Forgiven but Not Forgotten?

by Abby Green

  Her mouth twisted. ‘As you can imagine, the price on myself and my sister’s heads fell dramatically when it became apparent that we’d lost our fortune. I’m sure I don’t need to tell you that we became personae non grata overnight.’

  Andreas’s eyes narrowed. ‘No. It would be untruthful of me not to admit that I knew your father had been soliciting prostitutes for years, and about the evidence of his involvement in drugs and political corruption. But proof that he’d been trafficking women all over Europe for sex must have been the killer blow for two penniless heiresses. No one wants to be seen to be associating with a scandal of that level.’

  The shame Siena felt nearly strangled her. Her father had solicited prostitutes while married to their mother because it had excited him. He’d fathered a son with one of those women. She’d thought she’d hated her father before…but she’d hated him even more when he’d disappeared into thin air to avoid the numerous charges levelled against him. To this day no one knew where he was, and Siena never wanted to see him again.

  The thought of all those poor defenceless and vulnerable women being sold into a life of torture and degradation… Even now bile rose in her throat, because it had also been proved that her father had been more than just involved in a peripheral sense. He’d been an active participant.

  Andreas must have seen something in her expression and he said quietly. ‘Your father’s sins are not your sins.’

  Siena was taken aback at this assertion. She looked at him, unable to read his face. ‘Perhaps not, but people don’t want to believe that.’

  ‘Did the press in Italy gave you a hard time?’ He answered her disbelieving look with a shrug. ‘I was travelling in South America for work when the full extent of your father’s scandal hit. By the time I got back to Europe your father had disappeared and a new scandal was unfolding. I missed most of it.’

  Siena thought of the relentless days of headlines like: Heiresses no more. Who will marry the poor little rich girls now? And: Serena DePiero caught in flagrante just days after disgraced father’s disappearance! That had been the moment Siena had known she had to get herself and Serena out of Italy. Her sister had been spiralling dangerously out of control, and she’d been barely clinging onto sanity after everything they’d known had been ripped asunder.

  Siena hadn’t expected any quarter from the press—she’d seen how they delighted in savaging the once lofty and untouchable of society—and thanks to her father’s extreme hubris the DePieros had had it coming. Nevertheless she voiced an understatement in a flat voice. ‘Yes, you could say they gave us a hard time.’

  Andreas was surprised at the lack of emotion in Siena’s voice. The lack of reproach or injury. He could well imagine the field-day the press had had at seeing two blonde and blue-eyed princesses reduced to nothing.

  Once again he had to marvel at her sheer natural beauty. She wore not a scrap of make-up but her skin glowed like a pearl. In this world of artifice and excess she really was a rare jewel. Even in the plain shirt and tie, that threadbare denim jacket, he could see the tantalising curves of her body. Fuller now that she was a woman, not a teenager.

  Desire was hot and immediate, tightening his body. A fit of pique went through Andreas when he realised that he’d subconsciously avoided blonde women in the last five years, seeking out the complete opposite and telling himself that she’d burned his taste for blondes. But she hadn’t. He just hadn’t wanted any blonde except her.

  Women didn’t usually reduce him to such immediate carnal reaction, no matter how desirable or beautiful. And yet she had from the very first moment he’d laid eyes on her…

  Andreas looked at her now with fresh resolve filling his belly and lifted his glass. ‘To whatever the future might bring.’

  Siena had a very scary suspicion that the future Andreas was envisaging had something to do with her. Very deliberately she ignored his toast and drained her glass, put it down on the nearby table. The alcohol blazed its way down her throat.

  Andreas looked merely amused and chided softly, ‘A 1977 port should be savoured a little more delicately than that, but each to their own.’

  He downed his too. Siena blanched. She could just imagine how much it had cost. Her father had thought of himself as an expert in fine wines so she’d learnt something by proxy.

  Thinking of her father made her think of her sister, and that made her stand up jerkily, only vaguely aware of the stunning view of London on the other side of the huge windows. ‘I really do need to get home. I have an early start in the morning.’

