Читать книгу The Helen Bianchin Collection - HELEN BIANCHIN, Helen Bianchin - Страница 11

THE beach was peaceful, with the merest breeze slipping in from the ocean to caress Elise’s skin and tease the length of her hair.

The water was a deep blue, its surface smooth in the distance, cresting as it neared the shore to swirl foam-laced over the hard-packed sand.

A strange feeling of ambivalence held her in its spell…and a degree of sadness. She felt safe here. Secure.

The past ten days had been idyllic: lazily spent sunshine-filled days and easy companionship, long moonlit nights and gentle loving.

Tomorrow they were to return to Point Piper. Next week she was to begin physiotherapy, and there were appointments with the obstetrician and neurologist. Within a very short time Alejandro would drive into the city each morning to spend most of each day in his office atop one of Sydney’s inner-city modern architectural masterpieces, and she would be alone…

An office. Atop a modern city architect-designed building…

She saw it clearly.

A large, sumptuously furnished room, clean lines, expensive prints on the walls, and a wide expanse of tinted plate glass with splendid views over the city and harbour.

An encapsulated vision of a room with a tall, broad-framed figure leaning against the edge of a large executive desk. Alejandro, his expression harsh and forbidding, his silent anger a vivid entity.

She was there, recapturing her anger…his. Hearing the words with frightening clarity.

‘My respect for your father,’ Alejandro declared in a dangerously soft, slightly accented voice that was chilling in its intensity, ‘allowed you to get past my secretary and buy five minutes of my valuable time.’ Dark eyes became icily dispassionate. ‘I suggest you make good use of it.’

‘My father doesn’t know I’ve initiated a personal appeal,’ Elise assured him in immediate defence.

‘It makes no difference. My decision is irrevocable.’

The words were clipped, hard, and horribly final. ‘How can you say that?’ she demanded, launching into passionate speech. ‘He deserves——’

‘Another chance?’

‘Why don’t you let me finish a sentence?’ she parried with mounting antipathy, and encountered his visible cynicism.

‘Four minutes and thirty seconds doesn’t allow for verbose explanation.’

She wanted to hit him. She almost did. Yet there was something electrifyingly primitive beneath his sophisticated façade that warned her that he would retaliate in kind without the slightest qualm.

‘Without your help, my father faces bankruptcy,’ she enlightened him starkly, and glimpsed no visible change in his expression.

‘I head a multinational corporation which has a complex variety of investments throughout the world. Although I retain a controlling percentage, as director I am responsible to a number of shareholders. Your father’s latest appeal for a further extension resulted in extensive feasibility studies. The findings negate any possibility of directorial board approval for either an increase in borrowings or an extension of time.’

Elise felt her misgivings increase at his inflexibility. ‘He’s ill,’ she stressed with a sense of desperation. ‘Conclusive tests reveal the necessity for heart surgery.’

‘I cannot gamble with my shareholders’ money.’

The hard unyielding words brought a rush of anger she barely managed to contain. Don’t blow it, an inner voice cautioned. ‘My father is a very proud man for whom honesty and integrity are sacrosanct. Hansen Holdings has been a family company for three generations,’ she informed him with commendable steadiness, given the short rein she held on her temper. ‘It will kill him if he loses everything in a bankruptcy action.’

His expression did not change. He was a superb tactician, watchful, waiting for her to plot the next move. There was no doubt he would win the game, but for the moment she was still a player, even if he held all the cards.

‘Commendable sentiment isn’t sufficient reason for me to grant the extension your father requires.’

He was an obdurate, unfeeling monster, she decided with bitter acrimony. Truly el diablo. Pride lifted her chin and lent her eyes a fiery sparkle. ‘What would you consider to be sufficient reason?’

His eyes darkened fractionally, and she was unable to look away. His intent gaze had a mesmeric effect, and a slow heat suffused her body, reaching deep to unleash an entire gamut of sensations she was loath to recognise.

A deep insistent burr was almost an anticlimax as it broke the fraught silence, and Elise watched as he reached for the in-house phone, privy to the brusqueness of his voice as he checked the time and intimated he was on his way.

