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Savage Destiny
AMANDA BROWNING


He Was Just Using Her! Five years before, Pierce had married Alix one day - and rejected her the next. And why? Because she had been his route to a fleet of ships and his revenge. He had been passionate and she had been in love - but once was enough for Alix to have her fingers burned!Now he was back and as demanding as ever. She must now marry him to help her sick father and the ailing family business - and again she had no choice. But this time things were different. Before she had loved him, now she hated him. She was determined not to suffer again as she had before - but was he too hot to handle?









Savage Destiny

Amanda Browning











www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)




CONTENTS


CHAPTER ONE (#u729eb8bb-7b3b-5831-b225-578c2b14ebbf)

CHAPTER TWO (#uc3420ad8-7839-54fc-9571-e53944496a68)

CHAPTER THREE (#u97291153-3ea9-5edc-a3d8-59b745c53b8a)

CHAPTER FOUR (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER FIVE (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER SIX (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER SEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER EIGHT (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER NINE (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER TEN (#litres_trial_promo)




CHAPTER ONE


ALIX PETRAKOS stepped down carefully from the taxi and took a much needed moment to square her shoulders before mounting the flight of steps to the door of the floodlit hotel. There was a supper dance in progress, and, although on another occasion she would have been looking forward to it, tonight it was not her idea of fun. She was tired to her bones. It had been a particularly long and fruitless day after a deluge of long, fruitless days, and had not keeping up appearances demanded that she attend this glittering charity function she would have stayed at home.

An attendant relieved her of her coat, and she took a deep breath before heading for the ballroom, a tall, slim figure who could have stepped right out of the pages of a fashion magazine. Yet, although her evening dress was a St Laurent original, her shoes handmade Italian and her jewellery courtesy of Cartier, Alix knew their days were numbered. Unless she could find the financial backing the family business needed so desperately, everything would have to go. Not that it would be a particularly unpleasant sacrifice, for she was not too enamoured of high fashion and the class structure it implied. No, the sad thing was that collectively the family possessions would do no more than dent the mountain of debts.

Pausing just inside the doorway, she surveyed the crowded room, not surprised to find that she recognised many of the faces there. Had, in fact, spent long hours these last few weeks talking to them across desks of every shape and size. Now, those who witnessed her arrival were quick to move away, and equally quick to pass on the news of her family’s financial straits in lowered voices.

It brought a tightness to her lips that sat uncomfortably on her delicate face, which was fine to the point of fragility—an aspect shown up by the new stylish cut of her hair, the platinum-blonde crop tapered to her nape, suiting her perfectly, yet making her grey eyes look huge and her neck vulnerable. A fact which was unknown to her as she walked inside with all the sang-froid she could muster.

Helping herself to a glass of wine, she acknowledged the greetings of those still brave enough to meet her eyes with a faintly cynical smile. Six months ago it had been oh, so different. Everything had. Now the façade had slipped and she had to cope with the consequences of her father’s ill-advised actions. Yet, no matter what these people thought, she would never have the bad manners to importune them here.

‘Don’t look so surprised,’ a voice declared mockingly from beside her. ‘When you set out on a collision course with the rocks, it’s a time-honoured tradition for the rats to leave the sinking ship.’

The low, vibrant tones strummed her nerves, and for one stomach-lurching moment Alix felt the room actually swim around her. Then her blood froze and her muscles tensed, and it seemed to take every ounce of her strength to turn her head to face the voice’s owner...because she knew whom she would see.

‘Leaving room for the vultures to swoop down and pick over the rotting carcass,’ she riposted swiftly, amazed at how steady her voice sounded, when the sight of the man who had come silently to stand beside her set her heart thudding sickly. ‘Why do I get the feeling that to say “fancy seeing you here” would hardly be apt? Sharks can smell blood from miles away, I hear,’ she added, not caring if she mixed her metaphors or not. Her mind held only one question: what was he doing here?

Pierce Martineau, as handsome as the devil, and just as black-hearted, afforded her a long lazy smile. ‘You’ve developed claws, Alix, which doesn’t surprise me, but, just like a kitten, you’ve yet to learn when it’s wise to scratch.’

The irony stung, reminding her just how weaponless she had once been. Yet those days were long gone. She had developed a wall of defences inches thick. ‘As far as I’m concerned, it’s always open season on Martineaus!’ She allowed her scorn to show, wanting to wither him on the spot. She was reeling with shock. He never came to England. Never.

One black brow shot up. ‘Do you always greet an old acquaintance with guns blazing? I’ll admit it has novelty value, but it might be wiser to put up your weapon, Alix. These days the enemy doesn’t obligingly wear a black hat. For all you know, you could be firing on an ally,’ he advised her mildly.

‘Ally!’ The word came out thick with revulsion. ‘You were never that, and never could be. You’re the enemy, Pierce, and as such I have nothing but contempt for you,’ Alix declared vehemently. Lord, she should have known he would say such a thing. It seemed he had developed a selective memory, while hers remained clear-cut. ‘Now I’m afraid you’ll have to excuse me. You see, I’ve become rather more discriminating about the company I keep these days.’ With which statement she pointedly turned her back on him and walked away on legs which threatened to give way beneath her at every step.

She had no clear idea where she was heading, just kept on walking until eventually she found herself in a small ante-room from which there was no other exit. She stopped then, discovering she was shaking in every limb. Dear God, why had he had to be here? Hadn’t he done enough? Did he need to crow over the remains? She hated him. Hated him as much as she had once loved him; with a depth of emotion that knew no bounds.

Alix bowed her head, her stomach twisting into a painful knot. Pierce Martineau still had everything going for him, possessing the sort of looks that set women’s hearts fluttering madly. Once, her own had taken wing in the space of a single beat. She hadn’t been immune to the thick glossy blue-black hair and the penetrating blue eyes either, nor the darkly shadowed cheeks framing that beautifully sensuous mouth. His masculinity and self-assurance had shone like a beacon, drawing her, like many another moth, to dance in its dangerous heat and brilliance. He had wined her and dined her, treating her like something beloved and precious, pursuing her with an ardour which had telegraphed to her lovesick heart that he loved her too.

Bitterness was like gall on her tongue, and unconsciously her hand tightened on the glass she still held until her knuckles grew white. He had turned that love to hate with his lies. For it had all been lies! All of it, from start to finish! The angry memory was punctuated by the sharp crack of glass, instantly followed by her soft cry of pain. The broken glass toppled from her hand, and she stared down blankly at the swift swell of blood on her palm.

It was only then that she realised she was not alone.

‘Sweet heaven! Did you cut yourself? Let me look.’ Pierce must have followed her, and now he advanced on her swiftly, taking her hand and examining it before she had the chance to pull away.

Alix shuddered, suddenly finding herself staring at his bent head. The lush waves of black hair brought back memories, ones she’d thought safely buried, of how it had felt to the touch. She breathed in sharply, only to have her senses bombarded by the tangy scent of his cologne and the heat coming off him. Then, as if to add insult to injury, his touch sent something close to an electric shock up her arm. Horrified by this totally unexpected and unwanted reaction, she froze in disarray, mind crying out a silent, No!

‘You’ll live.’

Pierce’s declaration snapped her out of her state of shock, and the momentary delay in his looking up gave her just enough time to regain control of her features, leaving them once more remote.

