dance attendance on a father whose every whim was her command. But of course she didn’t—he wouldn’t have been interested and anyway, if word got back to her father that she had said anything, the consequences would have been dire.
So somehow she just forced herself to shrug. ‘Let’s see. I’m the rich, spoilt daughter of a millionaire—what else could I be doing this afternoon?’ She slanted him a sardonic look. ‘Apart from lying in the sun, shopping and visiting the beauty salon, you mean?’
He smiled, unapologetic. ‘Must be a tough life.’
‘It is. But someone has to do it.’ Although she tried to sound flippant, something of her annoyance or distress must have shown in her eyes, because suddenly his tone softened.
‘Shall we start again?’ he asked, and held out his hand. ‘I’m Damon Cyrenci, and I’m in town to negotiate the sale of a chain of restaurants owned by my father.’
She looked at the hand he held out, and she hesitated a moment before taking it. What exactly was her father up to? she had wondered. What harm would following his orders do?
Then her eyes met with Damon Cyrenci’s and she told herself that, no matter what her father was up to, this man was more than capable of looking out for himself.
‘Abigail Newland.’ The net was cast as she placed her hand in his. She liked the touch of his skin against hers, liked the feeling in the pit of her stomach when he smiled.
She remembered having dinner with him that night. She remembered him kissing her, a searing, intensely passionate kiss that had made her long for so much more.
She had dated him for five short weeks, but with each meeting her feelings for him had intensified. Her hands curled into tight fists just thinking about the way he’d made her feel. But because of the situation she had always forced herself to pull back.
Damon hadn’t been used to a woman pulling away from him, and somehow it had made him all the more determined to pursue her.
Yes, the net had been cast—but she had been the one caught in its fine weave, because somewhere along the way in those few short weeks she had fallen in love with Damon Cyrenci.
The phone rang again, interrupting Abbie’s thoughts, and she listened as once more the answer machine cut in.
‘Abbie, please pick up the phone.’
Abbie just sat numbly, listening. She hadn’t spoken to her father since her mother’s death just over two years ago. And, no matter what was at stake, she still couldn’t speak to him now.
‘This is about revenge, Abigail—and you are next on Cyrenci’s list. He knows what you did—knows you were perfectly complicit in his father’s destruction.’ Her father’s voice was abrasive. ‘But luckily I’m still thinking for both of us. I told him about Mario. He was shocked and angry, I could see it in his face. But the child gives us a bargaining chip—it means he doesn’t hold all of the aces.’
Abbie felt sick inside. She hated her father—hated the sordid, horrible way he even thought.
The line went dead again. Abbie didn’t know how long she just sat there after that. Her father stopped phoning, but the silence of the house seemed to swirl around her with his words.
Then she heard the distant sound of a car engine.
He’s on his way out there now to look over his property…
Certainly, whoever was in that car was heading for this house—there was nowhere else out here.
CHAPTER TWO
THE shrill ring of the doorbell cut through her. And for a few moments she was immobilised.
Was Damon really outside her door? There had been moments when she had dreamed of this, dreamed that he’d come to her when he found out about his child, and that he would forgive her.
But they were just dreams. She was sensible enough to realise that the reality was encapsulated in her father’s phone messages.
Damon wasn’t going to forgive her—she’d known that at their last meeting, when he had angrily confronted her about what she had done, and she had tried desperately to explain her actions. He hadn’t wanted to listen; all he’d been able to think about was the fact that she had assisted in his father’s downfall. Even when she had falteringly tried to tell him that she was as much a victim as his father he had cut across her contemptuously.
‘You must consider me really naïve if you think I’m going to fall for any more of your lies. I know what you are. I have evidence to support exactly what a lying, conniving, deceitful—’
‘Damon, please!’ She had broken across him tremulously. ‘Please believe me, I never wanted any of this to happen. The time I spent with you was special to me, and I—’
‘Give the acting a rest, Abbie.’ The scorn in his voice had cut through her like a sword. ‘At least the one good thing about this whole sorry mess is the fact that, as far as I was concerned, our time together was all about sex—I felt nothing for you, other than the pleasure of taking your body. Nothing at all.’
There had been a harsh coldness in his words and in his eyes that she had never seen before. It was as if a mask had been ripped away at that moment and she had seen the true Damon for the first time. It had shocked her to the core, and it had hurt. God help her, it still hurt!
But it also made her very sure that if it was Damon outside he wasn’t here for any sentimental reasons, and he certainly wouldn’t be interested in the fact that she’d had his child.
The shrill ring of the doorbell sliced through the night again, and Abbie tried to focus on what she should do. There were a few heartbeats of silence whilst whoever it was gave her a moment to come to the door. When she didn’t, he put his finger on the bell again and held it there.
It had to be Damon! If there was one thing she should have remembered about him, it was his determination to get what he wanted.
He was going to wake Mario up! Her son was a deep sleeper, but he had his limits.
Suddenly anger surged to Abbie’s rescue. She wasn’t going to hide up here, feeling guilty about the past, because the truth was that it hadn’t been her fault. She had been forced to do what she did. And nobody had a right to roll up here and make such a racket at this time of night.
Drawing her dressing gown closely around her slender figure, she marched downstairs, and, taking a deep breath, she threw open the door.
Damon Cyrenci was standing on her porch, leaning against the door jamb with his finger on the bell. Even though she had been expecting to see him it was still a shock.
He stepped back as the door opened, and silence reigned.
For a second his eyes swept over her with audacious scrutiny, taking in everything about her from her bare feet to the wild tumble of blonde curls around her shoulders.
And the strange thing was that for a moment Abbie was transported back to their first meeting, when he had looked at her in exactly the same way. She felt a tug of sexual attraction rising from somewhere very
