There was a faint emphasis on the word ‘property’ and despite herself Helen felt the colour start to her cheeks. Abruptly, she turned away and picked up the telephone, punching buttons with a shaking finger. ‘I’m ringing the police, Jacob. I intend to tell them that a man has just forced himself inside my home so I suggest you leave before they arrive!’
‘Your home?’ He sat down on the sofa, watching her with amusement through the open doorway. ‘Haven’t you forgotten something? This is my property, Helen. I am entitled to enter and leave as I choose.’
Her fingers hesitated on the display of numbers before she slowly replaced the receiver on its rest. ‘Don’t worry, Jacob, you will soon be in full possession of your property. Father and I will be leaving just as soon as I can find us somewhere else to go.’
He shook his head. ‘I doubt I can wait that long, Helen. Business dictates that I stay in town far more often than I have been doing up till now, so I shall expect you to vacate the flat by the end of the week.’
‘The end of...’ She broke off, taking a deep steadying breath, but it did little to ease the panic she could feel inside her. ‘You know that’s impossible, Jacob.’
He ran his hand through his black hair, smoothing it back from his forehead in a casual gesture which spoke of indifference. ‘Is it? I’m sorry, but I’m afraid in the circumstances my generosity must be curtailed. I am a businessman, Helen. I expect a return on my investments. If I can see no hope of getting one then naturally I draw out of any deal and save my money for some other more profitable venture.’
Her eyes gleamed with contempt as she walked slowly into the room and stared at him. ‘Meaning, I don’t doubt, that as I have no intention of becoming your wife you don’t see any reason to continue with your philanthropy?’
His mouth thinned at the note in her voice but he gave no other sign of displeasure. ‘Something like that. It seems a pity that you are being so shortsighted about all this, Helen. If it had been just you who would suffer then maybe I could understand it, but the fact that you are prepared to stand aside and see people you love suffer too...’ He shrugged, standing up to walk towards the door. He was dressed in a dark grey suit with a pale grey shirt and silk tie, clothes which bore all the hallmarks of civilisation, but there was little one could call really civilised about Jacob. He followed no rules of combat to fight for what he wanted, and even knowing that couldn’t stop Helen from responding to that deliberately provocative statement.
‘If you mean Father, then don’t worry, Jacob, I shall take care of him.’
He stopped beside her, so close that she could see the tiny white lines fanned out from the corners of his eyes, smell the faint clean aroma of soap which clung to his skin. Her senses stirred at once, that hot, swift and totally inexplicable surge of awareness she always felt whenever he was near running unhindered through her body, and she looked away, terrified that he would see it.
‘I’m sure you will do all you can, Helen. You are a resourceful woman, as I have come to appreciate. However, I do wonder if you will need far more resourcefulness than you realise. There’s that operation your father needs, for instance.’ He reached out and turned her face back to his, letting her go as soon as her shocked eyes met his and held.
‘What operation? I don’t know what you’re talking about!’
‘Don’t you? Your father probably didn’t want to worry you with it all, but you must have noticed the difficulty he’s having walking now?’ He paused while he studied her, his blue eyes betraying nothing but a faint concern which was so false that Helen felt her temper rise.
‘I don’t need you to tell me anything about my father!’
‘No? Perhaps not. However, one thing you don’t know is that I was prepared to pay for him to have the operation done privately. Waiting lists for the National Health are so long, but if you are prepared to let him deteriorate then that’s your decision.’
‘How dare you! Get out, Jacob—now! I won’t listen to your horrible lies and insinuations a moment longer.’ She started towards the door but he stopped her with a hand on her arm, his face hard now.
‘It’s time you did listen, Helen. Time you listened and understood everything you are doing. You, not me.’ He gave her a small shake, his fingers biting into her flesh. She’d had bruises from the last time he had held her so roughly and she didn’t doubt she would have more now. But ever since they had met, Jacob had inflicted bruises of one kind or another on her.
