Purchased for Passion: Shackled by Diamonds / A Mistress for the Taking / His Bought Mistress

CHAPTER FOUR

ANNA lay in bed. Her heart was still pumping, adrenaline surging through her. She couldn’t stop it. Her whole body was as tense as a board, every muscle rigid.

How had it come to this? How?

Disbelief kept flooding through her, cold and icy through her guts.

The cold emptied through her again, clutching at her with its icy fingers.

How, how had it happened?

The question went round and round, pounding ceaselessly, tormentingly.

How had she let Leo Makarios do that to her? Just walk up to her and start to touch her. And she’d done nothing—nothing! Pathetic. Pathetic.

A shudder went through her.

She had just let him stand there and kiss her, fondle her, as if she was some kind of…some kind of…

She felt anger excoriating her. Anger at Leo Makarios, who had just walked into her bedroom and decided to help himself to her. The anger wired through her nerves. Anger at Leo Makarios.

But a worse fury consumed her too.

Anger at herself.

How could she have succumbed to him like that? Letting him come into her room, kiss her, caress her, do what he wanted to her? How could he have just swept away all her defences, all her years of fighting men off?

And into her head stole a voice that chilled her to the bone.

Because you didn’t want to fight him off. You wanted him…you wanted him badly…Wanted to feel his mouth on yours, wanted his hands caressing you, wanted to feel him stroke you, arouse you…

She closed her eyes in anguish, her face contorting.

No, please—please. She mustn’t want Leo Makarios.

Not a man like that, a man who’s just proved himself to be everything you knew he was. Everything! The kind of man who wants instant cheap gratification and thinks you’re going to roll over and let him get it from you!

Revulsion shuddered through her.

Then slowly, agonisingly slowly, piece by piece, she started to pull herself together.

Yes, she had been a fool, an idiot, but the worst had not happened—that was what she must hang on to. It might have been so close to the edge of the precipice that she must never, ever think of it again, but at least she had summoned the last of her sanity and sent him packing.

She opened her eyes again, staring into the dark.

Imagine if it were now after you’d given yourself totally to him. If you were lying here now and he’d gone back to his gilded state apartment, sleek and sated, leaving you here with nothing left but the bones…

Cold iced through her again.

She had had such a narrow escape…

But she had escaped—that was what she must remember. She had clawed back to sanity just in time.

And she was safe now. Safe.

Slowly, very slowly, she felt her heart-rate come down.

Never, ever again would Leo Makarios push her that close to the precipice.

Never.

Her mouth thinned.

Never.

’Plunge your hands in. Now lift them out—lift, lift, lift! Yes. Hold them up! Up!’

Anna held her hands the way she was being told to. So did the other three models. They were standing around the vast oak table in the castle’s echoing hall again, but this time none of them was wearing any of the Levantsky jewels.

Their hands were all in a huge golden bowl into which had been poured rivers of diamonds, emeralds, rubies and sapphires. And now the four models were plunging into this golden cornucopia and lifting them out, their fingers dripping necklaces and earrings and bracelets.

‘Basta!’ Tonio Embrutti called, simultaneously summoning the stylist and her assistants. ‘Now I want the jewels just draped over their shoulders, in their hair, over their arms, their breasts. Not fastened, just draped.’

His pudgy face took on a sulky look. ‘Of course, their bodies should be naked, but—’

He contented himself with merely making an Italian gesture of exasperation with his hands, waving his camera around as he did so.

Anna stood patiently as the stylist’s assistants got to work.

Her mind was strangely numb. She’d got hardly any sleep last night, and the disapproving make-up artist had commented adversely on the effect thereof on her eyes and complexion. Anna didn’t care. She was, she knew, beyond caring. She had only one overriding impulse.

To get out of here. Out and home.

But she still had today and tonight to get through before she could run. At least today there was no sign of Leo Makarios. He’d gone off with his guests—some whisked off to ski slopes, some on horse-drawn sleigh rides, some on helicopter tours of the Austrian Alps, or back to Vienna and Munich for shopping trips.

Even so, today’s shoot seemed longer than yesterday’s, but finally it was done. Released at last, changed back into her normal clothes, Anna headed back up to her room. Vanessa had disappeared instantly—presumably Markos was in the wings somewhere—and Kate almost as quickly.

‘There’s an early concert in the town’s Musikverein,’ Kate had explained to the others eagerly. ‘Maestro Lukacs has given me a ticket!’ She’d said it as though he’d given her the keys to the kingdom, her eyes shining.

‘Have fun,’ Anna had said dryly. Preferably, she added silently, not in Antal Lukacs’s bed. Kate was far too impressionable.

She headed off after Jenny, also making for her room. The other model had a head start on her up the vast stairs. Anna sprinted after her.

‘Wait for me!’ she called. But Jenny was ploughing on, reaching the set of stairs that led to the upper floors. She seemed to be walking faster and faster, as if the devil was driving her.