‘It’s little more than a scratch, and looks clean enough,’ he observed, meeting her eyes with a feral glitter in his own. ‘What did you imagine the glass was, my throat?’

Try as she might, she could not quite sustain that gaze, and she hastily glanced away from the mockery in those deep blue chasms. Her eyes fell on her hand, and she discovered he had made a makeshift bandage out of his handkerchief. There were traces of scarlet on the pristine white cloth. Her blood. Always her blood when Pierce came into her life! Her lips thinned, that moment of awareness evaporating in the bleak, chill winds of memory.

‘If any man deserves to have his throat cut, you do,’ she declared coldly, as she glanced up once more, her precious defences safely intact.

If she was scoring any hits, she would never know. Pierce’s only reaction was to laugh lightly, at what must seem to him a minnow turning on a pike. ‘Many have tried; none succeeds.’

Alix smiled thinly at his supreme conceit. ‘Such pride is bound to be brought down. I only hope I’m there to see it.’

There was a moment when something which could have been regret flickered in his eyes, but it was gone before she could quite pin it down. ‘That’s our heritage in us. Wouldn’t you say this has all the makings of a classic Greek tragedy? Vengeful wife plots husband’s downfall. Would you dance on my grave, Alix?’

He was toying with her, but she refused to play his game. ‘Ex-wife,’ she pointed out swiftly, even as her heart contracted sharply—though precisely from what emotion even she couldn’t have said at that moment.

Pierce inclined his head in wry acknowledgement, as if he had expected no other answer. ‘You say that with such alacrity.’

Her chin came up instantly, and her eyes shot sparks. ‘It was the happiest day of my life!’

If she had hoped to wound him, her aim was glaringly abroad. ‘Strange, I seem to remember you said the same of our wedding-day,’ he reminded her dulcetly, the low timbre of his voice exploding on her senses like dark chocolate, eminently seductive.

To have to acknowledge how he could make her react even now made Alix furiously angry—with herself as much as him for bringing back all too clearly that worst of times.

‘I didn’t know then what an utter bastard you were.’ But she had learnt. How she had learnt.

It seemed he did have a few chinks in his armour, for all trace of amusement left him abruptly. The only movement on his tight face was the tic of a muscle in his jaw. ‘It had to be done. You should understand that.’

Grey eyes, darkened by seething emotions, sent him a message of hate. ‘I’ll never understand it, and I’ll never forgive it! I’ll hate you till the day I die!’

Nostrils flared as he took a sharp breath. ‘Never is a long time. You may yet have cause to thank me.’

It took every ounce of control she had not to leap at him and claw him to shreds. It was a distressing measure of just how he was getting to her. The minute she lost control, he would have won. That had to be avoided at all costs. She responded instinctively. ‘For what? Killing my grandfather?’

Her barb found a tender spot, for Pierce took an angry step towards her, then controlled himself with patent effort. ‘That you will not lay on me, Alix. He was an old man, I agree, but he lived several years after I last met him,’ he pointed out grittily.

Her lips trembled, as much with anger as distress, and she pressed them together. ‘Maybe so, but you hastened him into his grave by taking away everything that was precious to him.’

He stiffened in outraged pride, blue eyes becoming flinty, almost dead. ‘I took nothing that wasn’t mine by right, and in exchange I left him you.’

Alix laughed hollowly. He had left a shell—the carapace of a woman he’d all but destroyed! ‘You’re a thief and a murderer, and I despise you.’

His face could have been carved from stone, so still did it become. ‘Despise away, but I still have something you want.’

‘I’d cut off my hand before I accepted anything from you, Pierce Martineau!’

The smile returned, but it was cold, mirthless. ‘Always so dramatic. I’d forgotten just what a passionate creature you were, in bed and out of it.’

Only he would have the gall to remind her of her uninhibited response to him, a response he had used to his own ends. She had been a fool then, but never again. ‘You’re right, I do have something for which to thank you—for teaching me a valuable lesson. One I’ll never forget,’ she declared tersely.

There was a fraction of a second before he replied, when his eyes lazily roved over all he could see. The inspection brought a soft curve to his lips, even as it set her back up.

‘If I was a good teacher, then you were a very willing pupil,’ he said softly, deliberately misinterpreting her. ‘You seem to have done well on it too. You’re looking even more beautiful than I remember.’

Alix ground her teeth in fury. The fact that he had taken a virgin bride to his bed and awoken her to the pleasures of the flesh was something she found hard to live with, when linked to what had followed. That he should have the insensitivity to remind her of it now churned her stomach. ‘I hope you don’t expect me to thank you for the compliment, because, quite frankly, the words would choke me!’ she shot back.

His eyes danced. ‘And that would never do. Perhaps I should stop before you have an apoplectic fit, but I can’t resist it. I like your hair cut short this way. It makes you look elegant and fragile at the same time. Quite a feat. When did you have it done?’ he went on conversationally, and she swallowed down hard on her anger because it was doing her no good, and only appeared to amuse him.

Yet she couldn’t help shooting him a challenging look. ‘Actually, I first had it cut five years ago!’ she retorted, and let him make what he liked of it.

Pierce had never been slow on the uptake, and now he understood immediately. ‘Hmm, off with the old, on with the new? I used to be fascinated by your long platinum locks. I’d dream of catching my fingers in it as I made love to you.’

She very nearly choked then, because she had had virtually the same dreams about him, and long after the marriage had ended. Now the memory set like ice about her heart. ‘Precisely the reason I had it cut. I wanted nothing to remind me of you,’ she added, trying to cut him down to size.

Pierce crossed his arms, regarding her mockingly. ‘Yet you haven’t forgotten me, it seems. Is that why you’re here alone tonight?’

She breathed in sharply. There was no other man like Pierce for asking questions with subtle nuances others missed. ‘You can rid yourself of the notion that you have any bearing on my life right now! I’m here alone because my father, as you probably know very well, is ill. We would have come as a family group, but instead I came on my own. Does that satisfy your curiosity?’

‘Hardly. Are all the men in England blind? Wasn’t there someone else who could have escorted you? What about the latest man in your life?’ he probed, ignoring the way her eyes flashed angrily at the cross-questioning.

She squared up to him. ‘What exactly do you want to know, Pierce, the state of my love life?’ she charged, hot colour storming into her cheeks at his audacity.

‘Judging by the state of tension you’re in, I’d say you haven’t got one. Either that, or his technique is so bad he leaves you frustrated,’ he returned, taking her breath away, so that she stared up at him rather like a stranded fish.

‘How dare you?’

‘Does that mean I’m wrong or I’m right?’ he enquired sardonically.

‘That means you’ve one hell of a nerve, and I’ve no intention of answering such a personal question,’ she rejoined angrily, and he laughed.

‘I think you just did. However, if men haven’t taken up your time, what have you been doing these past five years?’

‘Getting on marvellously well without you, I’m happy to say.’

‘So I see,’ he agreed, pricing her clothes and jewels with little difficulty. ‘You’ve been living high off the hog. Who paid for it all—Daddy?’ he jeered, and she saw red again.

‘Wrong. I earned the money to pay for my clothes by sheer hard work. My jewellery was a twenty-first birthday present, and I don’t think even you would begrudge me that!’ Alix countered hotly.

