The Helen Bianchin Collection. HELEN BIANCHIN

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СКАЧАТЬ a guest signalled his attention. Katrina offered a polite greeting, then left the two men to talk.

      ‘Something to drink, ma’am?’

      Katrina smiled at the hovering waiter, and selected a flute of champagne from a proffered tray, then she browsed among the exhibits, returning to the painting she’d admired. It held a discreet sold sticker, and she felt a stab of disappointment, mentally cursing herself for not seeking out the gallery owner and negotiating a price.

      ‘I think,’ Nicos drawled as he rejoined her, ‘we’ve provided sufficient patronage. Shall we leave?’

      There were a few acquaintances present among the guests, and it took long minutes to observe the social niceties before they were able to escape the gallery.

      ‘Hungry?’

      She cast him a solemn glance as he eased the car out of its parking bay. ‘Are you offering me food?’

      ‘Did you manage lunch?’

      She hadn’t managed breakfast either, and had subsisted on fruit, a sandwich her secretary had sent out for, and coffee, tea and juice throughout the day.

      Somehow finger food comprising canapés, miniature vol-au-vents and crackers with cheese proffered at the gallery were no substitute for a meal.

      ‘Not as such,’ she admitted, observing the short distance the car travelled before sliding to the kerb adjacent to a trendy pavement café in Double Bay.

      The menu was a mix of exotic-sounding dishes, and she chose a prawn risotto with bruschetta, followed by black coffee. Nicos ordered the same, and they sipped iced mineral water as they waited for the food to arrive.

      Katrina was supremely conscious of him, aware the fine clothes were merely the sophisticated trappings of a man whose heart moved to a primitive beat. It was evident in the way he held himself, his eyes reflecting an innate strength, a power that combined a dramatic mesh of elemental ruthlessness with indomitable will. Add latent sensuality, and it became something lethal, mesmeric.

      Rarely had she seen him exert due force, or resort to anger. Except for last night. It had been like unleashing a tiger, and she shivered slightly at the memory.

      ‘Cold?’

      She’d worn elegant evening trousers, with a matching camisole and jacket, and the night was mild. ‘No.’

      A waiter presented their food, and they ate with leisurely ease, then lingered over coffee.

      It was after eleven when Nicos garaged the car and they made their way indoors. The events of the past few days were beginning to have their effect, and all she wanted to do was remove her clothes and crawl into bed.

      ‘Let me do that.’

      Katrina shot him a startled glance as his fingers took care of the buttons on her jacket. The camisole came next, followed by the trousers, which he slid gently down over her hips, and she stepped out of them, then toed off her stiletto-heeled pumps.

      She murmured in protest when his hands reached for her bra clip, and she stilled as he began easing free her bikini briefs.

      ‘Nicos—’

      He stilled anything further she might have said by placing a finger over her mouth, and she stood helplessly as he divested his own clothes.

      In one fluid movement he placed an arm beneath her knees and carried her into bed with him.

      ‘Now, where were we?’

      His fingertips drifted to her waist, explored one hip, then trailed to settle at the apex between her thighs.

      A sound that was part groan, half sigh, whispered from her lips, and her mouth parted beneath his own as he took her down a path towards sensual ecstasy.

      Last night had been in anger, and there was a need to make amends for the intensity of his emotions, the loss of control.

      Tonight was for her, and he took it slowly, employing such incredible gentleness she was on the verge of tears when he slid into her.

      Afterwards, he held her close, his lips buried in her hair as she drifted to sleep.

       CHAPTER ELEVEN

      NICOS had already left when Katrina entered the kitchen, and she popped bread into the toaster, poured coffee, then she balanced a cup and a plate, tucked the daily newspaper beneath her arm and opted to eat breakfast on the terrace.

      The sun’s warmth was enticing, the air still…a perfect spring morning. Tiny buds were beginning to emerge along the garden borders. Soon, multicoloured impatiens would burst into new life, and the lattice along the back wall would display a tapestry of multicoloured sweet peas.

      Peace and tranquillity, Katrina mused. She bit into her toast, then sipped the hot, sweet black coffee as she skimmed the daily headlines.

      Until she reached the gossip column.

      Which prominent Sydney businessman, recently reconciled with his heiress wife, has been exonerated of fatherhood by DNA testing? The ploy by an ex-mistress to provide herself with a meal ticket has failed due to the success of medical science.

      Nicos? Katrina’s stomach twisted into a painful knot. Following Enrique’s directive yesterday, the reference held too many coincidences for it not to be.

      Dear heaven. She felt sickened as the implications began to sink in.

      She looked blindly out over the landscape, not seeing the superb view, the terraced pool. Her mind was a kaleidoscope of remembered images.

      The nine months between then and now disappeared in a flash. She felt the pain as if it were yesterday.

      Georgia informing her she was pregnant with Nicos’s child. Nicos’s disavowal. Her own disbelief. The arguments. The chilling silences. Followed by Katrina’s decision to leave.

      In seeming slow motion she caught up her plate and cup, the newspaper, and carried them into the kitchen. With automatic movements she rinsed and stacked the dishwasher, then dressed for work.

      She called her office, said she was delayed, and half an hour later she entered the elegant suite of offices Nicos occupied downtown.

      Getting past reception took only the necessary time for the girl behind the desk to buzz his secretary, only to have her offer her personal regrets that Nicos was engaged in an important meeting.

      ‘It’s a matter of urgency.’ Her urgency to discover the truth.

      ‘I’ve been instructed not to disturb Mr Kasoulis under any circumstances.’

      ‘I’ll take the blame,’ Katrina said coolly.

      The boss, or the boss’s wife? Each were irretrievably linked, and she sensed the secretary’s dilemma.

      ‘I’ll tell him you’re here,’ СКАЧАТЬ