Forgiven but Not Forgotten? (12 page)

He’d reached for her then, and Siena had resisted with all the strength in her body, hating him with every fibre of her being. But with remorseless skill Andreas had slowly ground down her defences and her anger until desire burned hotter than anything else...

By the time they’d made it to the apartment she’d forgotten all about her hurt and had been thinking only about Andreas providing her with the release he could give her, like someone pathetically addicted to an illegal substance.

‘We should go or we’ll be late.’

Andrea’s terse voice made Siena jump slightly. She’d been caught up in the memory. She turned around and wondered if she’d ever get used to the little shock of awe when she saw him in a tuxedo. Thinking of the previous evening and what had happened made Siena look down, hiding her gaze. She picked up her wrap and bag and for the first time could appreciate the armour of her shimmering black designer dress. The heavy weight of a diamond necklace at her throat, the earrings in her ears and the bracelet on her wrist would keep her anchored tonight. She couldn’t afford to lose herself for a second. Or let him goad her.

If Andreas had a hint of her vulnerability he’d annihilate her.

CHAPTER EIGHT

A
NDREAS
WAS
DRIVING
them to the function in his sports car. It served the purpose of occupying his hands and his mind, so that he wasn’t in danger of ravishing Siena in the confined space of the back of his chauffeur-driven car. He would not debase himself again by proving that he could not last a few minutes without touching her. He didn’t want to think of the amount of times he’d almost made love to her in the back of that car.

It made him think of the other night and how he’d still had to touch her even when she’d detonated a small internal bomb with her question about whether or not he wanted children. He didn’t want to remember how she’d looked when he’d likened her to Estella from
Great Expectations
not once, but twice. It had worked, though. He’d welcomed the anger sparking in her eyes. Far easier to deal with that than the look in her eyes when she’d asked her question so inoccuously.

Lovers had asked Andreas before if he wanted children, and in every case Andreas had looked at them coolly and mentally ended the affair with little or no regret. Siena had asked and he had felt a primal surge of something very proprietorial. Something very disturbing that
wasn’t
an immediate and categoric rejection of what should be anathema to him. In that moment he’d felt exposed and reminded of his humiliation in Paris. Had Siena seen something he’d been unaware of? Something that had told her it was okay to ask that question because one week would not be enough for him? Because inevitably he couldn’t help but want more?

Andreas had felt like Pip then, from that great book. Chasing after an ever unattainable beauty. Forever destined to fall short. And so he’d lashed out. Had watched her pale and told himself she was acting.

He needed to maintain the distance he’d instigated in Paris. Too much had made him uneasy there and since: Siena’s insight into why he’d bought that hotel, the hunger for her which only seemed to be growing stronger, not weaker, and the way she’d asked him about his family...making him remember what he’d worked so hard to avoid.

So much of Andreas’s youthful rejection of his family had been brought into sharp focus after his humiliating rejection at her hands. He’d gone abroad with little or no warning, and he knew it had confused and upset his parents. They’d never really understood his hunger to succeed, how he’d had an irrational fear of not making it out of that small town—especially after Spiro had died.

Andreas reminded himself that this wasn’t a relationship like any other. With other lovers Andreas made an effort, small-talked, was witty and charming. With Siena it was about settling a score, sating the fever in his blood, exorcising the demons. He conveniently blocked out the fact that he appeared to be no closer to his goal than he had been a few days ago...

* * *

A couple of hours later Siena was feeling pain in the balls of her feet from the high heels. She wondered what Andreas would say if he knew that, contrary to his opinion of her, she’d give her right arm never to go to one of these functions again. Just then a tall, very good-looking man with dark hair approached Andreas and the two men greeted each other warmly. Siena found herself transfixed by Andreas’s wide smile. She’d seen it so rarely since they’d met again, and never directed at
her.

He was introducing the stranger. ‘This is Rafaele Falcone, of Falcone Industries. He’s recently moved to London to extend his domination of the motor industry.’

Siena recognised the name of the iconic Italian car company and put her hand out. She smiled at the other man, who matched Andreas in height and build. He truly was sinfully gorgeous, with astonishing green eyes, and Siena had a fleeting moment of wishing he would have some effect on her which might prove that Andreas didn’t dominate her every sense. But when their hands touched there was nothing—despite the fact that Rafaele held her hand for a split second longer than was necessary, with a smile that made Siena feel like apologising because its effect was wasted on her.