‘Spoken like a lioness defending her cub,’ he drawled ironically, and Alix decided she had had just about enough.

‘Why not? You might enjoy hitting people when they’re down and can’t defend themselves, but I don’t. In fact, I don’t even like associating with people like that, so if you don’t mind...’ She sent him a chilly smile, and would have brushed past him, only his hand shot out to grasp her wrist and halt her departure.

‘Not so fast. We still have to talk,’ he said shortly.

She attempted to shake him off, but he resisted effortlessly. All she could do was fix him with an unwavering glare. ‘As far as I’m concerned, we’ve said more than enough,’ she retorted frigidly.

Pierce shook his head. ‘Darling, we haven’t even begun to talk. But you’re right, this isn’t the time or place. I’ll be at your office at ten o’clock tomorrow morning.’

How dared he think he could just waltz back into her life and take it over? ‘You may be there, but I won’t see you. I have appointments all day, and into the foreseeable future,’ she informed him with great satisfaction.

He released her wrist, but only to bring his hand up to catch her chin, forcing their gazes to lock. ‘Make room, or the only appointment you’ll have is with the official receiver! And if that isn’t warning enough, stop thinking about yourself and start thinking of your employees instead. This may be your last chance of saving their jobs. It’s on your head, Alix. Can you afford your pride?’ His eyes bored into hers for a second longer, then he set her free. ‘Until tomorrow,’ he promised, and it was he who left, with a brief nod.

Boiling with impotent anger, she watched his tall, broad-shouldered figure walk away. How she longed to tell him to go to hell, but his words stopped her—as he must surely have known they would. He also knew that she would see him tomorrow, for the sake of the very jobs she had been trying so hard to save, but with no success. It had been a bitter pill to swallow, the sense of failure. Now here was Pierce, implying he might be ready to do something, and, hate him though she might, she knew she couldn’t afford to turn him away.

The knowledge left a bitter taste in her mouth for the rest of the evening. She left early, but didn’t go straight home. Instead she took a taxi to the London hospital where Stephen Petrakos still lay in Intensive Care. Three weeks ago he had suffered a massive heart attack, and had had at least one smaller one since. It was a miracle he had survived at all, and it was while his life hung in the balance that she had discovered the perilous state of affairs his publishing empire was in. While the doctors were slowly winning the battle for her father’s life, she was still trying to save his company.

Her mother looked up from her knitting as Alix walked into the room, a tiny, fragile woman whose wan face creased into a welcoming smile on seeing her daughter. ‘Hello, darling, did you have a nice time?’

Alix bent to kiss a smooth cheek. Emily Petrakos was the kind of woman whose sweet nature inspired protectiveness in those around her, never more so than in her family. It had become second nature to shield her mother from the harsher side of life long before her father’s illness, the cause of that being the mess she was striving helplessly to sort out now. But even though her mother must surely suspect something was wrong, if her father had said nothing to his wife, then she could say nothing either. Which was why Alix now fixed a cheerful smile on her face.

‘Oh, you know how those things are. The cause was good, and that was what mattered. How’s Dad?’

‘Sleeping now, but he was terribly restless earlier. I do wish he’d tell us what’s wrong,’ her mother sighed, biting her lip in concern, and unwittingly confirming her daughter’s suspicions.

Alix gave her a hug. ‘Try not to worry, Mum. You know how Dad hates to be ill, especially when it takes him away from the business. However, I’m in control of things temporarily, and I think I may have some good news for him soon.’ Mentally she crossed her fingers, in the desperate hope that it would be true.

‘You’re such a comfort, Alix. Heaven knows where I’d be without you,’ Emily Petrakos declared, only to have her smile replaced by a frown. ‘But you look tired, dear. Aren’t you sleeping?’

Sleep was a scarce commodity these days, and even when she found some her dreams were troubled. None of which she was about to admit to. ‘I’m fine, really, it’s just been a long day today. I intend to go straight to bed when I get home. Don’t forget to get some sleep yourself, Mum. You know it will only upset Dad more if he sees you looking worried.’

‘You make me sound like a tonic!’

Alix laughed softly. ‘You are, and the best one he could have.’ Stifling a yawn, she glanced at her watch. ‘I’d better go. I’ll pop in again tomorrow. Give Dad a kiss for me, and tell him to stop worrying,’ she urged, before kissing her mother once more and leaving.

Her flat was near the river in Chelsea. It was small, but suited her perfectly. She had rented it before her short-lived marriage, and, because she had refused to accept any financial benefit from her divorce, had been glad to return to it and nurse her wounds. She let herself in with a sigh of relief, only feeling safe when the bolts had been shot. It was Pierce who made her feel that way—as if she should run, and keep on running. Walking through to the lounge, she dropped her coat on the couch and went to pour herself a brandy. She needed it. His presence had been a shock. She had never expected to see him again after the divorce. After all, she thought, lips twisting, why would he come back when he had already got everything he wanted?

Once she had believed she was the embodiment of the sentiment in those three words, but she had only been his tool. He had made his plans like a general. All the soft words and loving looks, right down to the vows they had exchanged, everything had been designed with one purpose—to get him within sight of his goal.

She hadn’t known anybody could pretend like that. She had loved him, and she had believed he loved her. Her mouth twisted. But that was what she had been supposed to think. Her naïveté was like a scourge to her already lacerated soul. She had been a young twenty-one to his vastly more experienced twenty-nine. He couldn’t have known for certain that she would fall in love with him, only that he knew enough about women to be able to make it a distinct possibility.

Shivering, Alix curled up in an armchair. Pierce had been right about her love life. She didn’t have one, and was there really any wonder? What she had suffered at his hands had made her fear the fire like any sane person. Never again would she trust any man with her happiness. Oh, she had men who were friends, and whom she sometimes dated, but although she knew some of them would like to deepen the relationship she had always been careful to keep them at a distance.

Her friends had stopped asking her why she had changed so after her return from America when she had stonewalled every question. Though they still tried to pair her up, it was half-hearted at best, and they obeyed her unspoken wish for privacy.

She closed her eyes. Stopping questions was one thing, stopping memories was something else. In the beginning they had been her scourge to remind her of what must never happen again. The scenes had been played over one by one, but although they had haunted her, waking and sleeping, for the past five years, the intervals between had lengthened. She hadn’t thought of him for a long time, but tonight everything returned with a vengeance.

Pierce had been so clever, manipulating her into believing what she wanted to believe—that he loved her. Only he hadn’t. That had been made manifestly obvious to her in one short hour. He had acted out his part with such consummate skill that it wasn’t till the morning after the wedding that she discovered the man she had married was nothing but a sham.

On the day that should have been the beginning of their life together she had finally met the real Pierce Martineau...




CHAPTER TWO


IT HAD been a hard day at work. Not that Alix minded hard work at all. She was coming to the end of a six-month exchange, and finding out how a sister company worked would surely put her in good stead for her return to England, now only a few weeks away, where she would take up her job as a junior executive in the publishing business her father had built up. However, her new friends socialised at night with just the same energy as they used during the working day, and she wasn’t quite used to partying to all hours. Which was why she was feeling tired, and why she was thankful that tonight she had already arranged a visit to the theatre with some friends of her father’s.

