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‘So I went a little too far,’ she said stiffly. ‘I admit that. But it’s no excuse for what you’ve been doing. People go to jail in this country for stalking someone.’
The shrug was dismissive. ‘Considering that you yourself never noticed you were under surveillance, I doubt if any such accusation would be taken seriously. Anyway, the question is of little importance now. I’ve found other means of achieving redress.’
‘The word you’re looking for is revenge,’ she retorted, taking a hold on herself. ‘Hardly an honourable aim!’
‘But satisfying.’ Vidal straightened as a knock came on the outer door. ‘Dinner, I believe.’
The waiter who wheeled in the loaded white-clothed trolley was unobtrusive in his movements, transferring the contents to the table in an off-set dining area without speaking. He looked happy enough, however, with the size of the tip Vidal handed over.
‘Come and eat,’ the latter invited when the door closed in the man’s wake. ‘You’re fond of seafood, if I recall.’
The last thing Leonie felt like at present was eating, but there was nothing to be gained by refusing. She got up, unsurprised by the unsteadiness in her lower limbs, and went to the table, passing by the door leading to the bedroom on the way. In an hour or so they would be in there doing what she was here to do. Whether Vidal would be prepared to let her leave immediately afterwards was open to question, but the ordeal had to be over some time. All she cared about—all she’d allow herself to care about—was getting her father back on track.
As anticipated, the meal was excellent, though so far as Leonie was concerned she might as well have been chewing on sawdust. Vidal allowed her just one glass of wine, declaring his wish to have her compos mentis, not falling asleep on him.
‘You’re actually admitting that a woman could fall asleep on you?’ Leonie asked with deliberation, drawing a brief smile.
‘Only under the influence of too much alcohol.’
‘It must be great,’ she murmured, ‘to have so much confidence in one’s abilities!’
For the first time there was a genuine amusement in his eyes. ‘Unlike a woman, any man lacking confidence in that particular ability could find himself devoid of it altogether. An unfair difference in physiology.’
‘Meaning a woman can pretend to be aroused?’
‘Precisely.’ Dark eyes glinted. ‘Not that I anticipate any problem in that direction.’
‘Being the expert you are.’
The sarcasm left him unmoved. ‘If you think to annoy me, forget it. I intend enjoying every moment of our time together. That means that you enjoy it too. And you will.’
Leonie bit back a caustic retort. She could vow to remain physically unresponsive to him, but the way her body reacted to his very presence made it unlikely. All she could do was keep those responses to the barest minimum.
The meal ended with a chocolate mousse that melted in the mouth and was nigh on impossible not to get pleasure from. Leonie took her time eating it, savouring every mouthful. Vidal watched her without comment, though with no sign of impatience, his whole attitude one of a man totally at ease with himself. She longed to disrupt that equanimity, but could think of nothing short of another burst of invective that might do the trick. With her father’s fate still in the balance, she couldn’t afford to take any risks.
Finished at last, she laid down her spoon, eyeing him across the width of the table with conflicting emotions, both hating the thought of what was to come, and yet undeniably stirred by it too: mind not strong enough to exercise full control over matter, she concluded ruefully.
‘So, let’s get it over with, then,’ she said. ‘The sooner I’m out of here, the better!’
Vidal linked both hands behind his head, leaning back in his chair to view her with irony. ‘Time is of no importance. We have the whole night ahead of us.’
Leonie had been more than half expecting it, but that didn’t mean she had to accept it without question. ‘If my humiliation is all you’re after, you don’t have to go to such lengths,’ she said. ‘In fact, you’ve already succeeded.’
‘Suggesting that I should be content to let it go at that?’ He shook his head. ‘I’ve waited too long for this moment. I should mention, too, that if you hoped to deter me by dressing like some secretary, you were sadly mistaken. I find the severity of your clothing a tantalising contrast with what I know lies beneath.’
‘You have no idea what lies beneath!’ Her indignation was ridiculous in the circumstances, Leonie knew, but she was too incensed to care. ‘I didn’t allow things to get that far between us!’
