First-Class Seduction

by Lee Wilkinson

  When they reached the bottom he held out a lean, strong hand to Bel. With a feeling that verged on reluctance, she put hers into it.

  Peter and Jonathan appeared, and, after an exchange of hugs and kisses and handshakes on the doorstep, the newly-weds were showered with rose petals and waved off.

  Needing desperately to talk to Andrew, to be given some kind of reassurance, Bel turned to him. But his eyes held a cool warning and she became aware that the limousine’s glass panel, which allowed Bridges to hear, was open.

  Andrew made no effort to close it. Realising it was a refusal to discuss things at this juncture, Bel bit her lip, scared and angry, and stared out of the window at the passing traffic.

  After watching her half-averted face for a while, he said, ‘You haven’t asked where we’re going.’

  She said nothing, and he went on, ‘I thought a few days in Rome first and then a trip to Venice?’

  When she still failed to reply, he reached for her hand and held it, his thumb pressing into the soft palm in a tacit warning that he expected her to follow his lead.

  ‘Have you ever been to Venice?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘It’s a most beautiful, romantic city. Ideal for a honeymoon.’

  As things stood she had no intention of honeymooning in Venice, or anywhere else for that matter. Before the marriage was consummated, before she was caught and trapped in that web of sexual excitement he spun so effortlessly, she needed answers to a lot of questions.

  CHAPTER TEN

  WHEN they reached the Villa Dolce far Niente it was early evening and, though it was still warm and sunny, the burning heat of the day was over.

  They climbed the stairs together, yet apart, and Andrew carried their luggage into the bedroom while Bel, taut and on edge, went through to the living room.

  The windows onto the terrace were thrown wide and a huge jug of fresh flowers stood in the hearth, but there was no sign of the housekeeper.

  ‘I told Maria not to stay,’ Andrew remarked from the doorway. ‘As it’s our honeymoon I thought it would be nice to have the place to ourselves.’ Then he added blandly, ‘Why don’t you make yourself at home while I fix us a cool drink?’

  Sitting down on the settee, looking around a room that she was forced to admit was even more pleasant than she remembered, Bel made a determined but unsuccessful effort to relax.

  The relatively short flight from London had been smooth and without incident, and during the journey, following the lead Andrew had forced on her, she had made polite conversation.

  Just as though they were virtual strangers, she thought bitterly, rather than newly-weds.

  But, while appearing outwardly cool and composed, a growing realisation of just what kind of game Andrew must have been playing had made the tension mount. It stoked the fires of anger and apprehension and built up a dangerous pressure, making her head ache and her stomach churn.

  Andrew returned, moving lightly, and handed her a tall frosted glass of fruit juice. He had discarded his jacket and looked coolly elegant in casual trousers and a dark silk shirt and tie.

  While he drained his glass he stood silently, looking out across the sun-warmed rooftops of Rome towards the river.

  When his glass was empty he put it on the table alongside hers and, using one hand to loosen the knot in his tie, came to sit beside her.

  Only when she pointedly moved away did Bel realise that though Andrew looked relaxed, he was actually as tense as she herself.

  Grasping her upper arms, he jerked her towards him and, staring down into her scared but defiant eyes, said with soft violence, ‘I refuse to be treated as though I’m some kind of leper. I’m your husband and-’

  Tearing herself free, she jumped to her feet and whirled to face him. ‘I’ll tell you exactly what you are. You’re a despicable, scheming, unprincipled, lying swine! You told me you didn’t know Mortimer Harmen. But you were lunching with him the day I bumped into you and he was the man who phoned your penthouse that night, Don’t try to deny it!’

  ‘I wasn’t going to deny it. And I’m sorry I had to lie to you.’

  ‘Oh, I just bet you are!’

  ‘I kept to the truth whenever possible.’

  ‘You wouldn’t recognise the truth if it came up and bit you,’ she cried contemptuously. ‘But don’t bother telling me any more lies. It’s obvious Harmen’s been giving you information, and-’

  She broke off abruptly as realisation dawned. ‘He was the one who told you I’d gone to Italy!’