The play was excellent, and she was discussing it enthusiastically in the foyer during the first break when she felt eyes on her. It was an uncanny sensation, raising the hairs on her flesh, and it was almost as if those unknown eyes were compelling her to turn around. Which she did because she couldn’t help herself, eyes scanning the crowd for mere seconds before they locked with eyes of such a vivid blue, they seemed to spear her to her soul. Her lips parted on a silent gasp as she seemed unable to tear her gaze away from the man who stood mere yards away. In those seconds something elemental flew between them, then someone claimed his attention, and she was released.

Instantly Alix turned away, but a stronger compulsion had her looking back over her shoulder. She was aware of her heart galloping madly and unconsciously pressed a hand to her throat. He was still talking, and she could only see his profile, but even that caused a jolt of awareness to lock her stomach muscles. He had to be the most handsome man she had ever seen. His suit fitted him like a glove, and as he was standing with his hands in his pockets the jacket was pushed back, and she had the perfect view of his long legs and muscular thighs. A wave of heat swept through her as her body responded in a way it never had before. Her blood seemed to sing and her mouth went dry. And as she raised stunned eyes she saw him excuse himself and begin to walk towards her.

For a second time she looked away, but the tension in her body alerted her to the exact moment he stopped beside her. Her brain had stopped functioning a long time ago, but she heard her companions greet him with pleasure. His reply was said in a deep, mellow voice that sent shivers up and down her spine. Then she heard her name, and had to pull herself together quickly.

‘Alix, we’d like you to meet a good friend of ours, Pierce Martineau,’ Robert Wells declared jovially. ‘This little lady is English, and the daughter of an old friend, Alix Petrakos.’

Automatically Alix held out her hand, knowing she must be staring helplessly up at him like an idiot. ‘How do you do?’ she greeted huskily, and felt the hand which had swallowed hers tighten fractionally. It was like touching a live wire, and she knew from his indrawn breath that he felt it too.

Pierce Martineau returned that stare silently for a moment, and Alix had the strangest feeling that he was shocked. Then he smiled and cleared his throat. ‘Forgive my rudeness, but I was quite bowled over by your accent. Add that to your beauty, and a mere male is helpless,’ he excused himself with lethal charm.

‘Careful, Alix, Pierce has quite a reputation!’ Olivia Wells warned with a laugh. ‘He’s the original wolf.’

Pierce seemed to release Alix’s hand reluctantly, his attention remaining on her even as he responded to the other woman. ‘Stop maligning me, Livvy, or you’ll scare her off.’

Delicate colour washed into Alix’s cheeks, as she licked her lips nervously, an act which his eyes followed minutely, their colour deepening dramatically. ‘I prefer to make my own judgements about people,’ she declared daringly, and watched his lips curve as he smiled.

‘I’m relieved to hear it,’ he said softly, making Alix feel as if they were the only two people in the room. ‘Petrakos? That sounds Greek, not English.’

‘My family came from Greece after the war. My mother’s English, and I was born there,’ she replied rather breathlessly, just as the bell went for the second act. Biting her lip, she realised they had to go, but the prospect of never seeing this man again made her feel cold inside.

His hand on her arm detained her. ‘May I take you to supper after the play?’

Her heart seemed to be lifted by wings of joy, and she was sure it must be mirrored on her face. Before it fell as she recalled she was the Wellses’ guest. ‘I’d like to, but we’ve already got a table booked.’

‘It seats four,’ Olivia observed wryly. ‘Join us, Pierce.’

‘It will be my pleasure,’ he accepted, all the while keeping his eyes on Alix, who felt she could drown in their fathomless depths. ‘Until later, then,’ he promised huskily, and with a last smile walked away.

‘Well!’ Olivia declared wonderingly. ‘I don’t think I’ve ever seen Pierce react like that before. You’ve certainly made a hit there, Alix.’

She certainly hoped so. Though she had never really believed in it before, Alix knew she had fallen in love at first sight. The remainder of the play was lost on her, for her thoughts were miles away. Though she clapped at the end, she couldn’t have said what occurred, and it was only when they finally emerged into the foyer and she saw Pierce waiting by the door that life seemed to flow back into her.

Supper at a nearby restaurant was raised above the ordinary by the new-found feelings which swelled her heart. Afterwards, there was never any doubting that Pierce would drive her home. He walked her right to the door of the apartment she was renting, taking the key from her and opening the door. Returning the key, he held on to her hand, frowning down into her upturned face.

‘Alix Petrakos,’ he murmured on a strange sighing moan. ‘Who would have thought that you would come into my life and turn it upside-down?’

The statement did funny things to her heart. ‘Have I?’

A wry smile quirked his lips. ‘Oh, yes, most definitely. I never expected you.’

She didn’t quite know what to make of that. ‘I didn’t expect you, either. I came here to work, not...’ She floundered to a halt.

‘Not,’ Pierce agreed, looking deep into her eyes. ‘Perhaps it isn’t the done thing to kiss you on our first date, but God knows I want to!’

The passion in his voice stole her breath, and she shivered. ‘Is this a date?’

‘The first of many,’ he promised throatily, drawing her towards him, but gently, so that she could refuse if she wanted to.

Alix didn’t want to. She went into his arms, feeling as if she belonged there. His head dipped, and his lips brushed hers. Tentatively at first, almost as if he was afraid, his tongue-tip traced delicately over her lips. She gasped as the frisson of pleasure chased along her nerves, and her lips parted, allowing him the freedom to caress the sensitive inner skin. A tiny cry of delight escaped her throat, and with a groan he caught a hand in her hair, pulling her closer as he deepened the kiss with an erotic mastery. Alix, who had always thought kissing rather overrated, suddenly found her senses rioting at the pleasure they were receiving, and which they urged her to return. Arms clinging around his neck, at first tentatively, then more boldly, she welcomed the stroking thrust of his tongue with her own. By the time Pierce dragged himself away, they were both breathing fast.

Holding her at arm’s length, he closed his eyes and breathed in deeply. ‘No more. You would drive a saint to lose control, and, as Livvy told you, I’m no saint,’ he growled, then, seeing the downward turn of her bruised lips, brushed his thumb over them.

‘I don’t want a saint,’ she returned dangerously, and shivered at the way his eyes glittered. She’d never wanted anybody, until Pierce.

Taking her hand, he brushed it with his lips. ‘At this point a wise man would withdraw, but it seems I cannot. Have dinner with me tomorrow.’

It never even entered her head to say no, but she had no idea just how much her ‘yes’ would change her life.

She went to dinner with him the following evening, and the hours flew by. By the time he drove her home, she was fathoms-deep in love with him. He was so easy to talk to, interested in everything she said. When he talked about himself, she was so busy watching the play of expressions on his face, and listening to the silky sound of his voice, that she could hardly remember a word he had said, but she was captivated even so.

He was like no other man she had ever met. Handsome, exciting, endlessly intriguing, he swept her off her feet. Used to being pursued by men who either wanted to know her because of who she was, or who were only interested in adding her to their list of conquests, Pierce was like a breath of fresh air. Oh, she knew he wanted her, as the passion of his goodnight kisses made plain enough, yet at no time did he attempt to rush her into bed. Her response to him was just as potent, but made all the more electrifying for being held in check.

