All That Glitters Page 9

  "No, I haven't decided to sign anything," she said crisply. "I came here to get an explanation for this." She reached into her purse and withdrew a slim packet of papers attached with a paper clip to a creased envelope. She thrust them at him and he took them, a frown wrinkling his forehead.

  "What are these?" he asked, studying the darkened green of her eyes and gauging her temper.

  "You tell me," she snapped. "I believe you're the responsible party."

  He removed the paper clip and rapidly scanned the papers, flipping them one by one. It took only a minute; then he replaced the paper clip. "Is anything wrong? Everything looks in order."

  "I'm certain everything is in perfect legal order," she said impatiently. "That isn't the problem, and you know it."

  "Then exactly what is the problem?" he inquired, his lashes drooping to cover the expression in his eyes, but she knew that he was watching her and saw every nuance of her expression before she, too, shuttered her face.

  He hooked one leg over the corner of the desk and sat down, his body relaxed. "I don't see why you're upset," he said smoothly. "Suppose you tell me exactly what you don't like about the agreement. It hasn't been signed yet; we can always make changes. I hadn't meant for you to receive your copy by mail," he added thoughtfully. "I can only suppose that my attorney tried to anticipate my wishes, and he'll certainly hear from me on that."

  "I don't care about your attorney, and it doesn't make any difference how I received this piece of trash, because I won't sign it!" she shouted at him, her cheeks scarlet with anger. "You're the most arrogant man I've ever met, and I hate you!"

  The amusement that had been lurking in his eyes vanished abruptly, and when she spun on her heel and started for the door, too incensed even to yell at him, he lunged from his position on the desk to intercept her before she'd taken three steps. As his hand closed on her arm, she lashed out at him with her free hand. He threw his arm up to ward off the blow, then deftly twisted and caught that arm, too, and drew her against him.

  "Let me go!" she spat, too infuriated to care if Andres heard her. She twisted and struggled, heaving herself against the iron band of his arms in an effort to break free; she was given stamina by her anger, but at last even that was exhausted. When she shuddered and dropped her head against his shoulder, he lifted her easily and stepped around the desk, where he sat down in his chair and cradled her on his lap.

  Jessica felt faint, drained by her rage and the struggle with him, and she lay limply against him. His heart was beating strongly, steadily, under her cheek, and she noticed that he wasn't even breathing rapidly. He'd simply subdued her and let her tire herself out. He stretched to reach the telephone and dialed a single number, then spoke quietly. "Hold all calls, Andros. I don't want to be disturbed for any reason." Then he dropped the receiver back onto the cradle and wrapped both arms about her, hugging her securely to him.

  "Darling," he whispered into her hair. "There's no need to be so upset. It's only a simple document—"

  "There's nothing simple about it!" she interrupted violently. "You're trying to treat me like a high-priced whore, but I won't let you! If that's the way you think of me, then I don't want to see you again."

  "I don't think of you as a whore." He soothed her. "You're not thinking clearly; all you're thinking now is that I've offered you payment for going to bed with me, and that isn't what I intended."

  "Oh, no, of course it wasn't," she mocked in a bitter tone. She struggled to sit up and get away from the intimate heat of his body, but his enfolding arms tightened and she couldn't move. Tears sparkled in her eyes as she gave up and relaxed against him in defeat.

  "No, it wasn't," he insisted. "I merely want to take care of you—thus the bank account and the house. I know you own the house where you live now, but admit it, the neighborhood isn't the best."

  "No, it isn't, but I'm perfectly happy there! I've never asked for anything from you, and I'm not asking now. I don't want your money, and you've insulted me by asking me to sign a document swearing that I'll never make any demands against your estate for 'services rendered."'

  "I'd be extremely foolish if I didn't take steps to secure the estate," he pointed out. "I don't think you'd sue me for support, darling, but I have other people to consider and a responsibility to uphold. A great many people depend on me for their livelihood—my family as well as my employees—and I can't in good conscience do anything that might jeopardize their well-being in the future."