  ‘Yes. Your father mentioned it to him and said you’d be staying at the company’s flat. I was heading for your apartment that morning when I caught sight of that young ruffian attempting to steal your bag.’

  So that explained it! ‘And Harmen’s been helping you to try to take over Dad’s firm, hasn’t he? What did you offer him? A free rein? A directorship?’

  ‘Something along those lines-plus a substantial cash payment when I’d gained control of the company. I had him checked out and discovered he was exceedingly fond of wine, women and song, so it was easy to bribe him.’

  Andrew’s calm admission was like a kick in the stomach. Some part of her, perhaps the part that loved him, had clung to the hope that he would deny the charges, explain away his apparent involvement.

  She sat down abruptly on an old wheel-backed chair and folded her arms across her stomach, as though to hold back the pain. ‘Why do you want Grant Filey? As far as you’re concerned it’s insignificant-a mere drop in the ocean.’

  But even as she asked she knew the answer. ‘You don’t want it. You just want to get back at Dad for something.’ She was feeling her way now, thinking aloud. ‘Something that’s happened in the past. Something you think he’s done to your stepfather. That’s why you kept the relationship a secret, why you introduced your stepbrother in the way you did. You wanted to throw Dad. But you didn’t succeed. And you won’t succeed in gaining control of his company either.’

  ‘I already have.’

  The quiet assertion rocked her. Then she rallied. ‘You can’t have gained a controlling interest without Ellen’s shares.’

  ‘They were signed over to me yesterday.’

  ‘I don’t believe a word of it. She’s in France, probably at Épemay with a man named Jean-Claude.’

  ‘When your stepmother first agreed to sell her shares I arranged an all-expenses-paid trip to Paris as a kind of bonus.’

  As Bel’s jaw dropped he went on relentlessly, ‘I have a champagne house at Épernay with a distribution set-up in Paris. Jean-Claude works in my ChampsÉlysees offices. He was more than happy to pay court to a beautiful blonde for a while.’

  ‘You wanted her kept out of the way!’

  ‘For more than one reason,’ Andrew admitted coolly. ‘Though unfortunately the plan backfired, and caused me a great deal of trouble.’

  Bel was just beginning to get an inkling of what he was about to tell her when he went on, ‘Working undercover, Harmen had bought up all the shares he could get his hands on, but I still needed your stepmother’s to give me control. To absolve her from any blame, she parted with them believing the company was buying them back. Then Harmen came across a paper she’d somehow omitted to sign.’

  Yes, Bel could hear the voice she’d later recognised as Harmen’s saying, ‘I’ve just discovered there’s been a slip-up.’

  ‘I went over to Épernay to rectify matters, only to find Jean-Claude had exceeded his orders and taken your stepmother off somewhere. I waited as long as I dared, but when they hadn’t returned by teatime I had no option but to come back and try again the next day.’

  That explained his being nearly late for dinner, and why he’d been so tied up the following day. But there was still one thing she didn’t understand.

  ‘If you thought you already had control, why was it necessary to keep Ellen out of the way?’

  Then, with a sudden blinding flash of knowledge, she went on, ‘No, don’t bother to tell
me. I know. It was so she wouldn’t speak to Dad and the truth wouldn’t come out until after the wedding. You wanted a complete take-over: the company and me.’

  It was so; she was sure of it. It explained his determined pursuit and why he’d gone to such lengths to break up her engagement.

  Still she shook her head, dissatisfied. Why had he included her in the take-over? If it had simply been a wife he’d wanted there were plenty of women more suited to his world-beautiful, intelligent, sophisticated women.

  ‘Why me?’

  ‘Don’t you know?’

  Suddenly she did. Through a dry throat, she said, ‘Because Dad loves me, and for whatever reason you were determined to take everything away from him.’

  Andrew sighed. ‘It began that way, but I-’

  Eyes flashing, she broke in, ‘Didn’t it occur to you that when I found out just what your motives were I would walk out? Or did you think I was so. obsessed by you that I would forgive you anything?’