  Andreas rose too, as fluidly as a panther, rippling sinew and muscle very evident despite the severe cut of his suit. As if it barely contained him. Siena would have taken a step back, but the chair was behind her.

  She sensed a spiking of electricity in the air and there was a pregnant pause just before he said innocuously, ‘Very well.’

  He went to a discreet phone on the sideboard and picked it up, saying to someone, ‘I’m coming back down. Please have my car brought round. Thank you.’

  He extended his arm to allow her to precede him from the room, and to Siena’s utter chagrin her overwhelming feeling wasn’t one of relief. She was a little confused. She’d expected…more. More of a fight? And yet he was happy to let her go so easily. Something bitter pierced her. Perhaps he’d just wanted to amuse himself by seeing the disgraced heiress up close and he was already bored.

  So why did she feel so desolate all of a sudden?

  * * *

  Andreas stepped into the lift behind Siena and pressed the button. He might be giving her the illusion of letting her go, but that was not his intention in the slightest. Seeing her again had merely solidified his desire to have her in his bed. Finally. Acquiescent and his. That disdain she did so well would have no place in the relationship they would have. She was in no position to argue or resist him, and the thought of seeing her come undone was heady in the extreme.

  His car was waiting by the kerb and a young security guard jumped out, giving the keys to Andreas, who held the passenger door open for Siena to get in.

  Siena stood stiffly by the open door and looked at Andreas without meeting his eye. She was still trembling at the way his hand had rested lightly on the small of her back the whole way down in the elevator. And also at the speed with which he now appeared to want to get rid of her.

  ‘If you can point me in the direction of the nearest tube I’ll make my own way home.’

  Andreas’s voice was like steel. ‘It’s almost eleven-thirty at night. There is no way you’re taking the tube alone. Get into the car, Siena, or I will put you in myself. Don’t think I won’t.’

  Siena looked at him properly and saw how stern he seemed. She felt a shiver of something go through her—recognition of how huge and broad he was against the night sky. And yet she wasn’t scared of him. Not as she’d been of her father. She somehow knew instinctively that Andreas would never lash out like that. Violence towards women was born of weakness and fear. Andreas didn’t have that in him. And it surprised her to admit that she trusted this gut feeling so much.

  Knowing that if she walked off now he’d just follow her again, Siena gave in and slid into the car, its luxurious confines once again surrounding her like a cocoon. Until Andreas got in beside her and the atmosphere turned from relaxing to electric.

  As they pulled away from the kerb Andreas asked easily, ‘Did your sister come to London with you?’

  Instantly Siena tensed. She answered carefully, ‘No… She went to…to the south of France to stay with friends of hers.’

  Andreas glanced at Siena, who was looking stonily ahead. He had to concede that she’d never taken after her more obvious sister by appearing in the gossip columns. Siena clearly preferred to clean toilets rather than to be seen in polite society again and be exposed to ridicule or censure.

  He had to admit to a grudging and surprising respect that Siena was doing the sort of work she would have taken completely for
granted her whole life. Perhaps now that their father was gone Siena saw no need to be responsible for the precious family name and was happy to wash her hands of her infamous sister, who had been well known as a party girl.

  In truth, Andreas didn’t really care about Serena. The sister he was concerned about was sitting right beside him, her legs looking very long as she angled them well away from him. He allowed himself a small predatory smile to think of a time when they would be wrapped around his hips as he finally exorcised this demon from his blood for good.

  He hadn’t elaborated on the fact that he had been actively looking for her for six months. In fact he’d been thinking about her ever since Paris. However, it had only been six months ago, when he’d finally had the luxury of time after establishing himself, that he’d begun to focus on such a personal pursuit. Siena DePiero had always been in his sights…

  To Siena’s relief Andreas seemed to be done with questioning her, and they drove in silence through the empty London streets. Rain started to spatter gently on the windscreen. For the first time since she’d left Italy Siena felt a pang of homesickness and it surprised her. She’d left Italy never wanting to see it again.

