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It had begun to drizzle as they left Campbell Court and the roads were becoming dangerously slick. When the lights turned green and the driver screeched off, she leant forward and tapped him on the shoulder. 'We'd like to get where we're going in one piece, if you don't mind.'
'Sure thing, lady.' He grinned at her in the rear-view mirror, without changing his speed one iota.
Celeste sighed and sank backwards.
Gemma gave her a weak smile. 'We'll be there soon,' she whispered. 'And none too soon. '
In an attempt not to have her heart jump right into her mouth every few seconds, Celeste tipped her head back, closed her eyes and tried to think of other things.
Damian had not been too thrilled with her news that she was taking Gemma out to meet with Lenore after dinner. When she refused to explain further, he'd said some very rude things, then stormed out of the house and taken off in his Ferrari.
Celeste felt a little badly about this-and so did Gemma-but at least it stopped any awkward questions over why Gemma had to take two suitcases with her just to see Lenore. The conditional plan was for her to go on to the airport Hilton after Celeste had been dropped home.
'Did Byron give you any idea what Lenore's supposed explanation is?' Gemma asked as the taxi slowed to turn into Belleview.
Celeste opened her eyes and straightened. 'No. Sorry.'
She was surprised at how agitated just seeing the house was making her. There were too many bad memories here. And yet it was a beautiful home. Elegant and graceful. Like one of those great Southern mansions.
Maybe it wasn't the house that was agitating her. Maybe it was the way she was dressed.
Celeste cringed a little when she imagined the expression on Byron's face when he saw her. But damn it all, she had to get something out of this meeting other than high blood-pressure and a sleepless night.
'That's Lenore's car,' Gemma informed her as the taxi pulled in behind a small sedan.
Celeste brushed aside Gemma's offer to pay for the taxi, relieved to be out of the potential coffin, even if she was no longer looking forward to the coming encounter with Byron.
'Put the luggage up there beside the door,' she ordered the driver, after which she gave him a generous note and happily dismissed him.
The thought that she would have to take a taxi all that way home again in the rain did not sit well with her, but she decided to worry about that later. Her immediate concern was keeping her cool and her wits about her. Suddenly, she wasn't so sure what Byron's reaction to her appearance would be and she wanted to be ready for any outcome.
Both women mounted the steps that led up to the white-columned portico and the massive front doors.
Celeste leant against the doorbell, throwing Gemma a reassuring look as they waited to be let in.
'You look fine; she said when Gemma started nervously brushing down her clothes.
The combination of a cream woolen trouser suit with a caramel silk shirt underneath was both sophisticated and flattering on her tall shapely figure, yet Celeste gained the impression that the girl did not feel confident in her clothes. Why was that? She wondered.
The reflection Gemma saw when she looked in the mirror had to please her.
Her own reflection was something else. Celeste had poured herself into some scandalously tight jeans for the occasion. Add to these a black lace bodysuit, black ankle-height boots with stiletto heels, and a black leather battle jacket, and you had a dangerously provocative image. With her hair piled haphazardly on top of her head, gold gypsy hoops dangling from her lobes, she looked like a refugee from a bikers' meeting.
Byron answered the door, and his face betrayed not a single darned thing when those piercing blue eyes of his briefly raked over her. Gemma, however, received a warm greeting and a solicitous hand, while Celeste was totally ignored. When Byron drew Gemma inside she had no option but to trail after them or stay standing where was like shag on a rock. She stood standing where she was like a shag on a rock.
'Aren't you coming in?' Byron was forced to ask when he went to shut the door.
'Not till you've said hello and invited me in.'
His smile sent a prickle running down her spine. My God, he hates me, she realized. Hates whatever power I have over him. Hates what I can make him feel. Good, she thought savagely, and waited.
'Hello, Celeste; he said with icy politeness. 'Do come in.'
