The Helen Bianchin Collection. HELEN BIANCHIN

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СКАЧАТЬ lay on the table, and she scanned the front-page headlines highlighting the latest criminal injustice, the fall of a major company, and touting plaudits for two councillors running in the upcoming elections.

      When the toast was ready she spread it with conserve, topped her cup with coffee, then she pulled out a chair and dedicated fifteen minutes to acquiring an informative view of the day’s reported journalism.

      Until she reached the social pages, and found herself looking at a photograph of her and Nicos. Taken, she confirmed on closer examination, at a social function not long after their marriage. The caption read, Together Again?

      An unidentified source confirms Nicos and Katrina Kasoulis have reunited to satisfy a condition of Kevin Macbride’s (of Macbride) will. Fact or fallacy?

      Anger rose, and a sibilant curse escaped from her lips.

      Without pausing for thought she gathered up the pertinent page and went in search of her errant husband.

      She found him in the study, seated at his desk, his attention focussed on the computer screen.

      He glanced up as she entered, took one look at her expression, and pressed the save key.

      ‘Good morning.’

      Katrina threw him a fulminating glare. ‘Have you seen this?’ She cast the newspaper page down onto the keyboard, and jabbed a finger at the caption.

      Someone had been busy. Given her extended dysfunctional family, it narrowed the suspects down to four. Any one of whom would take delight in presenting such facts to the press.

      ‘You want to complain and request a retraction?’

      She was so angry she could hardly speak. ‘What good would that do?’

      ‘None whatsoever.’

      Suspicion clouded logic. ‘Were you responsible?’

      Katrina saw his features harden and his eyes grow cold. ‘That doesn’t even qualify for an answer.’

      ‘Who, then?’

      Nicos’s silence was eloquent, and her anger took on a new dimension.

      ‘I need to make a few phone calls. Then,’ she announced between clenched teeth, ‘I’m going out.’

      ‘I have an invitation to attend dinner this evening.’

      ‘I wouldn’t dream of stopping you.’

      ‘For both of us.’

      ‘You can go alone!’

      ‘An action that would cause speculation, surely?’ Nicos posed reasonably. ‘Given our very recent reconciliation?’

      ‘I have no intention of partnering you on the social circuit,’ Katrina vowed tersely.

      ‘Considering my attendance is minimal, it won’t be a hardship.’

      ‘And we haven’t reconciled. We’re merely sharing the same house!’

      ‘So we are,’ Nicos said with dangerous softness. ‘However, for the duration of one year we partner each other whenever the necessity should arise.’

      ‘That isn’t a condition of Kevin’s will.’

      ‘Consider it one of my own,’ he said hardily, and watched her green eyes fire with anger.

      ‘Don’t try to manipulate me,’ she warned as she moved to the door, adding as a parting shot, ‘I won’t stand for it.’

      ‘Be ready by six-fifteen,’ Nicos relayed silkily.

      Katrina didn’t deign to answer, and barely restrained the temptation to slam the door behind her.

      With carefully controlled movements she went upstairs, changed into tailored trousers, added a blouse, a jacket, slid her feet into heeled pumps, then collected her bag, caught up her car keys and went down to the garage.

      Ten minutes later she drew to a halt adjacent a park, withdrew her cellphone, and made the first of several phone calls.

      Whilst Andrea, Kevin’s second wife, coveted wealth and a luxurious lifestyle, was self-orientated to the point of selfishness, she didn’t possess a vicious bone in her body. Her daughter, Paula, by Andrea’s first marriage, was overindulged and a snob, but an unlikely candidate to raise her stepsister’s ire.

      Which left Chloe, Kevin’s third wife, and her son, Enrique, by a previous marriage. Each of whom would delight in causing Katrina grief.

      Katrina had contacts, and she used them ruthlessly.

      An hour later she had the answer she wanted. Enrique. Now, why didn’t that surprise her?

      Her stepbrother was a smooth charmer who made it no secret that in his opinion he, as the only male in a clutch of associated family females, should inherit a major share in Macbride. It mattered little that Kevin had insisted each of his successive wives sign a prenuptial agreement, and had made both Andrea and Chloe aware that Katrina was his successor.

      Enrique was a young man who adored the high life, fast cars and beautiful women. He had also acquired an expensive habit in his teens, one that had seen him in a private clinic on more than one occasion during the few years Chloe had been Kevin’s wife.

      At least she knew her enemy, Katrina determined as she put the car in gear and headed towards Double Bay. She intended checking out her apartment, reassessing her wardrobe; then she planned some retail therapy.

      There were a few girlfriends she could phone to come join her and share lunch. Except the invitation would elicit questions she had no desire to answer, and while her heart ached for the loss of her father she knew he would hate her to grieve.

      Life, he had always maintained, was a celebration. And he had celebrated it well.

      Yet she missed his laughter, his love. He’d been her rock, her safe harbour. In a quirk of misplaced wisdom, he’d appointed Nicos in his place.

      Katrina wanted to reiterate she didn’t need or want Nicos’s protection. Except Kevin had played his final card and had given her no choice.

      It was well after five when she garaged the Porsche and entered Nicos’s home with three evening gowns draped over her arm.

      She reached the stairs as Nicos emerged into the lobby, and she paused, her expression one of controlled politeness.

      ‘Formal, Katrina,’ Nicos drawled as he reached her. He named the venue, the charity, and glimpsed her momentary disconcertion as they ascended the stairs.

      How could she have forgotten? It was one of the city’s prestigious social events, and one Kevin had unfailingly sponsored for as long as she could remember.

      She had…how long? Forty-five minutes in which to shower, attend to her hair and make-up, then dress.

      She made it with scant seconds to spare, and stood silent beneath Nicos’s СКАЧАТЬ