But then it was, Anna knew. Her face shadowed. God, she might have been an idiot the night before, letting Leo Makarios get to within a hair’s breadth of tumbling her down into bed, but at least she’d found her sanity in time! Jenny had never found hers with the man who had got her into this mess. And now she was facing the complete disintegration of her life. Forced to cash in everything she had and flee.

Flee to keep her baby safe from the man who would take it from her.

Anna’s eyes darkened. Well, whatever it took she would make sure she stood by Jenny! Money, support—someone there at the birth of her child—whatever Jenny needed, she’d stick by her.

But right now Jenny just needed reassurance. Someone to keep her spirits up, take away the edge of fear that was eating into her day by day at the thought of her pregnancy being discovered.

Anna hurried on, up the second flight of stairs and along the corridor to her bedroom. Jenny had rushed ahead and was out of sight. Anna paused outside her friend’s door, wondering whether Jenny would like a cup of tea with her.

‘Jen, do you want a cuppa? Rosehip or chamomile?’

There was no answer.

Anna opened the door and poked her head round. Maybe Jenny was in the bathroom.

She wasn’t.

She was sitting on her bed. Like Anna, she was wearing trousers, but unlike Anna she had a large, fleecy long-sleeved pullover on.

And out of the sleeve she was sliding a long ruby bracelet.

For one long, timeless moment Anna did not believe what she was seeing. And then, with a rush of icy water in her stomach, she stepped into the room, closing the door behind her.

Jenny was staring at her. Staring at her with shock and fear naked on her face. She was as white as a sheet, every bone in her face starkly outlined.

Slowly, Anna came forward.

‘Oh, my God, Jen, what have you done?’

Her voice was hollow.

Jenny just stared; she was beyond speech, Anna could see—wound up so tight she would break if stressed any further.

Carefully, Anna went and sat down beside her.

Jenny turned huge distended eyes on her.

‘Do you know—’ her voice sounded taut and strange ‘—Khalil wanted to give me a ruby bracelet? I said no. He wanted to give me lots of jewels, but I always said no. It made him angry, I know. He hid it, but it did.’ Her eyes went down to the ruby bracelet lying across the palm of her hand, winking in the lamplight.

‘It’s ironic, isn’t it?’ she said, and her voice still had that strange breaking quality about it. ‘If I’d just taken one, just one of all the jewels he wanted to give me, I’d be all right now. I could sell it and have enough…enough money to…to escape with. But I never took them. Not one. Even though he wanted to give them to me.’

She touched one of the stones with her finger.

Carefully, very carefully, Anna spoke.

‘But these aren’t Khalil’s jewels, Jen. And he never gave them to you.’ She paused. ‘I’ll take the bracelet back.’

She reached across to lift it from Jenny’s palm. For a moment so brief it hardly happened she saw Jenny’s fingers start to claw shut over the bracelet. Then, as if exerting a vast invisible effort, the fingers stilled.

‘You can’t keep it, Jen. You know you can’t.’

Anna’s voice was quiet, reassuring.

Slowly Jenny opened her palm completely, letting the glittering stones run red across her hand. She stared down at them.

Anna lifted them away. Her heart was beating fast, the icy water still in her stomach. Slowly she got to her feet. Her mind was racing, almost going into panic. But she mustn’t panic—she mustn’t.

What the hell am I going to do?

And, shooting right through her panicking brain, came one grim question.

How long have we got before it’s discovered missing?

Claws pincered in her stomach. The security arrangements for the Levantsky jewels were draconian. They had to be, obviously. Every time they were brought out or put away—either for a shoot, or for her and the other models to wear the night before—security guards were all over the place. Every item was catalogued and signed in and out on a computerised check system personally entered by Leo Makarios’s sidekick, Justin.

So how the hell had Jenny walked off with a bracelet?

There was no time to think about that—no time to do anything except hope and pray she could somehow, anyhow, get the bracelet back.

Back where, though?

She could hardly just swan up to Justin and calmly inform him he’d missed a piece! Everyone would go totally ballistic! There’d be a full-scale Spanish Inquisition, and that would end up with every damn finger in the Schloss pointing at Jenny!

And that was all Jenny needed! Police sirens and lawyers and the press—and a prison sentence for theft.

Because one thing was for sure. Leo Makarios was not the type to let anyone, anyone waltz off with a single Levantsky jewel!

She swallowed. She must not panic Jenny. Whatever happened, that was essential. Jenny was on the edge of a total breakdown, she could see. Well, already over the edge, actually, she realised, if she’d been driven to try and walk off with a priceless ruby bracelet…

Anna forced her voice to sound calm.

‘Don’t go anywhere, Jen. Just stay here. And don’t answer the door unless it’s me. Promise?’

The other girl still seemed to be in a state of shock. Anna wasn’t surprised. God knew what state she must have been in to even think of taking any of the Levantsky jewels—and as for actually taking any…

Her stomach churning, panic nipping at her, Anna slipped out of Jenny’s bedroom, hastily stuffing the bracelet inside the pocket of her trousers.

Its weight hung like a dead, accusing albatross.

She felt sick with fear.

