Lee Wilkinson - That Devil Love

Like flicking a lighted match into a keg of gunpowder, that innocent question seemed to explode inside her head. She wanted to strike at him, to claw her nails down his handsome face, to watch him bleed.

Badly shaken by that flare of raw, primitive passion, the violence of her feelings, hands clenched into fists, she shook her head mutely.

Glancing at the frozen blankness of her face, Zan knew he’d hit a nerve. Though he didn’t know how or why. There was so much about this woman that he didn’t know. But he intended to.

When they reached Fairfield Court, Zan accompanied her to the door and waited while she unlocked it, but to her very great relief he made no move to follow her inside.

As she said a coldly formal, ‘Thank you,’ he stooped and touched his lips to hers in another of those light but proprietorial kisses that left her feeling as if she’d been caught in some terrifying whirlpool.

‘Au revoir, Annis.’

A hand to her mouth, she watched him slide behind the wheel and drive away. She was still standing like a statue in the doorway when his car disappeared from sight.

Once inside she made herself a strong cup of tea, took a couple of aspirins and reviewed the catastrophic events of the day.

He’d managed so easily, so effortlessly to trick her into accepting the assignment at Blair’s. But, hating him as she did, and frightened by the way each meeting added more fuel to her desire for revenge, she knew she couldn’t go on working for him.

Anne and Sheila were both first-class secretaries, and on Monday, no matter what kind of upheaval it involved, she would send one of them in her place, and let him do his worst!

If he tried to ring her she would put the phone down, and if he came to her door she would refuse to open it. So long as she was careful, she would never have to see him again.

A hot bath alleviated some of her aches and pains and made her feel a great deal better. But, showing she was still very much on edge, she jumped when the phone shrilled.

‘Annis?’ Stephen’s voice held a mixture of triumph and excitement. ‘I’ve got tickets for Malibu, for this evening. I know it’s short notice but you will come, won’t you?’

‘Well, I don’t really…’

‘I thought you’d be pleased.’ He was instantly deflated.

‘Any other time I would have been, only I don’t feel much like going out tonight. In any case, I promised to be on hand this weekend to take care of the twins if Linda has to go into hospital, and I—’

‘Before we left work I had a word with Richard,’ Stephen broke in with plaintive eagerness, ‘and he told me it might be several days yet before anything happens. Please change your mind…I’m sure it’ll buck you up no end.’

Reminding herself yet again of just how much she owed Stephen, Annis forced herself to say brightly, ‘You’re probably right. Very well, I’ll come.’

‘Wonderful!’ Once again he was bubbling over. ‘I’ll pick you up in about an hour.’

When Stephen knocked she was ready, resolved for his sake to at least appear to be enjoying herself.

‘You look marvellous,’ he told her, eyeing the simple, but elegant dress whose colour perfectly matched her eyes.

‘Thank you.’ She smiled at him, then asked, ‘How on earth did you manage to get tickets for Malibu? I thought they’d been sold out for months.’

‘You’ll see,’ he said mysteriously. Adding, ‘I’ve a taxi outside, so we’d better get off. We haven’t a lot of time.’

Why a taxi? she wondered. But perhaps he was intending to have a drink? Make the evening a festive one? Full of childlike pleasure and importance, he was clearly labouring under great excitement.

Only when they reached the theatre, and it was too late, did she realise why.

In the foyer, two people were waiting for them. A well-dressed woman with black curly hair and a superb figure, and the man Annis had promised herself she would never need to see again.

Coming face to face with him so unexpectedly gave her the same sensation as dropping in a high-speed lift, making her stomach clench and her heart begin to race with anger and alarm.

‘Good evening, Miss Warrener… Leighton,’ Zan said pleasantly.

‘Sorry we’re a bit late…’ Stephen began.

Zan waved away his apology. ‘I’d like to introduce Mrs Gilvary, my—’

‘Don’t be so formal, Zan,’ the woman cut in with a teasing glance. Her smile friendly, she held out her hand first to Annis then to Stephen. ‘I’m Helen, Zan’s sister… How nice to meet you.’

As they were shaking hands the call bell went. Unable to think of any way out of the situation without hurting Stephen, Annis allowed herself to be ushered into the auditorium.

With smooth panache Zan placed her between the younger man and himself, remarking as he did so, ‘I’m glad you were able to join us, especially as it’s such short notice.’ Sotto voce, he added sardonically, ‘But then you told me you always try to please Leighton.’

Annis gave him an inimical glance. ‘In this instance it was Stephen trying to please me.’

Catching the last few words, Stephen said eagerly, ‘I knew you wanted to see Malibu, and when Mr Power said he had two spare tickets and suggested we join him…’

‘You just knew I’d be delighted,’ Annis murmured, the words holding an irony she was well aware the man on her far side had picked up.

Turning her head, she met those thickly lashed, heavy-lidded eyes with a cool challenge which almost faltered at the answering gleam which leapt into their green-gold depths.

In what she could now see was going to be a war of attrition, she would need every ounce of her fighting spirit, she thought, shakily. And was more than thankful when any further exchange was precluded by the lights going down and the orchestra breaking into a lively overture.

Living up to its notices, the musical proved to be bright and fast-moving. But though her eyes were fixed on the stage Annis took scarcely any of it in, all her attention, her awareness focused on the dark, powerful man beside her.

During the interval they had a drink in the bar and discussed the show. If Annis found little to say, no one appeared to notice.

Alternately hot and shivering, her limbs aching, her throat sore, she couldn’t wait for the evening to end.

As soon as the final curtain went down to enthusiastic applause, with unobtrusive efficiency Zan shepherded them out ahead of the crush.

Demonstrating the effect of power and money, his car had been brought round and was standing by the kerb, a light drifting of snow beginning to settle on its shining bonnet.

When Stephen mumbled something about getting a taxi, Zan shook his head. ‘You might have problems on a night like this. I’ll drop you both.’

His tone brooked no argument, and Annis felt sure that had been his intention all along.

Only when she’d been handed into the front passenger seat did she fully appreciate the smoothness of the operation.

‘Zan’s marvellous when it comes to organising things,’ Helen remarked, echoing her thoughts.

‘That’s how you get to the top.’ Stephen’s approving comment precluded the tart rejoinder Annis had been about to make.

‘And stay at the top,’ Helen added for good measure, making them sound as if they were forming the Zan Power Admiration Society.

As the two at the rear struck up a conversation, Annis, sitting silent and aloof beside the man who had always been her bête noire, puzzled over the situation. Dazzled by Zan and all he stood for, Stephen seemed to find nothing amiss in the way they’d been paired off, but it struck her as strange that Helen Gilvary, who was laughing now, showed no resentment at being relegated to the back seat.