‘I am not doing anything at all! So don’t try to cover up your own unspeakable deeds. If father needs an operation then he shall have it. He has health insurance which he has paid for years.’
‘Does he?’ He smiled slowly, his fingers gentling against her skin so that they seemed to caress rather than restrain. ‘I would check that out just to be certain, sweet. You might find that along with the house, the business and everything else which was a part of your former lifestyle, that too is now just a pleasant memory.’ He paused to let the full import of that sink in, but not too long, hitting her with a new fresh blow before she could recover. That was the kind of tactic Jacob employed, hitting the enemy blow after blow to bring him to his knees.
‘And of course there is Richard. Surely you haven’t forgotten your poor besotted admirer, Helen?’
She went cold, her blood freezing as she heard the note in that smooth, deliberate voice. Somewhere along the way Jacob had shed his former accent but just occasionally as now there was a trace of it to be heard. Helen found it strangely disturbing. It took her back in time to that moment when she had looked round and seen Jacob by the tree listening to the cruel, mocking comments being made about him. There had been something wild and dangerous on his face then, something which spoke of retribution. Now Helen sensed it once again.
Her voice was thin, reedy as she finally spoke. ‘What have you done to Richard? Tell me, Jacob, damn you!’
‘Nothing—yet. However, I really do not see that he can continue in his present position, Helen. Definitely not. Not when he has such strong links to you.’
‘You mean you intend to sack him?’ She tossed her hair back, staring into his blue eyes as she searched for an answer and found it immediately. She dragged her arm free of his hold and walked over to the window, feeling the urge to cry against her own impotence.
‘I’m sure I don’t need to answer that question, do I, Helen? You must see what an invidious position you have put me in. It’s a pity about Richard, because he does show promise and I imagine he will find it almost impossible to find something else. Stepping up is a simple enough process but to find a job, and an employer willing enough to offer it, when it is an obvious step down is a wholly different matter.’ He gave a faint sigh. ‘Still, that’s the way it goes.’
‘I hate you, Jacob.’ Her voice was no more than a thread as it carried across the room. She turned to face him, her skin very pale, the light from the window setting fire to her hair so that it glowed around her head. ‘I hate, loathe and detest everything about you.’
‘Do you, Helen? Oh, I don’t doubt that you think you hate me but somehow I’m not completely convinced that’s all you feel.’ His eyes seemed to bore right through her and she drew in a tiny shocked breath, feeling more afraid than she’d ever felt before.
‘It is, Jacob. The only thing I feel for you is hatred. Understand?’
He smiled faintly, his eyes holding hers for a moment longer before he glanced at his watch. ‘Interesting though it would be to continue this discussion, I am afraid I shall have to leave. You know where to find me, Helen, if you suddenly come to your senses and realise what a mistake you’re making.’
He left without another word and Helen turned back to stare out of the window with blank, unseeing eyes. Jacob was wrong! All she felt for him was hatred nothing more. She—hated—Jacob Hunt! Yet even as she chanted the words silently she could hear the thread of desperation woven through them, and it made her feel afraid.
CHAPTER THR
EE
IT had been raining all day, and by the time Helen arrived home in the early afternoon she was wet through and miserable. It had been a long and frustrating week, the search for a job and somewhere suitable to live proving fruitless. That there had been a security scare on the Underground, which had closed several lines so that she’d had to walk home, had seemed like the perfect ending to it. But as she walked into the foyer of the flats and found her father sitting in a chair by the reception desk, she knew it wasn’t over yet.
‘Father? What’s happened? What are you doing here? I thought you would be at your club as usual?’ Helen stopped beside the elderly man, viewing him with concern. Edward Sinclair had never been robust but he seemed to be growing more fragile by the day. Now, as he turned to her with relief, Helen could see his thin hands trembling around the stick he was forced to use all the time now to walk with.
‘I came home early. It was far too noisy. Some young fellows... Then when I got here I—I didn’t know what to do. Thank goodness you’re here!’