Leo could hear his mobile vibrating deep beneath his skiing jacket as he slewed to a halt at the end of the run. With the light gone, his guests were discarding their skis and getting ready to board the waiting fleet of four-by-fours to take them back down to the Schloss.

Leo wished each and every one of them to perdition. He’d had to smile and converse and be a good host all damn day, and totally hide from them that inside he was in a worse mood than he could recall for a very long time. His temper was evil. He could feel it, lashing around inside him, not allowed an outlet.

But he knew exactly what outlet it wanted.

And it was one it wasn’t going to get.

He wanted that damn girl, and he wasn’t going to have her.

Anna Delane.

Sable-haired and breathtakingly desirable…

All through a night in which sleep had been persistently and exasperatingly scarce, all through a day which had tested his patience to the limit with its demanding and tedious social requirements, her image had kept intruding. He had banished it a hundred times, and it still came back.

And more than an image.

His memory was tactile.

Erotically, sensually tactile.

The feel of her silken mouth beneath his, the swelling roundness of her breast in his hand, the straining peak rigid beneath his stroking thumb, his body hardening against hers…

With savage control he hammered down the pointless, treacherous thoughts that heated through him.

OK, so he was frustrated. That was all. He’d gone a month without sex, and for him that was a long time. Last night had been punishing because he’d been on the brink of sexual release and then he’d been balked of it. No wonder his body was protesting!

But it was more than his body, he knew. If, say, he’d been interrupted by some kind of business emergency he’d have been a lot less angry than he was now. It wasn’t just the absence of sex that was winding him up tighter than a watch spring.

It was her—that black-haired, green-eyed witch, who’d given him every damn come-on in the book and then called time on him in an outburst of self-righteous outrage as if he were one down from some kind of lascivious groper!

Thee mou, but she had wanted it as much as he had. She’d been melting for him, soft and honeyed, aroused and responsive.

And then to turn on him like that. Make those accusations, those spitting, contemptible accusations of harassment, harassment—

He felt his anger bite viciously.

A liar—that was what she was. Saying no when her body said yes. Had been saying yes all evening to him. All the way until he’d been about to lower her down on her bed…

With monumental effort he slammed shut the lid on his snarling thoughts. He would simply put Anna Delane out of his head, and that was that. There were plenty of other women around—willing women—who didn’t play infantile and hypocritical games about sex.

Plenty who would be happy to be taken up as his mistress!

The trouble was, he couldn’t think of any right now who held the slightest interest for him.

Damn Anna Delane. Turning him on—and then turfing him out! Well, she’d made her decision and so had he. He would not waste any more of his valuable time thinking about her.

With a rasp of irritation he realised his mobile had started to vibrate again. Hell, was he to have no peace at all? Impatiently he jabbed his ski-sticks into the snow and yanked out his phone.

‘Yes?’ he demanded icily, wanting only to dispose of the call and detach his skis.

But when he heard Justin’s strained, panic-stricken voice, his body stilled completely.

Anna kept walking along the corridor. Her hands felt clammy, her heartbeat erratic, every muscle tense.

What am I going to do?

She still hadn’t the faintest idea how she was to return the bracelet. She had to do something with it—anything—anything other than keep it on her person or in any way let its loss be linked back to Jenny.

She must have been mad to take it—

No! No time to think about that now! She’d cope with Jenny’s breakdown later—her only priority now was to get rid of the bracelet.

She could just dump it somewhere. Somewhere it would be easily found by one of the household staff or something.

For a moment she thought of trying to tell someone that it had been taken completely by mistake, that its catch had got caught up in some material or something. But even as she ran it through her brain she knew it wouldn’t wash. They hadn’t been wearing their own clothes when the jewellery had been collected back in. They’d still been in their fashion shoot dresses. If any jewels had got caught they’d have been caught in them, not in the girls’ mufti clothes.

How had she managed to take it?

Out of the blue, Anna suddenly knew. There’d been a shot with the four of them gathered around the table, their four pairs of hands buried wrist-deep in the golden bowl of priceless Levantsky jewels, spotlights blazing down at them to bring out every last glittering facet. Then Jenny had given a low moan. Anna had looked round at her immediately and realised that she was feeling nauseous.

She’d acted instinctively. Pulling back with deliberate clumsiness, she’d dragged on the edge of the bowl and it had tipped over, spilling jewels all over the table.

And some had slithered on to the floor.

She and Jenny—and half a dozen others—had scrambled around on the floor, mostly feeling with their fingers in the sharply delineated shadow under the table on the cold stone flags. While she was down there she’d managed to whisper to Jenny, ‘Are you going to be sick? I’ll call time and say I need the loo—come with me—’

All the other model had done was to shake her head vigorously and go on searching for bits of jewellery, almost head to head with three security personnel, a dresser, Kate, and one of the photographer’s assistants.

Jenny had been the last to stand up, Anna recalled. She’d deposited an emerald ring, a ruby brooch and a sapphire bracelet back into the bowl, while Anna herself had contributed one ruby earring and a diamond choker. As Jenny had got to her feet, Anna, still watching her worriedly, had seen her wince.

I thought it was because she still felt nauseous, but it wasn’t.