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‘Tell you? What business was it of yours?’
A French expletive broke from him.
‘What business was it of mine?’ he echoed. ‘We spent two weeks together. Do you not think that enough to let me know something, anything, of the truth about you?’
She backed away from him, horrorstruck. Disbelieving.
‘Truth?’ It was her turn to echo him now. ‘Truth—you speak to me of truth? You complete and absolute bastard. How dare you say that to me? How dare you? The only truth I ever got out of you was when you threw me out. Then I got the truth. I got the truth about what you’d done to me.’
She shut her eyes, unable to bear this. Unable to bear the horror of it.
‘You boasted of it,’ she said. ‘You boasted of how you had deliberately sought me out in order to seduce me away from Armand. You boasted of it—and then you threw me out like I was some kind of filth.’
Her eyes had flown open again as she hurled her accusation at him. She saw him blanch, and a savage gladness filled her. Darkness misted her eyes, her mind. The darkness of rage.
And worse, much worse.
‘It wasn’t like that.’ His voice was flat.
‘Yes, it was! You told me—to my face. You told me exactly what you’d done. Sought me out and seduced me—cold-bloodedly, calculatingly, deliberately. Your only purpose was to make sure I couldn’t ever trap your brother into marriage.’
‘No.’ His denial was immediate, urgent. ‘No, Lissa—listen to me. Listen. It wasn’t like that.’
‘You mean you didn’t deliberately seek me out in the casino?’
His teeth gritted. ‘Yes, yes—I did that. But—’
‘So it is true, then, isn’t it? Everything you hurled at me that morning on the island. Everything.’
‘No.’
Her eyes flashed fire. ‘You’ve just admitted it. You’ve just said it was true. You deliberately sought me out, deliberately singled me out for your attention. Because you thought I was some kind of slut who wasn’t fit to marry your brother.’
‘I didn’t think that—I needed to find out, that was all. Lissa, listen to me—I was justified in being suspicious on behalf of my brother. He’s too trusting, too … gullible. He’s been taken in before—by a woman who preyed on his good nature, took advantage of his kindness and generosity. When he told me he’d met someone he wanted to marry, I had to protect him. I had to make sure that this time he was not being targeted by another unscrupulous gold-digger who was just after his money. That’s why I had you investigated. I needed to find out what kind of woman Armand was involved with. I had to check you out—personally.’
‘And remove me from being any kind of threat to your brother.’ Her voice was flat now, her face dead. ‘By seducing me. In cold blood. Just to be on the safe side. Because I was obviously, as a casino hostess, unfit to marry into your family.’
He breathed in sharply. ‘It wasn’t like that.’
She lost it again. ‘You keep saying that. You keep saying it like some kind of parrot. “It wasn’t like that. It wasn’t like that.” But it was. And you’ve admitted it. So don’t even try and deny it. Because there’s no point.’
She dragged air into her ragged lungs, harshly and tearingly. When she spoke again it was with a defeated, deflated air.
‘And there’s no point talking anymore. I accept—all right? I accept what you’ve told me. You didn’t know. You just didn’t know. I never told you about Lila and you’re not a mind-reader, so how could you possibly know about her? All you saw was a woman who worked as a casino hostess and was apparently having an affair with Armand simply because he was a rich guy and I was after his money. You knew your brother had told you he wanted to marry a girl you thought was me, so you moved in to protect your brother—how the hell can I blame you for that? And how can I blame you for misinterpreting that phone call from Armand and assuming it was me he was talking about marrying—not Lila? And when you heard me blithely accepting, even though I’d just been merrily having a fling with another man, it just confirmed, in your eyes, that Armand meant nothing to me. I can’t blame you for thinking that.’ She took another harsh breath in.
‘I can’t blame you for anything,’ she said bleakly. ‘Anything at all. The whole thing was just … just … a screw-up, that’s all. A screw-up.’
She turned away, pressing her hands down over the low balustrade that girdled the gazebo. Bougainvillaea rioted over the stonework and climbed up the gazebo supports, brilliant crimson. A butterfly hovered over one of the vivid blossoms, then fluttered away to sip another flower, the pattern on its wings in complete focus. Everything was in super-focus. Crystal-clear.
Just like what she now knew about what had happened to her.
A screw-up. No other word for it.
Heaviness crushed her. She’d wanted to hate Xavier for what he’d done to her, but how could she? He hadn’t treated her badly because it hadn’t been her, the real her, he’d manipulated and accused. He’d done it to some mythical gold-digging floozy who had never existed.
The butterfly was still sipping its nectar. Then it stretched out its wings again. The pattern wasn’t in focus any more. It was blurred. And getting more blurred with every second. She ought to go indoors. There was no point being here. She straightened her shoulders, lifting her chin, blinked to clear her vision. Then she turned.
Xavier was still there, watching her.
