‘A process of elimination.’ His drawled admission caused the breath to catch in her throat.
‘You thought I was a money-grubbing bitch with an eye to the main chance?’ Anger tore at her control when he didn’t answer. ‘You bastard.’ The accusation whispered silkily from her lips.
His expression didn’t change, nor did his gaze waver from her own. ‘It was a possibility I had to consider.’
Tina attempted a deep calming breath, and cursed softly when it had no effect whatsoever. ‘Should I surmise you’ve also run a routine check?’
She had nothing to hide, except one incident on record. He couldn’t have delved that far, surely?
‘Private schooling, love of sport, father killed in an accident when you were seventeen.’ He paused for a few seconds. ‘Assaulted a year later by an intruder during a home invasion.’
Tina felt the colour leach from her face as she fought to control the vivid image obliterating her vision. In an instant she was back there in her bedroom, home alone in the apartment she’d shared with her mother, waking to an unusual sound close by, scared out of her wits in the knowledge someone was in her room.
The guttural voice, the stale smell of unwashed clothing…one hard hand clamped over her mouth while the other tossed aside bedcovers and ripped the thin nightshirt from her body. She’d fought like a demon, lashing out with her feet, her hands…
Nine years had passed since that frightening night. She’d had therapy, learnt coping mechanisms and acquired combat skills.
Her determination to be a survivor not a victim had left her with an almost obsessive need for security measures, a mistrust of men…and a legacy of infrequent nightmares.
‘Assaulted, but not raped,’ Tina managed quietly. Although it had come close. Too close. He’d hurt her, broken her arm, fractured three of her ribs.
‘You were hospitalised.’
So he’d gained access to the medical report.
‘Did you also unearth a speeding ticket, a few parking violations?’ She was like a speeding train, unable to stop. ‘Run a check my taxes are paid to date?’
His steady gaze was unnerving as the silence stretched between them.
‘I’m suggesting a marriage in name only,’ Nic offered in a faintly accented drawl.
‘A sham? Separate rooms, separate lives?’
‘A mutually convenient partnership,’ he elaborated. ‘A shared social existence.’
‘Isn’t that taking familial duty and devotion just a little too far?’
‘Vasili would want his child to be well cared for…to legitimately bear the Leandros name. I can at least do that for him.’
‘Regardless of my wishes?’
‘You’ll be more than adequately compensated. Houses at home and abroad, frequent travel, jewellery, an extremely generous allowance.’
‘For which I should be duly grateful?’ If looks could kill, he’d fall dead on the spot. ‘And you?’ Tina demanded. ‘What would you get out of such a marriage?’
‘A wife, a legitimate Leandros heir, a social partner.’ He waited a beat. ‘And one very persistent woman out of my life.’
‘I very much doubt you need protection from anyone. Especially a woman!’
Tina was so impossibly angry she didn’t pause to think. ‘I imagine your wife would be expected to turn a blind eye to a mistress discreetly set up in an apartment somewhere?’ She leaned forward and sharpened a mythical dart, just for the hell of it. ‘Or does your taste run to same-sex lovers?’
She glimpsed something hard in the depths of those dark eyes, then it was gone.
‘Are you done?’
Tina paid no heed to the dangerous silkiness in his voice. ‘What about my needs?’
His eyes locked with hers, and she couldn’t look away. ‘All you have to do is ask.’
She swung her hand towards his face. Except it didn’t connect.
Instead he used her momentum to pull her into his arms and silenced her by covering her mouth with his own in a kiss that tore her composure to shreds.
Nothing she’d ever experienced came close to the frankly sensual plundering he subjected her to. It was an invasion of the senses, a flagrant, devastating attempt to suppress her will.
When he released her she could barely stand, and she was hardly aware of the notes he tossed onto the table, or that he followed as she turned and walked from the restaurant.
It was impossible to ignore him, for he was there as she unlocked her Volkswagen…a funky bright yellow sedan, with a sunroof, that she’d fallen in love with on sight.
‘Tomorrow,’ Nic inclined as she slid in behind the wheel.
‘Go to hell.’ Fierce, angry, foolish words, she perceived as she fired the engine and sent the car towards the exit at a speed in excess of the marked restriction.
Nic Leandros was the most impossible man she’d ever met. If she never saw him again, it would be too soon.
A sharp horn-blast startled her, and she swore beneath her breath at her failure to notice the traffic light had changed from red to green.
Focus, Tina silently berated as she sent the car forward.
In a determined bid, she attempted to dismiss Nic Leandros from her mind.
Except it didn’t work. She could still feel the pressure of his mouth on her own, the taste of him. Dammit, the sensual sweep of his tongue.
Oh, for heaven’s sake! Get over it.
Nic Leandros was merely exerting male dominance in a spontaneous attempt to still her angry tirade.
Tina slept badly, and woke feeling as if she’d run a marathon. The beginnings of a headache threatened an emergence, and her stomach didn’t feel as if it belonged to her at all.
Sweet tea and dry toast…or was that merely an old wives’ tale?
The temptation to bury her head beneath the pillow and tell the world to go away was uppermost. Except it wasn’t going to happen.
There was work…and some time during the day she had to face Nic Leandros. The hope he might go away was as unlikely to be realised as a snowfall in summer.
What time was it? She checked the digital clock and groaned. Another hour before room service would deliver breakfast.
Okay, so she could do the sweet tea, and there was probably a snack-pack of dry biscuits in the complimentary mini-bar. The day’s newspaper should already be outside her door…
If her stomach decided to revolt, better sooner than later, she determined a trifle grimly.
Ten minutes later she cast the newspaper aside and took a leisurely shower, then dressed; she ate a healthy breakfast, tidied the suite, then she cast a glance at the time.
It was early, yet the need to keep occupied prompted the thought of work. Better to be at the boutique than sit twiddling her thumbs in a hotel room.
She would dust the fittings, vacuum, then check the floor stock before opening up at the usual time.
Early mornings tended to be slow, with few patrons making an appearance much before ten, when Lily reported in for the day.
With that in mind she collected her laptop, caught up her bag and went down to collect her car.
Double Bay