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She could feel her face, her whole body, flaming. At twenty-nine, she was probably more naive than the average fifteen-year-old and Zane’s reputation with women was legendary. She had been so wrapped up in what she was experiencing she had failed to consider what Zane had to be thinking—that she was hopelessly gauche and naive.
Depression settled around her like a shroud. Way to go, Lilah Cole. Living up to the family crest. Abandon all thought of responsibility until it’s too late. “If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to bed now.”
He folded his arms over his chest, his gaze cool. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
Not if she could help it.
Lilah closed her bedroom door behind her, relieved that she was finally alone. She checked the bedside clock and an unnerving sense of disorientation set in. It wasn’t yet one o’clock. Barely thirty minutes had passed since Zane had walked through the door. Thirty minutes in which her life had drastically altered.
She used her en suite bathroom to freshen up, this time hardly noticing the gorgeous fixtures. Instead of climbing into the elegant four-poster, she changed into jeans, a cotton sweater and sneakers, her fingers fumbling in their haste to get into casual, everyday clothes and restore some semblance of normality.
When she was dressed, she rewound her hair, which had ended up in an untidy mass, into a coil, stabbed pins through to lock the silky strands in place and systematically packed. Twenty minutes after entering her room, she was ready to leave.
Forcing herself to calm down, she sat on the edge of the bed and listened. She had heard Zane’s shower earlier, but now the suite was plunged into silence.
Taking a deep breath, she walked to her door and opened it a crack. The sitting room was in darkness. There didn’t appear to be any light filtering under the door of Zane’s bedroom or flowing out on to the terrace, signaling that he was still awake.
Lifting her bag, she tiptoed to the door and let herself out into the hall. She was almost at the elevator when Spiros loomed out of an alcove and stopped her.
His fractured English almost defeated her. When he picked up his cell and she realized he was going to call Zane, she summoned up a breezy smile, as if the fact that she was sneaking out in the middle of the night was all part of the plan. “Nessuno.” She jabbed at the call button and carefully enunciated each word as she spoke. “No need to call Zane, he’s sleeping.”
He frowned then nodded, clearly not happy.
Forty minutes later, Lilah paid off the taxi that had delivered her back to her apartment and walked inside.
She checked the messages on her phone. They were all from tabloids and women’s magazines wanting interviews. She had expected that Spiros, who had been uneasy about the fact that she had left at such an odd hour, would have caved and woken Zane up. Clearly, that hadn’t happened, because there was no message from Zane.
Feeling oddly let down that she hadn’t heard from Zane, she deleted them all.
Pulling the drapes tight, just in case someone was lurking outside with a camera, she changed into a spare chemise in pitch darkness and fell into bed.
She slept fitfully, waking at dawn, half expecting the phone to ring, or for Zane to be thumping on her door.
She got up and made a cup of tea, collapsed on the couch and watched movies. By ten o’clock, when Zane hadn’t either called or come by, exhausted from waiting, she dropped back into bed and slept until two in the afternoon.
When she got up, her stomach growling with hunger, she checked her phone. There were a string of new messages but, again, they were all from reporters.
Stabbing the delete button, she erased them all and finally decided to put herself out of her misery by taking the phone off the hook. On impulse, she checked her cell phone, but it wasn’t in her bag. She must have left it in Zane’s suite.
To keep the cold misery at bay that Zane didn’t appear to have any interest in contacting her, she opened a can of soup and made toast. Evan knocked on her door, wanting to return her spare key and check that she was okay. At four o’clock a second visitor knocked.
A courier. He handed her a package and requested she sign for it.
She scribbled her name, closed the door then ripped the package open. Her stomach dropped like a stone as her fingers closed around her cell phone.
From the second she had left Zane’s suite, she realized, she had been waiting for him to come after her, to insist that he wanted her back. That what they had shared had been as special for him as it had been for her.
That clearly wasn’t the case.
Zane hadn’t even bothered to include a note with the phone. All he had done was return her property in such a way that made it clear he no longer wanted contact.
Feeling numb, she put the phone on charge. Almost immediately, it beeped. Crazy hope gripped her as she opened the message.
It was Lucas, not Zane. He wanted her to call him.
Using the cell, she put the call through. Lucas picked up immediately. The conversation was brief. Thanks to her boosted media profile, she had just won a prestigious design award in Milan, which would give Ambrosi an edge in the market. A week ago, she had applied for the job of managing the new Ambrosi Pearl facility, which was to be constructed on the island of Ambrus, one of the smaller islands in the Medinian group. If she wanted the job, it was hers.
The job was a promotion with a substantial raise in her salary plus a generous living allowance. If she took it, paying her mother’s mortgage would no longer be a problem. She would even be able to save.
The only problem was, Zane lived on Medinos. Although, with the amount of travel he did, most of it to the States, she doubted their paths would often cross.
