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She stared up at him. Why had he changed the subject so quickly? Then, with a growing sense of dread, she listened to him.
'You see, Beth, the account I gave Brice Wine Merchants via Mike, the account that earned him his promotion, can just as easily be cancelled. Elizabeth is a lovely girl, but how will she feel when Mike's income is cut in half? Or he might even lose his job.'
'Are you threatening me?' she said, all the colour draining from her face, not wanting to believe what she was hearing.
'As if I would.' A ruthless smile curved his sensuous mouth. 'No, I am simply giving you a possible scenario. . . The rest is up to you. I will be at my usual hotel until ten tomorrow morning. I suggest you consider your options and give me a call before I leave.'
'That is blackmail, you bastard!' she cried, incensed that he would even try such a trick.
'Not at all. In the business world, that is a deal,' Dex responded hardly, not in the least bothered by her outburst. 'Take it or leave it.' Withdrawing a pen from his inside pocket, he caught her hand in his.
Beth tried to pull her hand free, but with insulting ease he held it firm, palm up, and had the audacity to write on her soft flesh. Curling her fingers into a fist, he let her go.
'The number of my hotel and suite.
Any time before ten in the morning, I will be available. You have until then to decide.'
'Why, you. . .' She couldn't think of a name foul enough, and swung out at him instead. But Dex caught her wrist in mid-air, and, grabbing her other hand with one large hand he encircled her slender wrists and pinned them back against the wall above her head. He stared down at her, rage contorting his features for a split second. Her heart jolted and she caught her breath.
Then he moved slowly, deliberately, his long body pressing her against the wall.
'I told you once before. . .' But he didn't finish. His steel-grey eyes raked down her body. His hand lifted and closed over her breast, kneading the firm flesh, his thumb finding the hardening nipple beneath the soft fabric, and she stifled a groan.
'All that fiery passion going to waste. How much more satisfying to channel it into the bedroom.' His hand slipped down and under her sweater, closing over her naked flesh. She knew he was doing it deliberately; he wanted to punish her. Still she groaned. She couldn't control or deny her surrender to the sweet torture of his touch.
'Remember this when you make your decision.' He watched her, his silver eyes burning through her.
Beth stared back, hopelessly disorientated. Then she recognised the glitter of masculine triumph in his eyes and burnt with shame and anger. 'Damn you!' she swore under her breath.
Dex abruptly let go of her hands and jerked back. 'Don't forget, before ten, Beth.' He opened the door and left.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Mechanically Beth slipped the chain on the door and shot the dead bolt. Dead bolt. How appropriate. She felt half dead, and also like bolting.
Served her right, she thought guiltily. She had never celebrated Hallowe'en before, never really wanted to, probably because of her convent education. Look what happened the first time she did. Dexter Giordanni! The party had not really been her scene at all. Mike had talked her into it. But to give him his due even he had been quite shocked, and they had all left early.
Moving slowly, she made her way to the bedroom, switching off the lights as she went, though she didn't bother with the light in her bedroom. She slipped off her green sweatsuit, and climbed into bed, her mind spinning like a windmill. The magnitude of the night's events were too horrible to contemplate, but she had to. . .
It would be laughable if it wasn't so scary. Dex wanted her to be his—what? Girlfriend, mistress, lover? The awful truth was she was tempted to agree. Dex didn't love her, but that didn't stop her wanting him with every fibre of her being. She tried to tell herself it was just sex, but deep down she knew that for her it was much, much more. She wanted to take anything Dex had to offer—love or lust, she didn't care. She'd even agree to blackmail!
With a low groan Beth rolled over on the bed and buried her face in the pillow. She blushed with shame.
God help her. Had she no pride? No self-respect? Apparently not.
She had been fooling herself for the past two weeks, trying to pretend she didn't care. Telling herself she didn't love Dex, that it had been an indiscretion borne of inexperience, and thank God she'd found out the truth about him in time, before she'd got in too deep.
A bitter smile twisted her lovely mouth. Earlier this evening she had been congratulating herself on reviving her social life. Seeing Dex tonight had brought that idea to an abrupt end. When she had managed to swallow her anger she had enjoyed dancing with him, and the rest. . .his kisses, the feel of his strong hand on her flesh. Suddenly every pulse in her body responded at the memory, and, despising her own weakness she jumped out of bed.
She was too agitated to sleep anyway, and, slipping on her robe, she wandered back into the living room and clicked on the light. Her eye caught the ink on her hand. Staring at her palm, she traced the black numbers with the finger of her other hand. The man was seriously weird, she told herself as she paced the room back and forth, her mind in turmoil, too restless even to sit down.
Why? Why was Dex trying to force her into being his mistress? It didn't make sense. So, all right, he thought she was in competition for his sister's man. But surely a man of his intelligence must know enough about human relations to realise nothing would force Paul Morris into staying with his sister if he didn't want to. In fact Dex and Paul were very much alike: highly successful, wealthy, very eligible, and experienced enough to escape the clutches of any woman if they wanted to.
No. She was missing something. But what? The underlying bitterness, the anger she had sensed in Dex tonight was directed at her. Maybe it was simply a male ego thing. She had insulted Dex by jilting him two weeks ago, and compounded her folly by telling him tonight she would like to kill him. It was after that comment he had turned into a cold, hard-faced stranger. Then he had threatened Beth with her stepbrother's downfall unless she complied with Dex's demands. Somehow it didn't ring true.
She thought back to the first time they had met, at the Brice party. She had been bowled over from the minute she clapped eyes on Dex, but even then her feminine intuition had warned her to stay clear of him. But, uncannily like her mother, Beth had let her heart rule her head. For a few short days she had been gloriously happy, only to be plunged into the depths of despair when she'd discovered Dex, the man she loved, was using her for his own ends.
Jilting him had been the hardest thing she had ever done. Pride alone had seen her though the last two weeks, and if she gave in to Dex's disgraceful proposition now, she would lose even that.
