Forgiven but not Forgotten?

Suspecting now that he would indeed drive around all night if she didn’t tell him, Siena finally rapped out her address.

‘See? That wasn’t so hard, was it?’

Siena scowled and looked right ahead.

There was silence for a few minutes, thickening the tension, and then he said, ‘So, where did you get Mancini from?’

Siena looked at him. ‘How did you know?’ Then she remembered and breathed out shakily. ‘My boss must have mentioned it.’

‘Well?’ he asked, as if he had all the time in the world to wait for an answer.

Tightly, Siena eventually replied, ‘It was my maternal grandmother’s maiden name. I didn’t want to risk anyone recognising me.’

‘No,’ the man beside her responded dryly, ‘I can imagine why not.’

Anger at his insouciance, and the ease with which he’d just turned up to humiliate her, made Siena snap, ‘You really shouldn’t have followed me, you know.’

He replied all too easily. ‘Look on it as a concerned friend merely wishing to see how you’re doing.’

Siena snorted scathingly but her heart was thumping, ‘Friend? Somehow I doubt you’ve ever put yourself in that category where I’m concerned.’ It was more likely to be a definite foe.

Andreas Xenakis shot her a look then, and Siena recoiled back in her seat. It was so…so carnal and censorious.

He growled softly, ‘You’re right. We were closer to lovers. And friends don’t, after all, cry rape when it suits them to save face.’

Siena blanched. ‘I never used that word.’

Andreas’s jaw clenched hard. ‘As good as. You accused me of attacking you when we both know that only seconds before your father arrived you were begging me to—’

‘Stop!’ cried Siena, her breathing becoming agitated.

She could remember all too well how it had felt to have Andreas Xenakis pressing her down into the chaise longue, the way she’d strained up towards him, aching for him to put his hands on her everywhere. And when he’d moved his hand up between her stockinged legs she’d parted them…tacitly telling him of her intense desire.

‘Why?’ Andreas drawled. ‘You can’t handle the truth? I thought you were made of sterner stuff, DePiero. You forget you showed your true colours that night.’

Siena turned her head and looked stonily out of the window. The truth was that she had no excuse for her reprehensible behaviour that night. She had begged Andreas to make love to her. She had kissed him back ardently. When he’d pulled her dress down to expose one breast she’d sighed with exquisite pleasure and he’d kissed her there.

The car pulled up to a set of traffic lights at that moment, and the urge to escape was sudden and instinctive. Siena went to open her door to jump out, but with lightning-fast accuracy Andreas’s arm restrained her with a strength that was awesome. Long fingers wrapped around her slender arm, and the bunched muscle of his arm against her soft belly was a far more effective restraint than if he’d locked the doors. Her skin tightened over her bones, drawing in and becoming sensitised. Her breasts felt heavy and tight, her nipples stiffening against the material of her bra.

The car moved off again and Siena pushed his arm off her with all her strength. That brief touch was enough to hurtle her back in time all over again and she struggled to contain herself. The fact that he was so determined to toy with her like this was utterly humiliating.

He pulled up outside a discreetly elegant period apartment building on a wide quiet street. He’d hopped out of the car and was at her open door, holding out an expectant hand, before she knew what was happening.

Siena shrank back and looked up at him. ‘This isn’t where I live.’ It’s a million miles from where I live, she thought.

‘I’m aware of that. However, it is where I live, and as we were passing I thought we’d stop so we can catch up on old times over a coffee.’

Siena held back a snort of derision and crossed her arms, looking straight ahead with a stony expression. ‘I am not getting out of this car, Xenakis. Take me home.’

Andreas’s voice was merely amused. ‘First I couldn’t get you into it and now I can’t get you out of it. They say women are mercurial…’

Before she knew it Andreas had bent down to her level and reached in to undo her seat belt. Siena flapped at his hands in a panic until he stilled them with his. His face was very close to hers and Siena could feel her hair unravelling. She was breathing harshly. His scent teased her nostrils, exactly as she remembered it. Not changed. Oaky and musky and very male.

A voice came from behind Andreas. ‘Mr Xenakis? Do you want me to park the car?’