‘If you find things getting dull with Xenakis, do give me a call.’

He was handing her a card, flirting outrageously, and Siena found herself smiling at his chutzpah with genuine amusement. She was reaching for the card out of politeness when it disappeared into Andreas’s fingers. His arm had come around her waist and brought her to his side in a way that had her looking at him, bemused. He’d never claimed her like this in public before.

Rafaele Falcone was putting up his hands in a gesture of mock defeat and backing away. ‘We’ll talk soon, Xenakis, I’ll be interested to hear how that deal goes, and I have a new car being launched next month that I think you’ll like...’

His gaze encompassed Siena and she flushed, suddenly not liking the way he was all but telling her of his interest if she were not with Andreas. She wasn’t really used to this kind of casual interplay. Her father had always been so protective.

When he’d turned and walked away Andreas let Siena go and turned to her. He was livid, and Siena took a step back.

‘Don’t even
think
about it.’

Siena was genuinely confused. ‘Think about what?’

Andreas jerked his head in the direction of his departing friend. ‘Falcone is off-limits.’

Rage filled Siena, and she knew it was coming from a dangerous place—more from Andreas’s dogged coolness in the past few days than what he’d just said. His possessiveness made her feel something altogether much more disturbing.

‘How dare you? When we’re done I can do what I like, and I intend to. If I think that includes having a rampant affair with Rafaele Falcone then I’ll be sure to give him a call.’

For a second Andreas looked so feral that Siena felt fear snake down her spine. He looked capable of violence.

‘You’re mine, Siena,’ he growled. ‘No one else’s.’

She lashed back. ‘One week, Xenakis. I’m yours for one week. You’re the one who put a time limit on it.’ Realisation hit her then, along with something very hollow. ‘And that one week is up in two days—or have you come to enjoy my company so much that you’d forgotten? Perhaps you want more?’

Siena wasn’t sure what was goading her when she said waspishly, ‘If you’re so concerned with keeping me out of other men’s beds it’s going to cost you a lot more than a few baubles.’

‘So this is how you’re funding yourself after our father’s spectacular crash and burn? I shouldn’t be surprised.’

It took long seconds before Siena realised that it wasn’t Andreas who had spoken in his deep voice. It was another voice—one that rang the faintest of bells. She tore her eyes from Andreas and looked to her left. She felt the blood drain from her face.

Rocco DeMarco. Her brother.

Siena barely heard Andreas acknowledge him tersely, ‘DeMarco.’

Her brother’s dark brown eyes left Siena momentarily to flick to Andreas, and he inclined his head slightly. ‘Xenakis. I see that my little half-sister Siena has found a benefactor to keep her in the style to which she’s accustomed.’

His resemblance to their father stunned her anew, as it had all those years before, and Siena wanted to weep with the ill-timing of this meeting. It was effortlessly confirming his worst opinion of her.

Faintly she said, ‘You recognise me.’ It wasn’t a question.

Those dark eyes went back to her. His mouth curled. ‘I followed the demise of our father in the press with great interest. You and your sister were featured prominently, but it would appear you’ve landed on your feet.’

Feeling weak, Siena said, ‘This...it’s not what it seems.’

Disgust was evident in Rocco’s expression, ice in his eyes, and Siena felt an ache in her heart. He was her flesh and blood.

‘Did you really think I would ever forget you? After you and Serena stepped over me like a piece of trash in the street? And as for our father... Tell me—have you heard from him?’

Siena shook her head, feeling sick. How could she explain here and now to this man that she hated her father as much as he did?

Just then a petite and very pretty red-haired woman joined Rocco, slipping her hand into his arm. The change in her brother was instantaneous as he drew her close and looked down at her, warmth and love shining from his eyes. When he looked back at Siena the ice returned and she shivered.

‘This is my wife—Gracie. Gracie, I’d like you to meet Siena. My youngest half-sister.’

Siena watched the woman tense and a wary expression came into her kind hazel eyes. Clearly she understood the significance of this meeting. She held out a hand, though, and Siena forced herself to shake it, feeling sick. She only noticed then the other woman’s very pregnant belly, and something sharp and poignant lanced her at the realisation that she might have a nephew or niece already.

Rocco looked at Andreas and said with deceptive lightness, ‘I presume from your expression that Siena hasn’t told you about our familial connection? Or about when I confronted our father and he knocked me to the ground as if I was nothing more than a dog in the street?’