His smile was slow, his enjoyment at her discomfiture obvious. ‘I don’t need my eyes to tell me what my hands have already discovered. Your skin is smooth as silk, your breasts firm and full, your waist slender above the curve of hip that so excites a man, your—’
‘Stop it!’ Leonie’s cheeks were burning, her whole body tingling. ‘I don’t want to hear any more!’
‘You’ll be hearing a lot more than that before the night is over,’ he said. ‘Speech can be as much a part of lovemaking as action.’
‘You call what you’ve got in mind making love?’ she retorted scathingly.
His lips slanted again. ‘Had I been capable of what you apparently have in mind, I would have taken you that way two years ago. As I already told you, I intend you to enjoy our time together as much as I will myself. But not quite yet,’ he added. ‘First a brandy, I think, and a little music to set the mood. Perhaps we may even dance.’
Leonie held her tongue, unwilling to set herself up for any further ridicule. Whatever Vidal’s intentions, she had no choice but to go along.
He saw her seated on the same sofa she had occupied earlier, switching on some hidden player on his way to get the drinks. Soft music filled the room. Nothing Leonie recognised, but soothing, she had to admit.
This time Vidal took a seat at her side, clinking his glass against hers in mocking salute. ‘Pleasant dreams!’
‘I hope you have nightmares,’ she retaliated weakly, drawing another laugh.
‘I’ll let you know in the morning.’
‘I’m intended to stay the whole night?’ she asked, already knowing the answer.
‘But of course. I look forward to breakfast together on the balcony, if the weather still allows it. Were we in Portugal now, there would be little doubt of it. June is a delightful time of year, the air warm, the fields filled with flowers, the whole ambience one of peace and plenty.’
There were times, Leonie had noted in the past, when his speech became a little more formalised, his accent more pronounced. Times when he both looked and sounded a different person. She stole a glance at the firmly moulded profile, lingering for the briefest of moments on the sensual curve of his mouth before dragging her attention back to the glass in her hand.
She hadn’t wanted the bandy, but she lifted it to her lips now, swallowing half the contents in one gulp. The glow was instant, spreading through her like fingers of fire. She made to down what was left, to have the glass taken from her and placed on the low table before her, along with his own.
‘Brandy is meant to be savoured not tipped straight down the throat,’ he admonished. ‘Or were you simply seeking courage?’
‘Courage for what?’ she countered. ‘I’m not afraid of you.’
‘I think fear of yourself more likely,’ he returned. ‘You want me—you always did want me—but you can’t bring yourself to acknowledge it. This way you can lay the blame for any weakness on the effects of alcohol.’ He put a fingertip to her lips as she made to speak, his own curving as he felt her involuntary tremor. ‘No disputes. I’ll have you say the words before we’re through.’
‘I’d as soon cut my tongue out first!’ Leonie spoke through gritted teeth, fighting to stay on top of her warring instincts. His touch stirred her senses; there was no denying that. She had an almost irresistible urge to take the fingertip into her mouth, to savour the masculine taste of it.
Vidal removed the temptation by moving the finger, sliding it gently along the line of her jaw and up behind her ear in a caress that set every nerve-ending in her body aquiver. It took everything she had to keep from dragging his hand away; to sit there expressionlessly holding the dark gaze.
‘A woman of some will-power,’ he observed, ‘but not by any means invincible.’ He took the caressing finger away, getting to his feet. ‘Come.’
She stood up, steeling herself afresh as he turned her about to press her ahead of him clear of the sofa and table. The music had softened still further. Vidal turned her again, this time into his arms, hands sliding behind her back to hold her close. The heels she was wearing brought her eyes on a level with his mouth. His breath was warm on her cheek, the subtle male scent of him filling her nostrils as he began to move in slow cadence to the rhythm. Her nipples tingled as they rubbed against the hardness of his chest, springing to life. He would feel that reaction; he couldn’t fail to feel it. Not that she could do a damned thing about it.
‘Bonito,’ he murmured softly.
He dropped his hands further down her back, bringing the vital centres of their bodies into closer proximity. Leonie bit down hard on her lower lip as he moved her hips so that she just barely brushed against him. He was aroused already, if not fully as yet then certainly well on the way. Fight it though she might, she was part-way there herself. He knew it too.
‘I think the time has come,’ he murmured.