Without taking his eyes off Siena’s, Andreas answered, ‘Yes, please, Tom. I’ll be taking Ms DePiero home shortly, so keep it nearby.’

‘Aye-aye, sir,’ came the jaunty response.

Siena struggled for a few seconds against Andreas’s superior strength and will. She saw the boy waiting behind him. Innate good manners and the fear of causing a scene that had been drummed into her since babyhood made her bite out with reluctance, ‘Fine. One coffee.’

Andreas stood up, and this time Siena had no choice but to put her hand in his and let him help her out of the low-slung vehicle. To her chagrin he kept a tight hold of her hand as he tossed his keys to the boy and led her into the building, where a concierge held the door open in readiness.

Once in the hushed confines of the lift Siena tried to pull her hand back, but Andreas was lifting it to inspect it. He opened out her palm and his touch made some kind of dangerous lethargy roll through her, but she winced when she followed his gaze. Her palm sported red chafed skin, calluses. Proof of her very new working life.

He turned it over and Siena winced even more to see him inspecting her bitten nails—the resurgence of a bad habit she’d had for a short time in her teens, which had been quickly overcome when her father had meted out a suitable punishment on Serena, her sister.

Her hands were a far cry from the soft lily-white manicured specimens they’d used to be. Exerting more effort this time, and knowing that she’d just been cured of her nail-biting habit once again, she finally pulled free of Andreas’s grip and said mulishly, ‘Don’t touch me.’

With a rough quality to his voice that resonated inside her, Andreas asked, ‘How did they get like this from waitresssing?’

Siena fought against the pull of something that felt very vulnerable. ‘I’m not just waitressing. I’m working as a cleaner in a hotel by day too.’

Andreas tipped up her chin and inspected her face, touched under her eyes where she knew she sported dark shadows. That vulnerability was blooming inside her, and for a second Siena thought she might burst into tears. To counteract it—and the ease with which this man seemed to be able to push her buttons—she said waspishly, ‘Feeling sorry for the poor little rich girl, Andreas?’

At that moment the lift bell pinged and the doors opened silently. Siena and Andreas were locked in some kind of silent combat. Andreas’s eyes went dark, their blue depths becoming distinctly icy as he took his fingers away from her face and smiled.

‘Not for a second, Siena DePiero. You forget that I’ve seen you in action. A piranha would be more vulnerable than you.’

Siena couldn’t believe the dart of hurt that lanced her at his words, and was almost glad when he turned. With his hand on her elbow, he led her out of the lift and into a luxuriously carpeted corridor decked out in smoky grey colours with soft lamps burning on a couple of tables.

The one door indicated that Andreas had no neighbours to disturb him, and Siena guessed this must be the penthouse apartment in the building. The lift doors closed behind them and then Andreas was opening the door and standing aside to allow Siena to precede him into his apartment. Only his assurance to the car park valet that he would be taking her home shortly gave Siena the confidence to go forward.

She rounded on him as he closed the door and blurted out belatedly, ‘Don’t call me DePiero. My name is Mancini now.’

After a long second Andreas inclined his head and drawled, with a hint of dark humour, ‘I’ll call you whatever you like…’

Stifling a sound of irritation, Siena backed away and turned around again, facing into the main drawing room. Her eyes widened. She’d grown up in the lap of luxury, but the sheer understated level of elegance in Andreas’s apartment took her breath away. She’d been used to seeing nothing but palazzos laden down with antiques and heavy paintings, everything gold-plated, carpets so old and musty that dust motes danced in the air when you moved…but this was clean and sleek.

Siena only became aware that she had advanced into the drawing room and was looking around with unabashed curiosity when she saw Andreas standing watching her with his hands in his pockets. The sheer magnificence of the man in his tuxedo shocked her anew and she flushed, wrapping her arms around herself in an unconscious gesture of defence.

Andreas shook his head and smiled wryly before walking towards a sideboard which held several bottles of drink and glasses. He said now, with his back to Siena, ‘You really know how to turn it on, don’t you?’

Siena tensed. ‘Turn what on?’

