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He’d abandoned attempts at talking to her, and she was glad. It allowed her to keep her mind blank—as blank as her expression. She was well trained in that—it was like having to stalk out onto a runway, features immobile, not a person at all, just an ambulatory clothes-horse, walking, posing, stopping, going, all at the direction of other people. No will of their own.
Just as she now had no will of her own.
She set her fork aside, having consumed enough. She reached for her champagne and took a small, measured sip, then set her glass back. She’d contemplated getting drunk, but decided against it. Alcohol lowered your guard. Made you stupid. Weak.
And weakness was something she must not allow.
It was far, far too dangerous.
She’d known it, known it with a hollowing of her insides, as she’d walked out on to the terrace this evening.
And set eyes on Leo Makarios again.
A jolt had gone through her that had been terrifying in its intensity. A jolt that had nothing to do with him thinking her a thief and everything to do with the sudden, instant quickening of the blood in her veins, the surge of emotion dissolving through her, the debilitating weakening of her knees.
She’d taken in the presence of Leo Makarios.
Waiting for her.
And almost, almost, she had turned and run.
But she’d forced herself to go forward. She couldn’t run. There was nowhere to run to.
So she’d steeled herself, drained all expression from her face, all feeling from her mind, sat herself down and stared out to sea.
Not looking at Leo Makarios. Not looking where he sat, lounging back with lazy, dangerous grace, the open collar of his shirt revealing the strong column of his throat, the turned-up cuffs showing the lean strength of his wrist and hands, the taut material over his torso emphasising the breadth of his chest.
And not looking, above all, at his face. The wide, sensual mouth, the dark heavy-lidded eyes.
Eyes that pressed on her like weights.
With all her strength she sat there, impassive, indifferent, while her stomach contorted in hard, convoluted knots.
Praying for the strength to get through the ordeal ahead.
But she could not, dared not, put into words what she was praying for.
The meal seemed to go on for ever. She refused dessert, desultorily picking at a slice of mango and sipping mineral water, her champagne abandoned. Leo Makarios, it seemed, was in no hurry. He’d eaten a leisurely first course, a leisurely main course, and had made a considered selection from the cheese board.
Finally he leant back, brandy swirling slowly in his glass, a cup of coffee at his place, eyes resting on her contemplatively.
‘Tell me something,’ he said suddenly, his tone conversational. ‘Why did you steal the bracelet?’
Anna’s head turned. Her eyes looked at him, widening slightly as the meaning of what he’d just asked registered. The question seemed extraordinary.
‘That’s none of your business,’ she returned repressively.
For a moment Leo Makarios just stared at her, as if he did not believe what she’d just said. Then a thread of anger flashed in his eyes. Next it was gone.
He leant back in his chair and gave a laugh.
It was an incredulous, disbelieving laugh, with not the slightest trace of humour in it.
‘You really are a piece of work,’ he said slowly. His eyes narrowed slightly. ‘Aren’t you going to tell me it was for your sick grandmother, or something? To pay for an operation?’ His voice was jibing.
She looked at him levelly. ‘No.’ Her voice was expressionless, but inside emotion was running. Thank God she had not tried to throw herself and Jenny on his mercy—his taunt just now showed exactly how he’d have received her plea. No. Her face hardened. There was only one way out of this, and that was the way Leo Makarios had given her in his office.
Oh, God, just let it be over and done with!
She just wanted it over and done with. That was all she wanted.
Suddenly, tension spilling out of her in words, she spoke.
‘Look, what’s with this stupid inquisition? You gave me the choice of the police or you—and here I am. So what are you waiting for? You’ve had your dinner—why hang around? Just get it over and damn well done with!’
Her voice was terse.
For a moment he just went on looking at her, his face suddenly unreadable. Then, abruptly, he set down his brandy and got to his feet.
‘Very well. Time for bed, Ms Delane. Let the reparation begin.’
Was there mockery in his words? She couldn’t tell. Didn’t know.
Didn’t care.
This was it, then. No more tense, fraught waiting. No more prevarication.
She was going to go to bed with Leo Makarios.
Right now. Now.
And have sex with him.
Carefully Anna got to her feet. Her heart, she could tell, seemed to have gone strangely numb as well. Just like the rest of her.