Leonie put up no resistance as he led her across to the bedroom. The bedside lights were switched on, casting a warm glow across the wide expanse of the king-sized bed while leaving the rest of the room in semi-darkness. Vidal made no attempt to turn on extra lights, affording her some relief at least.
He took her face between both hands, searching the striking features as if to commit them to memory, his eyes dark pools. The first touch of his lips was unexpectedly gentle, teasing rather than asserting, brushing a way through the barrier she tried to keep going. His tongue felt like silk, exploring the soft inner flesh with infinite sensitivity. Leonie felt her senses begin to swim, her will-power to start draining away. If she was going to make any kind of stance at all it had to be now, came the thought, before she went under completely.
Leaving one hand cupping her nape, Vidal dropped the other to seek her breast, encircling her tingling, peaking nipple for a brief moment before moving again to unfasten her shirt buttons with dexterity and slide inside to find bare flesh. His touch was like fire on her skin, fingers penetrating beneath the flimsy lace covering of her bra to close possessively about the firm swell. Leonie gasped at the flooding sensation, clinging to the fast-fading remnants of her will-power like a drowning man clutching a straw.
The shock when he removed the hand and put her abruptly from him was immense. Eyes wide and dark, she gazed at him in mute question.
‘Cover yourself,’ he said brusquely.
She did so, fumbling at the buttons with nerveless fingers. If it had been his aim to arouse her, then reject her the way she had rejected him, he had acted a little prematurely for total humiliation. Unless he’d changed his mind about the whole thing.
‘Is this your way of telling me the deal is off?’ she got out.
Face devoid of expression again, he shook his head. ‘A change of plan. I find myself unwilling to settle for just the one night. When I return to Portugal, you will be coming with me.’
Leonie found her voice, amazed by its steadiness. ‘You really think I’ll consent to becoming your mistress?’
The laugh was short. ‘So there’s a limit to the sacrifice you’re prepared to make for your father?’
She bit her lip, caught between two fires. ‘For how long?’ she managed at length.
Something flickered in the dark depths of his eyes. ‘I want no mistress,’ he said. ‘Two years ago I asked you to marry me. Today, I demand it.’
CHAPTER TWO
LEONIE stared at him in stupefaction. When she did find her voice it sounded as if it were coming from the bottom of a well. ‘You can’t be serious!’
‘I was never more so,’ Vidal assured her hardily. ‘For two long years I’ve tried to put you from my mind—to tell myself that no woman is worth losing sleep over. But it’s been of little use. I made you an offer I’d never made to any other woman, only to have it thrown back in my face as though it were an insult. I have the opportunity now to make you eat your words.’ The pause was brief. ‘The final choice still remains with you.’
‘It’s emotional blackmail!’ she accused, in no doubt as to his meaning. ‘You’re asking too much!’
‘No more than you’re asking of me in continuing to employ a man who stole from me,’ came the unmoved return. ‘Of course, you could always allow him to make the decision for himself.’
There would be no question of which way that decision would go, Leonie knew. Her father would be devastated if he knew what she was facing. The question of whether Vidal would actually call in the police if the money was paid back was debatable, but he certainly wouldn’t be prepared to reinstate him, or give him a reference, which would effectively put paid to his career.
Vidal made an abrupt movement. ‘I’ll leave you to think it over.’
Leonie sank to a seat on the edge of the bed as the door closed behind him, her nerves in tatters. Any appeal to his better nature was going to be a waste of time: he didn’t have a better nature. But marriage! How could she possibly go along with that? Especially when offered in a spirit of revenge for past offences.
There was a cheval mirror a few feet away. She caught a glimpse of herself, shirt only partially buttoned, hair tumbled from the hands run through it. She could still feel the imprint of his lips on hers, the hardness of his body against her—the deep down stirring at the memory. He was right about one thing: she had wanted him two years ago and she wanted him now. Despising him as a person made no impact on her senses.
She’d felt that impact the very first moment she’d laid eyes on him. She’d called in at the office to invite her father to lunch, to be told by his secretary that he was in conference with the company president. The inner office door had opened almost as she said it, framing a man whose expression registered open appreciation as he viewed her…
‘I’ve been looking at the photograph on your father’s desk for the past half-hour,’ he said. ‘It fails to do you full justice.’ He moved forward, holding out a hand, his smile devastating. ‘I’m Vidal Parella Dos Santos.’