  She’d spent many a night looking out of her window dreaming of another life—one without constrictions and pain and tension and always the unbearable pressure to act a certain way. She’d dreamed of a life full of love and affection. The only affection she’d really known had come from her sister—her poor, damaged sister. Their mother had died when they were both small girls. Siena had only the vaguest memories of a fragrant blonde woman who’d used to come into their room at night dressed in glittering finery.

  She realised that they were close to her street already, and she directed Andreas into the labyrinth of smaller streets that led to her home. He pulled to a stop and looked out incredulously at the bleak, lonesome apartment block standing on wasteground.

  ‘You’re living here?’

  Defensively Siena said, ‘It’s near the tube and the bus.’

  Andreas was shaking his head in disbelief. He undid his seat belt and got out. Siena noticed that he’d taken an umbrella from somewhere and was holding it up now, as he came to her door and opened it.

  She got out and the wind whipped around her, tugging her hair out of its bun completely. Feeling flustered, she said, ‘Look, thanks for the lift…’

  She moved to walk around Andreas and go into the flats, but stopped when Andreas kept pace beside her. She looked at him. ‘Where do you think you’re going?’

  He was grim. ‘I’m walking you to your apartment. You are not going in there alone.’

  A new sense of pride stiffened Siena’s backbone. ‘I’ve been living here alone for months now and I’ve been fine. I can assure you that—’

  Andreas wasn’t listening. He’d taken her elbow in his hand and was guiding her across the litter-strewn ground. Irritation raced up Siena’s spine. This was exactly what her father had used to do.

  Once inside the main door, which hung haphazardly on broken hinges, and under the unforgiving flourescent lights, Siena pulled free, ‘This is fine.’

  Andreas was folding down the umbrella, though, and then he spotted a sullen youth lurking in a corner. He called the boy over and handed him a folded note and the umbrella. ‘Keep an eye on the car for me?’ he said.

  The boy looked at the money and went white, then looked back to Andreas and nodded his head vigorously.

  He took the umbrella before speeding off to stand guard.

  Siena didn’t like how the tiny gesture of Andreas giving him the umbrella made her feel soft inside. Churlishly she said, ‘It’ll be up on blocks by the time you leave.’

  ‘O, ye of little faith,’ Andreas murmured, and hit the elevator button.

  Siena watched as he grew impatient when the lift didn’t materialise straight away, and stood back to point at the stained concrete stairs. ‘It’s a cliché, I know, but the lift isn’t working—and I’m all the way up on the fourteenth floor.’ She couldn’t quite keep the satisfaction out of her voice.

  The light of determination was a definite glint in Andreas’s eye as he said, ‘Lead the way.’

  Siena was huffing and puffing by floor ten, and very aware of Andreas right behind her. When they finally reached the door to her flat she turned to face him. She felt hot, and the hair on the back of her neck felt damp with perspiration. Her heart was hammering.

  ‘Thank you. This is me.’

  Andreas barely had a hair out of place, and not so much as a hint of the effort of climbing up fourteen sets of hard concrete stairs. Although somewhere along the way he had tugged his bow-tie loose, and the top button of his shirt was open, revealing the top of his olive-skinned chest and some springy dark hair.

  Siena’s belly clenched hard. She could remember impatiently undoing his shirt buttons that night in Paris, ripping his tie open…

  Andreas was looking around the bare corridor. Someone was shouting in a nearby flat and then something smashed against a door, making Siena flinch.

  Andreas cursed and took the keys out of her numb fingers. ‘Let’s get you inside.’

  He was doing it again. Taking command, all but pushing her through the door into a bare and forlorn-looking space filled with stained carpet. Siena had done her best to get rid of the stains, with little success. She only hoped that they weren’t what she thought they were…

  Siena put on her one small lamp and regretted it as soon as she did so, because it sent out a far too seductive pink and warm glow. Feeling thoroughly threatened now, she put out her hand for her keys and snapped, ‘You’ve seen me safely in—now, please leave.’

