Читать книгу The Apollonides Mistress Scandal / Rich Man's Vengeful Seduction: The Apollonides Mistress Scandal / Rich Man's Vengeful Seduction - Laura Wright, Laura Wright - Страница 10

Four

Gemma tossed and turned for most of the night. Several times she jerked awake from confusing dreams of what had happened in her sister’s life. Beneath it all festered an uneasiness about the disturbing passion that had flared between herself and Angelo. Just before dawn the pitter-patter of rain against the window pane lulled her into a restless sleep.

In the morning she clambered out of bed, crossed to the window and hitched the curtain back. No sun peeked through the cloud cover. The trees outside swayed in the wind. But at least the rain had subsided. With her morning free of rehearsals and her next show scheduled for later that evening, Gemma decided to make for the beach to go windsurfing. That was one place where wet and wind wouldn’t matter. And it would certainly shake the dark mood that gripped her and take her mind off Mandy, Jean-Paul and… Angelo.

Pulling on a sleek black maillot, she called reception to check that no storms were forecasted, then grabbed her wet suit out of the cupboard and trod into a pair of ancient sneakers. A couple of bananas, a bottle of water and a towel, and she was ready to go.

The beach was deserted. To Gemma’s relief, there were no whitecaps on the water. A gust of wind tugged at her hair as she hauled a windsurfing board out of the stack. Dragging the board into the sea, she waded calf-deep into the water and waited with both hands on the boom. When a puff of wind came, she pushed the mast straight up and stepped onto the centre of the board. Shifting her feet, Gemma adjusted the sail and, looking upwind, she turned the board to the open sea.

The sail filled and she took off, the wind rushing past her ears. She barely noticed the rain and her worries evaporated as she raced across the water.

She welcomed the freedom.

A couple of hours later Gemma became aware of another windsurfer on the water, coming towards her through the rain. Leaning her mast back, the nose of her board started to turn upwind across the face of the wind, away from the intruder. But the other windsurfer gained on her, trespassing on her solitude.

A quick glance at her watch showed that she still had lots of time before her show. It wasn’t often that she had the sea to herself. Why would she go in simply because someone was crowding her? There was a whole sea for the two of them. If she tacked away, perhaps the other windsurfer would get the hint.

But the larger black-and-white sail continued to bear down on her. Glaring at him—it was undoubtedly a male figure—Gemma’s annoyance grew when she recognised the windsurfer.

Angelo.

Setting a course upwind, Gemma decided to force him to yield to her. A glint of white as his teeth flashed. He knew what she was up to.

Determined to get ahead, she started to work every ounce of speed out of her rig. The board responded willingly and elation swept through her.

Then she saw thatAngelo had taken up her challenge.

For a moment she thought that they might collide. She faltered, her board wobbled and her nerve almost gave in, before he gave way, falling back to sail in her wake. Her sail shivering under the pressure of the wind, she skimmed across the water, while her heart beat rapidly at the near miss—and the euphoria that came from racing the wind…and besting Angelo.

Angelo stared after Gemma not sure whether to whistle in admiration or holler at her recklessness. She was going full tilt, not giving an inch. He pointed his board to a destination upwind of where she was headed, and he set off after her.

The breeze blew on his face, lighter on the inside near the shore. He came down the line he’d planned, unfazed by the rain, tacking with speed and closing his distance on Gemma.

She turned, glancing over her shoulder as he gained on her. He could see the determination in her stance. This was no beginner. She was going to give him a good run.

They battled it out downwind. Her jaw was set. She wasn’t giving an inch. She wanted to win. Despite the rain, her hair streamed behind her like a bright banner, a lithe graceful figure in tune with the elements.

Never had he wanted her as much as he did at the moment. She looked elemental and a little elusive. Not the sure thing he’d always considered her.

Working furiously, Angelo finally notched ahead and threw a triumphant smile over his shoulder, confident that the race was done.

The next instant the wind dropped and the rain eased. Both boards slowed. Angelo bit back a curse at being deprived of a clear victory. He dropped down to straddle the board and, glancing sideways, saw that Gemma had dropped onto her stomach and was already paddling with her arms and making for the shore.

Pacing himself, he kept abreast of her, his powerful arms stroking through the water. But she didn’t look at him, she kept her gaze firmly ahead.

In the shallows, keeping her face averted, Gemma leapt off the board, dragging it in behind her, intensely conscious of Angelo following close behind.