  "Do all of your mistresses have to sign away any claims on you?" she demanded, angrily brushing away the single tear which dropped from her lashes. "Is this in the nature of a form letter, everything filled in except for the name and date? How many other women live in apartments or houses you've so kindly provided?"

  "None!" he snapped. "I don't think I'm asking too much. Did you truly think I'd establish you as my mistress and leave myself vulnerable to any number of other claims? Is that why you're so angry, because I've made certain you can't get any money from me except what I freely give to you?"

  He'd made the mistake of releasing her arm, and she swung wildly at him, her palm striking his face with enough force to make her hand tingle. She began to cry, tears flooding down her face while she gulped and tried to control them, and in an effort to get away from him she started fighting again. The results were the same as before: he simply held her and prevented her from landing any more blows, until she was breathless and worn out. Pain and anger mingled with her sense of helplessness at being held like that, her raw frustration at being unable to make him see how utterly wrong he was about her, and she gave up even trying to control her tears. With a wrenching sob she turned her face into his shoulder and gave in to her emotional storm.

  "Jessica!" he ground out from between clenched teeth, but she barely heard him and paid no attention. A small part of her knew that he had to be furious that she'd slapped him—Nikolas wasn't a man to let anyone, man or woman, strike him and get away with it—but at the moment she just didn't care. Her delicate frame heaved with the convulsive force of her weeping. It would never end, the gossip and innuendo concerning her marriage; even though Nikolas wouldn't allow anyone else to talk about her, he still believed all of those lies himself. What he didn't seem to realize was that she could endure everyone else's insults, but she couldn't endure his, because she loved him.

  "Jessica." His voice was lower now, softer, and the biting power of his fingers eased on her arms. She felt his hands touching her back, stroking soothingly up and down, and he cuddled her closer to his body.

  With tender cajoling he persuaded her to lift her face, and he wiped her eyes and nose with his handkerchief as if she were a child. She stared at him, her eyes still luminous with tears, and even through her tears she could see the red mark on his cheek where she'd hit him. With trembling figures she touched the spot. "I—I'm sorry," she said, offering her apology in a tear-thick voice.

  Without a word he turned his head and kissed her fingers, then bent his head and lifted her in the same motion, and before she could catch her breath he was kissing her, his mouth hot and wild and as hungry as an untamed animal's, tasting and biting and probing. His hand searched her breasts and moved downward to glide over her hips and thighs, on down to her knees, moving impatiently under the fabric of her dress. With a shock she realized that he was out of control, driven beyond the control of will by his own anger and the struggle with her, the softness of her body twisting and straining against him. He wasn't even giving her a chance to respond to him, and fear made her heartbeat speed up as she realized that this time she might not be able to stop him.

  "Nikolas, no. Not here. No! Stop it, darling," she whispered fiercely, tenderly. She didn't try to fight him, sensing that at this stage it would only excite him more. He was hurting her; his hands were all over her, touching her where no man had ever touched before, pulling at her clothing. She reached up and placed her hands on both sides of his face and repeated his name softly, urgently,
over and over until, abruptly, he was looking at her and she saw that she'd gained his attention.

  A spasm crossed his face, and he ground his teeth, swearing beneath his breath. He slowly helped her to her feet, pushing her from his lap, and then got to his feet as if in pain. He stood looking at her for a moment as she swayed against the desk for support; then he cursed again and walked a few feet away, standing with his back to her while he wearily massaged the back of his neck.

  She stared at his broad, muscular back in silence, too drained to say anything to him, not knowing if it was safe to do so. What should she do now? She wanted to leave, but her legs were trembling so violently that she doubted her ability to walk unaided. And her clothing was disheveled, twisted, and partially unbuttoned. With slow, clumsy fingers she restored her appearance, then eyed him uncertainly. His stance was that of a man fighting himself, and she didn't want to do anything that might annoy him. But the silence was so thick between them that she was uneasy, and at last she forced her unsteady legs to move, intending to retrieve her purse from where she'd dropped it and leave before the situation worsened.

