by Mary Lyons
‘Yes…yes, I suppose that makes sense,’ she muttered, trying to concentrate on what he was saying. ‘But I’m not quite sure how to go about it? Do I have to give him a reference? Or should I…?’
‘I have arranged to stay over here for a few days to sort out this problem for you,’ Antonio said, and once again the lofty, condescending note in his voice set her teeth on edge. ‘It will clearly be necessary to appoint a new manager. And advice must be taken from your lawyer, as well as informing the bank of the situation.’
Tempting though it was to tell him to get lost, Gina knew that she was just going to have to bite the bullet. Even if the last thing she wanted was to have to deal with Antonio, she had no alternative. Not if she wanted to save her business.
Actually, she supposed she ought to be grateful that he hadn’t heaped recriminations on her head, she told herself later that night, having quickly made her excuses and escaped upstairs to her bedroom after Harold had served them both after-dinner coffee.
In fact, she realised as she slipped into bed and turned out the light, Antonio had actually—if somewhat patronisingly—congratulated her on what she’d managed to achieve so far. Which was possibly why she’d proved to be so weak. So careful not to upset the apple cart, Gina had done her best to keep all conversation at dinner well away from the hugely irreconcilable, yawning gulf which lay so heavily between them.
Just as Gina closed her eyes and drifted into sleep the situation existing between herself and Antonio took a turn for which she was totally unprepared.
Having arranged for Antonio to sleep in one of the large guest rooms, she was startled to be awoken by the presence of his warm body slipping into her bed.
Her astonished cry was muffled as his mouth closed firmly over her lips, his hands sliding slowly and enticingly over her breasts and hips, the soft touch of his fingers gently calming her initial fear and trembling as his lips moved sensuously over hers, arousing a response she seemed helpless to either control or conceal.
As the treacherous warmth invaded her quivering body, there was nothing she could do to prevent the soft seduction of his lips and hands from arousing her starved emotions. Bemused as she was by the burning heat flooding her mind and body, she knew that Antonio was deliberately using his sexual expertise as a potent weapon. And it was one to which she was, alas, highly vulnerable.
‘It seems that you do want me to touch you after all…’ he breathed softly in her ear. ‘Is that so? Do you want to feel my hands on your body?’ he added, as she ardently responded in the darkness to the erotic touch of his fingers brushing over her swollen nipples.
‘Well?’ he demanded harshly. ‘Do you want me?’
A deep, helpless shudder rippled through her body. ‘Yes…yes, I want you,’ she whispered, trapped in a dense mist of raging passion, and oblivious of anything other than the driving, desperate compulsion to surrender to his possession. Her desire and need of him was so intense that it was like a deep physical pain.
‘Bueno…!’ he growled. But she barely heard the husky note of triumph in his voice, her whole being absorbed by the scorching, searing touch of the hands and mouth now setting fire to her flesh.
Engrossed with her own emotional hunger, she wasn’t sure if she imagined his low, deep groan as he impatiently parted her legs and finally entered her with a hard, driving thrust. Her own emotions responded to the pulsating rhythm of his powerful body with a frantic, erotic intensity that devoured them both, before the white-hot heat of their mutual lust and passion exploded in a shimmering starburst of light and power.
Afterwards, as they lay silently together in the dark, she forced herself to murmur, ‘Why?’
‘Because, Gina, you are still my wife. Because, contrary to what you believe, I am not the sort of man who commits adultery. And because…because it was plainly obvious to me, even over dinner, that you were consumed by a desperate need of my body,’ he added, with a devastatingly cruel, low rumble of sardonic laughter, before quietly returning to his own room.
CHAPTER SEVEN
SHIVERING as she paid off the taxi, Gina moved swiftly across the wet pavement and up the steps to the front door of the large house in Pall Mall.
England on a hot summer’s day was one thing. But on a dark, damp and dismal day in November it was quite another, she told herself glumly, fishing in her purse for her keys.
‘You’re late, madam,’ Harold said reprovingly, hurrying across the hall as she entered the house, taking her briefcase and helping to remove her damp overcoat. ‘Did you have a good meeting?’
‘Yes, I think it went quite well,’ she told him with a slight smile, before glancing swiftly down at her watch. If she didn’t want to miss the beginning of the opera at Covent Garden tonight, she was going to have to get a move on.
‘Shall I put your briefcase in the study?’
‘Yes, please,’ she said, adding as she paused with her foot on the first step of the staircase, ‘Can you remind Anna that I’m entertaining some corporate clients and won’t be needing dinner tonight?’
‘Will Don Antonio be flying over from Spain to join you?’ Harold asked casually, carefully not looking at her as she began mounting the stairs.
‘No, I’m afraid that my husband can’t make it this week. He’s…er…he is far too busy at the moment,’ she told him, despising herself for maintaining the charade of being one half of a happily married couple.
‘Well, I hope you won’t be too late, madam,’ he said sternly over his shoulder as he walked towards the study. ‘If you’ll forgive me for saying so, you’ve been looking rather tired and drawn lately.’
Gina gave a snort of wry amusement. ‘Thanks a bunch! You certainly know how to make a woman feel really terrific, Harold,’ she called down over the banister. But his only reply was a low rumble of laughter as he continued his stately progress down the corridor.