He turned around, a bottle of something in his hand, eyes gleaming in the soft light. ‘It must be automatic after years of acting the part of innocent virginal heiress…’

When Siena was stubbornly silent, because he had no idea how close to the truth he skated, Andreas gestured half impatiently and clarified, ‘That air of vulnerability, and looking as though butter wouldn’t melt in your mouth.’

Hating herself for being so transparent, and hating him for misjudging her so comprehensively while knowing she couldn’t very well blame him for his judgement, Siena schooled her expression. She carefully uncrossed her arms and shrugged one shoulder negligently. ‘What can I say? You have me all figured out, Mr Xenakis.’

He poured a dark liquid into two glasses and came over, holding one out. ‘I know I offered you a coffee, but try this. It’s a very fine port. And you didn’t have a problem using my name when we first met. Mr Xenakis is so…formal. Please, call me Andreas.’

Siena took the glass he offered, suddenly glad of something to hold onto—anything to will down the memory of how she had used his name before, ‘Andreas, please kiss me…’

He gestured to the comfortable-looking couch and chairs arranged around a low coffee table which held huge books of photographs that looked well thumbed. ‘Please, take a seat, Siena. Make yourself comfortable.’

Siena was torn for a moment between wanting to demand he take her home and curling up in the nearest chair so she could sleep for a week.

A little perturbed by how weak she suddenly felt, she went and sat down in the nearest chair. Andreas sat on the couch to her left, his long legs stretched out and disturbingly close to her feet, which she pulled primly close to her chair.

He smiled and it was dangerous.

‘Still afraid you might catch some social disease from me, Siena?’

CHAPTER TWO

‘DON’T BE SILLY,’ Siena replied quickly, humiliated when she thought of what had happened, of the vile untruths she’d uttered and all to protect her sister.

When she thought of how innocently she’d wanted him that night in Paris and how it had all gone so horribly wrong she felt nauseous. This man hated her. It vibrated on the air between them and Siena had the very futile sense that even if she tried to defend herself and tell him what her reasons had been for acting so cruelly he’d laugh until he cried. He looked so impervious now. Remote.

Andreas sat forward, the small glass cradled between long fingers. ‘Tell me, why did you leave Italy?’

Siena welcomed this diversion away from dangerous feelings and looked at him incredulously, wondering how he could even ask that question. She hated the familiar burn of humiliation that rose up inside her when she thought of the odious charges that had been levelled at her father after his business had imploded in on itself, revealing that he’d been juggling massive debts for years and that everything they possessed, including his precious family palazzo in Florence, was owned by the banks.

Her mouth twisted. ‘As you can imagine, the price on myself and my sister’s heads fell dramatically when it became apparent that we’d lost our fortune. I’m sure I don’t need to tell you that we became personae non grata overnight.’

Andreas’s eyes narrowed. ‘No. It would be untruthful of me not to admit that I knew your father had been soliciting prostitutes for years, and about the evidence of his involvement in drugs and political corruption. But proof that he’d been trafficking women all over Europe for sex must have been the killer blow for two penniless heiresses. No one wants to be seen to be associating with a scandal of that level.’

The shame Siena felt nearly strangled her. Her father had solicited prostitutes while married to their mother because it had excited him. He’d fathered a son with one of those women. She’d thought she’d hated her father before…but she’d hated him even more when he’d disappeared into thin air to avoid the numerous charges levelled against him. To this day no one knew where he was, and Siena never wanted to see him again.

The thought of all those poor defenceless and vulnerable women being sold into a life of torture and degradation… Even now bile rose in her throat, because it had also been proved that her father had been more than just involved in a peripheral sense. He’d been an active participant.

Andreas must have seen something in her expression and he said quietly. ‘Your father’s sins are not your sins.’

Siena was taken aback at this assertion. She looked at him, unable to read his face. ‘Perhaps not, but people don’t want to believe that.’

‘Did the press in Italy gave you a hard time?’ He answered her disbelieving look with a shrug. ‘I was travelling in South America for work when the full extent of your father’s scandal hit. By the time I got back to Europe your father had disappeared and a new scandal was unfolding. I missed most of it.’

