Her eyes were two hot pools of blame and he ground his teeth. Fight me, he urged silently. If that’s really what you think of me, stand up and scratch my eyes out. Don’t just sit there. And don’t walk out like you did the first time.
But she didn’t move. She sat in frozen silence, her eyes telling him that nothing had changed.
The actress made an outraged noise. ‘So you do know her! Surprising. She doesn’t look your type,’ she said spitefully. ‘She needs to fire her stylist. That natural look is so yesterday. This season is all about grooming.’ She snatched her dress from the floor and held it against her. ‘How did she get in here, anyway? Your security is really tight. I suppose no one noticed her.’
Nothing killed sexual arousal faster than female bitchiness, Leandro thought idly, regretting the impulse that had driven him to invite the actress home. The woman’s tongue was as sharp as the bones poking out through her almost transparent flesh.
‘Well? Are you going to throw her out?’ The actress’s voice turned from sultry to shrill and Leandro studied the girl sitting on his bed, noting the flush on her cheeks and the accusation in her eyes.
He met that gaze full on, with accusation of his own.
Silent communication raged between them and the atmosphere was so thick with tension that both of them forgot about the third person in the room until she stamped her foot.
‘Leandro?’
‘No,’ he said harshly. ‘I’m not going to throw her out.’ The timing wasn’t what he would have chosen but now she was here, he had no intention of letting her go. Not until they’d had the conversation she’d walked away from a year earlier.
The actress gave a gasp of disbelief. ‘You’re choosing that plain, bedraggled, badly dressed nobody over me?’
Leandro sent his date a cold, assessing glance that would have triggered shivers of trepidation through any one of the people who worked for him or knew him well. ‘Yes. At least that way I’m guaranteed a soft landing when we tumble onto that mattress. No bones. No claws.’
The actress gasped. ‘I won’t be treated like this!’ Delivering a performance worthy of an Oscar, she wriggled back into her dress and tossed her head in anger. ‘You told me you weren’t involved with anyone and I believed you! I’m obviously more of a fool than I look.’
Deciding that it was wisest not to respond to that particular statement, Leandro stayed silent, his gaze returned to the girl sitting on his bed. In that single, hotly charged moment he felt the blaze of raw sexual chemistry erupt between them. It was elemental, basic and primitive—the connection so powerful that it was beyond control or understanding. Recognising that fact, she gave a murmur of denial, her expression one of sick contempt as she dragged her gaze from his.
Vibrating with desperation, the actress sent a look of longing towards Leandro’s bare, bronzed torso. ‘I know you didn’t expect to see her here. I know women throw themselves at you. Just get rid of her and we can start again. I forgive you.’
Propelled by a need to ensure that forgiveness would never be forthcoming, Leandro urged her towards the door. ‘You need to learn to play nicely with the other girls. I don’t mind knives in my boardroom but I do find them shockingly uncomfortable in my bedroom.’
Her face scarlet, the actress snatched her phone out of her tiny jewelled handbag. ‘All the rumours about you are true, Leandro Demetrios. You are cold and heartless and just missed your chance to have the one thing every man in the world wants.’
‘And that would be?’ Leandro raised an eyebrow, deliberately provocative. ‘Peace and quiet?’
The actress simmered like milk coming to the boil. ‘Me! And next time you’re in LA, don’t bother calling. And you.’ She glared at the girl on the bed. ‘If you think he’ll ever be faithful to you, you’re crazy.’ Checking that the diamond earrings were still in place, she stormed from the room and several moments later Leandro heard a distant thud as the front door slammed closed.
Silence closed in on them.
‘If you’re going to cry, you can leave now,’ Leandro drawled softly. ‘If you choose to wait in my bedroom, you deserve to get hurt.’
‘I’m not going to cry over you. And I’m not hurt,’ she said stiffly. ‘I’m past being hurt.’
Then she’d done better than him, Leandro reflected grimly. ‘Why are you here?’
‘You know why I’m here. I—I’ve come to take the baby.’
Of course, the baby. He’d been a fool to think anything else, and yet for a moment…
Leandro curled one hand into a fist, surprised to discover that his thick protective layer of cynicism could still be breached.
‘I was asking what you’re doing in my bedroom at midnight.’ Strolling across to the bedroom door, he pushed it shut. He trusted his staff, but he was also sharp enough to know that this story was the juiciest morsel the media had savoured for a long time. They were slavering outside his house, waiting for something to feast on.
And everyone had their price.
He’d learned that unpalatable truth in the harshest way possible, and at an age when most children were still playing with toys.
‘I’m intrigued as to how you got past my security.’
‘I’m still your wife, Leandro. Even if you’ve forgotten that fact.’
‘I haven’t forgotten.’ Keeping his gaze neutral, he looked at her. ‘You really pick your moments. Thanks to you, my night of hot sex just walked through that door.’
Her slender shoulders stiffened, her back rigid. ‘I’m sure you’ll find a replacement fast enough. You always do.’ Her chest rose and fell as she breathed rapidly and then her eyes flew to his, bright with accusation and pain. ‘You are a complete and utter bastard, she’s right about that.’
‘I’ve never heard you use bad language before. It doesn’t suit you.’ Leandro strolled across the bedroom and lifted a bottle of whisky from a small table. Funny, he thought, that his hand was so steady. ‘And I don’t understand why you’re angry. You walked out on our marriage, not me. I was in it for the long haul.’
‘Only you could make it sound like an endurance test. It’s nice to know you had such a positive view of our relationship. No wonder it didn’t last five minutes. You’re even more unfeeling than I thought you were—’ She broke off, as if she was trying to control herself. ‘You’re horribly, horribly insensitive.’
‘I’m living my life. What’s insensitive about that?’ Leandro’s hand remained steady as he poured. ‘There was a vacancy in my bed and I filled it. In the circumstances, you can hardly blame me for that. Drink?’
‘No, thank you.’
‘Such perfect English manners.’ Leandro gave a humourless laugh as he lifted the glass. ‘Don’t tell me—alcohol is fattening and you’re watching your weight.’
‘No.
