Master of Passion - Page 24

Some lingering sense of caution made her quote Moya's London number, as Luc took her back to her room.

Dressed once more in navy trousers and a soft wool shirt, Parisa found herself standing at the back of the villa, the incriminating photographs clasped in her hand, and Luc's arm around her shoulders—a very different Luc from the one she had shared the night with. Immaculate in a navy pin-striped three-piece suit, he was the image of the mature, successful male. The helicopter parked on the grass, blades whirring, underscored the image.

'I hate leaving you like this, Parisa, but I must.' Luc stared down at her, his black eyes worried. 'I'll be in London as soon as possible.'

'It's all right, honestly,' she reassured him. 'I understand.' But she didn't. She didn't know the woman she had become. One part of her wanted to cling to Luc, and her saner mind told her to run and never look back. He was a crook, albeit a well-dressed one.

'Good girl. That is what I first loved about you—your loyalty to your friend, and now, I hope, to me,' he said, oddly serious. 'I know I am a lot older than you and I should have had more control, but you came to me so sweetly, I couldn't hold back. I wanted you as I've never wanted a woman before. Wear my ring and wait for me, hmm?'

'I will,' she vowed, mesmerized by the tender light in his black eyes. His words might not have been an outright declaration of love, but they were close enough to make her heart sing.

He kissed her once again, a brief touch as light as thistledown on her full lips. 'I will make it up to you. I promise.' And, hugging her to his hard body one last time, he ran across the lawn and ducked under the speeding blades and into the helicopter.

Parisa stood as though turned to stone, a sense of deja vu so strong that she couldn't move, and then she remembered. She had heard the words before. 'I will make it up to you, I promise.' And in her mind's eye she saw Luc saying the same words to Margot Mey. She had forgotten all about the singer...

On leaden feet she walked back to her bedroom. The fire was lit and the bedcovers smooth. She wondered if the maid had noted her bed had not been used. Did it matter? She shrugged her shoulders, and, crossing to the fireplace, quite deliberately dropped the packet of photographs into the flames. Parisa watched them burn. Mission accomplished, but at what cost to herself...? She walked into the ornate bathroom, the one that connected to Luc's room. He had quickly showered earlier and the subtle scent of his cologne still lingered in the air, achingly familiar.

She moved to the huge bath that only yesterday she had found decadent, and deliberately turned on the gold taps. After her behaviour last night, decadence was no longer a problem, she thought wryly, stripping off her clothes. Her naked body was reflected over and over again in the mirrored walls. She stood and stared, as though studying a stranger. She noted the slight bruises on her skin, the softer blush marks around her high, full breasts, where Luc's rough jaw had grazed her tender flesh, and a great tide of longing surged through her.

Abruptly she turned and stepped into the bath, slowly lowering herself into the warm water. She turned off the taps, and lay back. She was over-reacting, she told herself. So what if Luc had met Margot Mey last weekend? That was the past. It was possible for a man to meet a woman and be immediately attracted. God knew, Parisa thought solemnly, it had happened to her. Three days in Luc's company and she loved him, so why couldn't it be the same for Luc? He had told her he wanted her and his body had certainly reinforced his statement... She rubbed her palms over her wet, aching breasts, remembering his touch, his mouth... She could not bear to believe he had lied. She would not... But what of the rest? Blackmail!

Parisa picked up a bottle of scented rose oil from an array of toiletries that lined one side of the bath, and sprinkled it in the water. Finding a bar of soap, she gently lathered herself all over. She ached in places and muscles she had not realised she possessed until last night. Eventually she stood up, dried herself off with a large, fluffy mint-green towel, and returned to the bedroom.

Quickly she pulled on clean underwear and stepped back into her trousers and shirt. She applied a minimum of make-up to her smooth complexion: a light moisturizer and a touch of lip-gloss. She would wait for Luc's call; she would not prejudge him. She was clutching at straws, she knew. But possibly, just possibly, Moya was the only person he had tried to blackmail. Maybe Luc had some valid explanation for his criminal exploits. Who was she kidding? No one but herself. She had fallen in love with a villain. It was ironic, given her background, that the one man she could love above all others was a hundred times more reckless than any of her ancestors. At least her family had been reasonably honest, but Luc...

She refused to think about it. Methodically she withdrew her clothes from the wardrobe and packed her suitcase, and, picking it up, along with her top coat, she had one last look around the room. She smiled. The ring was lying where she had dropped it on the dressing table. Luc had told her to wear it, and sliding it back on her finger gave her confidence a boost.

Her confidence took a nosedive an hour later. A buffet breakfast was laid out in the huge formal dining-room. Parisa was standing by the table deciding what to eat, when Tina walked into the room.

'Parisa, you dark horse, why didn't you tell me on Friday that you and Luc were engaged? It's so romantic. Of course, I always suspected he fancied you like mad. He was so furious after that trick we played on him at school, swearing vengeance when usually he would laugh something like that off without a second thought. I'm so pleased for you both.'

She had hardly spoken to Tina last night. The opportunity had never arisen, and this morning she did not feel like listening to the other girl's exuberance over what was, after all, a fake engagement.

'Thank you,' she murmured.

Tina grinned. 'I promised to take some food to Gino; he's waiting in bed.' And with an audacious wink she filled a plate with food and left.

Parisa picked up a plate and placed a croissant on it, and was in the process of pouring out a cup of coffee when Anna, the glamorous brunette, walked in.

'I hear you. You know Luc a long time...' Anna spoke up in fractured English, moving to stand in front of Parisa. 'He give you the ring. He marry you, for his mother.' Her dark eyes, hard as ice, looked spitefully at Parisa. 'His mother. She is pleased. An English Lady.

Luc has given her—how you say?—the status she wanted.' Parisa turned pale at the other woman's vitriolic comment.

'Be happy now. Luc is not the faithful man. Soon you get the bracelet, like the rest of us...' The bitterness in her tone was frightening, and, holding out her arm, she asked, 'This he gave me. Nice, no...?'

Before Parisa had made sense of the words enough to form a response, Signora Di Maggi appeared and said something that made the other woman turn scarlet and leave the room.

Parisa spent the rest of the morning trying to understand Signora Di Maggi's chattering in a mixture of English and Italian, without much success. She heaved a sigh of relief when the car arrived to take her to the airport and she could finally say goodbye.

'So did you get them? What happened?' Moya demanded.

Parisa dropped her case to the floor.

'You could let me get inside the door before you start with the twenty questions,' she drawled, but the lines of worry etched in Moya's face brought home to her with savage clarity that it was Luc's behaviour that had done this to her friend. How could she love such a man? It went against everything she believed in, and yet in his arms she had forgotten ail her scruples in her desperate need for him.

'Your troubles are over, Moya, dear.' She stamped down her own wayward thoughts. 'The photos are burned; I threw them on the fire myself. Now, if you will make me a cup of coffee and then sit down I shall reveal all.'

Tags: Jacqueline Baird Billionaire Romance
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