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And that she wanted to see him again.
CHAPTER TWO
EFFORTLESSLY, Leo switched from Italian to French, and then into German and English, as he greeted his guests. The vast hall had been cleared of all the photographic clutter, and was now thronged with women in evening dress and men in black tie, and waiters circulating with trays of champagne.
‘Markos!’ Leo switched to Greek and greeted his cousin. A couple of years younger than Leo’s thirty-four, and of slightly slimmer build, his dark slate eyes revealed his portion of English ancestry. Markos was otherwise all Greek. They chatted a moment or two, and Leo cast a courteous smile at the pre-Raphaelite redhead at Markos’s side.
She didn’t return the smile. She didn’t even see him. She was gazing at his cousin with a bemused, helpless expression in her eyes, as though Markos were the only person in the universe.
A strange ripple of emotion went through Leo.
No woman had ever looked at him like that…
Would you want them to?
The question thrust rhetorically, challengingly.
He answered promptly.
No, definitely not. Any woman who looked at him like that would be a nuisance.
Or faking it.
In the past there had been women who’d passionately declared their undying love for him, but he’d known better. The object of their devotion was not him, but his wealth. Now he never let any woman tell him she loved him.
He made the terms of his endearment crystal-clear from the outset. A temporary affair, exclusive while it lasted, with no emotional scenes to irritate him, no hysterical recriminations when it came to an end, and no post-affair harassment. When it was over, it was over—and could they please both move on? He would—she must too. They would inevitably cross paths again in the cosmopolitan world he moved in, and he didn’t want any unwelcome scenes or unpleasant encounters.
He moved through the throng, meeting and greeting his myriad guests. His eyes were scanning the crowd, picking out the models circulating with their display of Levantsky jewels.
Where was the sable-haired one?
Suddenly he saw her, and he stopped dead.
She looked absolutely and totally stunning.
She was wearing a black dress so simple it was almost a sarong, wrapped tightly across her breasts and then falling in a single fluid line to her ankles. With it she wore black elbowlength evening gloves. Unlike earlier, her hair was up, in a soft, immensely flattering low pompadour on the back of her head, framing her face. She had far less make-up on than she’d had for the shoot; her mouth merely seemed to have lipgloss, and her eyes little more than mascara. Her skin was still ivory-white.
Against the whiteness the shimmer of diamonds circling her slender throat glittered iridescently, enhancing her already exquisite beauty.
For a full moment Leo did nothing but look, taking in the vision she presented. She really was quite exceptional…
Then, abruptly, a frown drew his brows together. He strode towards her.
She’d been standing on her own, a glass of champagne in one long black-satined hand, and she was gazing up at the snarling mask of a long-dead boar on one of the walls. There was an expression of strong disapproval on her face.
‘Why are you not wearing the rest of the parure?’ he demanded as he reached her.
Her head spun round.
There was that flaring of her pupils again, he could see it. But right now he wasn’t interested. He was interested only in why she was not wearing the tiara, earrings and bracelets that matched the necklace, as she’d been instructed to do that evening.
‘Well?’ he prompted.
She seemed to collect herself minutely.
‘One of the bulbs was on the blink,’ she answered.
Leo frowned more deeply.
‘What?’ he snapped.
‘As in Christmas lights. I mean,’ she asked him, ‘did you actually want me wandering around looking like a Christmas tree? It just looked ridiculously overdone wearing the whole lot together.’
‘And that was your decision, was it?’
The tone was mild, but it raised the hairs on the back of Anna’s neck.
There was no way she was backing down, though. She’d seen her reflection when she’d been wearing the whole lot, and she’d just looked like a glitterball.
‘It would,’ she riposted pointedly, ‘be the decision of anyone who had any taste.’
His eyes narrowed at her tone. ‘My instructions were quite clear.’
Anna knew exactly what she should say. Leo Makarios was paying her to model his jewellery, and he called the shots. She should say docilely, Of course, Mr Makarios. Three bags full, Mr Makarios.
But she didn’t.
‘Well, you were wrong,’ she said instead. ‘To wear any more jewellery than this necklace would be irredeemably vulgar.’
His face stilled. Something changed in the heavy-lidded eyes. She ought to back down; she knew she should. But she never backed down. If you did you got walked over.
For one long moment his eyes simply rested on her. She could feel the tension start to edge through her.
Then she realised what he was doing.
Out-psyching her.
So she took the battle into his corner.
‘Surely, Mr Makarios,’ she posed limpidly, ‘a man with all your money would not wish to appear vulgar?’
For one timeless second it hung in the balance. And for that moment Anna found herself hoping for something—and she didn’t even know why she was hoping for it.
But she got it all the same.
At the corner of his mouth, almost imperceptibly, she saw a quirk.
Something lightened inside her. She didn’t know what, or why, but it did.
Then the quirk vanished and the mouth was a straight, tight line once more, the heavy-lidded eyes quelling.
‘You live dangerously,’ said Leo Makarios softly. ‘Don’t do it on my time.’
He gave a brief indication of his head. ‘Go and put the jewels back on.’
He walked away. Cutting her out of existence.