Replacing the receiver, he moved away from the desk. ‘I am needed in the board room.’

She endeavoured to keep the desperation from her voice. ‘Please…’

His eyes seared hers, lancing right through to her soul. After what seemed an interminable silence, he drawled, ‘Have dinner with me tonight.’ He named a well-known restaurant. ‘Meet me there. Seven-thirty.’

Her lips formed a single negation, only to have it remain locked in her throat.

‘A test of filial loyalty, wouldn’t you agree?’ He moved with lithe ease towards the door. ‘My secretary will see you out.’

* * *

A shiver shook Elise’s slim frame as the image disappeared and, no matter how hard she concentrated, it was impossible to recall.

Alejandro paused beside her, his expression intent as his eyes raked her pale cheeks. ‘What is it?’

She lifted a hand and smoothed a stray tendril of hair back behind her ear. Slowly she turned towards him, her eyes shadowed and pensive.

‘I was in your office.’ She drew in a deep breath, then relayed a description. She looked at him, puzzlement creasing her forehead. ‘I was appealing to you to extend my father’s company loan,’ she explained shakily. ‘You were angry,’ she revealed slowly. ‘We both were.’

She’d felt it, breathed it in those few brief minutes, a palpable entity so vivid it made her feel terribly afraid.

His expression was impossible to fathom. ‘How much were you able to remember?’

Was that why she’d married Alejandro? To save her father?

Her head began to reel, and she drew a deep breath in a conscious effort to stave off a spell of dizziness.

‘You were called in to a board meeting,’ she revealed slowly, trying desperately to recall the elusive image without success. ‘I can remember walking to the lift, stepping into it,’ she said helplessly. ‘But that’s all.’

His hands lifted to cradle her face, then his mouth closed over hers in a light tasting that elicited little response. It was as if her mind were still caught up with the desire to recapture the past, and she didn’t offer a word as they made their way back to the house.

Elise found it difficult to shake off an inclination towards introspection for the rest of the day, and even during dinner she was unusually quiet.

‘Anxiety won’t help hasten the return of your memory,’ Alejandro advised as she pushed her plate aside.

She glimpsed the inherent strength apparent, and her eyes took on a shadowy quality. ‘I can’t help the feeling of defencelessness that has always lurked in the background,’ she revealed slowly, holding his gaze.

‘You have no reason to be uncertain. About anything,’ he added with deliberate emphasis.

She wasn’t quite so sure, but at the moment she had little option but to accept his word.

He rose to his feet and began collecting cutlery and stacking plates. ‘Sort through the video cassettes while I take care of the dishes.’

Elise wandered into the informal lounge, and after some deliberation she selected an action movie that threatened to swamp the viewer with lots of thrills and spills.

Alejandro walked into the room just as the previews concluded, and as she made for one of the single chairs he tugged her down on to the two-seater beside him.

With maximum ease he adjusted their positions so that she rested between his thighs and leaned back against his chest. His hands moved to link together over her lower abdomen.

The desire to stay there overcame any willingness to protest, and she forced herself to concentrate on the superbly fit male actor on screen as he launched into a daring choreographic karate routine with his opponent.

Elise must have fallen into a doze at some stage, for when she woke she was in bed and it was morning.

After a leisurely breakfast Alejandro tossed their bags into the boot, locked up the house, and drove back to the city.

‘You look so much better,’ Ana beamed with approval as she greeted them on arrival, and her pleasant features creased into a genuine smile. ‘It is good to see the colour in your face again.’

Elise’s mouth curved with a certain wry humour. ‘Alejandro has been feeding me up and taking me for walks along the beach.’

‘I will serve lunch early. Your appointment is at two, sí?’

It was all going to start: the daily physiotherapy sessions, the visits to specialists, and soon there would be no reason for her not to rejoin Alejandro on the social scene.

Elise was unable to still a feeling of instinctive apprehension, and although she did justice to a bowl of Ana’s chicken soup, she toyed with the salad, picked at the bread, and opted to conclude the meal with fresh fruit.

Perhaps José would drive her to the physiotherapist’s rooms, leaving Alejandro to retire into the study for the rest of the afternoon.