Helen crouched down beside his chair and covered his hands with hers, hating to see the distress on his lined face. ‘Don’t worry, darling. Just tell me what’s happened and I’ll sort it out.’
‘It’s the flat, you see. I can’t get in.’
Helen smiled in sudden relief, feeling her fear fading. ‘So that’s it. You’ve forgotten your key again. Never mind, it’s easily done.’ She stood up then frowned as she glanced across at the porter behind the desk. ‘But why on earth didn’t you ask Arthur to let you in? He has a key.’
The man behind the desk looked up, more than a trace of embarrassment on his face. ‘I’m afraid I couldn’t do that, Miss Sinclair.’
‘Couldn’t? What on earth do you mean?’ She moved a step closer to the man, feeling her heart suddenly starting to pound as some sixth sense warned her there was more to that simple statement than appeared.
The porter shifted uncomfortably, looking down at the paper he held in his hands to avoid meeting her eyes. ‘Mr Hunt had the locks changed on the flat this morning after you and your father left. He said—he said that in no circumstances was I to let anyone into the flat.’
Helen stared at him in open-mouthed horror for one long second, then felt a surge of red-hot anger rise inside her. She should have known! She should have guessed that Jacob would do something like this. All week long she’d tried to put the memory of his visit to the flat out of her mind, but she’d been a fool to imagine that refusing to think about Jacob would make him magically disappear!
‘What are we going to do, Helen? Where shall we go?’ Edward Sinclair’s voice shook as he asked the questions and Helen fought to recover her control rather than upset him further. She forced a smile to lips which felt cold and stiff, patting his thin arm. ‘Don’t worry, father. This is all some sort of misunderstanding. Jacob—well, Jacob mentioned something about having the locks renewed when he popped in the other day. He probably doesn’t realise that he has locked us out.’
‘Oh, I see. Of course you’re right, darling. Jacob has been more than generous these past months. He wouldn’t have done this deliberately, I’m sure.’ He must have seen Helen’s involuntary start because he smiled sadly. ‘Oh, I know you and Jacob don’t see eye to eye, Helen, but there is an awful lot you don’t know. I am sure you would change your views dramatically if you were in full possession of the facts.’
She doubted it! From where she was standing all the facts looked completely cut and dried. However, there was no way she wanted to add to her father’s distress by arguing about it. Somehow she had to sort out this mess and the only way to do that was by going to see Jacob. It wasn’t a thought she relished.
It was almost an hour later when she arrived at the towering glass and steel building which housed the headquarters of Hunt Electronics. Helen paused on the pavement outside, staring up. She’d never been here before but she’d read about it. Over the past few years the papers had carried many stories about the success Jacob Hunt had made of his business ventures. He had moved into this showpiece office block last year, taking over five whole floors. It was just one more measure of how far up the ladder he had climbed.
The lift was smooth and silent as it whisked her up to the fifteenth floor. Helen barely had time to collect herself before the doors were gliding open. She stepped out on to pale grey carpet and into a setting of understated luxury. From the delicate mauve-tinted walls with their expensive Impressionist prints to the heavy, elegant black furniture, the whole place spoke of the money that had been spent. It just made Helen’s temper inch another notch higher.
Jacob’s office was at the end of a long corridor. Helen knocked on the outer office door then walked straight over to the elegant brunette seated behind the desk.
‘I wish to see Mr Hunt.’
‘Mr Hunt is extremely busy. I am afraid he has appointments for the rest of the afternoon.’ The woman’s smile was professionally polite but it held little warmth as it rested on Helen’s face. But there was no way she was going to be deterred.
‘I am quite sure that he will find time to see me. Would you please inform him that I am here. My name is Sinclair, Helen Sinclair.’
‘Helen! What on earth are you doing here?’
Helen swung round at the sound of the familiar voice, stunned to see Richard crossing the room towards her. Dutifully she returned the kiss he bestowed on her cheek, then drew back, her face mirroring her confusion. ‘I might well ask the same of you. I didn’t know that you were due back in England yet, Richard. You made no mention of it in your letters.’
