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'You put one toe in that corridor and the electronic surveillance picks you up on camera. My father's security men will have one hell of a laugh. Go ahead!'
She hesitated and then snatched her fingers back from the door-handle as though she had been burnt. Without a single glance in his direction, she made it back to the sofa, rigid-backed but literally shaking with the force of her own fury.
'I thought you might see it that way,' Carlo drawled
with blatant amusement, temper cooled by the rid
iculous picture she made. 'Learn to look on sleeping in
my bed in my arms as a privilege '
'You hateful bastard!' Jessica screamed back at him.
'And by the way.. .you love it rough!' Carlo shot at her for good measure.
'Shut up, CarloV
I do not love him, she told herself ferociously, huddling into a ball, the blanket tangled uncomfortably round her. I do not love him. I hate him! I hate him so much I could burst wide open with it! He's jealous. Carlo was wildly jealous of Simon. How come it had taken her this long to appreciate something that obvious? In the darkness, she smiled, fists unclenching. She didn't care if she didn't sleep a wink. She was fairly certain that he wouldn't either.
CHAPTER SEVEN
LUNCH was being served outdoors beneath the leafy splendour of a ring of flame trees. Beyond them, flight after flight of shallow steps adorned with classical statues descended to the white beach below. Lukas Philippides dealt Jessica a fiercely amused scrutiny. Flustered, she dropped down into her seat. One of the maids had awakened her and she hadn't had much time to get ready.
When she glanced up again, Carlo's brilliant golden eyes were wandering with indolent satisfaction over her in a look as blatantly physical as a caress. A deep flush of awareness carmined her skin, making her desperately conscious of the unfamiliar ache between her thighs. Erotic recollections surfaced and she fought them to the last ditch, feverishly embarrassed by her own lack of mental discipline.
While she slept, Carlo had shifted her off the sofa and back into his bed. Out of consideration for her comfort and his own unjustifiable behaviour the night before...or out of a need to set the scene to keep their deception intact? At what stage had she chosen to overlook the fact that it had always been Carlo's stated intent to make love to her for the benefit of that self-same deception? A deep unease assailed Jessica. Now they were lovers, she was far more powerfully aware of the masquerade they were engaged in and she was forced to question Carlo's motives.
Was Carlo simply trying to please his dying father? Or was there a far more mercenary reasoning behind it all? Yesterday she had tried very hard not to think about that. Today, she found that she could think of little else.
Sunny sauntered up, clad in a flowing dress and sunhat, looking vaguely reminiscent of a Twenties film starlet on a picnic. Picturesque and quite stunningly beautiful, she took her seat. Both Lukas and Carlo had watched her progress across the lawn. You had to hand it to her, Jessica thought sourly. Sunny knew how to make an entrance.
Last night, Jessica had wondered if Sunny had a problem with drink and if that might explain her strange visit to her room and her even stranger remarks. But she hadn't behaved then as though she had been overindulging. Neither her speech nor her movement had been impaired. Yet Carlo had been surprisingly unconcerned by his stepmother's conviction that their engagement was a fake.
'A toast...' Lukas announced, raising his glass of wine. 'To Carlo and Jessica. The wedding will take place on Tuesday.'
Jessica's hand jerked and sent her glass over. A pool of red wine spread across the white tablecloth. She collided with Carlo's hooded dark eyes and read the warning there. To say nothing, do nothing.
Sunny sighed and laid a soft hand on her husband's
sleeve. 'I think you've shocked your son, Lukas. Don't
you think this should be his decision?1 she prompted
with a small, deprecating smile. 'I hope you don't mind
me speaking up '
Lukas shook off her hand irritably. 'Since when have I wanted your opinion on anything?' he demanded rudely.
'My thanks,' Carlo murmured softly into the throbbing silence. 'But Jessica and I are not intending to marry until next year.'
'This year, next year!' Lukas responded with abrasive bite. 'You think to deprive me of a father's right to see his son marry?' It was a thunderous demand of disbelief.
Carlo tautened, his dark features clenching hard. He said something in Greek but Lukas slashed a despotic hand through the air and retorted in English, hot temper flushing his drawn face at the threat of his authority being further challenged.
'Enough!' he ground out angrily. 'It is arranged. Already the invitations go out. You people! A little surprise and where is your gratitude?’
As his bloodshot gaze raked the table, seeking dissension, Jessica studied the stained tablecloth. Dear heaven, why hadn't either she or Carlo seen the threat of this in advance? Lukas Philippides was dying. It was surely not that unreasonable of him to want the wedding of his son to take place here and now while he could still enjoy it? So simple, so understandable a wish, that she marvelled that such a danger had not previously occurred to either of them. But somehow, heaven knew how, she conceded dazedly, Carlo was going to have to get them back out of this tight corner! And he only had three days in which to accomplish that feat...