She was going to have to do something about Harold and his wife Anna, Gina told herself as she continued slowly mounting the stairs to her bedroom. But what?
Having served her grandfather for many years—certainly as long as she could remember—both his manservant and the cook-housekeeper had been generously provided for in his will. Which was why she’d been totally surprised to learn that instead of moving to the country, to enjoy their quiet and peaceful retirement, they’d both firmly insisted on remaining to look after her, here in London. Where she was, quite frankly, rattling around like a small pea in a large pod.
In fact, it was clearly time she decided what she was going to do about this enormous house. It seemed crazy to keep on living here, in solitary splendour, being looked after by two elderly, if devoted servants. Maybe she’d do better to find herself a large, glamorous apartment somewhere nearby? And thereby release Harold and Anna from what they clearly saw as their duty and responsibility to look after her.
But that, like so many other decisions in the pipeline, would undoubtedly have to wait its turn.
With a tired sigh she walked through into her dressing room, opening the cupboard doors and trying to think what to wear tonight.
Entertaining business clients in the wine trade wasn’t something she’d ever had to do before. Although she had acted as hostess to her grandfather while she’d still been living here, before taking over the branch office in Suffolk.
However, after consultation with Margaret, her grandfather’s secretary, who’d been kind enough to stay on and work with her, she’d eventually decided that her best option, where possible, was to take them to the opera.
‘Your grandfather used to say that it saved him from having to spend long hours involved in boring conversation with equally boring people,’ Margaret had told her with a grin.
‘A good point!’ Gina had laughed. And, since she loved going to the opera, those corporate clients who didn’t would just have to lump it.
And besides, she consoled herself, selecting a pair of long black silk trousers and a simple scoop-necked sleeveless black
silk top under a deep crimson evening cardigan in panne-velvet, the new Covent Garden Opera House needed the money provided by rich businessmen. Even if she deplored the fact that some of them had been known to spend most of the evening fast asleep!
Returning to the bedroom, she switched on the radio beside her bed, kicking off her shoes before slowly removing the gold earrings and necklace which she normally wore during the day.
While she wouldn’t have confessed it to a living soul, she felt dreadfully lonely living all alone in this large house. The quiet background noise of various programmes and music on the radio helped to banish the oppressive silence.
Quite why the house should have felt quite different when her grandfather had been alive, she had no idea. Especially since he’d been virtually confined to his study. But since his sudden death she’d found herself becoming increasingly depressed and lonely.
So—what else is new? she asked herself wryly, walking through into the bathroom and turning on the shower. She knew only too well the reasons which lay behind her present life of utter desolation and deep unhappiness.
Even if she had hoped for some sort of partial reconciliation following Antonio’s unexpected visit to London—and after the way he’d made love to her, she had no longer been sure what she wanted—Gina had been doomed to disappointment.
‘I have decided that it is in the best interests of both your company and mine if the outside world assumes we are still a happily married couple,’ he’d announced the next morning, preparing to accompany her to the office to sort out the problems arising from the theft by her manager.
‘Outside confidence in a business is essential if a company is to thrive and be successful. And you cannot afford any gossip in the trade—nor allow anyone to assume that you are not in full control.’
‘Are you saying that I can’t run my own business?’ she’d demanded angrily.
‘No. I’m sure, given time, you will prove to be a competent businesswoman,’ he’d told her in the same cold, patronising tone of voice which he’d used the night before. ‘But at the moment you are highly vulnerable, with your employees depending on the firm hand of management at the head of the company.
‘Which is why,’ he’d continued, in the face of her silent, frustrated acknowledgement that he was quite right, ‘I have decided that we will maintain the illusion, as far as the outside world is concerned, that we have a happy marriage. And why I will be paying regular visits to London, to deal with any problems which may have arisen in my absence.’
And that had been that, Gina now told herself glumly, sighing as she blow-dried her long, pale blonde hair. Unfortunately—and what had made the situation almost unbearable, as far as she was concerned—they were both well aware of just how much she needed him. Both in her business…and in her bed.
As it had turned out, that first visit by Antonio had set a pattern for the months that followed.
Other than during the grape harvest, he had flown over from Spain every few weeks, staying for just a day or two to help sort out any problems she might have with her family business.
Every night that he’d spent under the roof of the house in Pall Mall he had, at some point in the early hours of the morning, slipped quietly into her bed. And each and every time he had fiercely demanded that she acknowledge her need of him.
Goodness knows, she’d tried to steel herself against his fatal attraction. So many occasions she’d been utterly determined to lock her bedroom door and finally put an end to the façade. But…somehow…she’d never been able to force herself to do it.
Despite scornfully reviling herself for being such a pathetically feeble woman, she hadn’t been capable of resisting her desperate, overwhelming need for the warmth and strength of his body. Quite shamelessly she’d eagerly welcomed his enticingly soft, erotic caress, ardently and wantonly giving herself to him in the darkness; their lovemaking had been conducted virtually in silence, and was never…ever…referred to in the light of day.