A bonus would be that she could leave Sydney and all of the media hype behind. She would have a fresh start.
Away from her latest sex scandal.
Taking a deep breath, she took the plunge and affirmed that she would take the job.
Lucas rang back a few minutes later. He had booked a flight, leaving in two days. Her accommodation, until a house could be arranged, was the Atraeus Resort on Medinos.
Reeling from the sudden change of direction her life had taken, Lilah rang her mother and told her the good news, carefully glossing over the bad parts.
After she had hung up, she cleared her answering machine and disconnected the phone. She also turned her cell phone off. She didn’t know how long it would take the media to discover that Lucas had offered her a job on Medinos, but given the added hype behind the Milan award, she didn’t think it would take long.
Too wound up to try and relax again, she decided to take one of her finished paintings to the gallery that handled her work.
When she walked into the trendy premises, the proprietor, Quincy Travers, a plump, balding man with a shrewd glint in his eyes, greeted her with open arms.
With glee he took the abstract she’d painted and handed her a check for an astounding amount. “As soon as I saw the story in the paper I contacted some collectors I know and put an extra couple of zeroes on the price of the paintings. I sold out within thirty minutes.”
“Great.” Lilah’s delight at the check, which was enough to pay off her mother’s mortgage and still leave change, went into the same deep, dark hole that had snuffed out her delight at the Milan award and her promotion.
She shoved the check in her purse. Just what she needed to brighten her day. Like her jewelry design, any value her art now had was tied to her notoriety.
Quincy propped the painting on an empty display easel and rubbed his hands together. “No need to put a price on this. I’ve got buyers waiting. Sex sells. What else have you got, love? You could scribble with crayons and we’d still make a fortune.”
“Actually, I’m leaving town for a while, so that will be the last one for the foreseeable future.”
Quincy looked crestfallen. “If I’d known that, I would have asked more for the other paintings.” He rummaged beneath his counter and came up with a battered address book. “But all is not lost. If the buyers know this is the last one, they’ll pay.” He flipped it open and reached for his phone. “By the way, did you really, er, date both brothers at the same time?”
Lilah could feel herself turning pink. She was suddenly fiercely glad she was leaving town in two days. “No.” Ducking her head, she walked quickly out of the gallery.
She had just slept with the one.
Nine (#ud90b6dcb-865b-5101-8c13-a633e6e6da34)
Two days later, fresh off a flight from Broome in Western Australia and frustrated that he had not been able to get any reply from either Lilah’s work or home phone, or cell, Zane swung the Corvette into the parking space outside her building.
He buzzed the apartment. While he waited for a response, the electrifying moments on the couch replayed in his mind. The enthusiastic way Lilah had clung to him, the explosive moment when he had known for sure that she had never made love with Lucas, Peters or any other man. The fierce way she had locked him into her body when he had attempted to withdraw, as if she hadn’t wanted to let him go.
The brain freeze that had hit him, because he hadn’t wanted to stop, either.
When he’d discovered that Lilah had sneaked out on him during the night, he had been both furious and relieved.
The fact that he had made the monumental mistake of making love to her without protection, that he could have made her pregnant, still stunned him.
It had been right up there with finding out that she had been a virgin.
A day spent kicking his heels, trying to decide if those out-of-control moments had been unscripted and spontaneous or if he had been neatly manipulated by a consummate operator had been enough.
Every time he had examined what had happened, he had come to the same inescapable conclusion. Whatever Lilah’s motives had been in surrendering her virginity to him, she had taken care of the contraception, which argued her innocence.
He had done a background check on Lilah, even going so far as to fly to her hometown, Broome. When he’d found out that, like him, she was illegitimate, several pieces of the puzzle that was Lilah Cole had fallen into place.
He knew how a dysfunctional upbringing could influence decisions. Lilah had been brought up by her single mother, whose health was poor. Consequently, the financial burden had now fallen on her. She not only paid her own costs in Sydney, she paid her mother’s mortgage and medical bills.
The knowledge put Lilah’s search for a well-heeled husband into an irritatingly practical light. It had also exposed how potentially vulnerable Lilah could be to an “arrangement” should some man try to step into her life.
He leaned on the buzzer again. Since Lilah wasn’t answering any calls, he had reasoned that she had most probably taken some time off work and was inside, hiding out from the press.
His frustration level increasing when there was still no response, he cut through the adjacent property, another shabby warehouse, and pushed through the broken fence into Lilah’s backyard.
He examined the bifold doors and windows, which were locked and blanked out by thick drapes. He rapped on the door and tried calling. When there was no answer he walked back around to the front door and pressed buzzers until he got an answer from one of the other apartments.
A voice like a rusty nail being slowly extracted from a sheet of iron informed him that Lilah had left the country. Her apartment was now empty, if he wanted to rent it.
Zane terminated the conversation and strode back to the Corvette. A quick call to Lucas answered the question that was threatening to aggravate his newly discovered anger problem.