  "You aren't going anywhere," he said in a low voice, and she halted in her tracks.

  He turned to face her then, his dark face set in weary lines. "I'm sorry," he said with a sigh. "Did I hurt you?"

  His apology was the opposite of the reaction she had expected, and for a moment she couldn't think of a response. Then she dumbly shook her head, and he seemed to relax. He moved close to her and slid his arm around her waist, urging her close to him with gentle insistence. Jessica offered no resistance and pressed her head into the sheltering hollow of his shoulder.

  "I don't know what to say," he muttered. "I want you to trust me, but instead I've frightened you."

  "Don't say anything," she answered, having finally mastered her voice. "There's no need to go over it all again. I won't sign the paper, and that's that."

  "It wasn't meant as an insult, but as a legal necessity."

  "But I'm not your mistress," she pointed out. "So there's no need for the document."

  "Not yet," he agreed. "As I said, my attorney anticipated my wishes. He was in error." His tone of voice boded ill for the poor attorney, but Jessica was grateful to the unknown man. At least now she knew exactly what Nikolas thought of her, and she preferred the painful truth to living in a dream.

  "Perhaps it would be better if we didn't see each other anymore," she began, but his arm tightened around her and a scowl blackened his brow.

  "Don't be ridiculous," he snapped. "I won't let you go now, so don't waste your breath suggesting it. I promise to control myself in the future, and we'll forget about this for the time being."

  Lifting her head from his shoulder, Jessica gave him a bitter look. Did he truly think she could forget that he thought her the sort of woman who was available for a price? That knowledge was a knife thrust into her chest, but equally painful was the certainty that she didn't want him to vanish from her life. Whatever he had come to mean to her, the thought of never seeing him again made her feel desolate. She was risking her emotional well-being, flirting with disaster, but she could no more walk away from him now than she could stop herself from breathing.

  Several weeks passed in a more restrained manner, as if he'd placed himself on his best behavior, and she managed to push away the hurt. He insisted that she accompany him whenever he went out socially, and she was his hostess whenever he entertained.

  The strain on her was telling. At yet another party, she felt smothered and escaped into the coolness of the dark garden, where she sucked in deep lungfuls of fresh, sweet air; she had been unable to breathe in the smoke-laden atmosphere inside. In the weeks since she had met Nikolas, she had learned to be relaxed at social gatherings, but she still felt the need to be by herself occasionally, and those quiet times had been rare. Nikolas had the rawer of a volcano, spewing out orders and moving everyone along in the lava flow of his authority. She wasn't certain just where he was at the moment, but she took advantage of his lapse of attention to seek the quietness of the garden.

  Just before leaving for the dinner party tonight, they'd had a flaming argument over her continued refusal to sell her stock to him, their first argument since the awful scene in his office. He wouldn't back down an inch; he was furious with her for defying him, and he had even accused her of trying to trick him into increasing his offer. Sick to death of his lack of understanding and tired of the running battle, Jessica had grabbed the paper and signed it, then thrown it to the floor in a fit of temper. 'Well, there it is!" she had snapped furiously. It wasn't until he'd leaned down and picked up the paper to fold and replace it in his pocket that she'd seen the speculative gleam in his eyes and realized that she'd made a mistake. Signing now, after he had accused her of holding out for a higher price and assured her that she wouldn't get it, had convinced him that she'd been doing exactly that all along, biding her time and hoping for a higher price. But it was too late now to do anything about it, and she had grimly conquered the tears that sprang to her eyes as the pain of his suspicions hurt her.

  Strolling along the night-dewed path of white gravel, she wondered sadly if the sense of ease which had come into their relationship lately had been destroyed. He had eased pressuring her to let him make love to her, had in fact become increasingly tender with her, as if he was at last beginning to care. The thought made her breathless, or it was like a dream come true. In a thousand ways, he spoiled her and curbed his impatient nature for her, and she no longer tried to fight her love for him. She didn't even want to any longer, so thoroughly had he taken her under his influence.