However, it was her inimitable husband who slid in behind the wheel.

‘There’s no need for you to come in with me,’ she essayed when the Bentley eased into a parking bay adjacent to the main entrance.

‘I’ll confine myself to the waiting-room,’ Alejandro conceded with amused tolerance, and she wrinkled her nose at him in silent admonition as he followed her in to reception.

The physiotherapist explained precisely what exercises he wanted her to do, and why—muscles lost their elasticity if they were not used, resulting in stiffness, gradual loss of mobility, and pain.

Elise completed the simple exercises with supervised care, and at the end of the session Alejandro drove her home.

Traffic was congested, some drivers more impatient than others as the lines of cars slowed to a snail’s pace. Tempers rose, horns blared and engines roared in protest. Then slowly they began to move again.

The Bentley had just begun to pick up speed when Alejandro hit the brakes. Elise was conscious of several things at once: Alejandro’s arm anchoring her against the seat an instant before the car lurched on impact, and the sickening sound of crunching metal. She registered dimly a string of viciously articulated Spanish words, then Alejandro was leaning over her, his features harsh as his hands cupped her face.

‘Are you all right?’

She was in another car, a white sports model, behind the wheel, passing through a computercontrolled intersection. There was an instantaneous reaction as she slammed on the brakes and wrenched the wheel in a desperate bid to avoid hitting the oncoming vehicle. But it was too late. There was a sickening crunch of metal. Her head hit something, and then there was darkness.

‘Por Dios.’

Elise felt as if her eyes were far too large for her face as she attempted to re-focus them and shut out that horrific vision.

‘Are you hurt?’

She registered Alejandro’s voice, deep, dark and throbbing, then she saw his face, anxiety etching every line, his eyes almost black as they attempted to see beyond the mask her features had become.

‘Elise.’ His fingers were gentle as they stroked each cheek, and she blinked once, twice, then she was back in the present.

‘I’m—fine,’ she attempted, through lips that trembled badly. She met his intent gaze, and swallowed the sudden lump that seemed lodged in her throat. ‘Really,’ she assured him shakily as she defended herself against eyes that seemed to pierce her soul.

‘You remembered the accident.’ It was a statement, not a query. ‘All of it?’

Her lips seemed strangely dry, and she edged out the tip of her tongue to moisten them. ‘Just—a blur of blue hurtling towards me, the moment of impact.’

His eyes never left her face, and her mouth trembled slightly as he reached for the car-phone, punched in a series of numbers, requested the police, and gave a brief description of the accident and location.

Elise could only stare straight ahead as Alejandro pushed open the door and slid to his feet, and his hard inflexible tones combining with those of the man who had tempted providence by making an erroneous move barely penetrated her conscious mind.

Was this how her memory would return? A series of brief isolated incidents every few days?

Seconds later Alejandro slid in behind the wheel, and Elise bore his intent scrutiny with equanimity.

‘I’m OK,’ she assured him. ‘Is there much damage to the car?’

‘You concern me. Not the car,’ he said bleakly.

At some stage she heard the distant wail of a police siren, then it came close, red and blue lights flashing. Doors slammed, voices.

It wasn’t until they arrived home that she saw the broken light and its surround, the deep gouges and scratches. The sight of them brought on a wave of nausea, and she only just made it upstairs in time.

No protest she made prevented Alejandro from calling in the doctor.

‘Dammit, this is normal,’ she uttered fiercely, and saw his expression measurably harden. She lifted her hands in mock surrender. ‘All right, I give in.’

An hour later she barely refrained from reiterating the doctor’s reassurance, and the only concession she made to resting was to recline on the sun-lounger beneath a shade umbrella at the pool’s edge.

The next few days assumed a regular routine as Elise attended the physiotherapy clinic and kept an appointment with the neurologist.

Alejandro rose early, spent an hour working out in the downstairs gym, followed it with several lengths in the pool, then after breakfast he closeted himself in the study until Ana served lunch.

An urgent telephone call on Friday morning necessitated his presence in the city, and Elise rejoiced at the thought of spending the day alone.

The physiotherapy session was scheduled for midmorning, and after lunch she settled down to leaf through a supply of the latest glossy magazines.

