And that day was drawing ever closer. It was over a week since Zac had brought them to Monaco and any day now he would receive the results of the paternity test. She predicted that his reaction would not be good and had already decided that she would take Aimee home immediately.
‘I thought she’d drop off quickly,’ Jean said cheerfully when Freya tiptoed from the nursery. ‘She loves playing outside, although she was very cross when I insisted that she wear her sunhat.’
‘You’re so good with her,’ Freya said with a smile. ‘I thought she was going to have a tantrum about the hat, but you managed to distract her.’
Jean chuckled. ‘I’ve had years of practice dealing with toddler tantrums, and really Aimee is so well behaved. She’s an adorable child.’ She paused and then added, ‘What a beautiful dress. You look lovely Freya.’
‘Thank you.’ Freya glanced down at the elegant cocktail dress that had been one of her favourites when she had lived with Zac. The green silk crêpe de Chine clung to her slender curves and the colour looked good against the light tan she had acquired while playing in the sunshine with Aimee.
Zac was hosting a dinner party tonight and had curtly informed her that, as his PA was still feeling unwell, he required her to act as his hostess. She was looking forward to the evening with as much enthusiasm as a trip to an abattoir. Relations between them had improved marginally since their last explosive confrontation, but only because she avoided him whenever possible.
It wasn’t difficult; he had always left for his office before she was up and he returned late—or not at all, she thought grimly. Common sense told her he was bound to have a mistress in Monaco. He possessed a high sex drive and, although he had respected her wishes and held back from making love to her after the evening they had spent with the Warrens, she had been in no doubt of his frustration.
But there were plenty of women who would willingly satisfy his needs and all week her imagination had kept her awake at night as she had pictured him with some nubile beauty. Jealousy was a corrosive emotion. She hated herself as she lay awake each night listening for his key in the lock and hated him more when dawn brought with it the bitter realisation that he had spent the night in another woman’s bed.
The results of the DNA test couldn’t come soon enough, she thought miserably. Living under the same roof as Zac was destroying her self-respect. She had no idea what he would do when he discovered that she hadn’t been unfaithful to him, and she no longer cared, she realised. Possibly he would offer to pay maintenance for Aimee, but it was unlikely that he would want any kind of contact with his daughter and with luck she would never have to see him again.
She found him in the lounge, staring out at the spectacular view over the bay. In a formal dinner suit he looked more gorgeous than ever. The expertly tailored jacket moulded the formidable width of his shoulders and when he swung round she noted the way his brilliant white shirt accentuated his olive-gold skin.
‘Freya.’ he studied her in silence for a few moments, his brows drawn into a slashing frown. ‘Mon Dieu! You have a nerve wearing that dress. Did you do so expressly to anger me? Because if so, you’ve succeeded.’
Startled by his barely leashed aggression, Freya shook her head. ‘You told me to wear the clothes I’d left behind when you…’ she bit down on her lip as bitter memories came hurtling back ‘…when you threw me out.’
‘True, but I didn’t expect you to parade around in the very dress you were wearing on the night you tried to seduce me into believing the child you were carrying was mine,’ he hissed contemptuously.
Had she really worn this dress on the worst night of her life? Freya’s brow knotted as she tried to remember, but all she could recall was Zac’s savage condemnation of her. At the beginning of that fateful evening she had dressed to please him, but after it had all gone so spectacularly wrong she had fled to her dressing room and hastily changed into her jeans before he had ignominiously evicted her from the penthouse.
‘I didn’t try to seduce you,’ she said, her temper flaring when she saw the acrid condemnation in his eyes.
‘Non?’ He gave a harsh laugh as he strolled towards her with a lithe grace that reminded her of a panther stalking its kill. ‘I remember the way you flew into my arms the moment I stepped through the door. We were supposed to be going out to dinner but you clung to me. I couldn’t resist you, chérie, and you knew it, but you overplayed your hand when you thought you could fool me into believing your lies.’
He was so close that she could feel the anger emanating from his body and when she tilted her head to look up at him, the stark emotion in his eyes made her tremble. Passion and fury—together they were a volatile mixture that filled her with trepidation and an undeniable excitement that had been building all week. She recognised his hunger; saw the way his eyes darkened with desire, and when his head descended she stood stock still, like a hare trapped in the headlights of a speeding car, waiting for the inevitable.
Voices from the hall shattered the haze of sexual tension and he jerked back from her, muttering a savage oath beneath his breath. ‘My guests are here and it’s too late for you to change now. But be aware, chérie, that every time I look at you tonight I’ll be imagining you with Brooks.’ His deliberate crudity made her wince, but when she attempted to move away from him he slid his arm around her waist and held her in a vice like grip. ‘Why aren’t you wearing the support bandage on your wrist?’ he demanded roughly.
‘I thought I’d manage without it for a couple of hours.’ The butler, Laurent, was heading down the hall followed by Zac’s guests and, despite feeling as though her heart had been put through a pulping machine, she forced a brittle smile. ‘At least the necessity to go and put it on again will give me a reason to excuse myself from your vile company.’
From that moment on the evening became a hellish ordeal that Freya longed to end. Fortunately no one attending the dinner had known her during the few months she had lived with Zac and awkward explanations were avoided. His guests were frighteningly sophisticated but friendly—although in some cases, too friendly, she thought darkly when she caught sight of him deep in conversation with an attractive brunette. Mimi Joubert had arrived alone, but from the easy familiarity she shared with Zac it seemed likely that she would not be returning home tonight.
Freya swallowed the bile that burned her throat and forced herself to smile at the man at her side. Lucien Giraud had also arrived at the dinner party unaccompanied, but Freya was sure that had been through choice rather than because he could not find a date. He was good-looking and charming and had flirted with her outrageously throughout dinner. Fearful of appearing rude, she had called on all her acting skills to respond warmly to him, but her laughter had disguised the misery that swamped her every time she felt Zac’s eyes on her. The blistering contempt in his gaze reminded her of his taunt that he was picturing her with Simon Brooks and she felt the crazy urge to jump onto the table and shout out her innocence. It would certainly be the talking point of the evening, she thought bitterly.
By midnight, she’d had enough. She was fast running out of patience with Lucien’s none-too-subtle attempts to place his hand on her thigh—the man had an ego the size of Mount Everest—and she glared at him when he leaned close and whispered in her ear.
‘So, Freya, what will it take to persuade you to have dinner with me?’ he murmured seductively, clearly convinced that the route from the dining room to his bedroom would be completed in minimum time.
‘More than you can imagine,’ Freya replied sharply, trying to edge along the sofa when she felt his gaze settle on her cleavage. ‘I’m afraid you’ll have to excuse me,’ she said as she slapped away