  But all of that might be gone now. She should never have signed that agreement! She'd given in to his bullying tactics in a fit of temper, and all she had done was to reinforce his picture of her as a mercenary temptress. What ground she'd gained in his affections had been lost in that one moment.

  Moving slowly along, her head down while she dreamed wistfully of marrying Nikolas and having his children—something not likely to happen now—it was some moments before she heard the murmur of voices. She was almost upon the couple before she realized it. She halted, but it seemed that they hadn't noticed her. They were only a dim shape in the darkness, the pale blur of the woman's gown blending into the darkness of the man's dinner jacket as they embraced.

  Trying to move quietly, Jessica stepped back with the intention of withdrawing without attracting attention to herself, but then the woman gave a sharp sigh and moaned, "Nikolas! Ah, my love…"

  Jessica's legs went numb and refused to move as strength drained away from her. Nikolas? Her Nikolas? She was too dazed to feel any pain; she didn't really believe it. At last she managed to turn and look again at the entwined couple. Diana. Most assuredly Diana. She had recognized that voice. And—Nikolas? The bent black head, the powerful shoulders, could be Nikolas, but she couldn't be certain. Then his head lifted and he muttered in English, "What's wrong, Diana? Has no one been taking care of you, as lovely as you are?"

  "No, no one," she whispered. "I've waited for you."

  "Were you so certain I would return?" he asked, amusement coming into his voice as he raised his head higher to look into the gorgeous upturned face.

  Jessica turned away, not wanting to see him kiss the other woman again. The pain had started when she saw for certain that Nikolas was the man holding Diana so passionately, but she determinedly forced it down. If she let go, she would weep and make a fool of herself, so she tilted her chin arrogantly and ignored the vise that squeezed her chest, the knife that stabbed her insides. Behind her, she heard him call her name, but she moved swiftly across the patio and into the protection of the house and the throng of people. People smiled at her now, and spoke, and she put a faint smile on her stiff lips and made her way very calmly to the informal bar.

  Everyone was getting their own drinks, so she poured herself a liberal portion of tart white wine and sipped it as she moved steadily about the room
, smiling, but not allowing herself to be drawn into conversation. She could not talk to anyone just now; she would just walk about and sip her wine and concentrate on mastering the savage thrust of pain inside her. She wasn't certain how she would leave the party, whether she was strong enough to leave with Nikolas or if it would be best to call a taxi, but she would worry about that later. Later, after she had swallowed enough wine to dull her senses.

  Out of the corner of her eye she saw Nikolas moving toward her with grim determination, and she swung to the left and spoke to the couple she nearly collided with, marveling that her voice could be so natural. Then, before she could move away, a strong hand closed on her elbow and Nikolas said easily, "Jessica, darling, I've been chasing you around the room trying to get your attention. Hello, Glenna, Clark…how are the children?"

  With a charming smile he had Glenna laughing at him and telling him about her two young sons, whom it seemed Nikolas knew personally. All the time they talked, Nikolas kept a tight grip on Jessica's arm, and when she made a move to break away from him, his fingers tightened until she nearly gasped with pain. Then he was leading her away from Glenna and Clark and his fingers loosened, but not enough to allow her to escape.

  "You're hurting my arm," Jessica said coldly as they wove through milling groups of laughing, chattering people.

  "Shut up," he ground out between his teeth. "At least until we're alone. I think the study is empty; we'll go there."

  As he literally pulled her with him, Jessica had a glimpse of Diana's face before they left the room behind, and the expression of pure triumph on the woman's face chilled her.

  Pride stiffened her back, and when Nikolas closed the door of the study behind them and locked it, she turned to face him and lifted her chin to give him a haughty stare. "Well?" she demanded. "What do you want, now that you've dragged me in here?"