  Looking supremely at ease, Andreas just shut the door behind him and said softly, ‘This must be hard for you…’

  Siena went very still and her hand dropped to her side. He had no idea…how easy this had been for her. To leave behind the tainted trappings of suffocating wealth and excess had been a relief. But that was something no one would ever understand. She’d certainly never be explaining it to this man, who had grabbed onto success and wealth with both hands and was thoroughly enjoying it. And could she begrudge him that? Even if his methods were dubious? Of course not. She had given up that right five years before.

  She put her hand out again for her keys. ‘I have to be up early for work.’

  Andreas didn’t move. He just looked at her, those dark, unreadable eyes roving over her face and over her hair, which was tumbled around her shoulders now, making Siena want to drag it back, tie it up.

  Feeling desperate, she said, ‘Please.’

  ‘But what if you didn’t have to get up early?’

  Siena blinked at Andreas, not understanding him. She shook her head. ‘What do you mean? I start work at six-thirty a.m. It takes me an hour to get there…’

  Andreas’s face was so starkly beautiful in the dim light that she could feel herself being hypnotised. Much as she had been when she’d stood in front of him in that hotel boutique shop, in that dress. She’d taken it off after that night and thrown it in the bin, unable to look at it and not feel sickened.

  He said now in a silky tone, ‘What I mean is that you have a choice, Siena… I’d like to offer you an alternative.’

  It took a second…but then his words sank in along with the very explicit look in his eyes. Since she’d been in England other men had posed much the same question—like the man who had come back to get something from his hotel room and found her making his bed. Except what he’d been offering had been stated in much cruder terms.

  Shame and something much hotter curled through her belly, making self-disgust rise. She took a sidestep back and injected as much icy disdain as she could into her voice. ‘If you’re suggesting what I think you’re suggesting then clearly you refuse to believe that I want you to leave me alone.’

  Andreas took a step closer and panic spiked in Siena, making her take another step back. She felt out of her depth and unbelievably vulnerable. All
of the familiar surroundings of her old life were gone. The part she’d played had been as good as scripted. Now she was utterly defenceless, and the one man in the world who hated her guts was propositioning her. And she hated that it didn’t disgust her the way it should.

  He reached out to trail a finger down one cheek, across her jawbone and down to where the pulse beat hectically under her skin at her throat. ‘Even now you affect disgust, but your body betrays you. What happened in Paris…you were as involved as I was—as hot and eager as anything I’ve ever seen. And yet you didn’t hesitate to shift the blame to me to keep yourself pure in your father’s bigoted eyes. God forbid the untouchable heiress had been rolling around on a chair with a mere hotel employee.’

  Siena slapped his hand away and stepped back, hating how breathy she sounded. ‘Get out of here now, Xenakis. Rehashing the past is of no use.’

  The anger Andreas had been keeping in check spilled over into his voice. ‘You can’t bring yourself to offer up even the most grudging of apologies, can you? Even now, when you don’t have a cent to your name or a reputation to safeguard.’

  Shame gripped Siena—and guilt. Ineffectually she said, ‘I…am…sorry.’

  Derision laced Andreas’s voiceas he sneered, ‘Spare me the insincere apology when it’s all but dragged from you.’

  His face was suddenly etched with self-disgust, and he half turned from Siena, raking his hair with a hand. She had a vivid memory of seeing him the following morning, shocked at his black eye and swollen jaw. Evidence of her father’s men’s dirty work. She’d tried to apologise then, but hadn’t been able to speak over his very justified wrath.

  Contrition and a stark desire to assure him that she was truly sorry made her reach out impulsively to touch his sleeve. She dropped her hand hurriedly when he looked at her suspiciously. She gulped under his almost black gaze and said truthfully, ‘I never intended to…to lie about what happened. Or that you should lose your job.’