Leonie took the hand, murmuring a response, aware of a tingle like a small electric shock as his fingers closed about hers. After all she’d heard and read about the man before her it was hardly surprising to find him exuding such pure animal magnetism. Women throughout Europe had been subject to it.
She turned her gaze on the man at his back. ‘I was hoping we could have lunch together, Dad.’
‘Sorry, darling, I’m going to be tied up for at least another hour,’ Stuart answered regretfully.
‘In which case, perhaps you’ll allow me to take you to lunch in your father’s stead?’ offered Vidal. ‘It would give me the greatest pleasure.’
Leonie’s instinct was to refuse, but a stronger force held sway. It was, after all, only lunch. ‘That’s very nice of you,’ she said.
The smile came again, equally disturbing in its effect. ‘It takes little effort to be nice to a beautiful woman.’
Leonie caught her father’s eye, reading the message there without difficulty. He was as aware as she was of Vidal’s reputation. Not that she had any intention of becoming one of his conquests.
‘I’ll see you later, then,’ she said lightly. ‘Don’t work too hard!’
They went to a restaurant she had never visited before, but where Vidal was welcomed by name and escorted to a table by the maître d’ himself. The place was well populated, the dress code very much upmarket. Leonie was glad she’d chosen to wear a new lemon suit. While not exactly designer label, it looked the part sufficiently well to pass muster to all but the most discerning eye.
‘I gather you’re a pretty frequent visitor here?’ she remarked when they were seated.
‘Whenever I come to London,’ Vidal agreed. ‘They know my tastes.’
In women too, no doubt, she thought with a cynical edge. She wouldn’t be the first he’d brought here, by any means. She studied him as he ran his eyes down the menu, taking in every superbly carved, olive-skinned detail of his face, the breadth of shoulder beneath the fine grey suiting, the lean, long-fingered hands with their well-tended nails. So far as outward appearances were concerned he had it all. Even without his position and wealth, he would never have to fight for female companionship.
As though sensing her scrutiny, he glanced up, catching her before she could look away. ‘Do I meet with your approval?’ he asked smilingly.
‘You’re a handsome man,’ she answered, refusing to be thrown. ‘You must be accustomed to attention.’
The dark head inclined in mock humility. ‘A matter I owe to my ancestry. The Dos Santos males have always been fortunate.’
‘Do the Dos Santos women share the same inheritance?’
‘Some. Not all.’ He paused, studying her in turn. ‘You’ve little of your father in you. Your mother must have been a very beautiful woman herself.’
Even after four years, mention of her still brought a pang. ‘How did you know she was dead?’ she asked.
‘I make it my business to know a top employee’s background,’ he said. ‘I understand you still live with your father?’
‘That’s right.’ Leonie saw no cause to explain her reasons. He should be able to work them out for himself. She dropped her eyes to the menu in front of her. ‘I’d like the whitebait to start, followed by the trout, please.’
‘A woman of decision!’ He applauded. ‘I believe I’ll have the same. You’re content to leave the choice of wine to me?’
Green eyes widened innocently. ‘Of course. Men know so much more about wine!’
The smile that curved his lips wrought havoc on her heartstrings. ‘Mock me at your peril,’ he warned. ‘I may find it necessary to exact penalties.‘
Flirting with a man of Vidal’s calibre was hardly to be recommended, but it was too enjoyable a pastime to be abandoned. ‘I’ll bear it in mind,’ she said demurely.
She’d fully intended to plead other commitments after lunch, but when the time came she found herself agreeing without demur to his suggestion that they take a ride on the river.
‘You may not believe it, but this is the first time I’ve ever done this,’ she remarked when they were afloat.
‘I find it very easy to believe,’ Vidal returned. ‘Few of us appreciate the readily available. There are parts of Lisbon I’ve never visited.’
‘I know the Dos Santos headquarters are in Lisbon, but is it your main home too?’ Leonie ventured.
‘Not the city itself. I live at Sintra, some thirty or so kilometres to the northwest.’