Richard grimaced, drawing Helen away from the secretary’s desk to lead her back to the arrangement of chairs by the window. ‘So you did get them? I was starting to wonder when I received no reply.’
Helen avoided his eyes, not wanting to confess that writing to Richard had been low down her list of priorities. ‘I’ve been very busy. I’m sorry, Richard. But you haven’t answered my question. What are you doing here?’
‘I wish I knew! I’ve been here a while now, but frankly I’ve no idea what Hunt wants with me.’ He gave a faintly nervous smile, his gaze moving to the closed door of Jacob’s office. He was a good-looking man with fair hair, a few years older than Helen. She had always found him to be kind and reliable if rather unexciting company, but then excitement hadn’t been what she’d been looking for. However, she had never seen him exhibit such nervousness before and it made her feel uneasy, although she couldn’t explain why.
She drew her hands from his and sat down, motioning Richard to join her. ‘Did Jacob send for you?’
Richard nodded, shooting another glance at the closed door. ‘Yes. I’ve no idea what’s going on, Helen, but I have this feeling that something awful is about to happen.’
Helen looked away from his worried face, feeling her own unease growing. Richard was right to worry; there was something going on, something Jacob had warned her would happen. Jacob had given Richard this job because of her and he would take it from him for the same reason.
‘Miss Sinclair—Mr Hunt says that he will see you now.’
The secretary’s voice held a note of surprise which Helen didn’t share. Jacob had known she would come. It had been part of his plan, another move towards getting what he wanted. It was that quicksand effect again, each step she took drawing her in deeper and deeper until she couldn’t get out. But if Jacob thought he would get away with it he was mistaken!
There was fire in her eyes as she entered the office, only to come to a sudden halt when she found it empty. She looked around, then walked over to a door standing partly open on the other side of the room, glanced through it and froze at the sight which met her eyes.
Jacob was lying on a black leather bench, his arms straining as he raised the bar of weights above his head. Apart from a pair of black shorts he was naked, his bronzed torso gleaming with perspiration. He looked round as he heard Helen’s footsteps and soft gasp of surprise, then slow
ly let the weights slide back into place on their rest and slid off the bench. He stood up and took a towel from a rack, wiping his face with it before draping it carelessly around his neck. ‘Annette said that you wished to see me.’
Helen’s mouth felt strangely dry, her blood heavy and slow. She looked away from him, hating the way just the sight of him like this could disturb her so, and heard him laugh softly.
‘Sorry, Helen. Does seeing me like this offend you? I would have waited until I had showered and changed if I had stopped to consider your delicate sensibilities, but I do have other appointments.’ He paused deliberately, his voice smooth as silk when he continued, ‘I imagine you saw Richard waiting outside?’
Her temper spiralled, wiping away that momentary weakness. ‘You knew I would see him. It was all part of your rotten, horrible plan, wasn’t it, Jacob? You knew I would come here, didn’t you? That’s why you arranged his appointment for today.’
He shrugged carelessly, dragging the towel from his neck to rub it over his chest and arms. ‘You flatter me, Helen. You make it sound as though I’m omnipotent and I am hardly that. I couldn’t have known exactly when you would arrive.’
She laughed harshly. ‘Perhaps not, but it was simple enough to keep Richard waiting until I turned up!’ She shot a venomous look around the small room with its array of exercise equipment, then let her eyes return to Jacob’s face. ‘You could easily delay seeing Richard while you dealt with all these other “appointments”.’
He smiled slowly, walking past her towards a glass-enclosed shower stall fitted into one corner of the room. ‘You have a suspicious mind, my sweet. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to take a shower before we get down to the reason for this visit of yours.’
Helen caught his arm, her fingers closing around the hard muscles. His skin felt warm and smooth, faintly damp from his exertions, and she let him go at once. ‘You know why I came, Jacob. It doesn’t need any discussion. You changed the locks on the flat.’
Lovestorm (Harlequin Treasury 1990's) Page 3
