gathered speed and rose like a silver bird into the sky.
The light was fading as dusk approached, and there was an opalescent glow as the sun slipped beneath the horizon in a brilliant flare of orange tinged with pink.
Darkness descended quickly, and all too soon there was nothing to see except an inky blackness and the occasional pinprick of lights as the jet followed the coastline south.
Ana made no attempt at conversation and simply leaned back against the headrest and closed her eyes, successfully shutting out the sight of the man seated at her side.
It didn’t, however, shut out her chaotic thoughts.
A return to Sydney meant the re-emergence of the lifestyle she’d sought to briefly escape. There was her father, Rebekah, the florist shop.
Worst of all, there was Celine Moore. Her nemesis and her enemy.
Absenting herself for more than a week hadn’t solved a thing. The problems remained. A hollow laugh rose and died in her throat. All that had been achieved was a metaphorical stay of execution.
Who would win? The wife or the mistress?
CHAPTER THREE
‘GOOD evening, Ms Dimitriades.’
Ana returned the greeting and offered Petros a faint smile as she slid into the rear passenger seat, aware that Luc crossed behind the vehicle and slipped in beside her.
Within minutes Petros eased the car forward, cleared the private sector and joined the flow of traffic vacating the airport.
At this time of night they’d make good time to Vaucluse, and she sank back against the soft leather upholstery, intent on viewing the passing surroundings.
Bright lights, coloured flashing neon…the muted noise of a big, cosmopolitan city.
To her it was home, where she’d been born and raised, with an endearing sense of the familiar.
A blustery shower sprang up, splattering the windscreen with fine rain-spray and diminishing visibility.
It seemed to close in, heightening the close confines of the car and her proximity to the man seated at her side.
Silence stretched between them like a yawning chasm, and she thought of a safe topic of conversation, only to discard it. Why pretend? 34
Vaucluse was a prestigious suburb with magnificent views over the inner harbour, and Ana’s nerves tensed as the car turned in between the electronically controlled gates leading to Luc’s architecturally designed home.
Stretching over two blocks of land, the elegant double-storeyed mansion possessed imposing lines, archways, and high-domed windows. It was set in well-kept grounds, the sculptured gardens maintained by Petros, who resided in rooms above the garages, and whose duties covered numerous chores supplemented by twice-weekly household help.
The car drew to a halt beneath the wide portico, and Ana emerged before Petros could move round to open the door, thereby incurring his faintly pained expression.
She stood as Luc disabled the security system and unlocked the panelled double doors. He swung them wide and she entered at his side.
Marble floor tiles in varying shades of cream bordered by dark forest-green covered the spacious foyer, and there were expensive works of art gracing the walls. Formal lounge and dining-room were positioned to the right, informal rooms and a spacious study lay to the left. The focal point was a wide, sweeping marble staircase leading to the upper floor which held no fewer than four bedrooms, each with ensuite, the master suite, and a private sitting-room.
‘I’ll serve refreshments,’ Petros indicated as he moved into the foyer after securing the doors.
‘Not for me.’ Ana softened her refusal with a slight smile, and made for the stairs. She felt disinclined to extend the fac¸ade any longer than necessary.
Luc followed in her footsteps, and she turned to face him as they reached the landing.
‘I’d prefer to have a room of my own.’
His expression didn’t change. ‘No.’
Resentment flared. ‘What do you mean…no?’
‘I would have thought my answer held sufficient clarity.’
‘I don’t want to sleep with you.’
‘Perhaps not…tonight,’ he amended silkily, and caught the flicker of pain in those deep blue eyes before it was successfully hidden.
‘Not any night!’
‘Brave words, Ana.’
He moved ahead of her with indolent ease, her bag in hand, and she watched in silence as he entered the master suite only to emerge seconds later empty-handed.
She wanted to rail against him, hating the power he possessed and her inability to retaliate in kind. She was caught in a web, tied to him by the child she’d conceived, and held there by family loyalty.
‘Go to hell, Luc,’ she evinced bitterly as he drew level.
He paused, and caught hold of her chin, tilting it so she had little option but to meet his steady gaze. ‘Careful, pedhaki mou. I might be tempted to take you there.’
Her eyes widened at the silkily voiced threat, and her lips shook slightly as his hand slid to cup her cheek. ‘I don’t scare easily.’
The edge of his mouth quirked. ‘One of your admirable qualities.’ He released her and moved towards the head of the stairs.
He would, she knew, check with Petros for any messages, make the required calls, scan his electronic mail, and deal with the urgent stuff…all of which could take half an hour, or more.
It gave her time…to do what? Settle in? The thought was laughable.
Ana entered the master bedroom and came to a halt a few steps into the large room. Nothing had changed…had she really expected it to?
The king-size bed with its dark, richly patterned duvet and numerous pillows was a focal point. Furniture comprised matching sets of multi-layered chest of drawers in varying heights, and there were dual ensuites, dual walk-in wardrobes. A deep-cushioned sofa and a chaise longue completed a room that was designed for comfort and pleasure.
Sensual pleasure.
A feathery sensation scudded the length of her spine, and she cursed beneath her breath as memories of what she’d shared with Luc in this room rose damnably to the surface.
Vivid, sexually electrifying, and shameless.
Dear heaven. How could she slip beneath those covers and pretend everything was the same?
It didn’t bear thinking about. Yet she had to face the situation.
But not tonight, she determined as she crossed to the upholstered stool at the foot of the bed, caught up her bag and retreated