For one intense moment an urge so strong almost overpowered her and she had to steel her whole body. She wanted to vault forward, lift her empty hand up and bring it slashing down. But, slowly, she stood, letting the aggressive urge drain out of her. Why on earth should she let a man like Leo Makarios get to her? He was just one more rich man who liked the world the way he paid it to be. And right now he was paying her to wear his jewels. All his jewels. However vulgar such an over-the-top display would be. She gave a shrug.
He wanted diamonds? She’d put on diamonds.
As she strode off, as fast as her narrow skirt would permit, she did not see a pair of heavy-lidded eyes flick past the shoulder of the chief executive Leo happened to be speaking to and rest narrowingly on her.
Then, as she disappeared from view, he went back seamlessly to discussing the implications of the latest G8 summit on world trade.
The chamber orchestra was tuning up, people were taking their seats in the ballroom. Unlike the medieval-style hall, the ballroom was pure rococo, lined with mirrors and with an extravagantly carved gilded ceiling. Set diagonally, like miniature wings either side of the orchestra, were two pairs of gilt fauteuils. They were for the models, so the audience could admire the Levantsky jewels in their massed splendour while they listened to Mozart. Three of the girls, noted Leo, as he entered, had just taken their places. His eyes flicked over them again as he made some conversational reply to the wife of one of the Austrian government ministers sitting beside him.
The redhead was gazing into the audience, openly searching for Markos. The brunette, Leo noted with mild surprise, had lost her vacant look and was talking animatedly to the musician closest to her.
His eyes flicked across to the two chairs on the other side of the orchestra. The blonde was there, looking more uptight than ever, but the chair beside her was empty.
Leo felt his mouth tightening again.
Definitely a troublemaker.
He’d had confirmation. He’d sent for his aide, Justin, who was taking care of the publicity side of the Levantsky launch, and told him to check that the black-haired girl was this time obeying orders. Justin had looked nervous, and muttered something about her agency warning him that she had a bit of an attitude issue.
Leo had just looked at Justin. ‘Not while she’s here,’ he’d said.
Justin had scurried off.
Leo took his place beside the minister’s wife. The orchestra went on tuning up.
The girl cut it fine. Very fine.
The audience were finally quietening; the conductor was at his podium.
She came gliding in, whisking into her seat. Then she just sat there, hands folded demurely in her lap.
She had the tiara in her hair, long drops in her ears, bracelets on both arms, and the necklace of diamonds.
Looking exactly like an illuminated Christmas tree.
Leo’s mouth tightened.
He hated being wrong. About anything.
Or anyone.
Anna’s feet were killing her again. It was the worst aspect of modelling, she thought—apart from the boredom and the sleaze.
But she stood, politely attentive, while a stout German industrialist regaled her with the healing properties of spa waters. Across the room, Anna could see Leo Makarios talking to someone. She hoped he was happy with the Christmas lights.
They were certainly getting enough attention from the guests, that was for sure. She’d been on the receiving end of countless inspections by both men and women—though the male ones had been liberally blended with lecherous looks as well—speculating about the price. And not just of the jewels.
That was why she was sticking where she was. Spa cures might not be the most fascinating subject in the world, but the German industrialist was treating her with great courtesy. Better still, he was keeping other men away from her.
All except one.
‘Hans, wie gehts?’
The deep, accented voice was unmistakable.
Anna felt herself tense automatically, vivid with awareness of who had just approached.
The industrialist’s face lit into a warm smile and he launched into German. As Leo Makarios answered him in the same language, his voice rich and smooth, Anna could feel him looking at her, taking in the ostentatious display of diamonds she was showing off.
As he regarded her she kept her face expressionless, her eyes blank.
For a moment Leo thought of telling her that she’d been right, that wearing the entire parure was overkill, detracting from the exquisite beauty of the rainfall necklace.
Then Hans Federman was asking a question about his experience of doing business in the former Eastern Bloc, and comparing it with his own company’s experiences.
Taking advantage of the diversion, Anna was about to drift off. But as she started to move, without pausing a beat in what he was saying, Leo Makarios snaked his hand out and fastened it round her wrist.
Anna froze. Entirely opposite reactions flashed through her. One was an instinct to yank her arm away from his restraining hold. The second was a bolt of hot electricity that shocked her to her core.
Then, abruptly, her wrist was dropped. Leo Makarios stopped talking and turned his head to her.
‘Don’t wander off, please, Ms…?’ He cocked an eyebrow at her, pointedly waiting for her to supply her name.
‘Anna Delane,’ she said reluctantly. She wondered why she was so unwilling to let Leo Makarios know her name. All he had to do was ask one of his scores of minions, including that obsequious toady Justin Vennor, who’d lectured the four models for half an hour on how they must behave impeccably in such august and glittering surroundings.
‘Anna.’
It was just her name, that was all. She’d heard it said all her life.
But not like this…
A shiver went down her spine. She could feel it. It started somewhere at the nape of her neck and shimmered down the length of her back.
For a second Leo’s gaze just rested on her. She felt it like a tangible weight. Assessing her.
Then it was gone. Leo Makarios turned back and resumed his German conversation.
Mutely, Anna stayed at his side.
He kept her there for the rest of the evening.