Tall, perfectly proportioned young women modelling beautiful clothes, she perceived as she flipped idly through the fashion pages.

One model in particular caught her eye, and she wondered at her instinctive fascination with a longhaired brunette with classical features and cool dark eyes.

Without any warning those same features seemed to come alive, and it was like watching a re-run of part of a film depicting an isolated incident in her life, Elise decided, momentarily freezing as images crowded her brain. So clear, so hauntingly vivid.

Alejandro, Elise and Savannah seated together at a table, aiding one of several charities Alejandro was known to support.

Savannah. The hauntingly beautiful model who had been Alejandro’s close companion for several years before Elise had been thrust into the limelight as his latest conquest.

Now Savannah seemed intent on proving she still held Alejandro’s interest by indulging in a little game of subtle flirting, a fact which was not lost on Elise.

It was extremely difficult to maintain the semblance of a smile as she spooned morsels of delectable fruit from the elaborately presented dessert.

Jealousy was a terrible emotion, she conceded, as she picked up her fork and speared a segment of orange with more force than necessary. With little provocation, she could have killed Savannah for her blatant attempt to capture Alejandro’s attention. As for Alejandro…She would have liked to do temporary harm to a vulnerable part of his anatomy.

Perhaps he sensed her antipathy, for he turned his head and his eyes gleamed with mild amusement as he met her calculated smile.

Without a word he reached for her hand and carried it to his lips, kissing each finger in turn as she seethed with silent anger.

How dared he? She wanted to walk out and take a taxi home. As it was, she barely managed to preserve a calm front for the remainder of the evening, and the instant Alejandro brought the Bentley to a halt inside the garage she burst into angry speech.

‘In future you can choose whether you partner Savannah or your wife,’ Elise railed in fury.

‘You expect me to display ill manners by ignoring a friend I have known for several years?’

‘Heaven forbid,’ Elise said sarcastically.

‘You have no reason to be jealous.’

She slid from the car as he moved out from behind the wheel, and it gave her the utmost satisfaction to slam the door.

‘I am not jealous. I simply refuse to be part of a ménage-à-trois.’

Alejandro began to chuckle, and the husky sounds of his amusement acted like flame placed too close to combustible octane.

Elise threw her evening bag at him, and followed it with one evening sandal, then the other, each of which he neatly fielded and slid into the pockets of his jacket.

‘So you want to play?’

He reached her far too easily, before she had gone more than a few steps, and she gasped in outrage as he lifted her effortlessly over one shoulder and carried her indoors.

‘Put me down!’

He walked through the foyer to the stairs, gaining the upper floor with galling ease, seemingly uncaring as she beat her hands against the broad expanse of his back.

In the bedroom he tumbled her down on to the bed, discarded his jacket, then captured her wildly scrambling form by the simple expedient of covering it with his own.

‘Damn you,’ Elise vented as she struggled impotently against his superior strength. ‘I hate you.’

‘I love the way you hate, mi mujer.’

‘Sex. Lust,’ she qualified. ‘Bought and paid for.’

He went curiously still. ‘I suggest you retract that vilifying statement.’

‘Why? Does the truth penetrate your conscience, Alejandro?’ she taunted, only to cry out in shocked surprise as his mouth closed over hers with punishing force.

What followed was a form of retribution he actively encouraged her to share, their mingling anger resulting in wild, untamed sex that gave no quarter…for either of them.

‘Elise?’

The sound of Ana’s voice seemed to come from far away, and Elise dragged her mind back to the present. Her heart pounded inside her chest, and her skin was damp with the fine sheen of sweat.

‘I have just made tea. Would you like some?’

Somehow she managed a suitable response.

Dear God. This was the most explicit span she’d experienced. The memory of it was so vivid, the act so primitively savage that it was all she could do to prevent herself from being physically ill.

I don’t want to remember any more. Not if total recall means a revival of anger and dissension.

The friendship, the special closeness which she and Alejandro had shared at Palm Beach seemed part of a distant fantasy.

Instinct warned her that she was teetering on the edge of reality, and a chill feathered over her skin, raising all her fine body-hairs in protective defence.