He chose to satisfy other senses. Every date became an adventure as he introduced her to new and exciting experiences. One day they might succumb to the lure of grand opera followed by a late supper at an exclusive restaurant, the next would find them walking barefoot on the beach, eating seafood on the pier. Yet all the time that underlying attraction was there. He made exciting love to her, but was always in control. Then one evening, when the frustration which had her tossing restlessly in her bed at night made her protest at his withdrawal, he drew her up beside him on her couch and brought her gaze up to his with a hand beneath her chin.

‘When I take you to bed, Alix, it will be to consummate a marriage, not an affair,’ he declared huskily.

As she gazed up at him, lips still throbbing from his passionate kisses, tears sprang to her eyes. ‘You want to marry me?’ she gasped incredulously, because although it was what she wanted she hadn’t been sure that Pierce wanted anything more than an affair.

He smiled wryly. ‘I rather think I ought to, before my control runs out.’

Her eyes probed his, wanting to be sure. ‘You know you don’t have to marry me, Pierce,’ she offered, because it was true. She loved him too much to deny him anything.

His blue gaze scalded her. ‘I know, but it’s marriage or nothing. Or are you saying you don’t want to marry me?’ he accused, and she shook her head swiftly.

‘Oh, no! I do want to marry you, Pierce. I love you desperately,’ she cried, flinging her arms up around his neck and burying her face in his shoulder.

After a second, his own arms closed about her. ‘Then we’ll be married as soon as I can arrange it,’ he declared thickly. ‘You don’t mind if it’s just the two of us? No friends, no family?’

So happy, she rubbed her cheek against his. ‘Mum and Dad won’t mind, just so long as I’m happy.’

So, without telling a soul, they were married in Los Angeles just a few days later, taking witnesses from off the street, and rushed straight from the wedding chapel to the airport to catch a flight to New York. It didn’t worry her that she really knew very little about him, except that he was American and a businessman. They had fallen in love, and their time was too precious to worry about such mundane matters. She knew he was successful, but it wouldn’t have mattered if he wasn’t. Love, she discovered, was all they needed to make them happy.

It was quite late when they arrived at his apartment. Alix suddenly found she was nervous. This would be the first time they had really been alone together, and the promise of the night ahead made her shiver with equal measures of excitement and alarm. She had never made love with anyone in all her twenty-one years, while Pierce was undoubtedly experienced, and she didn’t want to disappoint him. Especially when he appeared to be in such a strange mood. He had been quiet on the flight, preoccupied, and when he had spoken there had been an odd stiltedness in his manner which she found a little unnerving.

When it continued into the meal his housekeeper had left for them, but which neither of them was doing justice to, she felt forced to speak. ‘Is everything all right?’

Without looking at her, Pierce continued cutting his meat, but then, with a muffled oath, he threw aside his knife and fork, meeting her startled gaze with a look she had come to know so well, and which set her heart thumping in her chest.

‘No, it isn’t. There’s only one thing I’m hungry for, and that isn’t food. I want you, Alix. I’ve waited as long as I can, but my patience has finally run out,’ he declared gruffly, and rose to his feet.

She understood then the reason for his preoccupation, and didn’t protest when he picked her up and carried her to their bedroom, nor at the fervour with which he proceeded to make love to her so gloriously. He awakened her fledgeling sensuality with a sensitivity which allowed her to find her own pace, caressing away her clothes, and inviting her to do the same to him. Any fear she had had evaporated in the growing heat of passion, stoked by the caress of his hands on her silken skin, and the touch of his mouth on her breasts.

He aroused her slowly, taking infinite care, his mouth and hands teasing until she was moving restlessly beneath him, her hands reaching out to touch him. His receptivity, the moaning sighs he gave that revealed the pleasure her touch was giving him, invited her to be bolder, and all her inhibitions faded away. It was not enough, and she told him so with every pleading twist of her body. Only then did he begin to make love to her with an urgency that soon had them locked together, straining towards a goal she had never reached before. When he took her, the pain was fleeting, forgotten as Pierce showed her a world of dazzling pleasure, taking her way beyond herself in a kaleidoscopic explosion which had her crying out, and hearing his own cry echo in her wake.

* * *

Alix stirred in the large double bed, coming awake to the tingling knowledge that Pierce lay beside her. Her husband. A warm glow of pure happiness spread through her system at the sound of that. No longer was she plain Alix Petrakos, but Mrs Pierce Martineau.

Turning her head on the pillow, her lips curved as she studied the back of his head, his dark hair rumpled by more than mere sleep. The memory started an altogether different glow inside her. Their union had been perfect. Everything she had ever hoped and more. She had fallen asleep in his arms, blissfully content. But that had been last night. It was morning now, and all she had to do was reach out and touch him, and Pierce would respond. Her heart gave a skip and settled into a faster rhythm, the fine hairs on her body rising as her nerve-ends came to prickling life. Smiling, she rolled over beneath the silk sheet, reaching out one slim hand to slide about his waist.

It was a move she never completed, because at her first touch the man beside her jack-knifed away, sitting up, thrusting back the cover.

‘Don’t touch me!’ The rasping tones, so harshly alien, shocked her into immobility—but only for a millisecond; then she too sat up, watching in total incredulity as the supple, naked figure of her husband moved away from the bed with a stiff-legged stride. One visibly trembling hand pushed the tumble of long platinum locks from her eyes. Large grey eyes, rimmed by dusky lashes, were suddenly clouded with disbelief and hurt.

‘What?’ She breathed the question on a note that hovered uncertainly between hopeful humour and pending horror.

The tall, slim-hipped, dark-haired figure of her husband seemed actually to stiffen at the sound of her voice, but he didn’t halt his progress to the en-suite bathroom. Gathering scattered wits, Alix was out of the bed in seconds, the sheet she used to cover her nakedness billowing about her legs as she followed him to the open door. He had to explain that remark if he wanted her to treat it as the joke it just had to be.

‘Pierce!’ Alix managed to keep her voice light by a monumental effort, but even so her underlying shock was plain. ‘That wasn’t funny, darling.’

Leaning casually against the sink, Pierce waited for the bowl to fill, turning off the water before swinging his head towards her. She wasn’t able to hold back her gasp as his beautiful blue eyes surveyed her from her head to her toes with blood-chilling disdain. She felt as if he stripped her. Not of clothes, but of her dignity. She suffered a searing wave of humiliation never experienced before, and her eyes widened, something as cold and heavy as lead filling her stomach.

When Pierce spoke, there was insolence in his voice too. ‘I never for a minute imagined it was.’

‘Pierce!’ She couldn’t believe he would say something to hurt her so. Not this cold-bloodedly. It wasn’t a joke. It was something more horribly real than that, and she had to find out just what it was before her world fell apart in tatters. ‘What’s happened? What’s wrong?’

Pierce was busy applying shaving-foam, but he paused to spare her a mocking glance that seemed to diminish her. ‘Whatever makes you think something is wrong?’

She floundered in a morass of confusion. Up until yesterday he had been so loving, and now... She cast about desperately in her mind for some sort of an answer, anything that would hold back the black tide of pain. ‘Is it something I’ve done? Are you regretting marrying me?’ It was the only thing she could think of.

He laughed at that, but without a single mitigating trace of humour. ‘No, I had every intention of marrying you. It was what I wanted.’