Flutters of apprehension started deep in her stomach, and the battle of the last half hour between them was forgotten as the memory of what had happened between them last night rose in her mind.

She didn’t know how she was going to face him.

The attendant, now at his post, came running to take the board. She gave a brief, abstracted smile of thanks. Her saturated sneakers squishing with water, she hurried to where she’d dropped her towel and water bottle earlier. Collapsing onto a damp wooden bench, she uncapped the bottle and took a long sip, her heart banging against her ribs as Angelo approached.

He stopped beside her. She stilled, then took another sip, pretending to ignore him, while every nerve ending quivered warily at his closeness.

“You never told me you could windsurf.”

The rasp of the zip sounded loud in the silence. Gemma was achingly aware of his peeling off his wet suit and slinging it over the back of the bench. Underneath he wore a pair of boardshorts that rode low on his hips. The unwelcome memory of last night clear in her mind, Gemma tried not to notice that his stomach was taut and tanned, the defined muscles revealing that he worked out regularly—or led a very active lifestyle.

Gemma whipped her gaze away and shrugged. “I don’t know why I didn’t tell you. I would’ve thought I had.” Why had Mandy not told him? Especially as it was clear it was something Angelo excelled at. Her parents had paid for lessons for both her and Mandy to learn to windsurf down at Buckland’s Beach, near their childhood home. Mandy had been more interested in flirting with the youths in the class than learning to sail. Deciding to distract him with flattery Gemma added, “You’re good. Those were some great moves out there.”

But Angelo didn’t bite. “So, when are you leaving?”

Gemma drew a deep, shuddering breath. “I’m not.” His expression never altered, but she sensed his sudden tension.

“Last night you said you were going, why have you changed your mind?”

Even though his tone remained even, his eyes told a different story. Her gaze fell before his challenging stare, landing on his legs. His thighs were solid, the skin darkened to a deep bronze by the Greek sun. She felt herself flush and quickly looked away over the sea. She didn’t want this awful awareness of this man. “Because my reputation would be mud in entertainment circles if I walked away from my contract.”

“I would see to it that didn’t happen.”

He wanted her gone that much? Gemma swallowed, then said baldly, “I can’t go, I need the money.”

A coolness entered his voice. “Is this where I’m supposed to offer to pay you to leave?”

“No!” Gemma jerked her head up to stare at him, horrified by the conclusion he’d drawn. “But I’ve got a contract and I’m entitled to payment for doing my job. I need it.”

“What do you need the money for?” Angelo dropped down beside her and his arm stretched along the back of the bench, so that it rested behind her head.

She thought furiously. “Medical expenses,” she said at last, trying to ignore his arm. It wasn’t easy. “From the…er…car accident.” She swallowed again and stared out over the sea.

“That’s what caused your amnesia?”

Damn. What to say now?

The silence stretched. He was waiting for her reply. Gemma discovered she wasn’t crazy about lying to him. Strange, because she’d never thought it would worry her in the least. Not after what he’d done.

“Witnesses say it was a hit and run,” she expanded, sticking to the story she’d originally planned. “Luckily when I came round in hospital I remembered who I was. But I don’t remember anything about you, about Strathmos…or anything that happened for a while after I left Strathmos.”

“So you’re suffering from retrograde amnesia. You lost the events immediately before the accident.”

Retrograde amnesia? Gemma blinked. “Uh…yes.” His interest took her aback. She gave him a weak smile. “Have you been doing research?”

“A little. Did you experience any memory loss after the accident?”

This time she was prepared. “Yes. There was some anterograde amnesia. I remember waking up in hospital. I don’t remember the accident itself—or getting to the hospital. The specialists did say that the events I could no longer recall before the accident might return as time passed. But to date they haven’t. I lost several weeks of my life.” She delivered the explanation as she’d prepared it.

“Was there any other damage?” His fingers brushed her shoulder. Despite the thick protection of the Neoprene wet suit, Gemma felt as though she’d been scorched.

“No, I was fortunate,” she said a trifle huskily as shivers coursed through her.

“Nothing lucky about it,” he said abruptly. “Such an accident should never have happened. Did the police catch the perpetrator?”

“No.” Gemma fidgeted. She hadn’t expected his concern and outrage on her behalf. She folded her arms across her stomach, feeling terrible. Then she recalled her father’s depression, her mother’s tears after Mandy’s unnecessary death. Instantly her heart hardened. “Now can you understand why I need money?”