Siena thought of the relentless days of headlines like: Heiresses no more. Who will marry the poor little rich girls now? And: Serena DePiero caught in flagrante just days after disgraced father’s disappearance! That had been the moment Siena had known she had to get herself and Serena out of Italy. Her sister had been spiralling dangerously out of control, and she’d been barely clinging onto sanity after everything they’d known had been ripped asunder.

Siena hadn’t expected any quarter from the press—she’d seen how they delighted in savaging the once lofty and untouchable of society—and thanks to her father’s extreme hubris the DePieros had had it coming. Nevertheless she voiced an understatement in a flat voice. ‘Yes, you could say they gave us a hard time.’

Andreas was surprised at the lack of emotion in Siena’s voice. The lack of reproach or injury. He could well imagine the field-day the press had had at seeing two blonde and blue-eyed princesses reduced to nothing.

Once again he had to marvel at her sheer natural beauty. She wore not a scrap of make-up but her skin glowed like a pearl. In this world of artifice and excess she really was a rare jewel. Even in the plain shirt and tie, that threadbare denim jacket, he could see the tantalising curves of her body. Fuller now that she was a woman, not a teenager.

Desire was hot and immediate, tightening his body. A fit of pique went through Andreas when he realised that he’d subconsciously avoided blonde women in the last five years, seeking out the complete opposite and telling himself that she’d burned his taste for blondes. But she hadn’t. He just hadn’t wanted any blonde except her.

Women didn’t usually reduce him to such immediate carnal reaction, no matter how desirable or beautiful. And yet she had from the very first moment he’d laid eyes on her…

Andreas looked at her now with fresh resolve filling his belly and lifted his glass. ‘To whatever the future might bring.’

Siena had a very scary suspicion that the future Andreas was envisaging had something to do with her. Very deliberately she ignored his toast and drained her glass, put it down on the nearby table. The alcohol blazed its way down her throat.

Andreas looked merely amused and chided softly, ‘A 1977 port should be savoured a little more delicately than that, but each to their own.’

He downed his too. Siena blanched. She could just imagine how much it had cost. Her father had thought of himself as an expert in fine wines so she’d learnt something by proxy.

Thinking of her father made her think of her sister, and that made her stand up jerkily, only vaguely aware of the stunning view of London on the other side of the huge windows. ‘I really do need to get home. I have an early start in the morning.’

Andreas rose too, as fluidly as a panther, rippling sinew and muscle very evident despite the severe cut of his suit. As if it barely contained him. Siena would have taken a step back, but the chair was behind her.

She sensed a spiking of electricity in the air and there was a pregnant pause just before he said innocuously, ‘Very well.’

He went to a discreet phone on the sideboard and picked it up, saying to someone, ‘I’m coming back down. Please have my car brought round. Thank you.’

He extended his arm to allow her to precede him from the room, and to Siena’s utter chagrin her overwhelming feeling wasn’t one of relief. She was a little confused. She’d expected…more. More of a fight? And yet he was happy to let her go so easily. Something bitter pierced her. Perhaps he’d just wanted to amuse himself by seeing the disgraced heiress up close and he was already bored.

So why did she feel so desolate all of a sudden?

Andreas stepped into the lift behind Siena and pressed the button. He might be giving her the illusion of letting her go, but that was not his intention in the slightest. Seeing her again had merely solidified his desire to have her in his bed. Finally. Acquiescent and his. That disdain she did so well would have no place in the relationship they would have. She was in no position to argue or resist him, and the thought of seeing her come undone was heady in the extreme.

His car was waiting by the kerb and a young security guard jumped out, giving the keys to Andreas, who held the passenger door open for Siena to get in.

Siena stood stiffly by the open door and looked at Andreas without meeting his eye. She was still trembling at the way his hand had rested lightly on the small of her back the whole way down in the elevator. And also at the speed with which he now appeared to want to get rid of her.

‘If you can point me in the direction of the nearest tube I’ll make my own way home.’