  Before he could answer, she went on raggedly, ‘I see now why you wanted me to love you. The bonds of love are even stronger than the bonds of passion.’ Panic brought her to her feet. ‘Well, you may have the company, but you won’t have me. I’m going straight back to London and I intend to get a divorce as soon as possible.’

  It was a moment of electric tension, and she felt the coiled reaction in his lean, powerful body.

  Head back, eyes narrowed to gleaming blue-grey slits between thick dark lashes, he looked up at her. ‘On what grounds?’ he asked silkily. ‘If you were thinking of non-consummation.?’

  Her face betrayed her.

  ‘I’m afraid not, my darling wife. As an eager bridegroom I’ve waited long enough. I was just about to take you to bed.’

  ‘Now I know how vile you are, I wouldn’t sleep with you if you were the last man on earth,’ she spat at him. ‘I can’t bear the idea of you touching me.’

  He was on his feet, his face taut with anger. ‘I intend to do a great deal more than merely touch you.’

  Before she had realised his intention, he’d swept her up into his arms and was carrying her through to the bedroom.

  Furiously she strove to free herself, but he held her easily in spite of her struggles. Pushing the door closed with his foot, he dropped her onto the bed.

  ‘No.’ she begged huskily.

  But he was drawing her close and, his lips brushing her ear, telling her that she was beautiful, exquisite. whispering how he loved to feel her nipples firm beneath his touch, how it excited him to put his face against the silky softness of her breast and take the rosy peak in his mouth, how it felt when the warmth of her body welcomed his and how mind-blowing it was to make love to her and feel her response deep inside.

  Within seconds she was lost.

  Using only his voice and the mental images he created, he set her alight and made her want him with a fierce passion that obliterated past and future, that wiped out reason and thought and left only feeling.

  Bel awoke to the bright sunshine of early morning and a dark despair.

  How could she have succumbed to Andrew’s sexual blandishments and allowed the marriage to be consummated?

  But the earth-shattering feelings he’d aroused had been so strong, the delight and ecstasy she’d experienced so consuming.

  Now the bitterness she felt was in direct proportion to the previous night’s pleasure, wiping it out as if it had never been, leaving only burning anger and futile regrets.

  He’d just wanted to use her as a means of hurting her father, and she felt sick when she recalled how she had hoped and longed for his love. He felt nothing for her and never would.

  Yet they were lying as if they belonged together, two halves of a whole. Her knees were drawn up, her buttocks fitting snugly into the warm curve of his abdomen and thighs. She was conscious of the slight rise and fall of his chest against her back, and the weight of his arm lying across her ribs.

  This mockery of loving intimacy was like a knife twisting cruelly in her heart. Perhaps she made some sound of pain because she felt the breath of his waking sigh stir her hair.

  A moment later the arm lying across her ribs moved slightly, and a warm hand closed possessively round her breast and began to tease the nipple.

  After all he’d done to her, the casual insolence of his touch was like a spark to dynamite.

  With a sudden savage jerk she tore herself free, and turning on her knees, angry beyond words, came back fighting. The flat of her hand swung in an arc and hit his cheek with a resounding crack.

  Taken by surprise by such totally out-of-character behaviour, he was fractionally slow in reacting. As he sat up, and before he had made any real attempt to defend himself, she went for him with unrestrained fury.

  ‘I h-hate you!’ She was half sobbing, almost incoherent with rage. ‘And if you think I’m going to stay with you.’

  He caught her wrists, but the force of her onslaught carried them both backwards and off the bed.

  There was no carpet, only polished floorboards, but, throwing his arms around her protectively, he rolled like a judo black belt, minimising the impact.

  ‘You little wildcat,’ he muttered. Capturing both hands, he forced them above her head and, pinning her beneath him, used the weight of his body to hold her there.

  ‘Let me go,’ she gasped, struggling furiously. ‘I want to get up.’

  He was breathing quickly, a lock of dark hair falling over his forehead, but his voice was steady as he told her, ‘I have every intention of keeping you right where you are until you’ve calmed down.’