It should have been the answer she wanted to hear, but there was an edge to it which struck a chill through her heart. He sounded so cold, so...unemotional. Like a wanderer in a maze, she knew there was only one road out of this hell, and that was to follow the trail he laid for her. ‘You may have wanted it, but I know something’s wrong. I’m not that much of a fool, however much I may seem to be to you now. I only know that, whatever it is, it’s something we can solve together. That’s what it’s all about when two people love each other.’ Her voice, for all her attempts at sounding reasonable, carried a note of desperation.

Her husband didn’t even bother to pause in his shaving. ‘Who said anything about loving each other?’

The offhand question was a mortal blow which set her rocking. Alix found that her voice had to be dragged from a painfully tight throat. ‘But I love you, Pierce.’

‘That much we do agree on.’ He looked at her then, steely blue eyes daring her to follow up what he said.

She had no defence against the truth he wanted her to acknowledge. ‘No!’ Her cry was a hoarse denial, as a destructive pain tore through her.

Pierce calmly washed away the remaining soap and reached for a towel. ‘No. Quite correct. A good night’s sleep seems to have done wonders for your perception.’

Alix felt so weak that she had to hold on to the doorpost to stop from falling, while her other hand pressed tightly against her heart. ‘You told me you loved me,’ she whispered brokenly.

‘If you think back clearly, you’ll realise I never did use those actual words.’

Her tortured mind winged back to every conversation they had had, and knew it was true. The day she had told him she loved him Pierce had replied... Her eyes shot to his in anguish. She had thought he had told her, but his actual words had been that she couldn’t know the depth of feeling he had in his heart for her! Not love! Never love, only...

Though it killed her, she had to know. ‘Why did you marry me, Pierce?’

‘Why? At the risk of sounding melodramatic, I married you for vengeance.’

The word bombarded her. ‘Vengeance? But that makes no sense. For what? What have I done?’

She saw anger in his eyes then, a fury so great that it wiped out the terrible disdain. ‘Can the granddaughter of Yannis Petrakos really not know? I can’t believe that, my dear Alix. Search your memory, and I’m sure you’ll find the truth. Of course, if you don’t manage it, you can always come and ask me.’ He controlled his anger with that mocking contempt. ‘Now, if I’m going to get to the office for eight-thirty, I’d like to shower. For which I would prefer a little more privacy, if you don’t mind. Or can it be that watching a man walk about naked is one of your more interesting peccadilloes?’ Having sent that parting shot and watched it strike home, Pierce shut the bathroom door in her face.

Alix stumbled the few feet which separated her from the bed, and collapsed down on it. Her limbs were shaking with a palsy, her thoughts chaotic. The only fact which penetrated was that he didn’t love her. The words went over and over in her mind like a record stuck in a groove. Which was why she was still sitting there when Pierce emerged from the bathroom minutes later and, after affording her one brief glance, proceeded to dress. White-faced, she watched him, the scales falling from her eyes. Everything about him was hard now; there was none of the loving softness left. He had sloughed that off with yesterday’s travel-soiled clothes, and now he stood revealed to her in his true colours.

Having ignored her presence, once dressed in a dark grey business suit Pierce paused briefly before departing. ‘My housekeeper’s name is Mrs Ransome. Should there be anything you require you need only ask her.’

Alix didn’t have the necessary composure to reply and Pierce didn’t wait for one. Without another word he left her. Left her alone with her misery of betrayal and only her agonised thoughts for company. When, only minutes later, Mrs Ransome appeared to enquire if she required breakfast, Alix still hadn’t moved. Her chalk-white face showed no sign of tears because none had fallen, but she wasn’t numb either. She only wished she were, so that the pain would end.

Calmly she refused the food, going through the painful mechanics of smiling. ‘No, thank you, Mrs Ransome. I’m still feeling rather jet-lagged.’ That twentieth-century phenomenon would have been far easier to deal with than the truth, and a bubble of hysteria threatened to destroy what composure she had. She swallowed it back hastily. ‘I think I need to rest more than eat.’

The housekeeper nodded wisely. ‘Very good, Mrs Martineau. And may I take this opportunity of wishing you and Mr Pierce happy?’

Alix didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. Happy? Yet she must have made some acceptable reply, because the housekeeper smiled and went out. The mask cracked then, as she lowered her head, the graceful arch of her neck revealing her terrible vulnerability. She didn’t know what Pierce meant. Her family hadn’t done anything to him. She had never heard his name mentioned. But Pierce had been so sure. He wanted vengeance, he said, and had set out on a course to deceive and entrap her just for that purpose. He had spent weeks pursuing her, wooing her, using every facet of charm that lay at his fingertips to persuade her of his affections—to claim her as his wife so that he could callously renounce it all this way.

Her hands came up to cover her face. But she had loved him so! How could he betray her like this? It wasn’t human. It was unfeeling and... Lord help her, her heart felt as if it was being torn asunder, the pain of it ripping open nerves until they were raw and bleeding. Yet even as the pain grew it gradually gave birth to a cauterising anger.

She had done nothing to deserve this! It was a cry from the very depths of her heart, and her blood answered. Suddenly she wanted to hurt him as he was hurting her. The thought of it filled her stomach with a red-hot flame. The memory of how she had given all her love and trust to this man branded her soul. Hot tears burned her eyes, but she refused to shed them. He had brought her low, but he would never see her cry.

* * *

Alix came out of the past with a shiver. The brandy remained untouched in the glass, and she set it aside, rubbing some warmth into her arms with her hands. The revenge she had sought in her rage and pain had never materialised, because that had been only the beginning. Yet nothing that happened later had touched her the way that first betrayal had. The hurt had gone so deep that all else had compounded it, but could not make it worse.

Yet, as she had told Pierce, their brief marriage had taught her a lesson. A valuable one. Never again would she fall for a man’s lies, nor give him any control over her life, so that he had the power to manipulate and hurt her. Nor would she ever allow her own emotions to lead her into those same dangerous waters, blinding her to everything.

She had had a warning tonight that his attraction was as potent as ever, and she deplored her own feminine weakness which made her vulnerable to him. She had to be on her guard. Whatever Pierce was here for, she had to keep a clear head and not let her emotions sway her judgement. It was the only way to stay one step ahead of him. She didn’t trust him, had learned not to in the hardest way.

Whatever plan he had she would be wary of. She knew all about the Martineau company now. It was so diversified, it was doubtful if he’d ever be threatened with a take-over, hostile or otherwise. Whereas he had a habit of acquiring failing companies, splitting them into their constituent parts, and selling them off at a profit. If that was what he had in mind for Petrakos Publishing, then he could think again.

Yet Pierce’s personal reputation was spotless. He had the proverbial Midas touch. There was scarcely a word written but to praise him. However, the businessman was one thing, the man another, as she knew to her cost. If the Petrakos empire weren’t in such dire straits, she would have absolutely nothing to do with him. But she must force herself to swallow her pride and be practical for the sake of the thousands of livelihoods involved.

If she kept her mind on that, then she knew she could handle Pierce. She had grown up a lot in the last five years, and knew she was stronger mentally. She wasn’t going to be a coward and run away. This time she was going to face up to him, and she was going to win.

It was a thought which put a tight smile on her lips as she finally made her way to her bedroom. Perhaps she would get her revenge after all.