“Lilah has flown to Medinos. She’s agreed to head up the new Ambrosi Pearls facility.”
Zane’s fingers tightened on his cell. “Who made the arrangement?”
“I did. I’ll be flying out to Medinos in the next few days to check that she’s settling in.”
A snapping sound informed Zane that he had just broken one of the hinges that attached the LCD screen to the body of his phone. “Carla won’t be happy.”
That was an understatement. Carla Ambrosi was known for her passionate outbursts. But whatever Carla might feel about Lucas’s continuing involvement with Lilah didn’t come close to Zane’s level of unhappiness.
“After the crazy stuff the tabloids have been printing,” Lucas said grimly, “the less Carla knows about Lilah the better. I’m organizing for her to spend some time with her mother here when I fly out to Medinos.”
Zane’s stomach tightened. Which meant Carla would be conveniently out of the way for Lucas’s meeting with Lilah. “When did Lilah leave?”
“Today.”
Zane terminated the conversation and placed a call to Elena. Within seconds she had located the information he wanted. The only flight out of Sydney to Medinos that day had already departed.
Tossing the phone on the passenger seat, Zane slid behind the wheel and accelerated away from the curb. Lilah had left that morning, but her flight was long, with a three-hour stopover in Singapore and another shorter stop in Dubai. Using the Atraeus private jet, he would easily reach Medinos before her.
Whatever ideas his brother might have of conducting a clandestine affair with Lilah, Zane was certain of one fact. Lilah hadn’t chosen to give herself to Lucas; she had given herself to him.
He, also, had made a choice when he had made love with Lilah. He wanted her, and after two years, one night had not been enough. One thing was certain: he was not about to let Lucas entice Lilah away.
Satisfaction curled in his stomach as the decision settled in. If he’d had any reservations, in that moment they were gone.
The complication of Lilah’s virginity and marriage plan aside, he was finally going to live up to the reputation of his marauding ancestor.
Lilah was his, and he was taking her.
Lilah stepped into the air-conditioned terminal on Medinos.
Almost immediately she was accosted by a uniformed security guard, a holstered gun on one thigh.
Exhausted from the long nerve-racking flight, during which she had only been able to sleep in snatches, she accompanied the officer to a small, sterile interview room. Several fruitless questions later, because the guard’s English was limited and her Medinian was close to nonexistent, she resigned herself to wait. The one piece of information she had gleaned was that, apparently, they were waiting for a member of the Atraeus family.
Minutes later, her frustration levels rising, her luggage, along with a foam cup of coffee, was delivered to the interview room and an airport official showed up to personally process her arrival papers. As the official handed her stamped passport back, the door opened. Zane, dressed in dark jeans and a loose white shirt, his hair ruffled as if he’d dragged his fingers through it repeatedly, strolled into the room.
For a confused moment Lilah had difficulty grasping that Zane was actually here, then the meaning of his presence sank in. “You’re the Atraeus who had me detained.”
The official left, the door closing quietly behind him.
Zane frowned. “Who were you expecting? Lucas?”
The flatness of Zane’s voice was faintly shocking. Lilah couldn’t help thinking it was a long way from the teasing grin and the seductive huskiness of Saturday night. “As far as I know, Lucas is still in Sydney.”
Zane placed a newspaper, which had been tucked under one arm, down on the desktop.
The glaring headline, Lucas Atraeus Installs Mistress on Isle of Medinos, made her bristle. When she had flown out of Sydney, she had hoped she was leaving all of that behind.
Folding the paper over, she threw it in the trashcan beside the desk. “I haven’t seen that one. They don’t hand out Sydney gossip sheets as part of the in-flight entertainment.”
Zane perched on the edge of the desk, arms folded across his chest. “Who knew that you were flying out to Medinos?”
Lilah located her handbag and stored her passport in a secure pocket. Making a quick exit lugging a large suitcase, a carry-on bag, her laptop and her handbag would be difficult, but she was ready to give it a go. “Quite a lot of people. It wasn’t a secret.”
Zane looked briefly irritated as she tried to harness her laptop to the suitcase using a set of buckles that was clearly inadequate for the job. “That’s not helpful.”
“It wasn’t meant to be.” She hauled on a dainty strap and finally had the laptop secure.
“So who do you think could have leaked the information that you were moving to Medinos to the press?”
She moved on to the carry-on case, which posed a problem. She was going to need a trolley after all.
“You don’t have to worry about the luggage. I’ll carry it for you.”
Anger flowed through her at the implication that she could have sold the story. “I prefer to manage on my own.”
“You don’t have to, since I’m here to pick you up.” With efficient movements, Zane unhooked the laptop and used the straps to neatly attach the carry-on case to the large suitcase.
Lilah reclaimed her laptop. “I don’t get it. You didn’t come around or call, and now—”