  Stooping, he lifted her back onto the bed and got in beside her. Gathering herself, her only thought to get as far away from him as possible, she made an effort to slip out at the far side.

  His fingers closed around her arm, holding her back. ‘Don’t go. I want to talk to you.’

  She bit on her soft inner lip until she tasted blood. ‘Please take your hands off me.’

  ‘Not until you agree to stay and listen to what I have to say.’

  ‘I don’t want to talk to you.’ Her beautiful mouth set in a stubborn line.

  He was a wily tactician, and he said with conscious generosity, ‘I’m not looking for an apology-’

  ‘What a pity,’ she broke in, ‘because I’m just dying to give you one.’

  Ignoring the sarcasm, he went on, ‘But I think we need to talk to clear the air. I want to know why you flew at me.’

  Such barefaced provocation took her breath away. ‘Are you saying I haven’t reason enough?’

  His voice like polished steel, he asked, ‘For behaving like an alley cat?’

  A compulsion stronger than her will made her look at him. Resentful that, after all he’d done, he was making her feel in the wrong, she muttered, ‘You asked for it.’ But her voice lacked conviction, and all at once she was desperately ashamed of her own behaviour.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ she muttered. Then, very close to tears, she went on, ‘But I didn’t want this-’ her gesture took in the pair of them in bed together ‘-to happen. I can’t bear to stay with you knowing why you married me.’

  ‘But you don’t know why I married you.’

  ‘You admitted it was to get back at Dad for something.’

  ‘No, I said it began that way. Look, I’ll start from the beginning, if you’re prepared to listen?’ When he made as if to cuddle her against him, she moved away as far as the bed would allow.

  ‘I’ll listen,’ she agreed stiffly, ‘but then I intend to leave.’

  ‘Very well.’ His face set, the tanned skin taut over the strong bone structure, he admitted defeat. ‘If you still feel the same when you’ve heard me out, I won’t make any attempt to stop you.’

  When she said nothing, merely waited, he asked, ‘What do you know about the way Grant Filey was set up?’

  ‘Only that it began as a joint venture, with each of the partners finding half the capital.’

  ‘So when Conrad F
iley left the company, half of it should have been his?’

  ‘Well, yes, I suppose so.’

  ‘After Conrad and my mother were killed, I discovered there was no money. The house was mortgaged up to the hilt and there was nothing left but a pile of debts. I made enquiries and found he’d left Grant Filey without a penny. The whole thing was complicated, but what it added up to was that somehow your father had managed to rob and cheat Conrad out of his share.’

  White-faced, Bel said, ‘No, that isn’t true. Apart from the fact that the company has been struggling financially ever since he left, Dad would never have done a thing like that, believe me.’

  ‘I do believe you. Now. At the time I was furious, and that’s when I decided on a take-over. To that end, I approached Mortimer Harmen. When I asked him about the company’s financial situation the figures he came up with surprised me. They seemed to indicate that a good half of Grant Filey’s assets were gone, yet I knew Conrad hadn’t benefited. ‘Suspecting that your father had salted the money away, I hired a top private investigator, a man who specialises in uncovering fraudulent behaviour and who is prepared to use unorthodox methods. He gave me his report on Wednesday evening-a report that put a whole new perspective on things.

  ‘My stepfather, it seems, had become an inveterate gambler. Your father discovered what was going on and told him he was being a fool, and that, according to his secretary, who turned out to be a mine of information, was what caused the frequent rows between the two men. Apparently the crunch came when your father discovered a huge discrepancy in the books. He charged Conrad with having taken the money.

  ‘Conrad admitted to having “borrowed” some fifty thousand pounds to pay off a pressing debt, but denied the rest. Your father didn’t believe him, and threatened that if he didn’t leave the firm the police would be brought in.

  ‘When my investigator managed to examine the accounts he uncovered something strange. The fifty thousand was easy to trace, but a much cleverer, more sophisticated method had been used to systematically cook the books-and it had gone on after Conrad had left the company.