‘Rocco...’

Siena heard his wife speak reprovingly, but his face remained ice-cold.

Siena found herself appealing to the other woman instinctively, saying, ‘I was only twelve. Things really weren’t as they seemed.’

The compassion in his wife’s eyes was too much for Siena. She pulled free of Andreas, whose expression she did not want to see, and all but ran from the room. The emotion blooming inside her was too much. Here was incontrovertible proof that she and Serena were on their own. She’d known very well that she couldn’t go to their brother, but it was another thing to see it for certain, no matter how kind his wife looked.

She’d always harboured a secret fantasy that one day she might go to Rocco and explain about their lives. That truly they weren’t all that different in the end...they had a common nemesis:
their father.

Her throat burned as she tried to suppress the emotion, expecting Andreas’s presence at any moment. He wouldn’t stand for her running out like that. Not when she had a duty to fulfil by his side. Perhaps he’d be so disgusted by what he’d just learned that he’d be happy to see the back of her?

She heard his voice, cold behind her in the quiet part of the lobby she’d escaped to.

‘Why didn’t you tell me Rocco DeMarco was your half-brother?’

Siena didn’t turn around, struggling to compose herself. ‘It wasn’t relevant.’

Andreas snorted indelicately. ‘Not relevant? He’s one of the most powerful financiers in the world.’

Siena turned then and looked up at Andreas, steeling herself for his expression. It was exactly as she’d feared: a mixture of disgust and confusion. Siena retreated into attack to hide her raw emotions. She shrugged minutely. ‘As you can see he hates my guts, and my sister’s. Why should I bother myself with my father’s bastard son—born to a common prostitute?’

Siena’s insides were lacerated at her words. It was the opposite of what she believed. After that day when he’d confronted their father Siena had used to dream of him returning in the dead of night to take her and Serena away with him. But there was no way she would reveal that to Andreas.

‘Why, indeed?’ Andreas said now, and looked at her strangely. And then he started walking away, towards the entrance.

Siena faltered for a moment and went after him, having to hurry to keep up. When it was clear he was asking for his car, she asked a little breathlessly, ‘Don’t you want to go back inside?’

Andreas glanced at her and said curtly, ‘Rocco DeMarco and his wife are friends of mine. I won’t have them feeling the need to leave just because you’re with me. I told them we’d leave.’

Pain, sharp and intense, gripped Siena as the car pulled up beside them and the valet jumped out, handing Andreas the keys. Solicitous as ever, even when he despised her, he saw Siena into the car and walked around the bonnet. Siena had the bleakest sense of foreboding that this was it. And after a silent journey back to the apartment Andreas confirmed it.

Barely looking at her, he was in the act of removing his jacket and taking off his cufflinks when he said, ‘I’ll arrange for a security guard to take you to the jewellers in the morning. There you’ll be able to get your money.’

Siena stood stock-still. The stark finality of his words seemed to drop somewhere between them and shatter on the floor.

Faintly, pathetically, she said, ‘But...there’s two days left.’

Andreas speared her with a cold look. ‘Five days is enough for me.’ His mouth twisted. ‘Don’t worry. I won’t dock you any
payment.
’

His words seem to bounce off her. She was numb. Just like that he’d lifted her up and now he was dropping her from a height. And yet...what else had she expected?

Siena felt sick when she had to admit that on some very deep and secret level she’d imagined that Andreas might not despise her so utterly—but when had they ever had a chance to go beyond that?

He’d stonewalled any attempts she’d made to talk about personal things, or even non-personal things, and yet this evening she could remember a betraying flare of hope at seeing him so possessive when another man flirted with her.

But that had been purely male posturing. No doubt he’d be quite happy to see her in anyone else’s arms when
he
was done with her. Which was now, Siena realised a little dazedly.

She hated herself for not feeling more relieved, and she felt humiliated. Because she had to acknowledge that, despite telling herself she was with Andreas for this week purely to help her sister, she knew it was a lie. She would have wanted Andreas no matter what. For herself. Because he’d always been her dark fantasy. He would only ever have wanted her in revenge, so she’d had to have him like this or not at all.

Using Serena had been a buffer—a device for fooling herself that she was somehow in control...

Siena felt cold inside. The only good thing that could come out of this now was the help she could give her sister. She would take this man’s largesse and damn herself in his eyes for ever. She’d do it with a willing heart because she had no right ever to have imagined anything else.