“What will you do when you finish here?”

“My agent is looking for something for me.” There had been offers, but Gemma hadn’t been in a hurry to take another booking. She hadn’t been sure how long she needed on Strathmos to learn the truth.

“So long as you know that your contract to sing here will not be extended. I don’t want you here.”

Gemma gulped. That was pretty direct. It also meant that she had less than three weeks to find out the truth. “I understand.”

Two days passed without catching sight of Angelo. On Wednesday morning Gemma lounged beside the resort’s heated outdoor pool, soaking up the mild early morning sunshine. She’d heard that Angelo sometimes swam laps after breakfast before the resort guests started to congregate.

Huge sheets of glass shut out the unpredictable autumn wind without obscuring the view of the Aegean. In the centre of the pool a marble quartet of golden winged horses danced under the spray that jetted from three tall fountains. Through half-closed eyes, Gemma could almost imagine the mythical beasts thundering across the heavens, steered by the sun god.

A young poolside waiter had just delivered a tall glass topped with a pink umbrella and a row of cherries on a swizzle stick when a familiar voice shattered the fantasy.

“So this is where you’ve been hiding.”

Tensing, Gemma wished she was wearing more than the tiny bikini with the skimpy bandana top. Hidden behind sunglasses, she said, “Don’t you have more important things to do than look for me?”

Angelo waved his hand dismissively. “You told me you are here for the money. Right?”

“Y-es,” she stretched the word out, waiting, wondering why his eyes had turned as hard as stone.

He dropped down on the lounger beside hers; only a low glass-topped table on which her drink stood separated them. Uncomfortably conscious of his closeness, Gemma pushed her sunglasses firmly up her nose, grateful for the protection they offered from his icy scrutiny.

“I’ve just learned you wanted this contract badly enough to take a drop in pay.” His voice was edged in steel. “I want to know why. How could you afford to do that with the medical expenses you cried about only a couple of days ago?”

Raising her shoulder, Gemma dropped it with false aplomb. “I took the drop because I was desperate for money. I needed an income—I haven’t been getting regular work.”

His gaze glittered with suspicion. “You once told me that one of the joys of being an exotic dancer is that there’s always work. So if you were short of work why sing? Why not dance?”

Gemma forced herself not to shudder. She’d never understood why Mandy danced or how she put up with the hoards of leering men—even if the money was good. “Uh—I don’t do that anymore. I love singing.” That, at least, was true. “And singing pays more when I get the right spots, which I’m getting more often. I’m on the rise.”

“What’s this?”

Something in his sharp tone turned her head. He was scowling at the glass the waiter had brought. She frowned, puzzled at his ferocity.

“You can’t drink before you sing.”

“Not even fruit juice?” she asked tartly. He looked unconvinced, so Gemma picked the glass up and thrust it at him. “Here, sniff it.”

“Very clever.” At her baffled frown, he added. “Given that your preferred drink is vodka, sniffing won’t help much. Not with the overpowering flavour of pineapple.”

Of course! Mandy had always been partial to vodka. “My only vice,” Gemma said at last.

“Only vice?” His smile was sharklike. Setting the glass down, he leaned closer.

This close up his eyes were mesmerizing. The vibrant turquoise irises were surrounded by a row of lashes too long for a man. Dark brows arched over the top. No question about it, Angelo Apollonides was the most gorgeous male she had ever set eyes on. Pity he was not her type.

“It’s the only one I can think of right now,” she said carelessly. “If I thought about it very hard, I might discover one or two more.”

His mouth flattened. “Try. I’m sure you will find there are more vices that you will remember. Like lying.”

Gemma’s breath left her in a rush.

“When did I lie?” Did he know? She gave him a searching look as adrenaline started to pump through her. God. What would he do if he discovered—

“When I discovered you’d taken a drop in pay, I thought you lied to me. That you had another agenda. Don’t ever lie to me.”

She almost collapsed from relief. So she glared at him. “I’m not lying. I do need money. My credit card is a little over-extended.” The thirty-thousand dollar debt merited a bigger description than little.

“Too much shopping and partying?”

If he only knew. While Mandy had been a party animal, Gemma preferred spending her spare time outdoors. Walking. Windsurfing. Or simply attending concerts in parks. Simple pleasures, not the sophisticated pursuits his mistresses would enjoy.

