HELEN BIANCHIN - Mistress Arrangements - Passion's Mistress / Desert Mistress / Mistress by Arrangement

Her heart stopped, then clamoured into a thudding beat at the memory his words evoked, and the nights when she’d behaved like a mindless wanton in his passionate embrace. With concentrated effort she managed to keep her gaze steady. ‘No, it doesn’t, damn you!’

Stefano remained silent, his eyes watchful as he witnessed the fleeting change of her emotions, then after a measurable silence he ventured silkily, ‘You expect me to remain celibate?’

Of its own volition, her hand lifted to her hair and eased a stray tendril behind on ear, the gesture unconscious and betraying her inner nervousness. ‘I’ll live in the same house,’ she declared quietly. ‘I’ll play at being your social hostess. For Ann-Marie’s sake, I’ll pretend everything between us is fine.’ Her eyes were wide, clear, and filled with resolution. ‘But I refuse to share your bed.’

The edge of his mouth lifted in a gesture of musing mockery. ‘I shall insist you share the same room.’

‘Why?’ Carly demanded baldly.

His eyes speared hers, their depths hard and inflexible. ‘Because I choose never to lose.’

‘Our marriage meant nothing to you!’

‘You think not?’ Stefano countered with unmatched cynicism. ‘I retain a clear memory of your…’ He paused imperceptibly, then added mockingly, ‘Contentment.’

‘You gave me beautiful things, put me in a beautiful home, took me out to beautiful parties where beautiful people mingled and made out they were friends.’ She felt incredibly sad. ‘Except nothing was beautiful. Not really. I was a new playmate, someone you could show off when the occasion demanded.’ Her eyes clouded, and her lashes fluttered down to form a protective veil. ‘I was too young, too naïve, and I didn’t know the rules.’

His expression hardened, and only a fool would choose to disregard the element of tensile steel beneath his sophisticated veneer, for apparent was a sense of purpose, a formidability that was infinitely daunting.

‘And now you do?’ he taunted silkily.

Her eyes were remarkably clear and steady, her resolve derived from an inner strength she would never allow him to destroy. ‘I care for my daughter more than life itself,’ she vowed quietly. ‘Her health and well-being take precedence over anything you can throw at me.’

His eyes reflected an indomitable strength of will, and, unless she was mistaken, a chilling degree of silent rage.

Self-preservation was a prime motivation, yet right at this instant she felt as vulnerable as a cornered vixen. ‘I insist on continuing with my career—even if it’s only on a part-time basis.’

He didn’t display any emotion whatsoever, and she shivered, aware of the force she was dealing with.

‘You’ll take an extended leave of absence, effective almost immediately, until Ann-Marie has recovered fully from surgery and is able to return to school.’

An angry flush crept over her cheeks as she fought to remain calm beneath his deliberate appraisal. ‘It never entered my head to do otherwise,’ she retaliated, determined to press home every point in her intention to set a personal precedent. ‘However, I studied very hard to achieve my present position, and I have no intention of giving it up.’

‘I’m sure Clive Mathorpe will be amenable to your working a reduced number of hours consistent with the time Ann-Marie spends at school.’

Cool, damning words, but carrying a weight she found impossible to ignore. She felt drained, emotionally and physically, and she needed to be alone.

‘Will you please leave?’

‘When do you collect Ann-Marie from the party?’

Carly’s eyes flew to her watch, confirming with immeasurable relief that it was only minutes past three.

‘Soon,’ she acknowledged. ‘I told Susy’s mother I’d join her and the other mothers for afternoon tea.’

‘In that case, I’ll drive you there.’

A surge of anger rose to the surface, colouring her cheeks and sharpening her features. ‘Damn you,’ she cursed fiercely. ‘I won’t introduce you to Ann-Marie in one breath and reveal you’re her father in the next!’

‘Putting off the inevitable won’t achieve anything,’ Stefano stated in a voice that was infinitely dangerous. ‘Invite me to dinner tonight.’

She closed her eyes, then slowly opened them again. ‘Can’t it wait a few days?’

‘I’ve spoken to the specialist and arranged an appointment with the neurosurgeon for Tuesday. It’s highly possible she’ll undergo surgery within a week.’ His gaze seemed incredibly dark as his features assumed a harsh, implacable mask. ‘It’s imperative that you’re both established in my home as soon as possible. Emotional stability is crucial to her recuperation.’

‘When she’s fully recovered is soon enough,’ Carly cried, hating the way he was taking charge.

‘Tomorrow,’ he informed her with diabolical insistence.

‘No,’ she denied at once. ‘It will only cause her anxiety and add to the trauma of hospitalisation and surgery.’

‘Use whatever guise you choose,’ he insisted softly. ‘But do it, Carly. Ann-Marie will soon accept I have a rightful place in her life—as she has in mine.’

A holiday, a brief stay, was the only tenable explanation, she decided, aware that Ann-Marie would probably view the proposal as something of an adventure.

‘I’ll be back at five,’ he declared hardly. ‘And I’ll bring dinner. All you’ll have to do is serve it.’ His gaze seared her soul. ‘Don’t even think about running away, Carly,’ he warned softly. ‘This time, I’ll search until I find you, and afterwards you’ll wish you were dead.’

She stood transfixed as he turned and walked to the door, then quietly left the apartment.

It took ten minutes for her to regain some measure of composure, a further five before she took the lift down to the underground car park.

To sit with several other young mothers sipping tea and sharing party fare proved an anticlimax, and Carly felt as if she was operating on automatic pilot while her brain whirled off on a tangent.

She smiled a lot, and she even managed to laugh with apparent spontaneity at an amusingly told anecdote. Inside, she was a mess, conscious with every passing minute, each glance at Ann-Marie, of the impact Stefano would have on their lives. Especially her own.

The most pressing problem was finding the right words that would prevent Ann-Marie from forming any prejudice, one way or the other, about her mother’s actions. Children were incredibly curious, and Ann-Marie was no exception.

For the following half-hour Carly watched Susy unwrap her presents, unable afterwards to remember more than a few, then, when the birthday cake was cut, she helped distribute the pieces.

Soon it was time to leave, and in the car she tussled with her conscience, agonising over how she should explain Stefano and their reconciliation, aware that the little girl was too excited after the party to really absorb much of what her mother had to say.

While driving a car in traffic was hardly the time or place, and as soon as they entered the apartment she plugged in the kettle, made herself a cup of strong tea, then settled down beside Ann-Marie on the sofa.

‘Someone very special is going to have dinner with us tonight,’ Carly began quietly, aware that she had her daughter’s undivided attention by the bright curiosity evident in a pair of grey eyes that were identical to Stefano’s.

‘Sarah?’

‘No, darling.’ She hesitated slightly, then offered quietly, ‘Your father.’

Ann-Marie’s eyes widened measurably and her expression assumed a solemnity beyond her tender years. ‘You said my father lived a long, long way away, and you left him before he knew about me.’ The eyes grew even larger. ‘Why didn’t you want to tell him?’