Mistress Arrangements. Helen Bianchin

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      She could feel his anger emanating through the pores of his skin, and all her fine body hairs rose in protective self-defence. He could have shaken her to within an inch of her life, and taken extreme pleasure in her pain. It was there in his eyes, the tautly bunched muscles as he held himself rigidly in control. The promise of retribution was thinly veiled, and she felt immeasurably afraid, aware that such punishment would be swift and without warning—an utter devastation. But not yet, she reasoned shakily. A superb tactician, he would derive infinite satisfaction from playing out her fear.

      ‘You’ve reached a decision?’

      Her heart stopped, then clamoured into a thudding beat. ‘Yes.’ One look at his hard, obdurate features was sufficient to ascertain his inflexibility.

      ‘Must I draw it from you like blood from stone?’ he pursued, his voice assuming a deadly softness, and her eyes flared with resentment.

      ‘I won’t allow Ann-Marie to be a metaphorical bone we fight over in a lawcourt,’ she said hardily. ‘Nor will I put her through the emotional trauma of being bandied back and forth between two parents.’ Her head lifted slightly and her chin tilted with determination. ‘However, I have one condition.’

      One eyebrow slanted in silent cynicism. ‘And what is that?’

      ‘You give up your women friends.’

      He looked at her for what seemed an age, and she was conscious of an elevated nervous tension as the silence between them stretched to an unbearable length.

      ‘Could you be more specific?’

      ‘Lovers,’ she said tightly, hating him.

      ‘Does that mean you are prepared to accommodate me in bed?’ he pursued with deadly softness.

      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.’

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