She pursed her lips. How could she admit how much money had vanished, and that she had no idea where it had gone? The large cash withdrawals her credit-card statements reflected told her nothing.

“You had no debt three years ago. And some nice pieces of jewellery.” He gave a pointed stare at the ring she wore. The ring Mandy had given her just before she had died and Angelo had claimed to have bought for Mandy in Monaco.

“I don’t know what happened to all that,” she said honestly.

He gave her a searching look. “You don’t remember?”

She nodded.

“I was more than generous,” he said. “I indulged your desire to party, to shop until your cupboards were overflowing. If you’d behaved better, you might not be in this predicament.”

Surely Angelo wasn’t suggesting they might still be together? Not when she knew the kind of man he was. A playboy. A man who traded one beautiful woman for another, as soon as their temporary sell-by date was over.

Her lip curled. “You mean, if I was still your mistress? Putting up with your demands, your—”

“I thought you’d forgotten everything. So how do you remember how demanding I was?” His tone held a sensual rasp, belied by his shrewd gaze.

“I read gossip cuttings. How do you think I learned about our affair?”

He reached out and put finger a finger under her chin. He put enough pressure to tilt her head up, so that he could stare down into her eyes. “So you came here not only to earn money and regain your memory, but to learn more about us?”

The sudden flare of heat that followed in the wake of the touch of that one finger shocked her. No. She was not going to respond to his very obvious attraction. He was the last man on earth to whom she could afford to be attracted.

A spoilt playboy who’d had a fortune handed to him on a plate. A dilettante who destroyed people without compunction. Keeping her voice level she said, “I know exactly what kind of man you are.”

“Do you really?” He raised a dark eyebrow, looming over her.

Too close. Too male. Too…everything.

She backpedaled. “I don’t remember anything, but I know how you make me feel.”

“And how is that?” The pressure of the pad of his index finger lessened. The tip trailed down her throat and settled just below the tender hollow at the base of her neck. The touch felt like a brand.

Oh, no. She spotted the trap too late. She swallowed. “Repelled.”

He bared his teeth in triumph at the tiny give away as her throat moved. “Ah, you tempt me to prove you a liar.”

Gemma gave an uneasy laugh. “Perhaps I haven’t been completely honest with you.”

His pupils expanded. “Go on.”

“I came here to ask for your help.” She sucked in a breath. “I woke alone in a hospital in London with no memory of how I got there, who I’d been with at the time of the accident or where I’d been.”

His hand dropped away.

Gemma could breathe again.

Until he spoke. “You weren’t able to track down information from the people with you at the time of the accident?”

She had to be careful. She couldn’t afford to trip herself up. “The only clue about where I’d been was a bunch of old pay slips from Palace of Poseidon.” She’d found them in her sister’s things. “Later I found out that I’d worked here…that we’d had an affair.”

More lies. It hadn’t been later. Mandy had e-mailed her from Strathmos, crowing about the fabulously wealthy man she’d landed.

Gemma stared at him defiantly. “That’s why I’m here. I thought if I came…back…met you, I might remember something about—” she paused “—my past.”

His expression altered subtly. He came closer. “Is it working?”

“No.” Her voice turned husky. She picked up a towel and draped it over her bare, exposed tummy. “I had hoped by staying on Strathmos some things might come back to me. But they haven’t.” She paused for a beat, peered up at him over the top of her sunglasses. “But perhaps if you helped, if you let me ask you some questions, maybe something you say might act as a trigger. And the past might come back to me.”

She waited, holding her breath, her blood hammering in her head, causing it to ache with tension. What had Angelo done to reduce Mandy from a confident, somewhat reckless party girl to a pale, shaking ghost of her former self?

She had to find out.

At last he gave a curt nod. “But if it doesn’t work, that’s it. Okay? You leave as soon as your contract is complete.” He rose to his feet. “We’ll start tonight, after your show.”

“I’d rather meet in the mornings.”

“I’m a busy man. If you want my help then you’ll have to meet me tonight. In my suite.”

“No.” Gemma shook her head emphatically, her hair swirling around her face. The last thing she wanted was to be alone with him. The attraction he held terrified her. While she desperately wanted to know what he’d done to her twin, she was not about to let him destroy her in the process. “I’ll meet you after the show in the Dionysus bar.”

For a moment Gemma thought she’d lost him. Then he said, “You’re on.”