have contacts, connections,’ he relayed with a glib smile. ‘Schmoozing is the name of the game, and I excel at working a room.’
‘Alone?’
‘Young, budding artists aren’t Chloe’s thing. Have you thought about my offer?’
‘I don’t need to think. The answer, as always, is the same.’
‘Katrina,’ Enrique chastised, shaking his head. ‘I’m willing to trade information to your advantage.’
‘No.’
‘No?’ He waited a beat. ‘Aren’t you in the least curious to hear some interesting facts about Georgia’s love-child? Facts Nicos can substantiate?’
A cold hand clenched round her heart. ‘That’s old news.’
‘It made good copy at the time.’
‘Is there anything you won’t do for money?’ she demanded fiercely.
‘I have an expensive habit, darling, which needs constant feeding.’ His smile reminded her of a shark baring its teeth. ‘It matters little whether the newspaper pays me, or you do.’
‘Go to hell.’
‘I take it that’s a no?’
‘A very definite and permanent refusal to your demands, now or at any time in the future,’ Nicos said in a dangerously quiet voice. ‘Take heed, Enrique. If you contact Katrina again, I’ll have a restraining order served on you before you can blink.’
‘You can’t threaten me!’
Belligerence tempered with false bravado didn’t augur well with a man of Nicos’s calibre. ‘I’ve stated facts.’ His voice was hard, almost deadly with intent. ‘It’s your choice whether you comply or not.’
Enrique cast Katrina a look that was filled with animosity. ‘You owe me. Kevin owes me.’
‘Harassment is a punishable offence,’ Nicos reminded him with chilling softness.
Enrique swore. ‘I hope you both rot in hell.’ He turned and began threading his way through the milling guests.
‘Charming.’
Nicos inclined his head. ‘Indeed.’
‘I think I’ll go check out some of the exhibits.’
He fell into step beside her, and they hadn’t moved far when a guest signalled his attention. Katrina offered a polite greeting, then left the two men to talk.
‘Something to drink, ma’am?’
Katrina smiled at the hovering waiter, and selected a flute of champagne from a proffered tray, then she browsed among the exhibits, returning to the painting she’d admired. It held a discreet sold sticker, and she felt a stab of disappointment, mentally cursing herself for not seeking out the gallery owner and negotiating a price.
‘I think,’ Nicos drawled as he rejoined her, ‘we’ve provided sufficient patronage. Shall we leave?’
There were a few acquaintances present among the guests, and it took long minutes to observe the social niceties before they were able to escape the gallery.
‘Hungry?’
She cast him a solemn glance as he eased the car out of its parking bay. ‘Are you offering me food?’
‘Did you manage lunch?’
She hadn’t managed breakfast either, and had subsisted on fruit, a sandwich her secretary had sent out for, and coffee, tea and juice throughout the day.
Somehow finger food comprising canapés, miniature vol-au-vents and crackers with cheese proffered at the gallery were no substitute for a meal.
‘Not as such,’ she admitted, observing the short distance the car travelled before sliding to the kerb adjacent to a trendy pavement café in Double Bay.
The menu was a mix of exotic-sounding dishes, and she chose a prawn risotto with bruschetta, followed by black coffee. Nicos ordered the same, and they sipped iced mineral water as they waited for the food to arrive.
Katrina was supremely conscious of him, aware the fine clothes were merely the sophisticated trappings of a man whose heart moved to a primitive beat. It was evident in the way he held himself, his eyes reflecting an innate strength, a power that combined a dramatic mesh of elemental ruthlessness with indomitable will. Add latent sensuality, and it became something lethal, mesmeric.
Rarely had she seen him exert due force, or resort to anger. Except for last night. It had been like unleashing a tiger, and she shivered slightly at the memory.
‘Cold?’
She’d worn elegant evening trousers, with a matching camisole and jacket, and the night was mild. ‘No.’
A waiter presented their food, and they ate with leisurely ease, then lingered over coffee.
It was after eleven when Nicos garaged the car and they made their way indoors. The events of the past few days were beginning to have their effect, and all she wanted to do was remove her clothes and crawl into bed.
‘Let me do that.’
Katrina shot him a startled glance as his fingers took care of the buttons on her jacket. The camisole came next, followed by the trousers, which he slid gently down over her hips, and she stepped out of them, then toed off her stiletto-heeled pumps.
She murmured in protest when his hands reached for her bra clip, and she stilled as he began easing free her bikini briefs.
‘Nicos—’
He stilled anything further she might have said by placing a finger over her mouth, and she stood helplessly as he divested his own clothes.
In one fluid movement he placed an arm beneath her knees and carried her into bed with him.
‘Now, where were we?’
His fingertips drifted to her waist, explored one hip, then trailed to settle at the apex between her thighs.
A sound that was part groan, half sigh, whispered from her lips, and her mouth parted beneath his own as he took her down a path towards sensual ecstasy.
Last night had been in anger, and there was a need to make amends for the intensity of his emotions, the loss of control.
Tonight was for her, and he took it slowly, employing such incredible gentleness she was on the verge of tears when he slid into her.
Afterwards, he held her close, his lips buried in her hair as she drifted to sleep.
NICOS