CHAPTER THREE


THE following morning, Alix dressed with more than her usual care. This meeting with Pierce was going to be a battle of wills, and it would be in her own best interests to project a confident image. Which was why she chose an extremely businesslike black suit, enlivening it by pinning the diamond brooch she had inherited from her grandmother on the lapel, completing the ensemble by adding diamond studs in her ears and a simple gold rope at her throat.

Stepping in front of the mirror, she took stock of the view he would receive. Her make-up had been applied with polished efficiency which made it seem almost non-existent, and altogether she knew she looked good. A businesswoman, in complete control of her life. It was an image she had worked hard to build, earning the respect she now received, and she wasn’t going to give it up without a fight.

The drive to the office was as stressful as ever, but today she was aware of an added edge. The very last thing Alix wanted was to arrive late, because she knew how hard it was to make up lost time. Keeping Pierce waiting wasn’t part of her plan. She wanted him to see that she could be cool and efficient under pressure. Fortunately, the gods seemed to be on her side, and she was soon taking the lift from the underground car park where she left her car, rising swiftly to her office on the top floor.

Her secretary was already hard at work, and Alix halted by her desk. ‘Good morning, Ruth.’

The middle-aged woman looked up with a smile. ‘Good morning, Alix. How’s your father?’

‘Improving, thankfully. Listen, you’d better leave the post for now. I’ve someone coming at ten o’clock, so I need you to clear the morning for me,’ Alix responded, pink-tinted nails tapping out a tattoo on the polished surface of the desk.

Ruth reached for her diary. ‘There was only Mr Johnson from the union pencilled in before lunch.’

Alix pulled a face. The union had been a headache for days now, and she had been fobbing them off until she had some definite news. ‘Well, he won’t like it, but it can’t be helped. Try and squeeze him in this afternoon, but if not, tell him...tell him we’ve rescheduled because there might be light at the end of the tunnel.’

Ruth, as anxious about her job as anyone else, pricked up her ears. ‘And is there?’

Alix chewed at her lips. ‘That all depends on this meeting with Pierce Martineau,’ she declared shortly.

‘Are we talking the same Martineau as in the shipping line?’ her secretary queried, visibly brightening.

Unfortunately the reference was not a welcome one to Alix. ‘We are.’

Ruth was almost jigging in her seat. ‘You know, for the first time I really do believe we might turn about. After all, he did wonders for that fleet, didn’t he, turning a loss into a profit quicker than you could say it?’

‘Yes, well, that’s as maybe, but I’d rather you didn’t spread any rumours until we know just what the deal is. Pierce Martineau never does anything for nothing,’ Alix muttered broodingly.

‘You sound as if you know him,’ Ruth put in curiously, and Alix swiftly pulled herself together.

‘Our paths have crossed before,’ was all she cared to admit. ‘I’ll be in my father’s office if you need me.’

Walking into her own office, she deposited her briefcase on the desk before letting herself into her father’s spacious room via the connecting door. It seemed lifeless without his vital presence in the driving seat. Somehow she just couldn’t imagine him not coming back here. Yet, if the doctors were right, then Stephen Petrakos would have to undergo a rapid change in lifestyle if he wanted to live much longer.

Crossing to the desk, she ran her hands over the soft leather of the chair, then slowly sank into its cushioned depth. She had the distinct impression of being swallowed up. It was too big for her. It needed another Stephen Petrakos to fill it. The realisation made her feel tired. She had stepped into her father’s shoes because everyone had expected it of her, including herself. Now they expected miracles, and all she had done was singularly fail to put together a rescue package these last few weeks.

She swivelled round until she could see out of the window. She knew she was good at what she did, but that was on the publishing side of the business. Management was something outside her scope. She had done her best, but she doubted if anyone else knew the full extent of their financial problem. It was hard to believe the debts her father had mounted up. It had shown to her a man with a cavalier streak that she hadn’t known existed. Although, from the meetings she had had with other managers, not everybody had been as blinkered as she. The company was drastically over-extended, and the size of the interest payments to be made on hefty bank loans arranged to start up new projects had made her feel sick. Money seemed to be flooding out, not in, and it was a nightmare. No wonder her father had had a heart attack. What the company needed was a large injection of cash and a firm hand at the wheel.

She groaned out loud. It was a bitter irony that the only person who possessed both of her requirements was her ex-husband. She didn’t want to do business with him, because she knew in her bones that the price would be high. Last time it had been her grandfather who had suffered. It might not have been worth much, but the Petrakos shipping line had been his pride. Losing it had killed him, not directly, but in the long run.

Though her gaze still remained on the world outside, it was another scene she was visualising on the projection screen of her mind. The Petrakos shipping line. Five years ago she hadn’t even known of its existence, but it was something she could never forget—as she would never forget that day when she had first heard it from the lips of Pierce Martineau...

* * *

The sound of the apartment door opening and closing, followed by the muffled but recognisable tones of her husband, brought Alix’s head up from her knees. She turned startled eyes on the clock, amazed to see that it was after seven in the evening. The time had passed her by as she sat curled up in a chair by the window, locked in a limbo where her senses were blessedly numb. She had been waiting for Pierce to come home. She hadn’t left, as her pride had told her to, because she knew she had to face him one more time. He had killed her love for him. He had used her without thought for her feelings, and she needed to know why. If she deserved nothing else, she at least deserved to be told the truth, however painful it might be.

Alix rose stiffly to her feet. Her body felt as if it was one big ache, and although earlier she had put on jeans and a Guernsey sweater she still felt cold. She knew it was reaction; she only hoped that nothing showed when she saw Pierce. He knew he had hurt her, for he had deliberately set out to do so, but she’d be damned if she’d let him see just how much. Facing him again now wouldn’t be easy. Perhaps it was the hardest thing she had ever done. Only anger could give her the strength she needed.

The apartment was large, and all she knew of its layout was the dining-room and the bedroom. She had looked forward to exploring, but somehow this morning she just hadn’t felt like it! The wry humour lodged in her throat and, standing in the hallway, she quickly looked around. To her left a door stood ajar and light spilled from it. If Pierce was anywhere, then she might as well start her search there.

Alix found herself in a spacious modern lounge. Velvet curtains covered most of one wall, which meant it was probably all window. Elegant couches and armchairs made seating areas around low coffee-tables, the carpet muffled even the heaviest footstep, and the paintings on the walls were originals. At any other time she would have found it a charming room, but she was far too tense for anything so facile. There was a fireplace opposite, and although nothing burned there she crossed to it, soft-footed, as if by association her icy fingers would warm.

The chink of ice on glass brought her head shooting round. Pierce was standing by a drinks trolley watching her through hooded eyes.

‘Would you like a drink before dinner?’

The matter-of-fact question was like a slap in the face. How could he be so calm after what had happened this morning? It was almost as if nothing had happened! Her anger grew. ‘No, thank you,’ she ground out through her teeth, watching him walk towards her with the economical stride which was part of his animal magnetism, and which had once made her shiver in anticipation.

There was a mocking twist to his lips as he came into the circle of light thrown out by the lamp on the sofa table. ‘You’ve gone into mourning, I see.’

Alix glanced down at her clothes, realising for the first time that they were black. It hadn’t been intentional, merely the first things that came to hand. Yet it was bitingly apt. She worked at her throat, saying thickly, ‘Something died today, Pierce, and I still don’t know why.’

Pierce came closer, resting one arm along the mantelpiece. ‘Mrs Ransome tells me you spent the day in our bedroom.’