Andreas’s voice was like steel. ‘It’s almost eleven-thirty at night. There is no way you’re taking the tube alone. Get into the car, Siena, or I will put you in myself. Don’t think I won’t.’

Siena looked at him properly and saw how stern he seemed. She felt a shiver of something go through her—recognition of how huge and broad he was against the night sky. And yet she wasn’t scared of him. Not as she’d been of her father. She somehow knew instinctively that Andreas would never lash out like that. Violence towards women was born of weakness and fear. Andreas didn’t have that in him. And it surprised her to admit that she trusted this gut feeling so much.

Knowing that if she walked off now he’d just follow her again, Siena gave in and slid into the car, its luxurious confines once again surrounding her like a cocoon. Until Andreas got in beside her and the atmosphere turned from relaxing to electric.

As they pulled away from the kerb Andreas asked easily, ‘Did your sister come to London with you?’

Instantly Siena tensed. She answered carefully, ‘No… She went to…to the south of France to stay with friends of hers.’

Andreas glanced at Siena, who was looking stonily ahead. He had to concede that she’d never taken after her more obvious sister by appearing in the gossip columns. Siena clearly preferred to clean toilets rather than to be seen in polite society again and be exposed to ridicule or censure.

He had to admit to a grudging and surprising respect that Siena was doing the sort of work she would have taken completely for granted her whole life. Perhaps now that their father was gone Siena saw no need to be responsible for the precious family name and was happy to wash her hands of her infamous sister, who had been well known as a party girl.

In truth, Andreas didn’t really care about Serena. The sister he was concerned about was sitting right beside him, her legs looking very long as she angled them well away from him. He allowed himself a small predatory smile to think of a time when they would be wrapped around his hips as he finally exorcised this demon from his blood for good.

He hadn’t elaborated on the fact that he had been actively looking for her for six months. In fact he’d been thinking about her ever since Paris. However, it had only been six months ago, when he’d finally had the luxury of time after establishing himself, that he’d begun to focus on such a personal pursuit. Siena DePiero had always been in his sights…

To Siena’s relief Andreas seemed to be done with questioning her, and they drove in silence through the empty London streets. Rain started to spatter gently on the windscreen. For the first time since she’d left Italy Siena felt a pang of homesickness and it surprised her. She’d left Italy never wanting to see it again.

She’d spent many a night looking out of her window dreaming of another life—one without constrictions and pain and tension and always the unbearable pressure to act a certain way. She’d dreamed of a life full of love and affection. The only affection she’d really known had come from her sister—her poor, damaged sister. Their mother had died when they were both small girls. Siena had only the vaguest memories of a fragrant blonde woman who’d used to come into their room at night dressed in glittering finery.

She realised that they were close to her street already, and she directed Andreas into the labyrinth of smaller streets that led to her home. He pulled to a stop and looked out incredulously at the bleak, lonesome apartment block standing on wasteground.

‘You’re living here?’

Defensively Siena said, ‘It’s near the tube and the bus.’

Andreas was shaking his head in disbelief. He undid his seat belt and got out. Siena noticed that he’d taken an umbrella from somewhere and was holding it up now, as he came to her door and opened it.

She got out and the wind whipped around her, tugging her hair out of its bun completely. Feeling flustered, she said, ‘Look, thanks for the lift…’

She moved to walk around Andreas and go into the flats, but stopped when Andreas kept pace beside her. She looked at him. ‘Where do you think you’re going?’

He was grim. ‘I’m walking you to your apartment. You are not going in there alone.’

A new sense of pride stiffened Siena’s backbone. ‘I’ve been living here alone for months now and I’ve been fine. I can assure you that—’

Andreas wasn’t listening. He’d taken her elbow in his hand and was guiding her across the litter-strewn ground. Irritation raced up Siena’s spine. This was exactly what her father had used to do.

Once inside the main door, which hung haphazardly on broken hinges, and under the unforgiving flourescent lights, Siena pulled free, ‘This is fine.’

Andreas was folding down the umbrella, though, and then he spotted a sullen youth lurking in a corner. He called the boy over and handed him a folded note and the umbrella. ‘Keep an eye on the car for me?’ he said.