Gina hated and despised herself for being so weak, for desperately counting the days until his next visit…and the next. But it seemed that if she couldn’t live with him neither was she able to live without him, despite the stark knowledge of how he had abused her love by seducing her into their travesty of a marriage.
Unfortunately, it seemed as though she wasn’t as hard and tough as she’d like to think.
In fact, it had become increasingly obvious, lately, that she couldn’t cope with the nervous strain of the emotional roller-coaster on which she seemed to be trapped. And when, after a long board meeting, she’d returned to her office only to find herself inexplicably bursting into tears, Gina had known that she was no longer capable of existing within the farce of her marriage.
A fact which she’d somehow eventually managed to force herself to tell Antonio the last time she’d seen her husband, a few weeks ago.
‘We can’t keep on like this,’ she’d finally managed to summon the courage to tell him one evening, when she’d returned late from the office to find him sitting in her grandfather’s study.
‘I don’t know what the answer is—maybe a divorce?’ she’d added with a heavy sigh. ‘All I know is…our present way of life is tearing me apart. I’m simply not able to hack it anymore. And I don’t suppose that you’re gaining any pleasure from it, either.’ ‘No. I am not,’ he’d agreed in the cold, hard voice which he’d used when speaking to her ever since their major quarrel all those months ago.
‘Well…it doesn’t look as if there’s anything more to say, does there?’ she’d said. And, since he’d made no further comment, firmly changing the subject to talk about a recent business problem, she’d eventually given a weary shrug, before turning to leave the room and walking slowly upstairs to her bedroom.
When he had not slipped into bed beside her that night, she’d realised that he, too, recognised that their miserably unhappy marriage of convenience was now virtually at an end.
If only one could just turn off the tap of love as easily as one could apparently terminate a marriage, she thought dismally, going back into the bedroom and quickly slipping into the clothes which she’d laid out on the bed.
The truth of which she’d been sharply reminded of only last week, when a thick envelope had arrived from Roxana.
It had contained a brief letter from her old friend, who was now, of course, also her sister-in-law, giving news of her forthcoming marriage to a fellow actor. It seemed that he was, to Roxana’s amusement, regarded by her family as highly suitable, being a younger son of a large aristocratic family.
Pleased to hear the happy news of her old friend, Gina had been touched to see that Roxana had also included an official invitation to her wedding—due to be held at Bourgos, in the North of Spain, in a few weeks’ time.
Not that she could possibly accept the invitation, Gina had told herself quickly. While she and her old friend had, of course, remained in touch—although they were always careful to avoid any mention of Antonio—her attendance at this sort of family gathering would not be welcome. Especially if, as seemed highly likely, she and her husband were about to divorce one another.
However, just as she’d been about to throw the envelope on the fire, she’d seen that Roxana had also enclosed a cutting which she’d clearly torn from a Spanish magazine detailing the news, views and social chit-chat of Spanish high society.
And there, in the middle of the page—under which Roxana had scribbled in thick black ink: ‘What are you going to do about this?’—had been a photograph of Antonio.
Pictured at some prestigious wine festival, he was smiling broadly at the camera. But he was not alone. Because there, clinging tightly to his arm, was the oh-so-voluptuous figure of Carlotta Perez, the smouldering gleam in her large black eyes practically setting fire to the page as she pressed herself closely to the tall figure of her handsome escort.
Almost gasping with pain, Gina had sat huddled in the large leather chair for a long time, before
wearily throwing the cutting into the fire.
And now, Gina told herself, as she picked up her evening purse and prepared to leave for the opera, if she’d learned nothing else during these deeply unhappy months, she’d been brought face to face with one inescapable, harsh fact of life.
Whatever the outcome of her marriage, there was going to be no early release from the deep, emotional feelings which she clearly still had for her husband.
The wonderfully Baroque dining room of the Ritz Hotel was buzzing with noise as Gina was led to the table where her godmother was sitting.
‘I’m sorry to be so late,’ Gina murmured, giving the older woman a quick kiss on the cheek before sitting down and picking up the menu.
‘Hmm…and you had so far to come today, too!’ Joyce Frazer teased.
‘Ha!’ Gina grinned, conceding the point, since both her home and office were only just down the road, while her godmother had come all the way down from Suffolk to spend the day shopping in London. ‘No, it was pressure of business, I’m afraid,’ she admitted.
‘Really, darling! You’re looking far too thin,’ the older woman said with concern, when they’d placed their order. ‘It doesn’t suit you,’ she added firmly, her eyes flicking over the lines of strain and the deep shadows beneath Gina’s normally sparkling blue eyes as she picked at the food in front of her. ‘What’s wrong?’
However, when the girl merely gave a slight shrug of her slim shoulders, Joyce Frazer decided to take the matter into her own hands.
‘Am I correct in assuming that this very strange semi-detached marriage of yours is not going too well?’
‘Well…er…I think that’s probably a fair description of the situation,’ Gina admitted slowly.
‘Which is hardly surprising,’ the older woman drawled. ‘In my experience, a relationship between a man and a woman is difficult enough even when they’re living permanently under the same roof. But since your husband appears to reside mainly in Spain,’ she added, ‘I imagine that must present some difficulties.’