Alix found his closeness almost intolerable, yet she forced herself to make no move away from him, lest he believe he had her on the run. ‘I’m asking you to tell me why you’ve done this. What you meant about my grandfather.’

For a moment he merely stared down at her, as if gauging whether her ignorance was real or not. Then he shrugged carelessly. ‘You and I have Greek blood in our veins, my dear Alix. An oath is not to be taken lightly, and I’m keeping a promise I made,’ he enlightened her smoothly. ‘As for where Yannis Petrakos comes into the picture, I’ll be only too happy to tell you, in my own good time.’

His arrogance sickened her, and the only way to keep her hands from his handsome face was to ball them into fists at her sides. ‘I want to know now,’ she insisted angrily.

Blue eyes ran over her stiff figure with lazy insolence. ‘After dinner.’

How easily he made her feel like the pawn he thought her to be. ‘Oh, God, I hate you!’ The words were almost a sob, and she pressed her lips together tightly so as not to let another escape.

However, she could have screamed and he would only have looked amused, just as he did now. ‘Do you? Only yesterday you loved me.’

Gasping at that studied cruelty, she stared into his eyes and murder was in her heart. ‘Why didn’t you challenge me when we met if this oath of yours was so important?’

‘Haven’t you worked that out for yourself? You’ve had all day. Because I needed you to be my wife. Without that, you could have walked away scot-free.’

Her heart felt as if it was being squeezed in a vice. He was shredding her, leaving her with nothing. Nothing except a fierce pride, which lifted her chin a fraction. ‘I can still do that now. Or are you saying I’m your prisoner?’

A small chilling smile curved his lips. ‘You can go any time you want to. I don’t need you as a hostage,’ he confirmed easily. ‘All I needed was you as my wife. And you are that, aren’t you, Alix? In name and in the flesh.’

Alix felt what little colour she had drain away. ‘Are you telling me you slept with me just to consummate the marriage?’

One eyebrow lifted disdainfully. ‘Could you be foolish enough to imagine I’d leave any loopholes? Fulfilling the oath depended on it.’

Nearly choking on an upsurge of nausea, she shook her head in appalled disbelief. ‘How could I have been foolish enough to think I loved you?’

Lids lowered over blue eyes as Pierce reached out to run the knuckles of his hand down her cheek. ‘Can you be so sure that you don’t now?’

There was something in his touch that seemed to tug at her heart, and, hating herself for it, Alix curled her lip in contempt. ‘There’s no love left for you, only hate.’

His lips parted on a short bark of mocking laughter. ‘Maybe not love, but what about desire? Shall we put that to the test?’

His callousness took her breath away. He had just told her he had made love to her because he had to, not because he wanted to, and now he wanted to prove that she was still his any time he wanted her. ‘Don’t you dare touch me!’

Suddenly there was the strangest look in his eyes. ‘Never dare me, Alix, that’s the worst thing you could do,’ he declared huskily, and caught her as she turned to flee, pulling her back, struggling, against his chest, pinning her arms with his and forcing her head still with a hand clamped in her hair. There was a moment when their eyes locked, hers spitting loathing and his carrying that odd expression she couldn’t interpret, then his head dropped and Alix prepared herself for the assault.

Only it didn’t turn out like that. His lips were gentle and warm, dropping kisses now here, now there, until she couldn’t bear it. Her heart was wrenched apart as she suffered an embrace that seemed to encompass a world of loving, and yet was a mockery of the very word. Sobbing, she tried to pull away, but all he did was deepen the kiss, using tongue and lips to seduce her. He knew her so well. He knew the precise moment when she would stop fighting and start kissing him back, and there was nothing she could do about it.

Her response stripped her bare, and when Pierce released her at last her eyes loomed huge in her ashen face. His own were glittering so brightly that they dazzled.

‘It’s not that easy, is it?’

If he wanted to make her feel cheap, then he couldn’t have chosen a better way. ‘I never thought I could despise any human being as much as I do you. What have you proved? That you can still turn me on? Maybe you can, and maybe it would amuse you to have me in your bed again. But you’d take me knowing that I’d hate every touch of your hands. My response has nothing to do with how I feel, and I feel only hatred for someone who could do what you have done to me today!’ Her voice was thick with that hate, and a bitter self-loathing that she could not, even now, resist him. She turned away abruptly, but only got two steps on shaky legs before his voice halted her.

‘Where are you going?’

She shot him a look full of revulsion. ‘Back to my room until you’re ready to talk to me.’ She couldn’t bear to be near him.

The tension emanating from him was awesome, and his voice correspondingly terse. ‘If you want to know the facts, then you’ll join me for dinner. I insist,’ he added the last as she made to protest.

Balked, Alix turned back, knowing that although she never wanted to see him again she had to know everything. Taking a seat on the couch furthest away from him, she forced herself to look him in the face. ‘Very well, if it amuses you. I’ll have that drink now.’ She needed it quite badly.

‘I wouldn’t say it amuses me,’ Pierce said shortly, as he went to pour her a drink, returning with her usual martini.

Alix avoided his eyes, taking the glass, using extreme care to make sure their fingers didn’t touch. Silence fell, and she had no intention of attempting to make polite conversation. This was no longer a honeymoon, and she the blushing bride. This was attrition, and she would not pretend otherwise. So it was a relief when there came a tap on the door and Mrs Ransome announced dinner. However, the mere thought of food was nauseating, and Alix called upon all her reserves of composure to enable her to take her seat at the table. But having got that far she made no attempt to eat what was placed before her, nor even to pretend that she had. Pierce regarded her from across the table, unamused by her still, silent figure.

‘This is really very good, you should try it,’ he encouraged after a moment, indicating the soup.

Her eyes battled with his. ‘Is that an order?’ she asked insolently, and his jaw tensed.

‘Do you intend to starve yourself?’

‘Because of you? Never!’

He smiled grimly at that. ‘Then have some soup, Alix. According to Mrs Ransome you’ve eaten nothing all day.’ There was steel in Pierce’s voice, mixed up with, of all things, an impatient concern. ‘Must I come round there and make you?’

Alix resorted to sarcasm. ‘What’s the matter? Afraid it wouldn’t reflect well on you if I faded away?’

Sitting back in his chair, Pierce eyed her grimly. ‘I’m afraid of nothing. I’m merely doing what has to be done. It has never been my intention to make you ill.’

Her jaw became set. ‘Then you’d better either get out of my sight or let me go, because just seeing you sickens me!’ she snapped back, not caring if it sounded childish or not.

He smiled but it failed to reach his eyes. ‘Don’t worry, I’ve no wish to prolong our acquaintance. Once I have what I came for, you need never see me again.’

Alix could feel the muscles in her face tighten up at that. ‘I wish I’d never seen you!’ she cried, just as the housekeeper bustled back into the room. His reply had to wait until Mrs Ransome had removed the soup dishes and replaced them with the main course.

Alone again, Pierce shrugged powerful shoulders. ‘We would always have met, Alix. Some things are meant to be.’

She almost laughed. Now he wanted her to believe that the gods had something to do with it! ‘I don’t believe in such superstitious mumbo-jumbo. You planned everything down to the smallest detail, leaving nothing to chance. Such arrogance! Tell me, what would you have done if I had been engaged to be married?’




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