Diana met his gaze unflinchingly. ‘If I didn’t enjoy my work, Mr Falcon, then I wouldn’t do it any more.’
Dark brows rose mockingly. ‘From what I hear of the fees top-class models—and I include you, obviously, in that category,’ he drawled, acknowledging the slight inclination of her head, at the compliment, with one of his own, ‘command nowadays, that would be a little foolish, don’t you think?’
Her mouth firmed, eyes flashing slightly at the taunt. ‘Some things are more important than money, Mr Falcon——’ She broke off in stunned defence as he began to laugh at the comment, not a soft chuckle, but loud mocking laughter that had people all around the room turning to look at them curiously, a soft buzz of conversation instantly following as the two of them were recognised.
How dared he laugh at her? Just because he made money, and the power that money could buy him—power and money being the gods in his life—that was no reason to judge everyone else by the same cynicism.
He was shaking his head ruefully as the laughter died away, somehow appearing younger with his face relaxed in humour. ‘Where on earth did Chris find you?’ he mused disbelievingly.
She drew in a sharp breath as understanding dawned. ‘Ah,’ she nodded.
‘Penny finally dropped, has it?’ Reece Falcon taunted, his gaze sweeping over her disparagingly. ‘You’ve been playing games with my son, Divine——’
‘Diana,’ she snapped irritably. ‘My name is Diana,’ she explained challengingly as he looked at her with raised brows.
‘I thought Divine was a bloody silly name for any parent to have saddled a child with!’ He shook his head self-derisively. ‘But I take it Chris insists on calling you by it,’ he added knowingly.
Chris thought her professional name was romantic. He also enjoyed being seen with someone as publically known as Divine was. She had only been out with Chris to public places half a dozen times, but on a couple of those occasions they had been spotted together by the Press, and several questioning comments had appeared in the gossip columns concerning the two of them following that. It wasn’t so surprising, then, that Reece Falcon had finally got to hear about their relationship—in fact, it was what she had been hoping for! She just wished she had had a little more warning…
‘Chris is different,’ she told his father huskily, meeting the narrowed silver gaze with steady challenge.
‘Oh, yes,’ Reece Falcon acknowledged sharply. ‘He’s very different. The main way in which he differs from other people is that he’s my son——’
‘We all have disadvantages in our lives, Mr Falcon,’ Diana told him with contempt. ‘It’s just a question of trying to overcome them as best we can!’
For a moment he looked stunned by the quick viciousness of her attack, as if he very rarely came across such obvious antagonism directed towards him, and never from a woman. But as his initial surprise turned to deepening curiosity, his gaze searching now on the beauty of her face with its two bright spots of colour in otherwise pale cheeks indicating the anger she still felt, she knew that he found her outspoken attitude towards him intriguing in spite of himself.
‘So it is,’ he finally drawled appreciatively. ‘But you must realise, Diana, that the two of us have to talk——’
‘Not at all,’ she dismissed firmly, half turning as if to leave, and almost gasping out loud as Reece Falcon’s fingers clasped about her wrist to stop her from moving away. As it was she couldn’t stop the way her eyes widened, or the way they shadowed to a deep emeraldgreen. ‘Let go of my arm, Mr Falcon,’ she instructed with careful control, her voice barely above a whisper now, although she knew by the way his gaze narrowed on her consideringly that he had heard every word she said. And he wasn’t sure he wanted to do what she asked!
He shook his head finally, his fingers still like steel bands about her flesh. ‘Not until you agree that we have to talk.’
Her breathing felt as if it were coming in short, painful gasps, she felt cold and shivery despite the heat of the room, and her skin seemed to burn where he touched her—and at that moment she knew she wanted to agree to anything to get him to release her. But ultimately she knew she wouldn’t—couldn’t do that; that she would never show any sign of weakness towards this man.
Instead she looked at him coldly. ‘If you don’t release my arm, Mr Falcon, I’m going to start screaming,’ she told him with calm indifference. Inside she was just so relieved that she was managing to sound as controlled as she normally did—when in reality she really did feel like screaming! ‘And when I scream it will be—— Thank you,’ she accepted coolly as he slowly released her wrist as he saw she meant every word she said. ‘The truth of the matter is, Mr Falcon,’ she continued pleasantly, as if she hadn’t just directly challenged the man—and won!—‘that I’m very tired just now, and I actually intend going back to my hotel for a bath and a long sleep——’
‘Which hotel?’ he demanded quickly, his voice an angry rasp, all his earlier amusement—at her expense—having faded.
‘George the Fifth,’ she supplied without hesitation, having no reason to feel threatened; she had no intention of talking to this man anywhere tonight—she really did feel very tired after the gruelling week she had just had. And talking to this man at all wasn’t helping her exhaustion; in fact her nerves felt stretched to breaking-point. ‘But——’
‘Diana, you forgot to take these with you!’ Cally called out, hurrying over with the bouquet of red roses Diana had left in the changing-room, and pausing to give Reece Falcon an encouraging smile once she had handed the flowers over to Diana, although she hastily made her excuses and left again when he just returned her gaze coldly.
Diana held on to the bouquet of roses. ‘That wasn’t very kind,’ she told Reece Falcon critically, knowing she wouldn’t really have expected anything else from him!
‘“Kind” isn’t a word that I’ve heard often to describe me,’ he acknowledged derisively. ‘From my son?’ He looked at the roses with narrowed eyes.
Her arms tightened about the flowers defensively. ‘Yes.’
He nodded, as if he had never doubted it. ‘Then I’ll call at your hotel tomorrow morning and we can have breakfast together. Unless——’ his mouth twisted mockingly ‘—you’re one of those models who live on lettuce leaves and black coffee?’ He arched dark brows questioningly.
She knew that some of her friends did have a problem keeping their weight down, although she thought a diet of lettuce leaves was probably a slight exaggeration; it didn’t surprise her at all that Reece Falcon should be totally familiar with the problem some models had—no doubt he had been involved with more than one of them in the past!
‘One of the things I’ve enjoyed most about being in Paris,’ she drawled, ‘has been my fresh croissants and creamy coffee for breakfast,’ smoothly answering his derision.
He gave an acknowledging inclination of his head. ‘In that case, I’ll be at your hotel for breakfast at eight-thirty. Too early for you?’ he challenged.
She shook her head coolly. ‘Perfect.’ Because by that time she would no longer be at the hotel but at the airport, waiting for her flight home!
‘Tomorrow morning, then.’ Reece Falcon nodded abruptly before striding confidently away.
Because he didn’t doubt, as he had decided it would be so, that the two of them would be sitting down to breakfast together in the morning at eight-thirty!
Arrogant.
Self-centred.
Autocratic.
No wonder Chris found him just too much to try to live up to.
Well,