The questions repeated themselves over and over in her brain as she replayed the scene again and again. Photos. Blackmail? The idea seemed ludicrous. Who would want to threaten her? What would they have to gain?

  Then other words intruded... and she stood still, examining each one slowly with a sense of growing disbelief.

  ‘You were told to rough her up a little. Nothing else. Remember?’

  Who would want to frighten but not hurt her? Dared not harm her, to give such explicit instructions?

  Gabbi shook her head as if to clear it. Photos. Damning shots taken with a specific purpose in mind.

  Annaliese. Even her stepsister wouldn’t go to such lengths... Would she?

  Slowly Gabbi reached out and turned off the water. Then she froze. Someone was in the bedroom.

  ‘Gabbi?’

  Benedict.

  She swayed, and put out a hand to steady herself. He couldn’t be home. He wasn’t due back until tomorrow. In a gesture born of desperation she reached for a towel and secured it above her breasts as he entered the en suite bathroom.

  Her eyes skidded over his tall frame, registered his smile, and glimpsed the faint narrowing of his dark gaze as it swept over her features.

  ‘You’re back early.’ Dear God. She had to get a grip on herself.

  She was too pale, her eyes too dark, dilated and wide, and it was almost impossible to still the faint trembling of her mouth. Without benefit of make-up and a few essential seconds in which to adopt a nonchalant air, she didn’t stand a chance.